Chapter 4
Regulus (Present Day)
“It’s not like you think. It’s not just... the wilderness.”
“It’s... it’s waiting, Regulus. Watching us.”
“It’s hungry. You don’t understand—”
The voice faltered, but the air grew heavier, thick with tension. Regulus could feel it deep in his chest, like a weight pushing down on him. His breath caught in his throat, and then, a scream.
A frantic, violent scream that sliced through the memory, jagged and desperate.
“REGULUS!”
The scream echoed, like thunder in his ears. The voice that had been filled with fear now shifted to pure, raw terror.
“It wants you! It’s been waiting for you!”
The words crashed through his mind like a wave, drowning him in an overwhelming rush of dread. It was like something was clawing at him from inside, making the world blur around him. His heart raced, his pulse thrumming.
“It’s been waiting... It's always been waiting.”
The voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, chilling and soft, but no less urgent.
“Wake up, Regulus...”
The words lingered in the air, cold, as if the voice was right there, just beyond his reach. Regulus’s heart hammered in his chest, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. The whisper came again, barely a breath, but it's command was clear.
“Wake up...”
Then, the voice grew louder, frantic, desperate.
“WAKE UP, REGULUS! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!”
The force of the words hit him like a blow, a sharp, brutal push that left him gasping. His body jerked, his breath ragged, heart pounding against his ribs. His mind was swirling, drowning in the weight of the terror, but before he could even respond, there was a sudden, jarring sound that cut through the chaos—the shrill ring of the doorbell.
Regulus’s eyes shot open, his body jolting upright in his bed. He was panting, drenched in sweat, his heart still beating in his chest. The echo of the voice—the desperate command to wake up—lingered in his ears, but now, it was replaced by the reality of the present.
The doorbell rang again, louder this time, dragging him fully into the waking world.
Regulus opened the door, and there, standing on the other side, was a tall woman. She had a sharp, calculated look about her, the kind of precision that made Regulus instinctively wary. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back tightly, and her expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way she held herself that made it clear she was no stranger to confrontation.
She looked at him for a moment, her gaze assessing, before offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Mr. Black,” she began, her voice cool but polite, “I’m Rita Skeeter, with The Daily Prophet. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not interested in answering any questions,” he said, trying to push past her, but Rita stepped into his way without hesitation.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. Her smile remained.
“I think you might change your mind once you understand what I’m asking," Rita replied smoothly. "We both know you’ve been involved in the... accident out there in the woods. The public deserves to know what really happened. I’m not here to ask about rumors. I want the truth.”
Regulus felt a cold knot twist in his stomach at her words. He had been avoiding this. Avoiding anything that might force him to relive the chaos that had nearly consumed them. But here she was, poking at something that should have stayed buried.
He stepped back slightly, not letting her past, and spoke in a voice that was almost a growl. “My friends starved. They almost died. That’s all there is to it. You want the truth? That’s it. Nothing more.”
Rita’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes sharpened with a glint of something dangerous. She leaned in slightly, her voice softening, but Regulus could hear the edge beneath her words.
“That’s the version you’ve been feeding them, isn’t it?” she said, her tone almost mocking. “The neat, tidy story you’ve been telling everyone. But what really happened out there, Regulus? I know it’s more than just hunger. I know there’s more you’re not saying, more you’re hiding. What happened to the other students? The ones who didn’t come back? What did you do to them?”
Regulus’s stomach churned at the accusation. He felt a flash of anger flood through him, an uncontrollable surge of rage that he could barely keep in check. He opened his mouth, a curse slipping out before he could stop it.
“Get the fuck off my property,” he spat, his voice low.
Rita blinked, unphased by the curse, but her smile remained ever so slightly tighter. There was no fear in her.
“People don’t just survive something like that and walk away unchanged, Regulus. I want to know the truth. The whole story. And so does the public,” she pressed, her tone now all business, her eyes glinting.
But Regulus wasn’t having it anymore. He felt the pressure building, the weight of her questions pushing him to his limits. He had nothing left to give her.
“I said, get off my fucking property,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time, his anger flaring as he stepped forward, blocking her from the door completely. “I don’t owe you anything. And I’m not going to sit here and let you try to make a story out of my shitty past.”
Rita seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, before she straightened up, regaining her composure. Her smile was gone now, replaced with a cold, professional mask.
Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating, before she let out a slow, measured breath. "You can try to shut me out, Regulus, but I always find my answers eventually." Her smile returned, thin and knowing. "You should know that better than anyone."
