Nathan stretched out on his bed, his eyes running over and over the latest letter he had received from Charlie Riley, its paper covered in scribbled lines and crossings-out as the schoolboy had clumsily tried to organise and re-organise his thoughts.

I know this all sounds really weird, but I promise I'm not making it up, I swear it. There's nobody else we can tell, no-one will believe me and Connor. We're telling the truth, I promise you.

Remember when I told you about that van that Connor saw in Oxford the first time we met, before the explosions? Well we saw it again, today, in Ascot… but now Connor can't remember it, only I can. He got caught by the driver, and then there was this flash of light, and he couldn't remember anything after that. It was definitely there, though, I was hiding (I wasn't scared, it was just in case Connor got caught) and I took a picture of it on my phone.

It doesn't make sense! How could I lose my memory of seeing that van in Oxford, and then the same thing happen to Connor as well? It can't be a coincidence, that would be stupid. There's something weird going on, I just know it, but I don't know what, and it's driving me crazy! Do you have any ideas what? Do you even believe me…?

Nathan sighed. 'I know exactly what it is, Charlie,' he muttered to himself, 'but I can't tell you.' He rolled over onto his back, remembering his teachers' instructions about following the Statute of Secrecy. 'There's nothing stopping me saying that I believe you, though,' he declared defiantly, reaching for a sheet of paper on which to construct his own reply.

'Hey, Nath?' Louis' voice echoed across the dormitory as the redhead pushed the door open a few minutes later. 'You alright?'

The blond boy looked up, relaxing as he noticed his friend standing alone in the doorway. 'Yeah,' he acknowledged. 'Just writing back to Charlie, telling him I believe him, cause I don't know why he'd want to make this up, and telling him to make sure he's careful... really careful.'

Louis nodded, edging across the room towards the other boy's bunk. 'Can I have a look at what you've put?'

'Yeah,' Nathan pushed the almost-complete letter towards his friend. 'Sure. It's nothing much, but…' he swallowed. 'There's nothing worse than feeling like you're on your own.'

Louis forced a weak smile onto his face as he heard the other boy's frank admission. 'I know,' he murmured, before his voice jarred upwards. 'Um, Nathan… about Saturday, after the game...' His face paled, and his freckles stood out across the bridge of his nose as his words stumbled from his mouth in a hurry that kept them from forming any real sentences. 'When I told you to fuck off, I didn't mean it. I know you were right and I shouldn't have said it and I'm sorry…'

Nathan smiled, his warm expression striking a sudden sharp contrast with the other boy's tense features. 'I guess that makes us even, then?' He offered. 'Although I did try and beat you up with a sun lounger.'

Louis relaxed, his anxious smile shifting into a weak grin as he realised his friend bore no grudges. 'Good thing that sun lounger was there, though,' he recalled. 'Or else that hailstorm would have hurt.'

'Yeah,' Nathan acknowledged the other boy's memory. 'I wonder if me and Charlie would have made up if I hadn't have come away to here?'

Louis sat down on the bed beside Nathan. 'How long had you been friends?'

'Ages,' the blond boy answered, simply. 'Ever since the first day of school, when we were four.'

'Well I think you'd have made up, then,' Louis tried to sound more confident than he felt. 'That's too long to fall out forever.'

Nathan folded up his letter, sliding it into an envelope as he replied. 'Did your best friends from primary school come to Hogwarts?'

'No,' Louis swallowed, his answer catching in his throat.

'What happened?' Nathan didn't notice his friend's voice faltering as he finished writing Charlie's address. 'Is there another magic school?'

Louis shook his head. 'Not in England,' he answered, avoiding the other boy's first question.

Nathan's eyes narrowed in thought, his full attention suddenly on the redhead. 'So… your friends…'

'I didn't really have any.' Louis stared at his own reflection in the black tiles of the dormitory floor. 'The magical kids and the muggle kids never really mixed too much,' he recalled, 'and the other magical kids thought I… they didn't… they…' He ran his hands through his untidy fringe, covering his sudden flush of embarrassment.

'Louis?'

'The Veela thing,' his voice dropped, almost to a whisper, as he confessed, 'and they thought I was spoiled, too,' he admitted. 'They were probably right.'

Nathan blinked. 'Louis…?' He hesitated. 'I… I didn't know. I'm sorry, I'd never have said anything if I did…'

Louis stood up, walking across the dormitory and wordlessly letting his forehead lean against the cold glass of the room's wide window.

'I'd never have said you were spoiled,' Nathan sat up. 'At my old school, at Ascot, there were plenty of kids who were spoiled, and you could tell. They were only ever bothered about themselves, never anyone else.' He paused, taking a breath. 'That's not you. The first time we met you tried to help me.'

Louis snapped around, his tangled fringe falling over his eyes. 'That was only because Professor Bennett told me to!'

Nathan fell silent, regarding the other boy thoughtfully as the two children's eyes locked. 'What do you mean?' His voice dropped. 'Didn't you want to talk to me?'

'No,' Louis' eyes watered. 'That's not it,' he murmured, 'I swear.'

