The young couple embraced for what seemed like forever, and Oliver cherished Olivia’s presence even more than before. He showered her with loving gestures and thanked God for allowing him to save her life.

After their emotional release, Oliver urged Olivia to lie down and get some rest, but was met with a horrified expression. 

“What? What is it? Are you hurt?” Oliver asked concernedly, brushing some stray hairs from Olivia’s forehead.

“Davis!” Olivia’s shock and worry rendered her unable to speak full sentences. Oliver merely nodded and seemed unconcerned.

“Don’t worry. When I saw her, she was being swept away from the Death Eaters. She was in the least danger of us all.” Oliver seemed unbothered.

“That’s easy for you to say! You’re a pureblood!” Olivia fumed uproariously. “She’s all alone, and she’s of the minority! She can’t apparate, Oliver! How is she supposed to get away from danger?”

“Liv, she’s extremely intelligent. I’m sure she’s found a way to protect herself.” Oliver assured, busying himself with Olivia’s luggage. He was getting a clean change of clothes for her to wear.

“How dare you make that assumption! She could be dead and we would have no idea!” Olivia was suddenly infuriated. “I’m going back for her.”

“No-!” 

Before Oliver could reach out to grab onto Olivia, she had willingly apparated back to the scene of the attack, voluntarily returning to the place she had experienced trauma and faced death just to save her friend.

Olivia was standing in front of their old campsite - it was the only place she could clearly visualize. Their tents, as well as those around them, had been reduced to ashes. The Death Eaters had marched to the opposite end of the grounds and the screams of the crowd had gravitated in that direction. The fires were dying out, having devoured everything in their path. Silence surrounded the vicinity of their old site.

Olivia began to run the vacant, devastated moor in search of her friend, who was nowhere to be seen. Olivia fell to her knees in anguish, crying out in pain to the peaceful skies. Suddenly, she heard a distinct popping noise. Oliver had apparated just meters away.

“Olivia, you don’t need to be back here after what just happened! I understand that you’re upset, but-”

“NO! You don’t understand! I can’t find her!” Olivia wailed. “She’s gone! It’s all my fault! I should have held onto her, then we wouldn’t have been separated...”

“Olivia! You have no proof that she’s dead!” Oliver yelled, trying to inspire Olivia to think rationally. 

“I don’t have proof that she’s alive either, Oliver!”

Oliver went silent, realizing he had no words that could properly console his distraught, heartbroken sweetheart. Instead, he knelt beside her and began to put his arms around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me.” Olivia snapped. “I’m afraid you’ll force me to apparate back to Dorchester.”

“I was just trying to console you.”

From across the moor, something caught the quarreling couple’s attention. Someone was striding across the deserted, savaged field, mercilessly overstepping the charred tents.

“Who is that?” Olivia asked, squinting in an attempt to recognize the man’s features. 

“Not a clue...” Oliver observed, equally captivated by this person, who had just unsheathed their wand.

“MORSMORDRE!”

Explosive green light erupted from the tip of the mysterious man’s wand, penetrating the thick blanket of smoke and shooting towards the clear skies. Suddenly the light took form, shaping itself into the vague, misty outline of a skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. Oliver and Olivia were so captivated by the malicious symbol in the skies that they failed to watch the caster flee into the woods.

“What in the world...?” Olivia said fearfully, gazing up at the evil, writhing mark.

“Now we really need to leave!” Oliver said, terrified. “That’s the Dark Mark. His mark.” He stated fearfully, making reference to Lord Voldemort. “We learned about it last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Olivia did not object as Oliver wrapped his arms around her and disapparated them back to the flat. Being in the peaceful serenity of Queen Mother Square allowed her mind to wander back to Davis. For the remainder of the evening, her anxious rage was replaced with deep sorrow, and she was too emotionally weak to argue, resist, or protest anything. She showered off and changed into fresh clothing, complying when Oliver suggested she lie down to rest. Olivia’s loud thoughts banned her from slumbering, so she sat awake, using her Quick-Quotes Quill to record the evening’s events as Oliver slept. Thoughts about Davis constantly echoed from the walls of her mind, prohibiting her from finding comfort or relaxation. Something told her that Davis was still alive, but she desired affirmation of some kind.

This affirmation came during the wee hours of the morning. Olivia had given up on recounting the evening - it was too soon for her, and forcing herself to relive her traumatizing experience was too emotionally harmful. As result, she was staring blankly at the wall.

Her brooding disconsolation was interrupted by a familiar sound.

Peck... Peck...

An owl! Olivia shot up from the bed and darted to the window, throwing up the sash. The owl that awaited her was not from the Owl Post - it appeared to be someone’s pet. She grabbed for the letter that was enclosed in the owl’s talons.

Dear Olivia, 

I’ll be immensely relieved if you answer this letter… I’m hoping that you’re alive. The last thing I saw was the Death Eaters pointing their wands at you. I tried to get to you, but the crowds wouldn’t let me through...

I was distraught and crying. I collapsed in the mass of charred tents, asking God why this happened to you. I lost all sense of direction, and my vision was out of focus. The attack was still happening around me, but from that point on, it was a blur. Luckily, Neville was fleeing the scene with his grandmother when he spotted me crumpled on the ground. He wanted to know where you guys were, but I didn’t have an answer for him. He led me over to his grandmother, Augusta. She invited me to stay with them for a few days. I’m glad they did - if they hadn’t found me, I might have still been lying on the ground...

