Thomas is standing next to a round window that is filled with the morning's soft yellow light. He used it to give his figure a look-over. He liked how everything looked in general. With hair that is shoulder-length and a hard angle at the chin. A tall, slender figure that appeared to tower over the person. The features of his face, such as the pointed, tall nose and the deep, dark eyes, would be visible if he had smaller blades. It could have been a fascinating figure.

His thumb was passed over the figure's jagged edges. Regardless of how icy he could be, Thomas remembered the old man because he was always friendly to him. He missed him. Thomas put down his knife and the 12-inch figure, shook off his melancholy, and stretched himself out. The beam noticed this and moved across the room, striking the bed's foot. Thomas hoped that it didn't wake up Lars.

Thomas heard Lars groaning in pain while he slept, “N mm,” and quickly rushed over to see if he was having a nightmare. On Lars's side of the bed, Thomas noticed sweat dripping from Lars's face.

“Lars!” Thomas called to him in a shouting whisper. Not wanting to wake him if he could shake the nightmare off and get more sleep, but wanting to put an end to it. Rather than noticing, Lars' face turned pale, and his fist began to twist in the blankets. Thomas shouted, “Lars!” He was becoming concerned as he observed Lars' face and neck losing color. Thomas shook his arm and said, "Please wake up. Lars pulled away.

“No!” he cried, his arms flaring out; his arms were ghostly white and soaked with his sweat.

“Lars!” Thomas cried, but his voice did not reach Lars. Not sure what to do, he ran out of the room. Thomas realized that he didn't know which room belonged to Lars' parents but was still determined to find them.

“Berry!” Thomas cried out, hoping the house elf would hear him. Berry appeared in front of him. Thomas was no longer frightened when she appeared out of nowhere because he knew she was capable of doing so. Thomas was genuinely thankful that she could appear so quickly. Berry blinked at him while yawning and rubbing her large eyes while wearing a blue lace nightgown.

“Mr. Thomas?” Berry looked up at him. “What is wrong?”

“It's Lars! He's pale and sweaty.” Thomas spilled out. “I can't wake him up.” Thomas felt his heart running faster than when the boys used to chase him down. There, he could run, but he couldn't do anything here.

“He must be having a vision.” Berry's eyes narrowed. “Go back to his side. I'll get his mother.” Berry disappeared with a snap. Thomas didn't have time to question what she meant by vision. Thomas ran back inside the bedroom. He jumped on the bed and crawled to his side. Lars twisted and failed against whatever monster he was fighting in his dreams. Had to be bad.

“I'm here.” Thomas grabbed one of Lars' hands. Forcing it still into his two hands. It felt cold even though it was damp with sweat. “I'm here,” Thomas repeated. Wishing he could dive into his dreams and help fight off whatever made his spine twist, facing a monster is less scary when you have a friend. Not that Thomas had one before, but it felt right to him.

"How much time has passed?" In a haze of blues and purples, Lars' mother arrived. Running to Lars' opposite side and around the bed.

“A few minutes?” Thomas wasn't sure. Thomas watched as Lars's eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids at a rate he couldn't keep up with. Watching Lars eyes beat back and forth under his eyelids, faster than Thomas could keep track of.

“Berry.” Aunt Merry waved her hand out, palm up. Berry placed a soft cloth in it. Without trying to wake Lars up, she began to pat his forehead.

“Can't you wake him?” Thomas asked, rubbing Lars' hand in his. Berry came back to his side, patting his back. 

“He has to finish it.” Uncle Liam came into the room. Thomas didn't notice him because he was focused on Lars. “He should wake soon.” Lars's eyes opened, and he gasped for air as if he were drowning. His eyes appeared to be aging and turning gray. Thomas was gripped tightly by his hand. Even though it hurt, Thomas continued to squeeze.

“What is it?” Uncle Liam asked, and Thomas glanced at him. He was standing at the foot of the bed.

“Cards.” Lars' voice creaked, sounding hard and old. Definitely not like Lars. Even his accent had vanished. Berry's hands ducked and dealt him two soft black cards. Aunt Merry helped him get into a sitting position. Lars released Thomas' hands and took the cards. Although they appeared to be a deck of cards, Thomas could see that there weren't enough to play a game. The deck was shuffled over Lars' lap as his eyes, still glowing gray, did so.

