Lydia hadn't slept well but she was awake. She was in class and staring at Mouse's empty seat. She had not heard anyone come into the room or leave it. She had not left and, for once, mercifully, her teacher hadn't said anything. She had not eaten. When the lecture started again, Lydia turned her head to face the teacher but heard nothing.
Another little boy from the private school on the other side of town had gone missing. That was the third or fourth child in as many months and it was his disappearance that had made Mouse's parents reconsider the traveling back and forth but Lydia had insisted. She had had to go to check. Mouse wasn't in school regularly and they had built a routine over the years even if Lydia could never find a pattern to when Mouse wasn't at school, for when Mouse wasn't well. She had been told as much. Mouse had shrugged, neither can I. There is no pattern.
Lydia had gone to sit by her bedside when she was weak and once when it was so bad that Mouse had gone to hospital but she always got better. She always got stronger. When she did, she was back to school, arms laced with Lydia's chatting away, rushing to one of the chaperoned cars to go to one or the other's homes to finish homework and then spend the rest of the day playing or making plans, quizzing each other one day and then making a competition of who could answer the most questions correctly in class the next, who could inspire a shaking frustration in their teacher which Mouse found funny and Lydia learned to also. Her old teacher couldn't scare her anymore and neither could the new ones. She hardly noticed the older kids. Rosie might as well have evaporated.
Mouse was feeling better but she wasn't back to school yet and they had scheduled another series of sleepovers and playdates when the first child had been attacked and now this boy had gone missing. This was not like the other children. Now they were taking them out of their homes as if the other news wasn't bad enough and it was horrifying. Children all over had to stay inside. They were dropped off at school and picked up immediately after. Lydia had not seen Mouse for what felt like a lifetime. She had insisted though. She had stood her ground and made a solid argument and acted like it was everyone who had to catch-up to the idea just like Mouse had taught her, had shown her and it had worked. She had gone over, they had had a sleepover and Lydia, even if she didn't know it then had had the rare opportunity to say goodbye.
They found the boy, eventually. Unrecognizable, the muggle papers said. No one could understand it. These were muggle suburbs, wealthy. The wealthiest. All of these attacks were on children from these families. Maybe, it had something to do with a disgruntled employee or retaliation due to a labor dispute? No, the first child's family, who did they employ? Half the city, you dope! You think a flat of that size runs itself? It went on an on, some maniac running around what was supposed to be the wealthiest and safest street in all of England, safer even than the palace. There used to be a joke about Grand Pike Road that if the queen ever needed a place to holiday she could go to Grand Pike Road but if she wasn't careful she'd end up tired of bowing. No longer. The Daily Prophet reported some of what the muggle papers had but they knew the reason, one or several werewolves were responsible. Some of these children were convalescing in St. Mungo's.
Kingsley brought the news. They weren't expecting anyone and Lydia was getting ready for bed. He'd noticed Lydia on the steps but had said nothing as her parents led him to the sitting room, offering him refreshments. Kingsley was a close family friend but not so close as to stop by this late. Not close enough to stop by without calling ahead first. They knew it was bad and there was no point in stalling but when he tried to say it, he found he couldn't. The Steadhill-Pendleton girl? The werewolf. She's gone. Lydia's mother gasped and her father asked for confirmation. He went to the stairs as if he knew.
"Lydia. Go to your room please."
Without checking if she had her father had already turned and met with his wife and Kingsley in the anteroom. Lydia hadn't moved.
The students were excused for lunch. The students filed out quietly. They all knew and a dark solemnity had fallen over the school, a truce was called. It wouldn't be fair for it to go back to the way it was, it wouldn't be right. Mouse was one of the good ones. She was Lydia's best friend, they knew but she could snap with the best of them. Lydia heard her name being called gently and when she turned her teacher was crouched in front of her desk.
"I'm very sorry about your friend, Lydia." She said in a low voice.
She could have smiled, spat, jeered and it would not have mattered but she said it sincerely. No evidence of a sneer, she was almost unrecognizable for it. Lydia had stopped caring what her teachers thought or said or anyone or anything. The teacher looked at the desk pulled herself up to her full height and left the room leaving Lydia alone in the room, alone once more as she had been what felt like a long time ago. Mouse's seat would remain empty for the remainder of the term Lydia making sure of that, quietly resigned to the idea that this time there was nothing for Mouse to get better from.