18. knights

The air was thick with a cold, unyielding silence as Talwyn and Theo walked side by side through the shadowy hallways of Nott Manor. The walls, lined with portraits of ancient ancestors who seemed to sneer down upon them, felt oppressive. The manor was a grand, sprawling estate, filled with the kind of darkness that matched the sinister purpose of tonight's gathering.

It was nearing midnight, and the manor was alive with hushed voices and the distant sounds of low conversations. Death Eaters and their families had gathered, filling the great hall, their cloaks billowing like dark shadows in the dim light. Their faces were mostly hidden, expressions masked by the weight of loyalty to a cause Talwyn had long grown to despise. She could feel the stares of people like Draco and Mattheo, who stood with their fathers, their eyes sharp and cold.

She had tried not to think about George all day, but it was impossible. The gnawing guilt lingered, especially knowing that when she walked back through those doors, she would be trapped once more in a world that expected her to be someone she was not.

As they reached the massive wooden doors that led to the meeting hall, Talwyn felt her heart pound harder in her chest. The heavy thud of her pulse was the only thing she could hear as the door creaked open and they stepped inside.

The room was vast, the vaulted ceilings towering above them. A long table stretched down the center, flanked by high-backed chairs that looked more like thrones than places for sitting. At the far end of the table sat Voldemort, his serpent-like face barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight, his red eyes burning with a cold fury. Beside him, Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy stood with their usual icy expressions.

The air in the room felt charged, the tension palpable. Talwyn's skin prickled with unease as she and Theo made their way to the far end, taking their seats in silence.

The moment they sat down, Voldemort's gaze shifted toward them. A cold, calculating look passed between him and Talwyn.

"You are here, despite your defiance," Voldemort hissed, his voice low but dripping with malice. "Perhaps you think that turning your back on your true nature will somehow save you from the consequences. But we will see."

Talwyn's stomach twisted, and she forced herself to sit still, to not show any fear. Her father's eyes flickered toward her briefly, but he didn't speak, his expression unreadable.

"You are a stain on your family's legacy, Talwyn," Voldemort continued, his voice growing louder, making everyone in the room turn their attention to her. "Your behavior has been nothing short of disgraceful, much like your mothers. Sad to see that you've taken after her. You've betrayed us all."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel Theo's presence beside her, tense, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. 

"Don't speak about my mother that way," Talwyn mumbled, she regretted speaking at all once the words left her lips. 

"Your mother was nothing short of a blood traitor. Perhaps," Voldemort's voice slid through the air, "a reminder of what happens to those who forget their place might help you remember."

"Father-" Mattheo started, but was quickly cut off. 

The Dark Lord flicked his wand in her direction, and the sudden, agonizing pain of the Cruciatus Curse seized her body. It felt like fire rushing through her veins, her entire body locked in an iron grip, unable to move, unable to scream. The curse was long, longer than she expected, and it burned through her, twisting her muscles and skin.

Through the haze of her mind, she could hear Theo's voice, his desperate cry for the Dark Lord to stop. "No! Please, she's my sister-"

But Voldemort only laughed, cold and hollow, as the curse continued to ravage her.

It felt like an eternity before the pain finally began to fade. The curse lifted, and Talwyn collapsed forward, gasping for air. Her body was shaking, weak, and her clothes were soaked with sweat.

Theo was kneeling beside her, his hand trembling as he reached to steady her.

But it didn't matter. None of this mattered.

Voldemort's voice rang out once more, sharp and final.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," he said coldly. "Defiance will not be tolerated. But I'm happy you've found your way back here, Talwyn."

The room was silent. No one moved. Even Draco Malfoy looked away, as though unsure whether to offer his sympathy or not.

Talwyn, still reeling from the pain, lifted her head, meeting Voldemort's cold gaze.

But she didn't speak.

She didn't need to. She knew exactly where she stood now.

The room remained deathly silent after Voldemort's words, the weight of his cruelty still lingering in the air. Talwyn barely registered the cold, dark room around her, her body trembling and weak. Theo remained kneeling by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could, but it didn't stop the fire that still burned in her mind.

Voldemort's piercing eyes never left her. "All the children may leave now," he said coldly. "But do not think you have escaped your fate. I've decided I want a meeting with just the children tomorrow, they are our future after all."

