At just before three o'clock, Dominique knocked on Professor Longbottom's office door. It immediately opened, revealing Longbottom sitting behind his desk and his wand pointed at the door he'd presumably just charmed to open. There was a large, rather aggressive looking potted plant sitting in front of him that was currently wrapping several of its vine-like arms all around a ball that it had acquired from somewhere. When Longbottom noticed her staring, he quickly told her, "It's only playing."

She'd been tempted to ask what exactly it was playing, but she instead opted to not say anything at all. Longbottom was moving the plant off of his desk to the back corner and turning back around on her with a pleasant smile.

"Healer Cane seems to be running a bit behind," he offered, gesturing for her to sit. "Which can be typical, I'm afraid. But it should only be a few minutes. Sorry about tearing you away from the celebration upstairs.

I'm afraid I didn't plan this well."

She shrugged and took her familiar chair—the one she always found herself in—as she sighed and looked around, eventually finding herself turning back to Longbottom. He was still smiling politely at her, as if they both knew something should be said to fill the time.

"How have you been, Dominique?" he finally said.

She shrugged. They'd be here all day if she gave him a truthful answer to that question, so she instead mumbled a fairly innocuous sounding, "Fine."

"Madam Pomfrey tells me you're visiting her almost regularly for Calming Draught."

"I guess," she said, holding her hands together in her lap. "It does help when I feel anxious."

"I'm sure it does," he said as they lulled themselves into another bout of silence before he then added, "You must be ecstatic that Gryffindor won today."

She nodded, though her expression remained rather reserved. "Absolutely. Couldn't be happier. Jack and the rest of them worked really hard. They deserve it."

He was nodding. "They did. Absolutely fantastic way to end the season. Really couldn't be prouder." He let himself observe her rather thoughtfully. "I do find it unfortunate that you didn't get the chance to experience it, though."

She smirked at him. "Well, sir, you suspended me from the rest of the season."

"Doesn't make it any less unfortunate," he said as his expression suddenly grew curious. "Have you still been flying? I remember you mentioned you weren't comfortable on a broom these days."

"I am," she said. "But…" She shrugged. "No real improvement. I've come to accept that my best flying days might be behind me."

Longbottom let his eyes drop to his desktop; his expression seemingly disappointed to hear that. "How do you feel about that?"

She smirked again. "And here I thought the Healer would be the one asking me those kinds of questions."

With a small laugh, Longbottom seemed to concede to that, adding that he completely understood if she preferred to save her energy for when the Healer got here instead of laying it all out for him. He did, however, suddenly use his wand to charm a nearby chest of drawers to open, which allowed a lengthy looking scroll of parchment to rise from within. She watched as it landed on his desk, causing him to unroll it and begin scanning down the paragraphs and paragraphs of writing.

"I ask because…" He stopped to read something, as if he'd found what he was looking for, "we haven't spoken about your future plans much at all. I believe the last two or three times I've asked you to set an appointment to have that discussion, you've chosen not to."

That was true, though two or three times was probably well under the actual amount of times she'd avoided having that sit down with him about her plans and career aspirations. The last time she could remember doing it, she was fairly certain it was after she'd gotten her O.W.L. scores in fifth year.

"Last we spoke," Longbottom said, still reading over what she'd now realized was a scroll about her, "You were going to be a professional Quidditch player." He looked back at her.

She exhaled rather heavily. "Guess that's out."

He was still reading her scroll, his eyes scanning very quickly. "Well, it may be very late in the term, but in the grand scheme of life, you've got plenty of time to figure yourself out. Let's talk about possible other paths while I've got you here. Outside of Quidditch, what subjects held your interest? What area of study?"

She shrugged. "I never really had one. I sort of just...did them because I had to."

"You earned O.W.L.s in Charms and Runes." His brow furrowed as he seemed to notice something. "Herbology too, but you dropped my class." He looked back at her. "Why?"

Well, she wasn't about to tell him the truth—how she'd been angry with him after he'd suspended her from Quidditch fifth-year and she hadn't wanted to be in his class any longer. "I guess, I didn't want to continue. I don't remember."

He hummed and continued reading. "That's a shame. You did well. Better than you did in Transfiguration and you kept up with that."

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something about that, but it seemed he was merely commenting because he was already moving on to the next question. "How are you feeling about N.E.W.T.s? Confident? Apprehensive?"