'Then what is it?' The blond boy shook his head. 'What's wrong?'

Louis shivered. 'I bet no-one had to tell you to come and talk to me on Saturday.'

Nathan blinked. 'So…?'

'That's it!' Louis' face flushed. 'That's the difference! Someone needs to tell me to do the things that you just do! I'm a rubbish friend!'

'You're not…' Nathan tried to interrupt, only for the other boy to keep talking over him.

'I bet you wouldn't have agreed with the plan on Saturday, either, you would have dared to say no, it's not Quidditch! You wouldn't have ended up the youngest person ever to get sent off at Hogwarts…' Louis' breath rasped against the back of his throat. 'Shit…' he turned away, hiding his face as he felt the sudden cold of tears against his cheeks.

'No one told you to help me learn to fly,' Nathan pointed out, calmly, 'or to stick up for me on the train.' He stood up, slowly crossing the dormitory to stand beside the redhead. 'You wouldn't have done that if you were a rubbish friend.'

Louis turned his back. 'You're just saying that.'

'Well, it's true,' Nathan's voice turned sharp. 'What else do you want me to say?'

Louis sighed. 'I… I don't know.' His shoulders slumped. 'Shit,' he swore again. 'It's, I just, oh, Merlin…' He turned back to face the blond boy, no longer trying to hide his tears. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'You're right. I just got reminded of everything all of a sudden, and, and…'

Nathan took a deep breath. 'It's alright, mate,' he offered. 'Come on,' he let his hand rest on the other boy's shoulder, gently guiding him back across the dormitory. 'You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to… but…' Nathan stumbled over a clumsy question, 'but how come people thought you were spoiled?'

The redhead sighed, sitting down slowly on the end of his friend's bed.

'It's okay,' Nathan reassured him, 'you don't have to say.'

Louis grimaced, shaking his head. 'They said I was a bad loser, that I couldn't take it if I didn't get what I wanted every time.'

Nathan blinked. 'Is that true?'

The other boy stared down at his feet.

'It doesn't matter…' Nathan tried to backtrack.

'It's true,' Louis whispered. 'I think Mum used to let me get my own way at home, maybe because I was the youngest, or cause she knew there was something wrong with me…'

'There's nothing wrong with you!'

Louis managed a thin smile. 'There is, Nath, there is. We both know it. I shouldn't be like this.'

'That doesn't mean there's something wrong,' the blond boy insisted. 'Just because you're different, that doesn't mean you're wrong! Hagrid's different, that doesn't make him wrong!'

'We know why Hagrid's different, though!' Louis reddened. 'No one knows why I'm a boy Veela.'

Nathan took a deep breath. 'That still doesn't mean there's anything wrong. I bet someone will find out. My Dad's a scientist, I know he'll help.'

'Thank you,' Louis breathed, a full smile catching his eyes for the first time since he had entered the dormitory, 'and sorry for… for being a dick…'

'Forget it, Louis,' Nathan laughed. 'It doesn't matter. Just… I remember the first time you taught me how to fly, how you wouldn't listen to me when I said I couldn't do it.' His voice dropped, and he hesitated before continuing. 'So why… why do you keep telling yourself that stuff? How come you lose your confidence so easily...'

Louis nodded, despondently. 'I guess it's when I think about all the things my sisters did,' he murmured, 'or my aunts and uncles.' The redhead realised his eyes were burning again.

'Oh,' Nathan remembered the stories that Louis and Albus had told about the exploits of the Weasley family and their friends during the Wizarding War, and imagining the standards that his friend must have been setting himself. 'You can't spend your whole life thinking like that!'

'It's hard not to, not when you get reminded of them all the time,' Louis sighed.

'Well, then,' a look of determination crossed Nathan's face. 'I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you, too.' He smiled, reaching for his letter. 'Now come on, I need to go and find Max and get this posted.'

It didn't take Nathan and Louis long to stumble across the fourth-year, slumped in one corner of the common room with a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands.

'Max?' Nathan ventured, crossing the room towards the older boy. 'Max,' he repeated. 'Are you alright?'

Max Deverill looked up, sharply. 'What do you want?' He demanded.

Nathan swallowed. 'I,' he gulped, 'I just wondered if you could post this for me…'

The fourth-year stared back. 'What, now?'

'Hey, Nathan?' The two first-years spun around, surprised by the interruption, to find Sammy Kerrigan heading in their direction. 'What's up?'

'Um,' the eleven-year-old shuddered. 'I was just asking Max if he could post this letter for me.'

Sammy exhaled. 'Not really a good time.'

'Why?' Louis blinked. 'How come?'

The seventh-year sighed. 'I take it you haven't read the Prophet today?'

Louis shook his head, and Sammy beckoned the two boys towards him, leading them towards an abandoned copy of the newspaper on a low table at the other side of the common room.

'Page three,' the older boy explained, simply, leaving Louis to straighten up the untidy parchment and follow the Quidditch captain's directions.

WHEN WILL IT END?

Or is this just the beginning?

This is Arscott Manor, as it stood last summer, home to the Deverill family for hundreds of years, a typical slice of magical Britain. Today the East Wing lies in ruin, burned to the ground, and 79-year-old Alicia Deverill is in St Mungo's Hospital, fighting for her life.