Talwyn's heart sank. She wasn't going anywhere. The words echoed in her mind as she tried to process everything, the pain, the humiliation, and the utter helplessness of being in this place again, trapped in a web of manipulation and fear. Her father's indifference, Voldemort's wrath, she was at the mercy of people who had no care for her.

She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream that she would leave, that she was done, but nothing came out. She had no more energy to argue, no more will to defy.

Theo helped her to her feet, his face pale, his usual defiance replaced by something darker, a grim understanding of their situation. He gave her a quiet, concerned glance but didn't speak. There was nothing to say.

Talwyn moved on autopilot. Her body ached, her nerves frayed and twitching. Theo was still close, his shoulder brushing hers as they walked. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. The others followed quietly, all of them shaken in different ways.

They were escorted upstairs by one of the Nott manor's silent house-elves and led to a room that had once been familiar. At least, it used to be. When Talwyn stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.

It was cold. The warmth that had once lived here, however faint it had been, was completely erased. The walls were lined now with towering shelves filled with ancient books, Dark texts, and relics. The soft rug she remembered from childhood was gone, replaced with cold stone beneath their feet. Two queen-sized beds sat on either end of the room, an impersonal, stark arrangement meant to remind them they no longer belonged. 

Her father had turned their bedrooms into a study room and a library.

She hadn't thought she could be surprised anymore, but this, the quiet erasure of her place in the home she was raised in, struck a nerve sharper than she expected.

It was like he had been waiting for her to fall. Like the moment she and Theo left, he had claimed ownership of everything that once belonged to them, down to the very walls.

She sat heavily on the bed closest to the window, her bones still aching from the Cruciatus Curse, but her mind sharper now, burning with resentment.

"Are you okay?" Lorenzo asked, stepping in gently beside her as Theo dropped his bag at the foot of the bed.

She nodded slowly, voice quiet. "I'm fine. It wasn't the first time."

The weight of that statement settled over the room like smoke. None of them asked what she meant. They all knew.

"How long do you think they're going to make us stay here?" Theo asked the others, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I'm not sure," Mattheo said from where he leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. "It's hard to say. Depends on what my father wants next. And your father."

Talwyn stared at the floor, letting the cold seep into her skin. "As long as they can, probably."

Her voice was hollow, but certain. There was no delusion about freedom here. She had tasted it at Hogwarts, with George, with her friends, and now, she was right back in the cage.

"What do we do?" Lorenzo asked, pacing slightly. He looked pale under the low lantern light, his usual happy and up-beat composure worn thin.

"What we always do," Talwyn said flatly, laying back on the bed beside Theo, the mattress stiff and unwelcoming beneath her. "Wait around and try our best to act perfect."

There was a pause before Mattheo scoffed, dark amusement flashing across his face. "Oh yeah, because you're so good at that."

Her head turned sharply to glare at him, but before she could snap back, Theo beat her to it.

"Shut the fuck up, Mattheo," he growled, rising halfway from the bed. "That's what he wants. He wants us to be against each other, so we're weaker. So we're easier to control."

Mattheo didn't respond right away. His jaw twitched as he looked at Theo, and then his gaze flicked back to Talwyn. His smirk faltered, and whatever venom had been behind his words disappeared. He looked tired. They all did.

The room was silent again. Tension lingered, thick and unspoken. It was always like this, wasn't it? One minute they were fighting to survive together, the next they were turning on each other, wounds too deep to fully close bleeding back to the surface.

Talwyn turned her face toward the window. The night outside was black and endless, no stars, no moonlight. Just shadows.

She didn't know how long she'd be here. She didn't know what Voldemort wanted from her next, or if she would survive another punishment.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:•✧◈✧•:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

The morning came gray and bitter, with clouds so thick they pressed like iron against the windows of the Nott Manor. Talwyn awoke with a dull ache in her spine from the too-firm mattress, the kind of ache that reminded her exactly where she was, home, though it no longer felt like it.

The air was colder today. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to see Theo already half-dressed and tying his boots. Mattheo and Lorenzo were still asleep, tangled in blankets, their faces slack with exhaustion.

"We have a meeting this morning, can you wake up those two?," Theo muttered when he saw her looking. "Father wants all of us in the west study. Voldemort's away, apparently, something came up. Bellatrix and Lucius are here, but they wont be at the meeting."