"I feel as if I could easily earn all ten N.E.W.T.s with close to top marks," she said matter-of-factly and without hesitation.

Longbottom not only looked rather shocked to hear that, but confused as well. Who could blame him? He knew what she was capable of as a student. Or, what she had been capable of.

"Is that so? Been studying hard or...?"

"Or I have my brother's—" She pointed to her head, which immediately made Longbottom nod as if he realized.

"Right," he said. "Seems there's a small upside."

She shrugged. "I suppose. I don't see N.E.W.T.s being a problem."

"I don't hear that often," he said, putting her scroll down onto his desk to look back at her. "But if you could swing ten, that would certainly open doors for you. If you do as well as you think you will, it would allow you to explore quite a few career opportunities that you may never have considered."

She took a deep breath before letting it slowly release. "I don't even know where to begin. I feel as though so many of my friends have had their minds made up since O.W.L.s, but I…" She looked away. "I've never even had a back-up plan."

"Back-up plans are important," he said, watching her rather intently now. "It's why I try so hard to get my house members in here to have these discussions about your futures so that you understand all of your options, but some people…"

She laughed a little. "Some people blow you off."

"Can't force anyone to listen if they don't want to."

She nodded, now thinking about why she wouldn't have even entertained the idea of sitting down with him to have this conversation. Even when she could fly, she hadn't been guaranteed a career in Quidditch. What if it hadn't happened even without the spell damage? Had she honestly been so naive to think that—until recently—it was still going to happen somehow, someway? What made her so special?

"I'm not really sure why I never had a back-up plan," she said.

"You are in a unique position," he said casually. "You do know quite a few well-connected people who I'm sure would help you find something if you asked for help."

She stared at him, slowly letting the words he'd spoken sink in. She did know a lot of people. People all over the Ministry, people who recognized the Weasley name. It sort of hit her like a Bludger to the head then why she believed she was so special. She'd felt she was special because she'd grown up her entire life being fucking special. She was. There was nothing more to it.

She suddenly laughed to herself, but it was humorless. "You're right. I didn't have a back-up plan because I didn't need one."

Longbottom cocked his eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Because my aunt is the next Minister of Magic. Because the rest of my family is, as you said, well-connected. Up until recently, I joked my brother would rule the world, and he could have found me something. Who needs a back-up plan when your family practically runs everything?"

He now looked as if he was beginning to understand.

"I've never actually considered it, but…" She shrugged. "Yeah. I think a part of me must have subconsciously known this. I'm a Weasley, for Merlin's sake. First family of the bloody wizarding world these days, aren't we?" She laughed in a doubtful manner, as if a world of realization was suddenly raining down on her. "It was easy for me to only care about Quidditch and nothing else because I've never had to worry about not having options. When you know who I know, there are always options."

Longbottom didn't look as if he could argue what she was saying. "Well, it's certainly a privileged position to be in."

She looked straight at him. She could remember being called privileged once before—by Sabatino at the Quidditch Trials—though when he'd said it, she'd gotten angry and defensive. She'd been insulted that he discounted all of her hard work and, instead, attributed it only to her family's connections. She argued that she'd worked hard to achieve everything she had and it never had anything to do with her family.

But the truth was that, of course, it had. She saw that now and understood what he meant. He wasn't discounting that she'd put in work at Quidditch, he was trying to make her see that her hard work wasn't necessarily equal to other people's.

It's easier to catch a Snitch if someone releases it in front of you versus if they do it across the pitch. Being a Weasley allowed her a safety net that the average wizard didn't get. It was basically like having people release the Snitch in front of her her whole life. And while she would catch it and claim she did all the work, did she really work as hard as the person who's constantly forced to chase it around the pitch?

She could skip her homework and get a hundred detentions, because ultimately someone would look out for her and help her out. She could blow off school and concentrate on a dream like playing Quidditch because if it didn't work out, someone would find her something in one of their departments. Most people didn't have that luxury—her parents hadn't. While she'd always realized much of this on some level, this also felt as if it was brand new information to her. She really did have so many bloody advantages.

"Dominique?" Longbottom asked, his expression rather unsure, seeing as she was having a bit of a crisis sitting there in front of him. "What are you thinking?"

"How my entire life is a lie," she said.

"Your life isn't a lie."

"What have I done that my family isn't directly responsible for?"

"Plenty," he offered. "Though, on that note, don't you think most people would say the same thing?"

