A gust of wind blew through the Albanian forest. Peter Pettigrew was stewing in anger. He'd had the chance to kill Eddie Pattinson right there and then on the Hogwarts grounds, but he'd been strictly instructed not to until the time was right. Now, he started to understand why. His master was to kill Pattinson, not him, and he was close to finding the Dark Lord. The local rats had told him about a "dark shadow" in these woods. For all his shortcomings, Pettigrew wasn't an idiot. Drawing his wand, the fallen Marauder tried calling out. "My- my Lord. I was told I'd be able to find you here." Nothing happened. He searched and searched but was unable to find any trace of his master with the exception of the rats' rumors. Retiring to a nearby tavern, he kept his hood drawn tightly over his face to avoid being recognized. And it worked to perfection, until one slight problem arose. In stepped Bertha Jorkins, a witch who worked for the Daily Prophet. Peter made to leave quickly, to avoid being approached, but as he stepped out he tripped over his robe, drawing his hood back, and revealing his visage, right where Bertha could see him.

"Y-you! You're supposed to be dead!" she frantically announced. Before she could draw a large crowd, however, Peter, thinking quickly, placed one trembling finger over her mouth. Bertha's brain was permanently damaged from a memory charm she had received at the hands of Barty Crouch Sr a couple of years ago when she discovered that his son was not only alive but had been freed from Azkaban. As such, she allowed herself to be led outside by Pettigrew, who, as soon as they were out of eyeshot from anyone else, promptly knocked the nosy witch out with a surprisingly solid right hook, and continued to search for his master with a Ministry official in tow, one whom would no doubt serve as a key asset in their future endeavors…

Eddie was panting. The battle had gone on for what felt like ages, curses flying, the walls crumbling all around them...he just wished it would end, and then he heard a terrible cry ring out from one of the opposition-
"Avada Kedavra!"
It was not him the curse was pointed at however, though it might as well have been. No, it struck at the chest of the one he loved most, Hannah- "NO!" he roared, and sat up immediately. The light was on, and the other three boys were staring at him. "Eddie, this is the third nightmare you've had this week," Tom said with concern, putting his glasses on. "You've got to write to someone about this.

"You may have a fancy Britsh accent, but you're not my-" he paused. His dad. His family. Had it really been that long since he'd thought about them? Burying his face in his hands, he rolled over and eventually fell into an uneasy and restless sleep, filled with thoughts of worry and regret.

The next morning was strange to say the least. The other members of the Fateful Eight kept looking at him like he was a ticking time bomb. It had been three sleepless nights for the young Hufflepuff and he refused to say anything about it other than it was a nightmare, as he'd rather avoid a group therapy session. It wasn't just Eddie behaving out of the ordinary. Sean was also oddly reclusive. He was spending increasing amounts of time in his room, separated from the rest. Lily, too was losing her usual chipper nature. Claire felt lost, so later that afternoon she made an announcement.
"I've decided things are getting way too crazy here, so we're having a bonfire, we're going to roast marshmallows, have some smores, stay up until 1, I don't care, I just don't want to be feeling like a civil war is going to break out any time soon, alright?"
No one seemed up to arguing this, so fifteen minutes later, they were outside in the warm darkness around a makeshift firepit, with a bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate, ready to begin. Claire conjured up the bluebell flames that Hermione Granger had used at various points across her first year, and they sat down around the crackling fire prepared for a memorable evening. And a memorable evening it was.

About half an hour in, Lily offered a ghost story. Chuckling, Eddie said, "If this is about sports going away or something I'm going to slap you upside the head." Lily glared back at him. "Well" she said smartly, "it would be better than to have to listen to you whimper about your girlfriend for the seven hundred and fifty fifth time." Claire groaned and rolled her eyes. Eddie was taken aback.

"Jeez, Lily, I was only joking." Stepping gingerly across the fire, Lily, somehow managing to keep her voice level, glared right into Eddie's eyes, and uttered four words he'd have never expected. "You're so fucking dense."

Turning away, the situation went from bad to worse when Lily's robe caught the corner of the campfire, and Tom picked up the bucket of ice water, dumping it on the spot, extinguishing any hope Claire had of a relaxing evening. Kicking one of the benches, Lily headed for the girls' bedroom and stayed there all night, and she wouldn't speak to any of them that evening.

Eddie was in shock. For several moments after Lily's final words, he stood there like a statue, only gently shifting out of the way for Tom to put out the fire. He didn't understand what he did wrong. He was only trying to make a joke. What did he do? Snapping in his face,

Claire tried desperately to bring him back to Earth. When that didn't work, she lightly tapped him, and as expected, he fell, which worked, as he was able to reach out and stop his fall. "I just- don't understand why she was upset- surely that couldn't have offended her that deeply?"
"I think she likes you," Claire said bluntly and simply. "And she's jealous. She doesn't want to hear about your relationship with Hannah when she wants one with you." Eddie blinked. Wow. It suddenly made sense. He wanted to run in, to apologize but something told him that wasn't the right thing to do at the moment. He'd resolve it in the morning. But for now, he helped to gather the materials of their failed party, and went inside, and went to sleep.