Talwyn's stomach turned at the thought. Her wand felt heavier than usual in the waistband of her trousers. She woke the other tired boys and dressed in silence, tying her long hair into a braid and trying not to look at herself too long in the mirror. She hated how pale she looked in this place. How small.

They were escorted down by the same emotionless house-elf to the west study, formerly a music room, now transformed into something bleak and severe. Their father stood at the far end of the long oak table, dressed in full black robes with silver embroidery, his dark eyes colder than the morning air.

He didn't greet them when they entered, only gestured stiffly to the chairs across from him.

Bellatrix's wild laughter echoed faintly through the hallway, even though she wasn't in the room. Talwyn sat down slowly, Theo beside her, then Mattheo and Lorenzo, all of their jaws clenched.

"This is not Hogwarts," their father began, voice like splintered glass. "You are not children anymore, and certainly not guests. You are servants of the Dark Lord."

None of them spoke.

"You will act like it. There will be no talking back. No hesitation. He has taken interest in your potential, though I cannot imagine why," he added with a cutting sneer Talwyn barely resisted rolling her eyes at. "But know this: the Dark Lord is patient until he isn't. He rewards loyalty, and punishes defiance."

Talwyn didn't look away. "You've made that very clear."

Theo reached under the table and touched her knee, a silent plea not to push further.

Their father narrowed his eyes, but continued. "You'll begin additional training today. Spellwork. Physical endurance. Punishment, if necessary. You will write daily reports, and when the Dark Lord returns, you will present yourselves with pride."

His words droned on like poison-laced sermons. Talwyn's body was there, but her mind was already slipping elsewhere, back to the towers of Hogwarts, back to the touch of George's hands the other night, the sound of his voice when he asked her to come back to him.

She needed air. She needed to breathe.

"I need to use the bathroom before we start," she interrupted.

Her father glared. "You may go. But don't wander."

Talwyn stood slowly, ignoring the heat in his voice and the way her stomach tightened as she walked down the hall.

The bathroom was dimly lit, its marble floors cold under her feet as she washed her hands, trying to ignore the shaking in her fingers. She stared at herself in the mirror. Was that really her? The girl who used to dream of normalcy, of soft beds and gentle mornings?

Then: knock, knock.

She froze.

Her head whipped toward the window.

There, just outside the frosted pane, was Fred Weasley, grinning like a lunatic, crouched beside the slightly rusted blue Ford Anglia, its nose buried halfway into a hedge. George stood behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes were locked on her.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She yanked the window open just a crack.

"Are you insane?" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You can't be here- it's not safe!"

Fred winked. "Hello to you too. Lovely morning for a kidnapping, don't you think?"

George stepped forward. "You said it'd just be one night. When I didn't see you this morning I knew something was up."

Talwyn shook her head frantically. "It's not that simple. Voldemort's away but Lucius and Bellatrix are here. If anyone sees you- please, you need to leave."

"We're not leaving without you," George said, his voice low but unwavering, steady in a way that made her heart break.

She cast a panicked glance back toward the hallway. If her father noticed she'd been gone too long, if Bellatrix heard a sound—

"No," she whispered fiercely. "You'll get yourselves killed."

George's expression didn't waver. "Better that than not trying."

Fred hoisted himself up onto the narrow window ledge, grinning like he was in the middle of a prank gone too far. "Come on, Tal. Be reckless. We miss you."

Her breath caught in her throat. A part of her - raw, starved, aching - ached to crawl out that window and into the chaos, into the arms of someone who loved her without condition.

But the other part - the part forged from duty, from blood, from the unbreakable bond she shared with the boys still trapped in this place - screamed louder.

"Theo, Mattheo, and Lorenzo are here too," she whispered, the words trembling from her lips. "I can't leave them."

Fred turned to look at George, and they exchanged a silent conversation only brothers could understand. Unspoken agreement passed between them, firm and final.

Then both of them looked back at her, Fred wearing that mischievous glint like armor, George holding her gaze like a lifeline.

"We'll see you in a second," Fred said casually, as if it were nothing at all.

George's eyes softened, but his tone was sharp. "Be on guard, Talwyn."