She stared at him.

"That our families and support systems have helped and shaped us into who we are. Families helping each other is not exclusive to you. Your family is simply fortunate enough to have more pull than most. It's more recognizable."

"Which is the problem," she said. "What have I achieved on my own? What have I done? I mean, even my brother and sister, they worked hard in school and earned their marks and exam scores. They earned those. I can't even claim I'll earn mine, I've gotten 'lucky' with some spell damage."

"You still have to study and learn the material," he offered. "And those Quidditch wins and achievements were yours as well. You did that. It's just a matter of recognizing that you had advantages getting there—that's the key. You can be both proud of your accomplishments and aware that you had the time and support that many didn't. Recognizing that is the first step to acceptance."

"But I still feel as if—"

"The friends you've made and the relationships you've cultivated, these too are things you've done on your own. You've achieved quite a bit and you'll continue to. You can't put everything on your family. But it certainly does take a village." He smiled at her. "In your case, you've got a very well-to-do village."

"But I don't want to ask them to connect me to my future," she argued. "I want to know that whatever it is I decide to do, I did it on my own. I thought I was doing that with Quidditch, but…" She trailed off.

"Have you ever thought about working in Quidditch?"

Her face fell. Seriously? Has he not been listening about how Quidditch was entirely off the table now?

"In Quidditch," he repeated. "Not playing, but rather the off-broom aspects. Quidditch as a business and an entertainment spectacle is a massive operation. There are Ministry facets dedicated to its regulations, there's the IQA, and each individual team here in Britain has back-office operations.

"I only ask because you enjoy Quidditch. You obviously have dedicated much time to it. And if you do as well on your exams as you seem to think you will, you would have the exam scores to qualify for many of these jobs. And your knowledge of the sport, as well as experience and Trials participation could make you quite the candidate. I would write you a letter of recommendation today attesting to your Quidditch expertise. And I'm sure several other professors would do the same."

She found herself stopping to look at him rather astonished. He would do that for her? Actually take time out of his day to recommend her—her?—for something?

"You would?"

He seemed unsure as to why she seemed surprised. "Of course, I would. I want you—all of you—to succeed. I'm currently writing five other student letters and none of them have famous relatives. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're a Weasley or I know your parents. I want you to succeed because I care about my student and I genuinely believe you are capable of great things on your own. Without all of the extras."

She wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but managed to half offer a, "Thank you, sir," before a sudden knocking on the door caught his attention. He stood to answer it, but not before catching her eye one last time.

"Do me a favor and start considering back-up plans. I'll have your letter to you before your N.E.W.T.s are completed."

She nodded, as Longbottom went to greet and welcome a man Introduced to her as Garfun Cane, Healer Cane. He was the same height as Dominique, and she was by no means tall. He had wild, white hair and a white beard that fell to his chest and was currently plaited into a single piece. He smiled pleasantly at Dominique, extending his hand out immediately to shake hers and apologizing for being late.

"I've known Healer Cane since I was younger," Longbottom continued, and she could immediately tell there was a familiarity between the two. She found herself curious as to why he had so many connections to people in the spell damage department. All of his rose sales were always to benefit that ward specifically; he claimed to know a lot of people who worked there; he was clearly on very friendly terms with Healer Cane; he seemed very concerned about the effects of spell damage and learning how to deal with it. She may have to ask her parents or Ted if they knew why he seemed so involved in this specific area. Maybe her Aunt Ginny since the two were close friends.

"He's been working with victims of spell damage for..." Longbottom began, but he didn't seem to have an exact answer; he turned to Cane for some sort of confirmation.

"Fifty-three years this July," Cane said in a voice that was deeper than Dominique had expected.

"You're in excellent hands," Longbottom said to Dominique before rounding back on Cane. "Though, I have to admit I was expecting one of your associates. I'd have thought you were too busy."

"Well, after consulting with you and Minerva, as well hearing the entire story as to what happened, I have to admit I was rather fascinated. Hector DiSilva is renowned for his perfectionism, so to hear something he did malfunctioned is..." He shrugged and smiled a little, apparently not going to finish that sentence. "Though, I see I've only got one of you. Is your brother not coming?"

Dominique found her mouth twitch a bit. "Actually, no. He seems to be under the impression he's perfectly fine."

"Now, do you believe that to be true?" Cane asked, "or is he in denial?"

