Imperio. Pranks. Barking. Werewolves. Coupons. Butterbeer. Dueling arenas. Images flashing one after the other after the other.

Lupa. Kazi. Lawson. Jake. Remy. Truebridge. Faces swirling as if in a foe glass, clear, visible. Near.

Blood. So much blood.

Crumbling ceilings. Screams. The echo of battle bouncing off bathroom tiles. The spinning, suffocating terror of slowly bleeding.

In the center of all of, a small boy, holding his wand, not against the terror swirling around him, but against his own temple, skin indented. Eyes squeezed shut, murmuring one word over and over and over. Obliviate. Obliviate.

“OBLIVIATE!” Tibi shot straight up in bed, his skin clammy and wet, tears streaming down his face.

“Shhhh, honey,” Susan rushed into the room and sat on the side of his bed, as she had each and every night since he had come home. Fighting her own tears, she wiped the sweat from his brow. “You don’t ever, ever have to go back there. I promise.”