Her breath hitched. "What? What are you-" But they were already gone, slipping from the window frame like ghosts, moving toward the front of the manor.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Her stomach turned. She didn't need rescuing, not like this, not here. They didn't understand what kind of fire they were walking into.

Talwyn rushed back down the corridor, trying to breathe through the pounding of her heart. She slipped into the study, back into the same seat beside Theo as if nothing had happened. But her hand instinctively dropped to her waistband, fingers grazing the worn wood of her wand.

Be on guard, George had said.

So she was.

Their father's droning voice filled the room again, lecturing them on control, discipline, service to the Dark Lord. It felt like listening to nails against glass.

And then- BOOM.

A deafening blast rang through the manor. The windows of the study rattled in their frames, and the chandelier overhead trembled ominously.

Talwyn stiffened.

Her father paused mid-sentence, furrowing his brow. "What the hell-"

Before he could finish, another explosion cracked through the air, closer this time. The house shook, the walls groaned.

"What the hell is going on?" he shouted, storming from the study and toward the entryway, his long robes billowing behind him.

Theo leaned toward her. "They just showed up, didn't they?"

Talwyn didn't even flinch. "They always do."

"What?" Lorenzo hissed.

"What the fuck is going on?" Mattheo snapped, standing now.

"We have to get out there," Talwyn said quickly, her voice hard and certain. "Wands out. Now."

She led the way, her heart hammering in her chest. Smoke curled down the hall like fingers beckoning them forward. The heavy scent of sulfur and burning parchment filled the air.

When they reached the entry, it was chaos. Chunks of the front door were gone, scattered like shrapnel. The air was thick with gray smoke, and there was no sign of the twins, but the crackle of magic still lingered in the air like lightning before a storm.

Her father whirled on her, his face twisted in fury. "What the bloody hell did you do while you were in the bathroom?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Talwyn cried, breathless. "I swear-!"

But her father wasn't listening. His hands were on her in an instant, fists clenched around her shoulders, shaking her like he could rattle the truth out of her bones.

She gasped as pain shot through her arms.

Theo surged forward, rage boiling in his veins. He slammed into their father with enough force to send the man stumbling backward a step.

"Don't touch her," Theo snarled, wand drawn and eyes blazing.

Talwyn's knees gave out, and she hit the cold stone floor, her leg buckling beneath her. Theo dropped beside her immediately, hands fluttering over her, checking for injury, panic etched across his face.

And then, click click, the sound of heels echoed down the stairwell.

Bellatrix and Lucius descended like phantoms, their expressions sharpened with anticipation.

Bellatrix's wide, maniacal eyes locked onto Talwyn first, her wand twirling between fingers like a snake about to strike.

"Oooh," she cooed, delighted. "What lovely little trouble we've got this morning."

Lucius said nothing, but his gaze roamed the room, calculating and cold. His lip curled slightly at the sight of Theo shielding his sister.

"Let me guess," Bellatrix hissed, stepping closer, wand outstretched. "The girl did something again." She pointed directly at Talwyn, her smile feral. "I always said she'd crack. Just like her mother."

Talwyn's blood turned to ice. Something primal unfurled in her chest.

She shot to her feet, ignoring the pain screaming in her leg, wand raised, fire in her eyes.

But before she could cast, Theo yanked her back. "Don't," he hissed. "She wants you to lose it."

Bellatrix's grin only widened. "Ooooh, scary," she mocked. "The little traitor has claws."

And then, beneath the haze of smoke still curling through the air, came the unmistakable sound of a laugh.

Fred's laugh.

The kind of laugh that didn't belong in this house. The kind of laugh that meant rescue.

They weren't gone.

The twins were already inside.

There was no warning, just a crack and a flash of green as a spell burst from the shadows. It hit the chandelier overhead. With a groan of splintering metal and snapping chain, the great fixture plummeted.

Everyone ducked. Everyone except Lucius.

It crashed to the floor with a violent crunch, catching Lucius Malfoy square across the back and head. He collapsed instantly beneath the tangle of iron and shattered crystal.

"WHO'S THERE?!" Bellatrix shrieked, spinning wildly, wand raised like a whip.

"Depulso!" Talwyn shouted, her wand aimed straight at Bellatrix.

The curse hit, slamming Bellatrix back into the stone wall with a crack. She crumpled to the floor, dazed, blood streaking down the side of her temple.

But Talwyn didn't see Nott Sr. advancing.

