The odor of the night club immediately brought me back to the past 2 years ago when I first stepped into the hidden gem. The Rattling Rat smelled of liquor, dust, spicy perfumes, wooden colognes, and something that I would describe as a basement smell – rotten vegetables and dampness. Together they formed a cocktail of aromas in which the guests thrived. The public was a little different, though I still recognized faces of the people I didn't know but had seen dancing as if it was their last dance, getting shitfaced at the bar counter or snuggling someone in the darkest corners of the club.

We sat at the bar and ordered something to add to the already fading effect of the beer. The Rattling Rat didn't have bright laser lighting systems or vibrant, rotating disco balls, it had never used those things. That's what made the club so different from its counterparts. The lights were darkened, wrapping the whole place in smoky, mist-like color. The only faint glow came from the bar, illuminating all the bottles, the counter, and stools. Coins jingled, Noah was being a good boyfriend, paying for Emily's drinks too.

I was leaning against the counter, sipping on my Jack Daniel's and looking around. Every time the club's door opened, letting in new guests, I shuddered from the cold air that flowed in. The rock band cramped on the small stage were getting ready to perform, testing their musical instruments that emitted various pitched sounds.

The visitors' intentions were quite clear if one watched carefully enough. A middle-aged man dressed in a raincoat sat at the small table at the very furthest wall with a bottle of rum in front of him. His look was stuck to the floor and his face expressionless, obviously, he was here to drink only. A group of young people fidgeted on the dance floor, shifting from one foot to the other, and couldn't wait for the music to start. A couple was sitting on a grey pouf seat, not noticing anyone and anything around them, mesmerized with each other's faces and probably planning to let off the steam in the club's restrooms.

I couldn't stop thinking about the thing I saw outside. What the hell was I even wondering about? If that was a wizard, I wasn't safe in here, the bouncer or the door will be zero hindrance to someone magical...especially if they have mastered the Dark Arts. But I wasn't safe anywhere else either, as now I was in the Muggle world. How long has that thing been watching me, following me, spying on me? Has it seen my house? Maybe even been inside while my family was asleep? Who knew how close to death we might have been. I swallowed another gulp of whiskey, racking my brain about whether it was a servant of Voldemort or possibly the dark wizard himself.

" Why so pensive? " Oliver smiled, placing himself next to me with a glass of gin&tonic in his hand.

I shrugged. " It's just been a while. I had already forgotten what clubbing felt like. This is almost like being here for the first time. "

Oliver looked behind his shoulder where Emily was cuddling with Noah and Alex was busy taking photos of the club. He was always doing that and sometimes I was curious as to why. He didn't seem like the type of person who keeps a journal of pictures from the places they have visited. In the dusky light, Oliver's sky blue shirt had taken the tint of denim cloth.

" Where were you actually? " he asked, leaning closer to me. " I find it really difficult to believe you of all people would have depression so severe it prevented you from attending school. "

" Why not? "

Oliver lifted his eyebrows in question. " You were one of the most joyful guys in our class, I remember. When we left for the summer holiday in June, you looked very fine. What could have happened over a few months that messed you up so badly? "

At this point, I had already drunk a lot and felt I was approaching my limits. I had always scorned people who get so drunk they cannot control their own bladder, pass out on the floor or vomit their insides out on the street corner. I had never been that drunk. I just knew when I had to stop. But even with alcohol clouding my judgment and grave things feeling like a child's play, I didn't say a word about Hogwarts. Maybe the enchantments that were placed on me contained a spell that made me unable to speak about the wizarding school. But honestly, I felt that it was more like my inner code. No matter how drunk I was, some secrets were to remain secrets.

" I don't know what caused it, Oliver. Looking back at the last year now, I can't explain how was I that depressed. Doctors know better, I guess. The human mind is not a machine, anyone can fall. "

" Are you alright now? "

" Yeah. And I don't like remembering it, to be honest. We're supposed to have fun here, not discuss my mental issues. "

I looked up at him. Oliver had seriously glowed up since the last time I saw him. Back in school, he was what you would call a nerd and was frequently bullied for it. His brilliant mind and top grades didn't save him from jeering and physical assault, those were in fact his undoing. That was the main reason for certain assholes to pick on him out of jealously or simply because being a straight-A student wasn't considered cool. Unlike me, Oliver was unable to stand up for himself and every day went home with a few bruises at the least.

