The seven boys stood in a loose circle beneath the ancient, gnarled oak tree that loomed near the edge of the grounds.

Mattheo's voice was rough when he finally spoke. “She didn’t even recognize me this morning,” he admitted. “I called her name, and she just... walked past. Like I was a stranger.”

Theodore swallowed hard, stepping forward. “I tried to remind her about the time we stayed up all night talking under the stars,” he said softly. His eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “She just looked at me… like it never happened.”

“The curse is working faster than we thought,” Regulus said. “We’re running out of time.”

Blaise folded his arms, but even his usual composed demeanor was fraying at the edges. “She was the one who held us all together,” he murmured. “And now... she’s slipping away. And we can’t do anything to stop it.”

Lorenzo straightened his back. “What if we just keep telling her stories?” he suggested, a desperate note creeping into his voice. “Maybe something will stick. Maybe she’ll remember.”

Draco’s sharp gaze flicked between them all. “There has to be a way to stop this,” he said fiercely. “We can’t just stand here and watch her forget us.”

But it was Tom’s voice, cold and certain, that drew their attention. “The curse won’t let her remember,” he said bluntly, his tone devoid of hope. “It’s designed to strip her of everything—her memories, her connections, her emotions. And if we don’t break it soon, she’ll forget herself too.”

A heavy silence settled once more, broken only by the rustling wind.

Theodore’s voice wavered as he asked the question none of them dared to speak aloud. “What happens if she forgets all of us? What happens to us then?”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, and his voice was a growl of defiance.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he said fiercely. “I don’t care what I have to do. I’m not losing her like this.”

Draco nodded. “None of us are. We’ll find a way.”

Theodore wiped at his face. “She might forget us,” he whispered, “but we will never forget her.”