Earlier that night...

The school had never much cared for him anyway. Above average grades and perfect attendance never landed him anything more than a meaningless pat on the back and jealous glares from his class mates.

He had the feeling that after tonight his dad would notice those achievements too...were he not to interfere.

It couldn't be helped, and he had Agnes to blame.

Ever since she left, he'd done nothing but read. It was an escape into a reality that—for a moment—was his.

Hero's, happy endings, philosophy's both alike and opposite. He read until words were practically coming out of his ears.

It didn't help. It never filled the anger or the loneliness. Reading had become a drug with a temporary effect, leaving him more broken when the last page was turned.

Cole knew Linda liked to read too. He remembered Agnes mentioning something along those lines years ago, when reading was just a hobby and not an anesthetic. That's why he'd filled her cabin prison with a couple of scattered books.

There was however one book he'd ignored; the one Agnes had given him.

The one book that convicted him enough to take the final decision. To stop the killings and the self-pity.

He ran downstairs and picked up one of the many wands stored in his father's study. Cole didn't ponder long on whom it had belonged to or what could've become of them. Instead, he put on the grim reaper mask and left a note by the kitten's drawer.

If he returned tonight, he'd remove it. Of course, he wanted to return. To live in the happily ever after his father had promised him, but death didn't intimidate him at this point.

He'd only opened the book a few weeks ago, but a power stronger than magic took the fear away.

With one last pet on the head to Dr. Marshmallow, he took off into the night, whispering a single phrase over and over

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends-John 15:13."

***

Bruno Quinn was resisting not the cuffs, but rather the blind truth. Confirmation of what he feared or the relieving news of his son's well-being.

The cops had arrived at the scene before Harry even had time to take his next breath. Form his next thought. Come up with his perfect cover story.

Not one witch hunter there escaped the black cars with wailing sirens. Some made it as far as the parking lot, unpleasantly surprised when they found the area to be surrounded.

Hermione had thought ahead of Harry long before the interrogation began.

Though, it wasn't much of a thought as it was a strategy. They played the shoulder shrug card—who were they? Don't know. Who called us? Don't know. Who let the m in? Who pulled the fire alarm? Ever seen any of those men or women before? Don't know.

The police was patient enough with them, only nodding politely at their short, useless answers. Harry was sure they planned to investigate the matter further, but they were off the hook.

Just some under aged teens at the wrong place at the wrong time. Shame about their friend.

The last he saw of the ballroom that day was one final glimpse at Bruno as the officer's dragged him away, all the while shouting Cole's name at the top of his lungs. A penetrating echo louder than any of the gunshots.

***

Outside the air was freezing.

Students were lined up in random rows in the large soccer field. None of them had been in a designated class. Random lines of different grade levels mixed in barely being kept together. The area was a hissing sea of students whispering in terrified symphony.

Harry looked for Amber, risking strange glances from students when he a loser asked about Ms. Popular.

Professors Anderson—their history teacher—caught them wandering and placed them in a random line.

Hermione spotted Linda, Mike, and Darren and pointed.

Harry waited until Anderson was a good distance away before bolting towards them.

Linda's eyes lit up like fireworks when she saw them coming, covering her mouth, she let out a squeal and ran towards them, hugging the life out of Hermione.

Mike and Darren looked up at the sudden noise, squinting under the darkness. A truckload of weight visibly left their back when spotting the wizards, they too running towards them.

Mike did a side hug to Ron and Harry who were still shaking from the commotion. Darren mirrored Mike, gripping Harry tight as if to make sure he was really there.

"Merlin," Mike imitated the wizards after Linda and Hermione pulled away, him and Darren gripping her shoulder warmly. "I thought we'd gone back to only one smart mouth in the group."

Hermione smirked. "Not yet."

Harry opened his mouth to explain what happened.

Linda shushed him, and raising her voice slightly, "What happened? We heard the gunshots, but when we turned to ask you about it, you weren't beside us anymore."