Now I almost didn't recognize him. His thick-rimmed glasses were switched for contacts. The collared, plaid shirts that he used to button all the way up were gone, just like the loafers and the tie, the horrible tie that I could never muster up the courage to point out to him. Goodness gracious, what kind of teenager wears a tie to school every day? But Oliver did, for many years, apparently without realizing he made himself look like a grandpa.

That night he looked like a regular 18-year-old. Over the past year, Oliver had let his hair grow longer and changed the style as well as the color, now rocking a chocolate brown quiff that went really good with his cinnamon colored eyes. His face, previously prone to acne, was clear. It seemed that he and physical exercise had become quite close friends, judging by the nicely muscled biceps, revealed by the short-sleeved T-shirt. He was indeed a very good looking guy. I had never noticed that before.

" You have changed, " I said, emptying my glass in one go. " A lot. "

Oliver smiled. " From ugly duckling to swan, huh? A little self-care goes a long way. Had I discovered that a few years ago, my life in school might have been better. "

" I never said you're ugly, man. "

Oliver looked deeply into my eyes and I remembered that in school, some used to call him " oddball ". Back then I thought it had to do with his knowledge addiction and little social life. Now I realized they meant something else. He would avoid the queen of the school – the most popular girl who guys would kill for just to sit next to her in class – or girls in general. At high school, almost everyone had some sort of relationship with the opposite sex, but Oliver was alone and occasionally blushed at the sight of handsome boys. The truth only hit me now, when I had the experience myself.

I stepped back a little. Oliver was an eye-candy, he truly was. And I sensed he would respond if I chose to start something. However, I couldn't force myself to want what I saw. In Oliver's face, I was looking for green eyes, round glasses, messy black hair, and a scar, shaped like a lightning bolt. Nothing was there, of course. It's wasn't fair for me to lead him on, as my friend simply couldn't be...Harry.

I was saved from any further awkwardness by the rock band that was finally ready to play. The guitars roared with the first notes of the cover of a song by Nirvana and we jumped to the dance floor. I was surprised at how my body didn't need any time to remember how to move in the rhythm of the music. The sound was so mighty it resonated from the walls, reflected from surfaces, and shook the entire club like a lovely earthquake. I could feel my heart vibrating with the magnitude of the music. The lead singer yelled into the mic, inviting everyone to sing with them.

Emily let her hair down, allowing it to tangle and resemble a bushy mane as she danced. We rioted around the club like primitive men who dance around the bonfire in front of their caves. The floorboards rumbled under the dozens of feet stomping them. All the fear, doubt, and dark thoughts flew out of my head, I felt blood rushing through my veins, my heart galloping in an insane rhythm, and sweat trickling down my back under my sweater. The sensation of freedom and bliss filled me to the max. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was just a young lad in his natural habitat, a smile on my face, shouting along with the song the lyrics of which I knew by heart.

And girls...Alex was right. There were a lot of girls for all tastes – blondes and brunettes, curvy and skinny, tall and short. Some had come just to dance and some had more serious intentions, such as fishing for boys for a one night fun. I didn't push away anyone who wanted to dance with me and to an extent, enjoyed the sensation of soft, manicured hands around my neck or the scent of hairspray when she put her head on my chest for a slow dance. However, nothing more than that. Whenever someone tried to kiss me, in front of my eyes I saw Harry's face and couldn't do it.

I rejected some half-drunk chick who, partly not understanding herself what she was doing, shoved her body into mine, her hand trying to unzip the fly of my jeans. After that, I walked away from the dance floor and spent the rest of the night, sitting at the bar and going through about 10 shots of vodka. But even the strongest alcohol didn't erase my thoughts as much as I hoped it will. I was still thinking about him and wondered if it would ever pass. After all, it was nothing more than a quick teen romance. It had to go eventually, one way or the other.

From my seat, I watched my friends who all seemed to have forgotten mine or anyone's else existence. Noah and Emily were doing united, yet bizarre dancing steps that didn't resemble any dance moves I could remember having seen. Oliver was moving a little slowly, his cheeks flushed and glass with a drink still in his hand while the other one was around the shoulders of a petite girl who barely reached his armpits. I was pretty sure no one in our friends' group knew about Oliver preferring boys and the dance with a girl was nothing but a disguise to him.