Regulus clenched his jaw. He could feel the heat behind his eyes, the way his hands trembled just slightly with frustration. But he didn't give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he stared her down, his expression ice-cold.
Rita tilted her head as if considering something, then took a small step back. "I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Black." With that, she turned on her heel and strode down the walkway, her heels clicking against the pavement.
Regulus waited until she was at the end of the path before he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the empty house. He stood there for a moment, his breath heavy, his fingers still curled into fists at his sides. The encounter left a sour taste in his mouth, an unease slithering beneath his skin.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, before making his way to his desk. The stack of mail sat where he had left it, untouched—until his eyes caught something strange among the usual bills and letters. A postcard. The paper was slightly dirty, as if handled too many times, but what made his breath hitch was the symbol stamped in the center.
A symbol. The one from the wilderness
His fingers trembled as he picked it up, flipping it over. The front had a mountainous terrain, with words written with an eerie sort of casualness.
We wish you were here.
His pulse thundered in his ears. His vision swam, breath growing shallow. The room around him blurred, dissolving into something darker. The past dragged him under.
“I love you, you know?”
“I’ll always be here. Always.”
Stay with me, Regulus. Please—”
For a moment, it was peaceful. Familiar.
Then, the scene twisted.
The fire sputtered. Shadows stretched unnaturally, curling at the edges of his vision. The air thickened, cloying, pressing against his lungs. The warmth bled away, leaving something sharp, something watching. Laughter cut off like a severed string. A branch cracked beyond the trees.
"HELP. Oh, God—HELP ME!"
Regulus turned. Their eyes—wide, frantic—fixed on him. Their breath hitched, their body tensed.
A sickening crunch. A body collapsing.
Snow. Fogging the windows. Cold. Icy and unrelenting.
A whisper, raw and broken.
"I can’t do it. Please. Please—don’t make me do this."
The crack of ice. The splash of water.
A scream ripping through the night.
A voice, furious.
"WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"
His breath hitched. His vision blurred. The weight of it pressed down, suffocating.
"RUN! RUN! YOU HAVE TO GO!"
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs. The darkness curled around him, a vice tightening. The voice trembled, then softened—closer now, barely a breath at his ear.
"It’s your fault. It’s always your fault."
Then, another whisper. Colder. Final.
"He’s gone, Regulus. James is gone."
The room snapped into focus. Regulus gasped, his chest heaving. His fingers dug into the postcard, crumpling the edges. He stared down, still caught between past and present.
The symbol stared back. Unblinking.
We wish you were here.
Lily (Present Day)
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the apartment windows, stretching long golden rays across the floor. Lily Evans sat at the kitchen table, her laptop open, tabs filled with news articles, polling data, and drafts of campaign speeches blinking back at her. She was supposed to be strategizing, finding a way to improve the numbers that had been steadily dipping, but her mind was elsewhere—fractured, exhausted.
“Momma?”
She blinked, looking up just as small hands tugged at her sleeve. Harry stood beside her, dark curls messy from his afternoon nap, rubbing sleep from his green eyes.
“M’ hungry,” he mumbled, leaning his head against her arm.
Lily exhaled, glancing at the clock. It was later than she thought, and she felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have had to remind her.
“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, closing her laptop. “What do you want?”
Harry’s face scrunched in thought. “Grilled cheese.”
“Coming right up.”
She lifted him onto one of the stools by the kitchen island so he could watch while she worked, heating the pan, buttering the bread. Harry kicked his feet idly against the stool legs, watching her carefully as she moved around the kitchen. For a moment, it was quiet, just the soft sounds of the spatula scraping against the pan and the gentle sizzle of cheese melting.
“Did you have a good nap?” she asked, flipping the sandwich.
Harry nodded. “Had a dream about a big lion.”
“Oh? A friendly one?”
“Dunno,” he said, thoughtful. “It was watching me.”
A strange chill passed through her, but she forced a smile as she slid the sandwich onto a plate. “Well, if it ever gets too close, you tell it I won’t let it mess with my Harry, alright?”
He grinned at that, and Lily pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before setting the plate in front of him. She sat with him while he ate, watching as he happily demolished his sandwich, oblivious to the weight in her chest. There were a million things she needed to do—phone calls, meetings, speeches to perfect—but for now, she let them go. Just for a little while.
The front door swung open an hour later, followed by the sound of Marlene McKinnon kicking off her shoes and letting out a long, dramatic groan.
“Lils, I swear to god, if one more old man complains about the price of oat milk like I control the dairy industry, I’m gonna lose it.”