McGonagall was a good ten meters from where they stood. She couldn't be playing dumb because of her, could she?

"Yeah," Mike said in that same false confusion. "What did happen?"

Harry took another quick glance at his professor.

A fraction of a second. Her eyes moved away. She was listening.

"We thought we'd stay to see where the prank was headed." Harry laughed nervously. "We weren't near the gunshots, as you can tell. I uh...don't know what happened. The police lead us out of the school."

Linda hugged Hermione again. Not the same warm hug from the beginning. An awkward, false hug. The type you'd see in the drama club after the actors read the brackets in the script.

"My parents are picking me up," Linda said. "They said it was okay for Mike and Darren to come, you guys should tag along. Nothing fixes stress like pizza and anime."

The ride to Linda's house was as uncomfortable as it could get. While Mr. and Mrs. Nyguen were fine with the extra visitors, it was not something the car was equipped for.

Linda sat atop of Mike, all the while under the glare of Mrs. Nyguen. Ron carried Hermione, which was fine with everyone else except the two of them, and Darren sat atop of Harry.

Harry never realized how bony that muggle was until today.

"Bet you wish it was Amber," Mike whispered.

"That offer works for me too," Darren whispered back.

They were right. He couldn't stop thinking about her. It was nonsense to think that that kiss could've been a goodbye, right?

The car slid smoothly into the stone driveway.

The teens all but crawled atop each other to escape.

"Told you brooms were better," Ron told Mike, walking in after Linda and Hermione.

Mike shook his head. "I don't care how fun you make it sound. Having that between your legs can't be comfortable."

The house was just as Harry had found it on their last visit. Not one speck of dust on any surface, as if time were forever frozen in the home. Maybe time was always frozen here. Trapped in a frustrating cleanliness.

The entire house, except Linda's room that is. While she—like her family—was a neat freak, the area at least looked lived in with the wrinkled bedsheets and table littered with cloths and laces from last minute costume details.

No one said a word as she turned on the TV. Everyone sat around as if nothing had happened watching the Nightmare Before Christmas. None wanted to speak. The worst part was supposedly over, yet Harry couldn't help but think that it had all been a breeze. Numbly, he waited it out, nibbling on some potato chips until the real nightmare came.

He didn't want to do it, but Harry knew he had to. It had to be him.

The movie ended and Linda flipped to the next channel—the news. The attack on the school was already the talk of the town. It wouldn't be long before Agnes called him and asked about Cole.

Maybe they hadn't let her keep the cell phone. There was no way Calder could have their numbers...was there?

His stomach churned and he pushed the chip bag away. Agnes had been hopeful. The same hope that burned in Cole's eyes during those last moments had a forever shine in her eyes too. Harry still didn't know where the source stemmed from, but he feared accidentally extinguishing that ember.

Agnes and Calder's faces crossed his mind again. They had wanted to take Cole home. To give him back the family he'd lost.

The surreal whistle of a gunshot echoed around him and he saw Cole fall to the ground.

Harry blinked rapidly, but it remained.

Avada kedavra!—Cedric's body hit the ground along with it.

Panic rose from his stomach to his throat.

"Where's your loo?" Harry asked, his voice raising few octaves.

Linda looked towards him, concerned. "Downstairs, second door to the left."

He dashed, time unreal. One second he'd been in the attic, the next he was returning his lunch to the porcelain throne.

His hands were cold and wet, sliding around the surface of seat.

Cole was dead because of him.

Cedric was dead because of him.

His parents were dead because of—Harry clutched his stomach and another flow of vomit splashed into the toilet.

His body couldn't take the pent up emotions. He'd refused to cry and it was taking revenge.

As embarrassing as it was, the only image that came to his mind was Mrs. Weasley. Harry remembered the way she'd held him after Cedric's death. No one had ever held him like that. Only she could make it better, but he wouldn't dare say that out loud, especially in front of Ron.