Longbottom had started to explain how Louis did seem to be handling things better as far as he could tell, but as soon as he'd said it, Dominique couldn't listen any longer. He wasn't McGonagall, but it was time people knew the truth.

"Sir," she said, standing up straighter. "He's not fine. There have been changes. I'd been hoping to speak with Professor McGonagall about it, but I haven't seen her—"

"She's been very busy with planning for the final task," Longbottom offered. "She was here for the match this morning, but left straight after. Quite a bit of back and forth between here and the Ministry."

"Right, well…" She glanced from Longbottom to Cane and back again. With the heaviest breath could muster, she launched into the entire story. From start to finish—about the love spell, about DiSilva and the potion, about it helping him until he'd stopped taking it, and now about how he seemed to be off the rails even worse than before. She'd stopped short of telling him about her argument with him, but did mention he was far more volatile and irritable lately, which she believed was damage from the second task growing strong—just as her anxiety was.

When she was done, Longbottom was staring at her rather dumbfounded. Cane, however, was nodding. "That's more about what I'd been expecting after the notes I'd read. Telling me the boy was handling things well seemed far-fetched. And then add to that an ancient love spell?" He began reaching around rather eagerly in the bag he'd brought with him.

Longbottom swallowed. "Dominique, why wouldn't you have—"

"I know I should have said something sooner," Dominique said to him, "but it seemed completely under control. Until today."

Cane had pulled out a quill and pad and was scribbling down rather furiously, while Longbottom turned away, as if lost in thought. "I'd wondered why…" He'd begun to say before stopping to ponder something. "When Professor McGonagall asked me about the ingredients for that restorative potion, I'd felt some of the medicinal herbs it required were a strange choice. As someone who's spent a fair amount of time researching herbs and plants for their healing qualities, there's not much out there that can be done for most cases of spell damage. Trust me, I've looked."

"Potions can only manage and help control the effects of spell damage, but nothing exists to simply reverse what's been done," Cane offered, never looking up from his notes. "I would have been out of a job many years ago if that were the case."

"Professor McGonagall seemed caught up on the fact that it's a very old concoction," Longbottom said. "One that's generally believed to help drive off dark magic and spells that have entered the body. It's the stuff of myths and legends. She couldn't see how it was supposed to help with damage procured from an improper spell, but…" He shrugged. "Ultimately, we assumed DiSilva knew something we didn't."

"He did know what he was doing," Cane offered, having stopped scribbling. "He simply lied about the reasons he was doing it. The question is now whether the boy will suffer because of the sudden withdrawal. This can go in many different directions."

"So, we would need to get him back on it?" Longbottom asked.

"He won't take it," Dominique said.

Cane smirked a little. "Well, he would not be the first person to resist taking a potion required of him. There are ways that can be addressed. I would need to evaluate him."

"I tried to get him here today, but he refused. He truly believes he's fine. We had a row about it."

"Again, he would not be the first to think that," Cane offered, glancing over at Longbottom.

"I'll speak to the Headmistress about it when she returns this evening," he said looking rather confused by the entire situation. "I only wish we'd known this from the start." He looked pointedly at Dominique.

"She can't be entirely blamed," Cane offered, gesturing to Dominique. "She's dealing with her own issues, on top of being a teenager. They often feel they have everything under control." He laughed as if that was funny to him. "It's Hector DiSilva, who should have…" He made a face and never finished that sentence.

There was a sudden shuffling along the wall, and a gentleman Dominique recognized from a portrait that hung above the Gryffindor mantle had appeared in a nearby frame. He had brushed the wizened old witch in that portrait aside, much to her chagrin, and immediately said, "Professfor, there's been a disturbance in Gryffindor Tower that requires your immediate attention."

Longbottom sighed, but nodded. He turned his attention back to Cane. I'm sorry, Healer Cane. We won the Quidditch Cup today, which, while wonderful, does cause some madness to occur. You'll have to excuse me."

"Of course," Cane said as if he understood, turning to smile at Dominique. "We'll be fine. It's about time I get to know Dominique, here."

