Mattheo sits in the dimly lit common room, his voice low, heavy with emotion.

“We lost her in the war. Just like that, she was gone. The fire that kept us all alive… snuffed out in the chaos. She was the glue, the heart of us, and now there’s only silence where her laugh used to be.”

He glances at the empty seat near the fireplace, his jaw tightening. “Draco doesn’t talk about her, but I catch him staring at her favorite spot like he’s waiting for her to walk in. Theo keeps to himself more than ever, scribbling in that notebook she once teased him about. Lorenzo… he tries to keep the peace, but even his jokes fall flat now. Blaise doesn’t say a word—just looks at the sky, like he’s searching for her. Regulus, though… he’s the one who breaks me the most. He talks about her like she’s still here, like if we say her name enough, we can summon her back.”

Mattheo’s voice falters for a moment before he continues, a hollow laugh escaping him. “And Tom… well, Tom is Tom. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t flinch, but I’ve never seen his eyes so empty.”

He exhales shakily, his gaze distant. “She is gone… and we’re the ones left behind.”