Someone knocked at the door.

Harry flushed the toilet and wiped at the pricking sensation in the corners of his eyes.

"Harry?" Linda and Hermione called in unison.

He unlocked the door. They were all there. His big, strange friend group with the exception of Amber.

"You feeling okay?" Linda asked. "Should I call my parents?"

"Fine," Harry answered, not looking at the human lie detector.

Hermione grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm fine," he lied, not hugging her back arms hanging limp by his sides. Then, unwanted tears rolling down his cheeks, he repeated "I'm fine."

***

Though Linda's mattress was small, they all managed to fall asleep on it, each using it more as a pillow, the rest of their body resting on the carpeted floor. The TV blared and a light drizzle of rain knocked on the roof.

If spending the night wasn't included in the invitation—Harry realized—the Nyguens did nothing about it.

Instead he found someone had thrown a blanket over them when he awoke around 3am after Darren had kicked him for the third time.

Not that he was getting much sleep that night anyway. Every time he dozed off the shadow of Gled would materialize in front of him until he was back at the dance once again.

Harry knew the trauma would eventually pass. After all, he'd been through worse. The muggles had been more than supportive in their own way. As much as he hated crying in front of people—friends more than anything—once the tears started, they wouldn't stop.

There were no louds sobs, just a fountain of pain pitifully hid on Linda's pillow.

Darren had brought him some red, sugar intoxicated muggle drink and Mike punched him in the shoulder. After about an hour of trying, he and Darren finally got him to laugh. Watching Ron try to beat Linda at a video game whilst Darren and Mike pretended to be cheerleaders was priceless.

The night went on like that. Eventually Harry too joined in on the fun.

When they thought Harry had fallen asleep, Ron and Hermione filled them in on what had happened. Hearing the events didn't faze him as much as he thought they would.

No.

Whatever happened was over with. A thing of the past. The muggles had driven the madness away with the simplicity of their joy.

Yet, Harry still felt unsafe.

Yes, Gled was gone. The witch hunter behind bars. That wasn't the problem—Cole was.

The last few moments with him were burned into his mind. How could someone be so eager—so peaceful—when looking death in the face?

Sure, everyone could play it off using poisonously soothing words like 'I had a good run'.

But in the end, what did the race matter when you're plunging into eternity? Their security was a farce. Only Cole's had been genuine.

These same thoughts had tried to obtain a hold on him after Cedric passed, but now he couldn't push them away. Cedric's death had been instant, but Cole had shared a piece of invisible wisdom with him.

How had he been so sure?

An array of questions pertaining to death swam in his mind. Too many to count. Too many to sort. Too many to breathe.

He sat up and flipped his phone open.

Darren mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. To his surprise, not one text from Amber.

Then, a pang in his chest.

Seven missed calls from Agnes. She kept the phone after all.

The news never disclosed the name of the student injured during the attack, nor had they told Harry whether he'd survived or not, but critical condition didn't leave much to the imagination.

The highlight of the night was when the reporter announced the finding of an unharmed, missing man wandering the streets in Cole's neighborhood.

After a few psychological analyses, Mr. Short would return to his job.

Mike rolled over and his arm wrapped around Linda. Harry got the feeling he wasn't completely unconscious.

***

Hermione left to deliver the news to Calder and Agnes not long after the victim of the shooting was pronounced dead. Harry said he'd go with her, but the offer was empty. There was no way he could face them ever again.

"I hope they haven't seen the news already," Linda said, passing the bacon plate over to Darren. "It'll be better they find out through her.

Mr. Nyguen had already left for work, but Linda's mom was up and about, cleaning the already spotless home. While he ate, Harry was extra careful of crumbs and stains on the white cloth table.

She was especially attentive of him this morning, giving him side glances asking if he wanted more juice, a hot bath. Either she had seen him crying last night or Linda told her.

"I don't want you going back to that school, Linda."