"Diffindo!" he bellowed.

A hot slash tore open the side of Talwyn's leg. She screamed and collapsed again, clutching the wound as blood poured between her fingers. The pain was immediate and blinding.

"How dare you," her father snarled, towering over her, his wand pointed down like a dagger. "You sicken me... Crucio!"

Talwyn's body convulsed. Agony lit every nerve in her body on fire. It clawed through her chest, her limbs, her soul. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream. Her mouth opened but no sound escaped. Her body seized and writhed on the floor as Theo shouted her name in horror.

"Diffindo!" someone else roared.

The curse hit Nott Sr. squarely in the ribs, knocking him backward.

It was George.

The redhead stormed through the settling smoke, his wand out, his eyes darker than Talwyn had ever seen them. He looked furious. He looked unafraid.

He stood over the man who had tormented the girl he loved, the man who had dared to use the Cruciatus Curse on his daughter, like he wasn't even human.

"I want you to feel the pain you caused her," George said, his voice low and steady—but it wasn't soft. It was pure venom, coiled with rage. It was war made of words. "The pain you caused Theo. The pain you caused me and my family."

Fred stepped up beside him, eyes sharp and thunderous. He didn't need to say much—his stance said enough. Unyielding. Ready.

They both stared down at Nott Sr. like he was nothing more than a rotted piece of furniture that needed to be burned out of their way.

"Pick your poison, mate," Fred said, wand gleaming in the light filtering through the smoke. "Because it's gonna hurt either way."

Across the room, Talwyn groaned, trying to sit up. Her arms trembled beneath her, blood coating her hands and seeping through the shredded fabric at her thigh. Her vision swam, tilting sideways.

Lorenzo and Theo were crouched next to her in an instant, pressing both hands to her leg, their faces pale and panicked.

"You're okay," Lorenzo repeated like a prayer, trying to keep her tethered, trying to believe it himself.

But the smoke kept curling into the room. The floor vibrated beneath them—distant spells crashing against stone. Voices shouted from other wings of the manor.

Chaos was no longer approaching.

It was here.

Talwyn blinked blearily, her eyes drifting across the battlefield of her childhood home. Her gaze landed on Mattheo.

He stood tall, rigid, staring down at Bellatrix Lestrange, who sat on the floor beneath him, her lip bleeding, her eyes blazing.

"Help me up, my darling," she purred, lifting her hand like a queen bestowing favor.

Mattheo didn't move for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he raised his wand, not to help her, but to aim.

"You're not my mother," he said, voice flat and final. Like it had been building in his throat for years, and he'd finally let it free.

Talwyn flinched as the curse hit Bellatrix. She screamed as she hit the wall behind her with a bone-jarring crack, slumping down, dazed and defeated.

That was the last thing Talwyn expected to see, but it filled her with something complicated and fierce. A sense of rightness. Of reckoning.

Her eyes slid back to the center of the room, where her father had somehow pulled himself to his feet again.

Bloodied, bruised, but standing.

He was dueling Fred and George now in a fury, wand strikes like lightning, curses cracking through the thick smoke that curled like fog. He fought with nothing but hate.

Talwyn pushed against the arms holding her down.

"No- stop- let me go," she muttered, stumbling to her feet. She nearly fell again, but this time she used the pain to steady herself.

"Tal- don't-" Theo pleaded, but she shook her head.

She limped forward, one step, then another, dragging her bleeding leg, her shoulders back.

She faced her father, and something in her eyes made him freeze.

"Hey!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

He turned slowly, wand still raised, his face hollow and furious.

"You dare-" he growled. "You dare raise your voice to me now?"

He stepped toward her. "I will torture you until the day I die if it means you don't pull this shit again, Talwyn. Do you hear me?"

Talwyn pulled her wand - her hand shaking, her bloodied leg threatening to give out beneath her - but she stood.

Before she could raise it fully, he struck.

Expelliarmus!

Her wand flew from her grasp and clattered across the floor.

The next word came from him like a reflex.

"Crucio."

The spell hit her like a bolt of lightning to the chest.

Pain exploded through her. Not just pain, suffering. Her limbs seized, her vision shattered into black cracks, and the screams that tore from her throat didn't sound human.

And then-

Darkness.

She fell, and the world vanished beneath her.