Lily smirked, turning from where she sat at the table, scrolling through emails. “Eventful shift?”
Marlene trudged into the kitchen, tossing her apron over the chair before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “You have no idea. And to top it off, some dude spilled an entire cappuccino on me at five minutes to close. Five minutes, Lily. Who orders coffee at six fifty-five?”
“Someone who doesn’t value your sanity, clearly.”
Marlene scoffed, taking a long drink. “Anyway, how’s senator life?”
Lily sighed, rubbing her temple. “Polls aren’t looking great. I’m still behind in some key demographics, and I can’t figure out how to connect with them.”
Marlene sat across from her, resting her chin in her palm. “You will. They’d be idiots not to see how much you care.”
Lily gave her a grateful look, but before she could respond, Marlene straightened suddenly. “Oh—got the mail on my way in.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small stack of envelopes and flyers, flipping through them as she sorted them into piles. “Junk… more junk… bill…” Then she hesitated.
Her hand froze mid-motion. The color drained from her face. “What the fuck?”
Lily looked up, immediately alert. “What?”
Marlene didn’t answer right away. She was staring at something—no, through something, her expression suddenly rigid, her fingers gripping the paper too tightly. Slowly, as if she wasn’t sure it was real, she set a postcard down on the table between them.
“We got two of these.”
Lily reached for it, but the moment her eyes landed on the symbol, her breath caught in her throat.
A jagged, familiar shape. One she hadn’t seen in years, but had never truly forgotten.
Marlene cursed under her breath and shoved her chair back, as if she needed physical distance from the card. “No. No, that’s—That’s fucking impossible.”
But it wasn’t.
Lily barely registered Marlene’s reaction. Her entire body had gone stiff, her pulse roaring in her ears as she took in the sharp, taunting letters scrawled across the front.
We wish you were here.
Marlene exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, her movements jittery. “This is a joke. Has to be. It has to be. No one—no one else knows about this.”
Lily turned the card over in her hands, scanning it for any clue, any sign of who could have sent it. But there was nothing. No return address. No handwriting to analyze. Just the symbol. The message.
The silent, inescapable past.
Marlene let out a strangled laugh—one that held no humor, only panic. “This—this isn’t real. Right?” She was looking at Lily like she needed her to say something, anything, to make this go away. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
Lily opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Because it was real.
And suddenly, the memories came flooding back.
A fond, almost excited voice.
“It’s snowing!”
Running to the window, trying to see the falling snow. Excitement. Surprise.
But then—
A distant scream, sharp and terrified, slicing through the joy like a blade.
Lily’s scream.
Running out the door. Digging in the snow. Touching the skin. The cold skin.
They were lying there, eyes wide, lips pale, still.
And then the panic set in.
“GET UP! PLEASE. PLEASE GET UP.”
Crying. The cold freezing the tears before they could even reach the ground. The chilled hand grasping her. Unmoving. Unliving.
“Lily,” Marlene’s voice was sharp, cutting through the spiraling memories.
Lily blinked rapidly, her breath shuddering as she came back to herself. She looked at Marlene, then at Harry, still sitting at the table, blissfully unaware of the ice settling in her veins.
She swallowed hard. “Who sent these?”
Marlene shook her head, her eyes wide. “I—I don’t know. No return address. Just… showed up.”
Lily stared at the card again, pulse hammering.
Someone knew.
Someone wanted them to remember.
Marlene (Present Day)
Marlene forced a breath through her nose, steadying herself as she tore her eyes away from Lily. Whatever had just happened—whatever memory had gripped her—Marlene knew better than to press. She could still feel the weight of that damned postcard in her own hand, the jagged symbol burned into her vision like an afterimage of something she never wanted to see again.
Her fingers twitched. Her pulse still hadn’t slowed.
She turned instead to Harry, who had been watching silently, his small hands curled around the edge of the table. His brow was furrowed in that way only little kids could manage, a mixture of curiosity and worry.
“What happened?” he asked, voice small.
Marlene swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nothing, kiddo,” she said, reaching out to ruffle his already-messy hair. It was a reflex—something easy, automatic—but Harry wasn’t so easily convinced. His green eyes flickered between her and Lily, still gripping the postcard like it might disappear if she let go.
Harry squinted. “You’re lying.”
Marlene huffed out a soft laugh. “You calling me a liar, Harry?”
Harry didn’t even crack a smile. He just looked at her—too serious for a kid, like he knew something was wrong but didn’t understand how.
