Moonlight like frost and snow swept across the ruined walls of 12 Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore's shadow shattering into cobwebs against the faded Black family crest.
Fawkes's gold-and-red tail feathers brushed the back of his hand for the fifth time. That purplish-black cursed scar was devouring his life line, resembling the black banner Grindelwald had unfurled during his speech in Paris years ago. A raven on a withered branch suddenly took flight in terror, its feathers falling into the puddles on the windowsill and reflecting Iblis's mist-like silhouette.
[You cannot save everyone. Merlin couldn't, and neither can you.]
Chapter 254