Alex was hugging a girl who didn't look like she was of legal age. Even if she wasn't I knew Alex didn't care. First, because he had always been a rule-breaker, and second because she was really pretty. That moment I felt a burning desire to be like my friend. To be ordinary, to be heterosexual. That night, I envied Alex and everyone else in the Rattling Rat, because they were happily unaware of the supernatural that lived right beside them. Because they weren't kept awake at night by the thoughts of steaming potions, bubbling in cauldrons, a flock of birds flying out of wands, Horcruxes, hidden castles, and an invisible train on the other side of a wall. Because they didn't have a soul that had a high appeal to the darkest forces on this planet.

While all the nightclubs normally closed around 2 or 3 am, the Rattling Rat kept its door open for the longest. The eccentric club closed around 5 am and could have given shelter to those who didn't know where to go after their regular places of entertainment were locked. However, some still falsely considered the club to be a meeting place for drug addicts, prostitutes, and ex-convicts and wouldn't go near the Rattling Rat if you paid them. I could have said the same about the typical night clubs. The indecent things that occurred inside the popular clubs, hidden behind the colorful stage lighting and DJs playing the latest hits, hadn't been observed in the Rattling Rat once.

My friends and I separated shortly before 5 am. Oliver offered to accompany me home, but I refused, not wanted to give him any false hope. It was best for him to know he had no chance with me. I walked home alone, feeling as if I was the only person in the town. The streets were deserted which was completely normal for this hour. The neighborhood was still entwined in darkness, though far away a thin, bumblebee-yellow line of dawn was shyly making an appearance through the cloudy sky. The wind carried a bunch of wet, drenched leaves over me, it had rained sometime during the night. I wasn't cold, the alcohol in my system was giving a sensation of warmth, even if it was a fake one.

I turned around the corner to the street that led to my house. After clubbing I felt drained, thirsty and the first notes of headache were introducing themselves. Am I really too old already to not be able to spend a night awake without physical consequences, I asked myself and chuckled.

Then, a sound of footsteps behind startled me more than I was willing to admit. The thought of the person I saw before going to the club came into my head again as I turned around, scanning the abandoned street and feeling like a fool when I saw the source. A young woman was walking her dog, not paying any attention to me. Nothing more.

I stood for a couple more minutes after she was gone and watched the houses, windows, gates, and yards. Nothing, just a quiet neighborhood in which everyone was still asleep. You're an idiot, I said to myself, go home and sleep off your drunkness. Nobody's after you, it's nothing but your imagination. At the end of the day, maybe Emily was right. Maybe after a year of being totally sober, a few beers had a stronger impact on me than I thought. Maybe the thing I saw disappearing into thin air was just a hallucination. It probably was. It's over, after all. I'm 18. Nobody needs me anymore. Right? I tried my hardest to make myself believe it.

On my way home, I stopped to check the mailbox. Just out of habit, as it was way too early for the mailman to walk around. However, putting my hand inside I felt it wasn't empty and thought that it was probably yesterday's mail that my parents forgot to take out. Yet, it wasn't.

Inside the mailbox, there was a rolled piece of pale parchment. I opened it up to find nothing, just a blank material with nothing written on it. I sighed and almost threw it into the garbage, thinking that some nasty kids were joking by putting shit into people's mailboxes, but something withheld me. The longer I held the parchment in my hand, the more I felt the need to take it inside with me. For some reason, the empty parchment suddenly seemed very intriguing and I decided I can always throw it away later. Overwhelmed by interest, I shoved it into my pocket.

I unlocked the front door very quietly and carefully, knowing that my parents are asleep. The house was silent, the ticking of the clock on the living room wall was the only sound. Everything was in perfect order and the new, puffy pillows were laying on the sofa, wearing the pillowcases my mother was making yesterday. On the kitchen table, there was a plate with slices of pie, wrapped in a plastic bag and meant for me. But I wasn't hungry.

