For years, even before I started working at the Prophet, I have imagined this moment.

‘I’m pretty sure that he could probably take you to an employment tribunal for that sort of thing.’

‘Nah,’ dad says, grinning. ‘I checked with Hermione.’

‘Do you… do you think we could talk?’

His blue eyes rest on me for a couple of seconds and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks as though I’m seventeen again and have a crush on him. Then he nods.

‘Yes, haven’t you heard? About the new disappearance?’

When I arrive on Thursday morning, I’m greeted by a number of people who’ve barely spoken two words to me in my time here; I feel almost like covering this article has given me a strange sort of celebrity status in the offices.

Two figures sit in a shady room, contemplating each other in silence.

‘What’s the news? Has any progress been made?’

My eyes blink open and I see Jane standing over me for the second morning in a week. Really, it would just be easier if she bought me an alarm clock.

Two voices, the first apologetic, the second spitting with anger, ring through the gloom.

I'm hanging in a twisted limbo, guilty and mortified that I abandoned someone in danger. How can I ever call myself a Gryffindor?

‘So,’ she begins casually. The flickering flames beneath the pans cause the contents to start bubbling softly, a delicate background music. ‘Will I be seeing Daniel around here any time soon?’

I can’t put my finger on what it is. Not straight away, and that scares me even more.

For an immeasurable time, the world stops.

(Trigger warning: This chapter discusses some very sensitive issues.)

‘Not friends, I think I can do that,’ I agree. ‘But if we’re not friends, then what am I doing here?’

‘You tell me. I wasn’t the one who invited you, Weasley.’

‘And this is it! The game that we’ve all been waiting for, quite possibly the title decider this season, it’s the Appleby Arrows versus the Tutshill Tornados!’