When you first met them, they were walking down the corridor as if they owned the place. In the centre was Tom, his piercing gaze commanding attention. Next to him was Mattheo, always smiling as if he knew something you didn't. Lorenzo's charm softened the edge of Regulus' icy detachment, while Theodore lingered in the background, quiet but alert. Draco and Blaise were close by.

You didn’t seek them out. They sought you.

“You’re sitting alone,” Tom said one evening.

Mattheo grinned. “We like lone wolves. You’ve got a certain… edge to you.”

From that moment on, you weren’t invisible anymore. Somehow, they pulled you into their orbit. It wasn’t immediate—it was slow. One day, Tom handed you a book to borrow. Another, Mattheo dragged you into a late-night adventure. Lorenzo made you laugh, Regulus offered cryptic advice, and Theodore had a way of being there in the moments you felt most alone.

They became your friends. They felt like family, even. You trusted them without question.

But then… things started to shift.

It was subtle at first. You’d catch Tom watching you when he thought you weren’t looking, his dark eyes calculating. Mattheo’s laugh would send a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t explain why. Sometimes, you’d feel a strange flicker in your mind—a whisper of something forgotten.

And then the dreams started. They were vivid, almost too real.

The fragments kept coming. In fleeting moments you saw flashes of things you couldn't explain. Tom's face, cold and emotionless. Mattheo laughing as you did something you couldn't bear to remember. Regulus's voice, sharp and commanding. And then... V0Idemort.

It wasn't just dreams.

They had taken something from you.

Bit by bit, the memories forced their way to the surface. You started to remember who they really were. What they had done to you. What they had made you do. How they had used you.

They weren’t your friends. They never were.

They had wiped your memories, erased the truth—but they couldn’t hide it forever.