What has the Ministry of Magic said? Nothing. What has the Ministry of Magic done? Nothing. What does the Ministry of Magic know? I fear I know the answer.

It is less than a week since your Prophet begged for the Ministry to tell the truth about the links between the recent terrorist attacks in Muggle Oxford and last Tuesday's Dorset Derby. Is this latest atrocity connected? Who is behind it?

Perhaps the Ministry is not concealing the truth. Perhaps it knows as much (or as little) as you or I, and cannot protect its people? What will be next? How much do the Muggles know?

You can rest assured that the Daily Prophet will leave no stone unturned as it bids to unearth the truth behind this chaos. I only hope that the Ministry of Magic will do the same.

'Oh, shit.' Louis exclaimed.

'Yeah,' Sammy nodded. 'I suppose you could put it like that.'

'Wait,' Nathan interrupted. 'I thought Max's family were muggles?'

Sammy shook his head. 'No,' he answered. 'That's his Grandma. He doesn't live there. His Mum's a squib, and she married a muggle. I bet this is the first time the Prophet's cared about them for years.'

Nathan shuddered. 'Max,' he stood up, hurrying across the room. 'I think I know something. I think I know about a connection.'

The blond boy looked up, suddenly. 'What?'

'Like it says in the Prophet, about there being a connection between Oxford and Dorset, between the attacks.' He took a breath. 'One of my old muggle friends was there in Oxford, he saw it happen. There was a van there… it said "Just Like Magic", but he got Obliviated because he saw it. I know he'd try to help. This is his address, if you want to write to him.'

'Thank you,' Max nodded, mechanically, taking the envelope from the first-year. 'I'll post this for you later.'

Nathan managed a thin smile. 'Thank you,' he managed, 'and sorry about your Grandma. I hope she's better soon.'

'Thanks,' Max acknowledged, his head dropping back down to the open newspaper, leaving Nathan to walk slowly back to his friend.

'Why did you tell him?' Louis hissed.

Nathan blinked. 'Because,' he swallowed, 'look at him! Look what happened,' he pointed back to the newspaper. 'Even if it's only a little bit of help, haven't we got to try?'

'I guess,' Louis grimaced, 'as long as Max doesn't break the Statute…'

Nathan looked back over his shoulder. 'He won't,' the redhead declared, confidently. 'He won't.'

'I hope you're right.'

Despite Louis' fears, November drew onwards without any more surprises, and as the days became shorter and the mornings colder, the first-years were left wondering if there really was a connection between the shock events that had punctuated the Christmas term.

'How's Felix?' Albus looked up as the common room doorway opened, revealing his cousin in the corridor beyond.

'Fine,' Louis murmured. 'Just a bit frightened of what his parents are going to think, that's all. He's convinced he's going to get a howler tomorrow morning.

Albus nodded. 'He's probably right. Aunt Hermione will tell his parents, for sure.'

Nathan shivered. 'Those freak me out,' he admitted. 'I'm glad my parents can't ever send me one.'

'Yeah,' Daniel agreed. 'I bet my mum would love it, if she could,' he snarled.

'He's got detention for the rest of the week,' Louis added. 'It's going to be the same every night, an hour of lines…'

Albus groaned. 'He'd never have got that if it was someone else he'd sworn at,' he complained. 'It's not fair, it's special treatment because she's her mum. Rose never got punished for what she said to Felix and Scorp.'

'What did you expect, though?' Daniel grunted. 'They've been trying to get us into trouble all term, ever since Wood gave me detention for calling Skeeter a…'

'We know what you called her, Dan,' Albus stopped his friend from repeating the word, 'and we should've learned. It's a stupid way to get into trouble.'

Nathan winced. 'I still feel sorry for him.'

'Me too,' Louis nodded, 'but he should have known.' He sighed, tossing a newspaper to his muggle-born friend. 'Here you are mate, today's Times.'

'Thanks,' Nathan caught the paper, flicking it open and scanning its inside pages.

'I don't know why you keep reading it, Nath,' the redhead continued. 'There's not been anything interesting for months…'

The blond boy grunted. 'I don't want to miss anything,' he argued, 'and besides…' He folded out a double page, placing it on the table in front of him.

'Sons of Walpurgis? Daniel snorted, derisively. 'What the hell?' The eleven-year-old began to read aloud. 'The wave of graffiti that is now so depressingly commonplace across London and the Home Counties began less than a month ago, on a railway siding near Reading West Station. Since then, however, the craze has spread, spawning a "viral" video on the Internet before becoming all the more sinister as the graffiti began to appear following a series of robberies in the Blackbird Leys area of Oxford…' Daniel blinked. 'So what…?'

'You didn't listen in History, did you?' Louis shivered. 'The Death Eaters started off as the Knights of Walpurgis. Whoever's doing this, whoever started it, they're not just going after wizards, or muggles, they're just making people afraid.'

'Yeah,' Albus nodded, scanning the article, 'and, whoever it is, they're doing a bloody good job.'