I took a quick shower, washing away all the dust of the club and fingerprints of those who touched me. Having refreshed, I was ready for a small nap, and tiptoed back to my room, wrapped in a towel only. As I was putting away my clothes, the piece of parchment fell out of my pocket onto the floor. I picked it up and unrolled it once again, suppressing a shiver when I saw it wasn't empty anymore. In front of my eyes, letters started to appear one after another, as if written by an invisible pen.

That was a foolish thing to do, Mr. Winters. Death Eaters are everywhere now and you were unfortunate enough to run into one last night. Your nightly walk could have ended very differently if we weren't there. You would do us a great favor by not purposely putting yourself in danger. Please, consider abstaining from leaving your house at the dark time of the day. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.

At the bottom of the parchment, the Hogwarts crest took its shapes, as well as the words P.S. Destroy this.

My hands were shaking as I reread the professor's letter again and again. So it was true, alcohol wasn't to blame and my intuition about the stranger being wicked was right. My body went cold with the dread of realization I had been face to face with Death Eater who was there to grab me, hurt me, or worse. And the clatter near the garbage bins next to the club might not have at all been caused by a cat. Somebody from Hogwarts was there to protect my life. The Death Eater didn't leave because it wanted to. Instead, it was scared away. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up from thinking that I could have not made it home this morning.

I opened the drawer of my desk and rummaged inside until I found a lighter. Then walked downstairs and returned with a bowl my mother used to make a salad in. After a moment of hesitation, I stroke a fire and brought the corner of the parchment nearer, fulfilling the professor's order. The flames engulfed the letter like it was dry grass. I held it until the fire reached my fingers and placed the parchment into the bowl, watching as the orange and blue flames consumed the black ink and multicolored, magnificent Hogwarts crest. Within minutes, the whole thing was burned down to ashes.

Anxious, I walked through the entire house, making sure that every door and window was locked. I knew it was a no obstacle to a wizard, the unlocking spell would do the trick just fine. But it made me feel a little better. McGonagall didn't say anything about danger during the day, but what was going to happen when nightfall comes...I couldn't protect my house, not from a wizard. I wouldn't worry too much if it was just me. But my parents also lived here and I'd rather die myself than witness their murder.

I fell into the bed, the lighter still in my hand. The nap? Forget it now. I was thinking for hours about why would they still need me. The answer was always the same – revenge. A matter of principle. After I escaped, Voldemort wasn't going to simply let me live and thrive. If he can't have me, no one can. There were only two ways how this could end – either I die or he does. The latter felt pretty unrealistic to me, especially considering Harry as his opponent. As much as I loved him, I had to admit Harry was so young and inexperienced compared to Voldemort. I didn't believe my lover would be able to defeat him.

I was laying awake until it was 8 am and I heard the door of my parents' room open – my mother was getting up. She was an early bird and never did lie-ins, now on her way to the kitchen to cook some breakfast. For a second, I had a horrifying image embodying in my head about a Death Eater that's already there, waiting to kill her. Perhaps at that moment, I was close to insanity, but I ran out of my room and downstairs into the kitchen.

The curtains at the kitchen windows were opened and the whole room was filled with the light of autumn sunrise. Sun glints jumped playfully all over the fridge door. The kettle was steaming, water boiling inside of it and except for my mother, nobody else was there. Dressed in a plum color housecoat and white slippers she was standing by the kitchen counter, cleaning the pan she was going to use to fry some eggs. Hearing the steps behind her, she turned around.

" Well, good morning, party beast. When did you come home? "

" Uhm...around midnight, I guess, " I answered and sat at the table.

" Yeah, right, " she said incredulously, placing a mug of coffee in front of me. " I went to the bathroom at 2 am and you weren't here yet. Or maybe you want some painkillers? "

I shook my head. " I'm not drunk, mom. "

" Don't lie, Thomas, I can smell it. "

She returned to the stove and took a few more eggs out of the fridge, for me too. I slowly sipped the bitter, aromatic coffee and watched my mother, wishing it wasn't our family that was pulled into this story of horrors, yet I wouldn't wish it upon anyone else either. I wasn't going to tell her anything, her or my father. There was no point. Having found out that Death Eaters are prowling our neighborhood like jackals, my parents would only start to panic in vain. In this, I was all alone.

9