Just under an hour later—after Healer Cane had to end their talk due to yet another commitment— Dominique had left Longbottom's office feeling a lot of mixed things. She didn't feel differently as she assumed she would have, but maybe she was instant expecting results too soon. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

He'd listened to her rather intensely, asking multiple questions and stopping her frequently to make her dissect how she felt about things that had happened to her throughout her life. They'd focused almost entirely on her anxiety issues, and Dominique felt she'd barely gotten to scrape the surface of the things she'd wanted to speak to, but Cane seemed to sense this. He had asked her to please consider coming to see her again once she'd graduated. He felt that if they continued to see each other, she may see a world of good come from it.

He also had come up with a starter potion regimen for her that he felt would allow her from having to drink Calming Draught every day. While he'd said it may have to be tweaked until they found her the perfect recipe, it was nice to know that she'd soon be living a relatively normal life—just as Louis had—as long as she took them regularly. Knowing that unexpected anxiety attacks and nightmares were soon to be a thing of the past was an altogether calming feeling in itself.

She took the long way toward the stairs so that she could further digest more of what had just occurred, but found herself startled to see Sarah sitting outside of Flitwick's office. Her footsteps must have alerted Sarah to her presence because she immediately stood when she saw her.

"Why are you down here?" Dominique asked as she walked toward her. "Are you looking for Flitwick?"

"No," she said, her face serious and her eyes urgent. "Longbottom. He's using Flitwick's office because his was occupied—"

"By me," Dominique said with an obvious sort of smile. "I was in there talking to the Healer bloke, which actually was really—"

"Nic, something happened."

She let her eyebrow raise. She could sense this was serious from Sarah's fidgety nature. "What?"

She took an exceedingly deep breath. "There was a fight. As in, as actual brawl. Not a quick row or a shouting match."

"You were in a fight?" She looked her up and down; she looked unscathed, so if she had been, she seemed to have come out on top.

"I was for a part of it," she said. "But not for the brawl part. That was between Jack and Louis."

Dominique didn't think it was possible for her eyes to grow any wider at hearing that. Had she just said…? "Jack and Louis got in a fight? An actual fight?"

She nodded. "They both threw punches."

"At each other!?" she shouted. "There's no possible...You can't be serious?"

She was now nodding and gesturing to Flitwick's door. "They're in there now with Longbottom," she continued, causing Dominique to stare at the large, wooden door as if it was suddenly going to reveal all the answers to the multiple questions she now had. "It happened not long after you left."

"What happened? Tell me exactly," Dominique asked, urging her to get a move on and tell the rest of this story. "What could have possibly possessed either of them to hit each other?"

Sarah again took a deep breath. "You'd been gone a bit and Jack and I were sitting around the sofas, chatting. Out of nowhere, Louis comes in. And he's irate, Nic. I've never seen him so angry. It was honestly scary at first.

"And he comes straight to us and starts demanding to know where you are. Jack's trying to calm him down and get to the bottom of things, but he's just ranting and raving. When he realized you weren't there, he set in on me."

"For what?!"

"Because the French girl refuses to see him," she said. "She wants nothing to do with him. She won't even talk to him, and he claims it's because you told her about me and him after the ball."

Dominique pulled a face. "What? Why would I have...? Seriously? She doesn't want to see him because she knows he's off his fucking potion!"

"Which is what I figured, but he swore up and down it was you because you're out to destroy his life and this connection he has with her."

"For the love of Merlin...!"

"It completely cracked him. I got in his face and told him you wouldn't have done that and that you didn't go near her all day. Then he turned on me and said it must have been me." She rolled her eyes. "I told him I have a hundred better things to do to meddle in his fake love life."

Sarah looked to be gathering herself before continuing. "But once I got started, I couldn't stop. I was angry now, too. He's been so bloody obnoxious lately, I went in on him for everything, all the lying." Her face tightened up as if she were reliving the moment again. "We had it out right there. He claimed that I was jealous; I told him I was happy to be rid of him."

"What the fuck?" Dominique said, barely above a whisper.

"Nic, I've never seen him like that in all the time I've known him," Sarah said. "But I also didn't care because it felt good to tell him off."

"Alright," Dominique said, still sounding baffled. "That explains why he was angry, but it doesn't explain why he and Jack—"

"Because…" She seemed to be flustered trying to recall everything. "Louis and I were heated and the whole bloody common room was watching. Jack's had enough at this point and he's trying to get Louis out of there because he's cracked, but Louis shoves him and tells him not to touch him. I don't even know what happened next, but apparently Louis pulled out his wand, but it then got knocked out of his hand—presumably by Jack? Everything was happening so fast I couldn't be sure, but I saw Louis swing on Jack. Got him in the eye, I think. I remember it looking swollen before Longbottom got there, but Jack instinctively swung back on him and…" Sarah's face looked rather grim. "I mean, Jack's a Beater."

