"Taylor! Wake up!"

Taylor sat up groggily as the bedsprings groaned under new weight. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Taylor realized Chloe was sitting at her feet, already fully dressed (damn her morning-person-ish-ness) and staring down at a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Whazzit?" Taylor managed.

"Look," said Chloe, passing her the paper. Taylor blinked a few more times and then frowned down at the bold headline:

SALEM SCHOOL OF MAGIC ATTACKED

Late last night, a group of at least twenty Death Eaters attacked the Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, forcing entry through means that have not yet been determined. Thankfully, no students were injured, but many among the staff were wounded while trying to protect their charges. All injured professors have been taken to the nearest Wizarding hospital, Sacred Cauldron, in New York City, where trained mediwizards are feverishly trying to save one Salem professor who jumped in front of a curse meant for a student. Nicholas Miller, Professor of Arithmancy, took an unknown hex to the chest and is currently in critical condition and unlikely to pull through, according to one hospital official.

Salem School's Headmaster Charles Denton released a statement this morning praising all his staff's actions in defending the school, and spoke especially about Professor Miller's sacrifice, asking witches and wizards everywhere to keep him in their thoughts. He also went on to detail plans to reinforce the security spells around the castle. While officials are still unsure how the Death Eaters were able to enter the castle, the Magical Law Enforcement Wizards are working with the best spell-builders in the United States to ascertain and protect against this strategy.

This assault on our younger witches and wizards has put many parents of Hogwarts students on high alert, and despite Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's assurances that the highest precautions are being taken at the prestigious wizarding school, many such parents are threatening to have their children removed from the school for their own protection.

"This is ridiculous," Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration Minerva McGonagall was quoted as saying to one distressed mother. "There is no safer place for your children during such dark times, you silly twit."

Taylor actually laughed at the final quote, but Chloe looked upset and pulled the paper out of her hands.

"This is serious, Taylor!" said Chloe, angrily.

"I know it is, for goodness sake," said Taylor, sobering as she stood up and stripped off her pajama bottoms, changing into a pair of jeans. "But Professor McGonagall—well, it's hard to explain. The point is—"

"The point is, this is the biggest attack in the States since we heard You-Know-Who was back," Chloe said, standing and shaking the paper for emphasis.

Taylor wiggled into an arguably too-small purple t-shirt with a gold star across the front, pulling the hem down as far as it would go, barely enough to keep the skin of her stomach from showing. Chloe looked at her skeptically, apparently forgetting the international wizarding crisis long enough to comment on Taylor's wardrobe choice.

"Can you even breathe in that thing?"

"Shut up," Taylor said, walking across the room to stick her hand out the window. It was raining. "It's a Prides shirt."

"Pride?" Chloe asked, as Taylor rummaged around in her drawers for a zip-up jumper.

"Prides," corrected Taylor, caught in an inside-out sleeve. "The Prides of Portree? Oh come on," she said at Chloe's puzzled look. "They're my Quidditch team! From my hometown! You've never heard of the Prides?"

"Oh, like you would know any of the US teams," said Chloe, defensively.

Taylor was saved from answering by an owl's appearance at the window. It stepped inside without being invited, but Taylor couldn't blame it; what started as a light drizzle had rapidly turned into a torrent, and raindrops the size of marbles were pelting the window. The small brown owl ruffled its feathers and stuck its leg out, offering Taylor the small letter.

She took it, turning it over in her hands. The ink was smudged and running in the rain, but it was still clearly addressed to Chloe. Taylor turned to hand it to Chloe and found the other girl looking very pale.

"Chloe?" Taylor asked worriedly.

"I have family at Salem," she said, quietly. Taylor's insides turned to ice and she only just found her voice again.

"But—the article said no students were hurt, right?"

Chloe didn't respond, hurriedly ripping open the envelope. Taylor watched her worried eyes scan the letter, and then her expression turned to disgust as she threw the letter down on her unmade bed.

"What is it?" Taylor asked, not sure if it was within her friend/roommate privileges to pick up the letter and read it herself as Chloe turned to kick her wastebasket so hard she put a dent in the side.

"They're taking my cousin out of school," Chloe said. "How stupid. On this one I'm with your Professor McGonagall. Idiots. I'm writing them right now."

Chloe searched through a few desk drawers before slamming the last one shut, knocking an ink bottle to the floor, which thankfully bounced once without breaking.

"What's the department you ask for Howlers from?" Chloe asked. "I don't have any with me."

"Department of Disciplinary Post," said Taylor. "Let me feed this owl before we send it back out in that mess." She clucked at the small owl, offering her arm, and it sprang to her elbow, shuffling sideways until it rested on her shoulder, hooting contentedly. Ducking low to walk through the closet into the kitchen, Taylor heard Chloe still muttering angrily under her breath.

Taylor pulled open cupboards, looking for bread, before spying a loaf already on the counter. Wondering momentarily if the kitchen could read minds, Taylor pulled out two slices of the course wheat bread and put them in the toaster.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked the owl. It ruffled its feathers, but remained silent. "I suppose that's a no; it's wet enough out there already." The owl shuffled from side to side on her shoulder while they waited, and when the toast sprang up (only slightly burnt), Taylor set one slice on the counter, which the owl immediately leapt on. Opening the fridge, Taylor pulled out strawberry jam for her own slice of toast.

Suddenly Taylor realized she should have asked if Chloe wanted anything.

"Chloe?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you want anything for breakfast?" Taylor called, leaning toward the door.

"No, I'm not hungry, thanks," came the reply. "How's that owl?"

Taylor turned to look at the little bird, which was pecking away at the toast with gusto.

"Spunky," said Taylor. "Ready any minute now."

As Taylor spoke, the owl shook off a few stray crumbs and flew back to her shoulder, startling her. She walked back into their room, turning off the kitchen lights and pulling the closet door shut behind her. The owl saw the envelope in Chloe's hand and hopped onto the desk, holding out one leg expectantly. Chloe carefully tied the letter on and carried the owl to the window, where it disappeared into the storm.

"I'd better wait for that Howler," said Chloe, sighing. "Tell Professor Pike I'm ill or something."

"I will," said Taylor, collecting the parchment and texts she'd need for their history of magic class. Elbowing her way out the room, Taylor stopped as Chloe put a hand on her shoulder.

"Taylor," said Chloe. "Be careful. I know, this sounds ridiculous, but Salem has a lot more protection than Wandslake does, and—well, be careful."

Taylor nodded. She left, and walking down the hall, she marveled at how quickly the wizarding world could change.