Romans & histoires Harry Potter Deathly Hallows 2 Script

His eyes narrowed, scanning the perimeter of the cemetery, his gaze slicing past Elias and the hunters who stood before us, searching the shadows for any sign of danger. The hill. The trees. The broken graves. “They’ve closed the circle,” he murmured. A net. Not a hunt. Elias didn’t hesitate. “Kill them both.” The command cut clean through the storm. The lanterns fell, and the mud swallowed their light whole. Then, like a coordinated strike, the chains lurched forward together, their barbed silver tips glinting menacingly in the darkness. As one, the crossbows lifted, their movement eerily reminiscent of a single, living creature drawing a deep breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Eric saw me moving. "Hannah!" He clawed at the pavement, trying to reach me. Every movement made him cough more blood. The spell held him down like an enormous weight crushing his chest. "No..." His voice broke. I reached toward him. Our fingertips remained several feet apart. The chanting became louder. The world blurred. Everything spun. My eyelids grew heavy. This was it. They were taking me. Then A deafening crash split the battlefield. The spell broke instantly. I slammed back onto the ground.

“Something’s wrong.” A faint sound caught my attention—a soft, rhythmic tapping. I followed it to the far corner of the room, where a figure sat in a chair, their face hidden in the shadows. “Who’s there?” I demanded, stepping closer. The figure leaned forward, and my blood ran cold. It was Hal. He smiled, his eyes glowing with dark magic. “You’re too late,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. And then the room exploded in flames.

I was untouchable, a force of nature, an island of blazing light in a sea of chaos. Summoning the deepest magic within me, I unleashed it all. From the depths of my soul, I called forth my death fire—a consuming inferno of black and gold that swallowed Warren whole. His screams echoed one last time before fading into silence. When the flames died, nothing remained of him but ash. The battlefield was quiet. Then the clouds parted, and the first rays of sunlight in days broke through, illuminating the carnage. All around me, creatures fell to their knees—wolves, witches, vampires, and beasts alike. They bowed their heads, chanting my name in reverence and awe.

Dying. This is it. This is how I go. Saving my children. Just like Kieran saved me. Worth it. Every bit of it worth it. The last thing I see before darkness takes me is the witch, standing over me, shaking her head. "Foolish girl. You don't get to die yet. Your story isn't finished." Then nothing.

The staff fell, splintering on the stone. He gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. “You’ve only… delayed it.” Then he smiled, a dying man’s curse. “The Hollow’s heart will rise… through you.” I drove my claws deeper. “Then I’ll drag it down with me.” He fell and silence followed, thick, fragile and unreal. Lyra knelt beside Eira’s body, sobbing quietly. The witches’ ranks scattered, as their power was broken. My wolves stood blood-soaked but victorious. For a heartbeat, it was over.

The woman completes it for me, but the look in her eyes tells me that she thinks it's anything but just. I start to push through the crowd to make my way to the middle, where Harry is going to kill both teenagers, so that I can stop him. I'm almost close to the scene when two different pitches of ear-piercing screams flood the entire courtyard and everyone gasps. The screams stopped at the same time. The two kids are dead. Harry killed them.

"She told me to give it two weeks at max." Anger boiled inside of me. I should have known that she would twist my words and use them against me. "That is not true, Mey." I gave her hand a squeeze. "You are not a conquest. You are my special one, my only one, and I love you, Mey." Mey smiled and her eyes turned soft. "I love you too." * * * “Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love,” Dumbledore says in chapter 35 of The Deathly Hallows when looking at the remains of Voldemort's soul.

After a few more hours of being tied up, and struggling in the ropes, Death finally chuckled and said, “It’s time. The witching hour is upon us.” He began to near us again, a wide, sickening smile on his face. I couldn’t concentrate on him though, my eyes were fixed on Dylan’s chest, making sure he was breathing. My mother, who was gagged, along with my father, seemed to be doing the same. Death soon instructed my coach to bring forth the candles, which he lit and placed systematically on the floor. It was now time to put my plan into action. I knew I needed to act quickly, long before Haydon.