"Mum. We've been over this. It was a onetime thing. That stupid girls' academy is all the way across town anyway. How do you expect me to visit then?"

Parents were flying in from everywhere. The classes had been canceled, but the school was still open given that not every child had a place to stay while the drama cleared.

Harry knew Amber's dad was out of town. The only place he wanted to be right now was back at school, lying next to Amber in his dorm while they counted down the minutes before he had to leave. He didn't want to pack.

The school was still filled with students. Emily's mom picked her up. It's a sad day when the only one keeping order is a grumpier-than-usual Andrew.

"As I was saying," Mike continued upon reaching a nearly desolate hall. "Amber was acting pretty weird, and then there was this rumor of her falling down the stairs and—"

Before Mike could continue, Harry rushed over to her.

"Amber!"

She whipped around, giving him a strange look.

"Amber," he said again, towering in front of her. "You forgot something."

"I—"

Harry leaned in, planting a kiss on her soft lips. Amber's body froze. Harry held it, waiting for the surprise to pass.

It didn't.

She pushed him. Hard. He stumbled backwards.

Angrily, she wiped her mouth. Her gaze was disoriented and angry. As if someone had just woken her up with an ice bucket. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Harry's star struck mood was shattered.

Was she having second thoughts?

To make it less awkward he forced an amused smile on his face. "I was just returning the favor."

She was silent, staring at him in confusion. "Look, I don't know if randomly kissing strangers is a thing where you come from, but if you want to keep those lips, I'd advise against it."

"What? Amber I was just—"

"And how do you know my name?" She paused for a fraction of a second and rolled her eyes, speaking the next line to herself. "Right, everyone knows my name."

Slowly, Harry's mouth opened, his face morphing from confusion to horror. He clasped a hand on his mouth, holding back a cry for help he knew would do no good now.

It all made sense now. The hushed voices. False hugs. McGonagall's penetrating look.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?"

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard. There was no snide comment, just a shake of the head. "The accident in the stairs...You didn't hear? Isn't this part of your prank?"

Harry shook his head. "Prank? What prank?"

"During the shooting I fell down a flight of stairs. Lost a bit of memory, but not much. Well, I guess with everything else, not everyone has found out yet." She smiled smugly. "A bunch of boys keep claiming I dated them during October."

"Mr. Potter," came a stern voice behind him.

Harry turned. McGonagall wasn't the least bit phased by his horror. Harry gave Amber one last glance and followed her numbly.

Being expelled from Hogwarts felt like nothing now.

***

"Sit."

Harry did.

Room 413 was less welcoming that he remembered.

"I understand keeping our identities hidden in this school is a difficult task," she began. "And you are well aware of what happened to Agnes when she failed to do so."

"I was about to pack anyway."

Harry's words didn't feel like his anymore.

The professor frowned. "If you would be so kind as to let me finish, I would much appreciate it."

Harry looked up for the first time since he walked in.

"As I was saying; you are well aware of what happened to Agnes. However, she acted deliberately, stunning a muggle. I assume your actions weren't this reckless?"

Harry pursed his lips. "It was self-defense from another classmate."

"Wizard?"

"Yes."

McGonagall sighed. "Even if they were somewhat deliberate, I can't expel you for obvious reasons."

Why was it so hard for everyone to say Voldemort?

"Are we done here the, professor?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I already have enough detention to fill up the rest of the year. I mean, you could always erase Ron's memories of me, not like those matter. Why not throw Hermione in there too?"

"Harry," her eyes softened. "You know I had to. The law—"

"Screw the bloody law!"

Maybe she would've scorned him for his tone, had it not cracked near the end.

"Amber has to remember me."

Tears fell.

"It's not fair."

Minevra handed him a tissue.

"I know about the others. They must forget too, I'm afraid."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

"It's either me or someone from the ministry that must take action."

"Please."

McGonagall eyes were heartbroken, yet determined. Harry would never win.