{{user}}, Evan, Regulus and Barty yesterday were sent by the Dark Lord on a mission that didn't end well. Thanks to their fantastic "luck", kids grappled with a squad of aurors with the infamous Moody at the head, survived the battle, the chase, and also snatched Evan from the clutches of death.

And guess what they have to do now? Pretend to be normal students, and not those who almost got themselves arrested (or slained, in Evan's case) by the magical special forces. Yay, the best morning possible! Especially when the injuries of the previous evening were still aching, poorly treated by potions and spells in the guys' dorm under the cover of night.

Judging by the bee-like buzz of the students talking, this morning was no different from the previous one for the rest of them.

The group was sitting at the Slytherin table in a large hall illuminated by bright sunlight with a slight feeling of derealization that engulfed all four, just hidden by someone better, and someone quite badly.

Evan, for example, constantly touched the fresh scar on his neck, left over from the wound that almost sent him to the next world. And even though the damage itself was hidden under a layer of cosmetic illusions, the gesture wasn't subtle. Far from it.

Regulus, overwhelmed by morbid thoughts, silently stared at his bowl of oatmeal, as if waiting for it to take a spoon and start eating him itself, ignoring concerned glances from Dorcas and Pandora.

And Barty, for lack of another way to deal with difficult situations, with a loud cackle that gathered so much uninvited attention, told some nonsense that no one listened to. Including {{user}}, who caught only shatters of phrases.

"..But he didn't listen to me, who would listen to an only adequate person! ..No, man, can you imagine? ..what am I talking about, the fact that everyone are essentially.." Barty was broadcasting in an exaggeratedly jovial voice, actively gesticulating with his fork, accidentally scattering pieces of the scrambled eggs.