Dominique closed her eyes, as if bracing herself. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," she said. "Got him square on the nose. Clearly broke it. You could hear the sound." She paused. "There was blood everywhere."

Dominique's expression grew pained as she attempted to visualize her brother's nose spewing blood like a faucet.

"Settled Louis down right quick, though," Sarah continued. "He just stood there swearing and holding his nose while Jack came to grips with what he did. Someone came over and helped stop the bleeding and someone else fixed Louis' nose. I think Jack was in shock because he just stood there staring into space while Louis sat across the room, mopping up his own blood with his shirt. Longbottom turned up after that."

Dominique found herself stunned into silence, which rarely—if ever—happened. Jack and Louis had gotten into a literal, bloody brawl. Louis had gotten in a fight, something he'd never once done in his life, and it had been with his oldest and closest friend. And for what? This was out of control. What the fuck was happening to him? How much worse was he going to get?

And then there was Jack. She'd seen Jack on the brink of fighting a few times, mostly in a Quidditch sense, but he's always restrained himself. He was good about keeping his composure; after all, wasn't that why he'd been made captain over her? She was the one who flew off the handle and doled out the curses and kicks. He was the one who held her back. For him to have hit Louis...well, she honestly couldn't think of a scenario where that would have made sense. That's how far-fetched this all seemed.

"Longbottom dragged them both down here," Sarah continued after a lull. "I'd told him that Louis had started it and that the whole common room saw what happened, but he told me he would take care of it. It wasn't until a few minutes ago that I got called down here. He's asked me to wait outside until he's ready for me. Then you walked up."

"Fuck," Dominique said, wishing more than anything that she could walk into that office right now and be a fly on that wall. "I wonder if Jack is ok. How much trouble is he going to be in?"

Sarah smirked a little as she sat back down. "That's the first time I've ever seen your concern not go straight to Louis."

"Oh, my concern for Louis is through the roof right now," she muttered. "But it has nothing to do with this and everything to do with how he's been acting lately."

Sarah was shaking her head. "Nic, you should have seen how angry Louis was."

"I wish I would have," she said. "Because had I been there, you and Jack wouldn't have had to deal with it."

"Had you been there, you two would have probably murdered each other," Sarah said. "And I think Jack would have been in the same spot he's in now trying to break things up. If he's trying to get Louis to back off me, he'd have done it for you."

Dominique sat down beside her. "Jack knows I can handle my brother."

"But that wasn't the Louis any of us are familiar with."

A silence fell between them as Dominique hung her head and once again let the events Sarah had recalled play out in her mind. This was getting out of hand. This was...she didn't know what this was anymore.

They sat outside of Flitwick's office for another ten minutes, waiting everything out in the hopes that...well, she wasn't sure. She wanted to see Jack and find out what had happened, but she also wanted to see Louis. She wasn't even sure he would talk to her considering she was the one he'd blamed in the first place, but she knew a confrontation between the two of them was inevitable. It may be less messy if it took place with Longbottom in close vicinity.

When Longbottom did open the door, he'd come to invite Sarah into Flitwick's office. Dominique caught no glimpse of Jack or Louis, though Longbottom was already giving her a once over as Sarah stood.

"Miss Weasley, we may be a bit, so while you're welcome to stay and wait out here, I would encourage you to catch up with your friends later."

Sarah threw her a quick look, as if to say she'd find her when she could, and disappeared into Flitwick's office. Longbottom nodded at her before disappearing himself, the door snapping shut behind him.

Dominique wasn't used to being left out of the drama; even though she knew she had no place here, she desperately wanted to know what was going on. She stared at that large door that was now separating her from everyone else, though her gaze quickly drifted to the bench seat she'd just been sitting on.

She could so clearly remember sitting there with Jack months ago, coffee in hand and exhausted after spending the entire night worried about Louis on that mountain during the first task. Sarah had been in tears. Jack had been pacing the room. They'd been so worried. And now here they were—her standing there realizing how troubled her brother was, Jack having punched him in the face, and Sarah ready to paint him as someone who'd cracked and gone mad in the middle of the common room.

It was rather terrifying how quickly everything could change.