Marlene tapped his nose, trying to shake off the weight in the air. “Just boring grown-up stuff, promise.”
Harry hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded, but the crease in his forehead didn’t go away.
Marlene pushed herself up from the table, stretching dramatically as she let out an exaggerated yawn. “You know what time it is, though?” she asked, tilting her head at him.
Harry crossed his arms, suspicious. “What?”
“Bedtime.”
That earned her a groan. “Already?”
Marlene smirked. “Already? Harry, the sun’s been down for hours. If you don’t get to bed, you’ll turn into a grumpy gremlin.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “You’re making that up.”
“Oh, am I?” Marlene gasped dramatically. “Lily, back me up.”
Lily, still staring at the postcard, barely looked up. “She’s right, Harry.”
Harry huffed, but he didn’t argue further, sliding off his chair. Marlene followed him into his small bedroom, where the warm glow of a night light filled the space with a soft orange hue. She flopped onto his bed as he climbed in, grinning at him. “Alright, what story do we want tonight?”
“The dragon one,” Harry whispered, tucking himself under the blankets.
“Good choice.”
She flipped open the well-worn book and began to read, voice steady despite the unease still curling in her gut. The story was familiar, comforting—something solid in a way nothing else felt right now.
By the time she reached the final words, Harry’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his breaths slowing. Marlene smiled, brushing a hand through his messy hair before standing.
“Alright, buddy,” she murmured. “Time to shut those eyes.”
She moved to the window, reaching for the curtains, but as her fingers gripped the fabric, she froze.
Her eyes caught on something.
The windows.
Harry’s windows were covered—messy, frantic crayon drawings scrawled over pieces of paper, taped haphazardly to the glass. Scribbled lines. Jagged shapes. Some of them were just smudges, circles, but others—others looked like eyes. Big, dark, staring eyes.
Marlene’s stomach twisted.
“What’s all this?” she asked, turning back to Harry.
Harry rubbed his eyes with a small fist. “So she can’t see me.”
Marlene’s fingers twitched against the curtain fabric. “What?”
Harry blinked at her, confused, like she should already know. “The lady in the tree.”
Marlene’s breath caught.
The air in the room suddenly felt thick.
“The—” Her mouth felt dry. “What lady, Harry?”
He yawned, blinking sleepily. “The one who watches me at night.”
Marlene’s fingers clenched.
The lady in the tree.
She didn’t know why it made her pulse spike, why something cold slithered down her spine, but she forced a chuckle. “You’re just having bad dreams, bud.”
Harry frowned, brows furrowing again. “Then how come you see her too?”
Marlene’s stomach dropped.
She stared at him.
The warmth in the room was suddenly suffocating.
“I—I don’t,” she said, but it came out weaker than she meant.
Harry just stared at her for a long moment, then rolled onto his side, eyes fluttering shut, as if the conversation hadn’t just sent something sharp and nameless curling around her ribs.
Marlene swallowed hard.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned back to the window.
She reached out, fingers trembling slightly as she peeled one of the taped-up drawings from the glass. Beneath it, beyond the window, the night stretched out—silent, empty.
Just the wind stirring the trees.
Just the shadows shifting against the streetlights.
She let out a shaky breath, exhaling a quiet, nervous laugh. “See, kiddo? No lady. Just trees.”
But Harry’s words itched in her skull.
She only comes when it’s really dark.
Marlene wet her lips, pressing her fingers against the cold glass.
Nothing.
Just trees.
Just trees.
She shook her head, peeling off another drawing. This one was different—the crayon lines more chaotic, thick and jagged, a dark mess of scribbles.
But when she tilted her head, the scribbles almost looked like—
No.
She was overthinking.
Harry was just a kid. Kids had nightmares. Kids drew scary things because their imaginations ran wild.
Still, she couldn’t shake the unease wrapping around her ribs, the way the hair on her arms prickled.
Marlene glanced back at Harry. He was already asleep, his small body curled beneath the blankets. Safe.
She let out another breath, softer this time.
Then, before she could stop herself, she peeled off one last drawing, pressing a hand against the glass.
And then—
A flicker of movement.
Marlene’s heart stuttered.
Her breath hitched as her eyes darted up—
But there was nothing.
Just the trees swaying in the wind.
Just the empty night.
Marlene let out a breathless laugh, stepping back from the window, shaking her head at herself. She was being ridiculous.
Still, as she tucked the drawings away, as she turned off the light and slipped out of the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling pressing against the back of her skull—
That something had been staring back.