Ideally, you’re alive and currently reading this letter. I want you to know that I am safe and unharmed. Augusta is taking us to Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies on August 30th, so you can meet us there. She says I can stay at their house until then. Whenever you receive this, please owl back. I need to know you’re alive. 

Your dearest friend, 

Davis 

The parchment was stained with fresh tears. Olivia glided her hand over them and realized they had not yet dried, leading her to add her own to the mix. Her lifelong friend was writing, breathing, crying - she was alive. Olivia ran to Oliver’s desk and grabbed a piece of parchment, using her quill to write back immediately.

Davis and Olivia were in correspondence all night, mailing letters back and forth until the sun rose. When Oliver woke the following morning, he found Olivia hunched over his desk, seventeen opened letters sprawled around her. She was the happiest she had been for a long time, and Oliver was delighted to find her that way.

Later that morning, Mr. and Mrs. Wood visited the flat to make sure everyone was okay. Amelia fainted when she noticed Davis’ absence, thinking she had died. After she came to, Olivia showed her the letters Davis had sent. Relieved, they each shared their tales from the night before, celebrating that almost everyone had emerged from the attack unscathed. Olivia was the only one with an injury, bearing bruises on her wrist from Marcus Flint’s iron grip. The thankful group chose to neglect the meaning behind the attack for now, resolving to enjoy their final days of summer without plaguing their minds with dark, dismal thoughts.

On the 30th of August, Olivia and Oliver apparated to Diagon Alley with great excitement. Though they had only been separated from Davis for five days, the catastrophic events made it feel like an eternity. Unsure of Augusta, Neville, and Davis’ whereabouts, the couple began pacing the busy street in search of them. It was the day before the Hogwarts Express departed for the Scottish Highlands, and everyone had procrastinated on their shopping until the last minute.

As Oliver and Olivia slowly walked by each store, they peered inside the windows, looking for any sign of their distanced friend. During their stroll, they noticed that the interior of the Daily Prophet seemed abashed and stressful - the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was inside yelling at a room full of reporters, sporting an angry red face that clashed with his notoriously obnoxious clothing. 

“Interesting...” Oliver said, narrowing his eyes with curiosity.

“It sure is...” Olivia added, picking up a copy of the latest newsprint from a bench along the sidewalk, the headline reading Dark Mark Strikes Panic.

Olivia began to scan the article, noticing that the Daily Prophet had failed to include several crucial details about the attack. The Daily Prophet played a large part in how the public reacted to events in the wizarding world. Any sign of the Dark Lord’s return would send the public into a paranoid hysteria. She figured that the Prophet had excluded details to keep the public in good spirits. Just as she was pondering the immorality of the exclusion, Davis darted out of Flourish & Blotts and charged at Olivia, tackling her with a forceful hug.

“I have never been happier to see you!” Davis said, tears streaming from her eyes. Olivia was also crying tears of joy, receiving glances from passerbys. 

“Do I get left out of this?” Oliver asked slyly. “I want a hug too, you know.”

When Augusta and Neville emerged from Flourish & Blotts carrying an armful of course books, Oliver, Olivia, and Davis were engaged in an emotional group hug. Olivia broke away from the embrace to greet the Longbottoms, thanking them endlessly for taking Davis in and keeping her safe when she was unable to do so herself.

After their heart-warming exchange, the group headed towards Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment. Neville needed to purchase some items for his Astronomy class.

“Astronomy is the worst.” Olivia said, contorting her expression in disgust. “I’m glad I’m almost through with it.”

“It’s my least favorite class, too!” Davis chimed in. “Say, Neville... What’s your least favorite class?”

“Well, for a while, it’s been Defense Against the Dark Arts... During my second year, Professor Lockhart released some Cornish Pixies into the classroom. That was quite traumatizing...” He responded with a shudder.

Olivia, Davis, and Oliver laughed. Augusta frankly seemed unamused.

“Oh, come on! Defense Against the Dark Arts is great! Professor Lupin made it fun. Lockhart was a fraud.” Davis said. “You’ve got to give it a chance.”

“Oh, I liked Lupin! He helped me face my fears. He’s gone now, though.”

“Don’t remind me.” Olivia said dully.

“I heard Alastor Moody is replacing Lupin.” Neville said matter-of-factly.

The entire group went silent. Alastor Moody was a famous dark-wizard catcher that was well known for his tendency to bend the rules.

“Alastor Moody? That paranoid, one-eyed ex-Auror?” Davis asked confusedly.

“That’s the one!”

“No. It can’t be.” She said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Mr. Weasley told me,” Neville said innocently. “I figured he was a reliable source, you know, considering that he works for the Ministry and all...”

“Merlin’s Beard.” Olivia said with a chuckle. “It sounds like my last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts will be interesting...”

The group laughed in unison.

“Honestly, Olivia, from the way things are going, it looks like this whole year will be interesting.”

Davis summed up the past day’s events better than anyone. The reappearance of the Dark Mark foreshadowed a dangerous future, but that did not mean they had to live in fear. Laughing merrily, the large group entered store after store in an end-of-summer bliss, relieved that all was well.

For now.