"Fool. New beginnings, the new school year Upright," Lars said, his face turning gloomy and his lips forming a snarl. “I am not a fool.” Thomas peered at the care he faced. A four-square mask made of black and gray covers a blond man's face. Lars' comments caused him to shrug his shoulders. It appeared to be brushing off Lars's comments.

“Emperor. Reversed. Chaos.” Lars shook, and his hands dropped the card. The blond man grinned, a sinister white smile flashing across his teeth. Thomas trembled. The card seemed to be dangerous. “Death. Anger. Thomas.” Thomas reached out to Lars after he said his name with a quiver. Berry suddenly appeared by his side, pulling him back with a head shake.

As the next card was revealed, Lars frowned and said, "Magician. Reversed. Deception." The same blonde man lugged his robe over his head and hung upside down. “A chance.”

“Dare you take it?” The magician asked. His voice sounded like Lars, but it was older and much darker than any voice he could imagine coming out of him. Lars' eyes closed with a nod from his head. Then he slumped over.

“Lars!” Thomas grabbed Lars. He leaned him upright and leaned him on the headboard. “Wake up!” Thomas begged. Feeling scared and very worried. The depth of worry shook his heart and broke the calm he usually managed to keep there. He knew Lars for only a few days, but he was already important to him.

“He's fine, Thomas.” Aunt Merry's voice drifted over in a gentle whisper. “It was just a vision.”

“Just — just?” Thomas confirmed it while repeating the word and shaking his head. It didn't sound right. “I don't know what you mean by vision.” Thomas said he was sure it might be more than seeing, but Thomas didn't care. “I don't need to. To know Lars's is not fine!” Thomas yelled at Aunt Merry, letting his rage out. He yelled at Aunt Merry after realizing he sounded bad. “I'm sorry.” Thomas ducked his head.

“It's alright, Thomas.” Lars's voice weakly spoke up. His ever-shifting coloration returned to his eyes. Thomas relaxed as he noticed his pale skin getting a pink flush once more.

“You're okay!” Thomas cried, his hand shaking on Lars' shoulder.

“Like Mother said, it was a vision.” Lars shifted, sitting up stronger and not relying so much on the headboard.

“I don't think you should have them anymore,” Thomas said, sitting back with his hands on his chest. The rate of his heartbeat was beginning to return to normal.

“It's a gift from our goddess,” Aunt Merry said, bringing the cloth back to Lars's face and clearing up the last remaining sweat. “He cannot ignore or put an end to it.”

“I've tried. It only makes things worse.” Lars gave Thomas a smile, using only one side of his lips. A fake smile, if Thomas ever saw one. Lars shrugged, accepting his fate: "Fight it, and the pain is unbearable, and the vision is useless." Lars sighed, sounding very worn out and much older than Thomas knew he was, “Don't fight; I have a chance to change fate, and the pain passes as fast as it comes. The Goddess works in mysterious ways.”

“What are these visions?” Thomas frowned. Thomas didn't question this goddess of theirs; if magic could exist, why not a goddess as well?

“She already helps,” Lars said. “And you are too.”

“In what way?” Thomas didn't think he had much. Lars extended his hand and took Thomas' hand, saying, "You being here helps more than you know.

“What was it, Lars?” Uncle Liam came around and stood behind Aunt Merry. His hands rested on her shoulders. Aunt Merry assisted Lars in picking up his cards and arranging them neatly back in a pile, saying, “It looked like a heavy one.”

“A choice I must make.” Lars looked at Thomas. His eyes turned a rusting gray, looking almost exactly like the glow they had earlier, and he said, “There is something I need your help with, Thomas.”

“What?” Thomas said, bracing himself.

“I need you to go into a different house from me,” Lars said. Thomas wanted to know about this change of heart. They had spoken of houses yesterday, and it sounded to Thomas that he wanted them in the same house.

“You don't have any say in that, Lars.” Uncle Liam frowned at Lars, and Lars only shook his head.

“Untrue. The hat will listen. It will listen to me.” Lars fist clenched into a painful-looking fist.

“Why do I have to go into a different house?” Thomas was looking forward to living together. Going to the same classes and enjoying them for the first time. A real friendship. In a normal environment. Thomas wasn't so naive as to think what the Rows did was typical.

“What did you see?” Aunt Merry asked, and there they went again. Thomas frowned. Thomas pondered the idea of visions and seeing, but he was at a loss as to what it might entail.

“I won't speak of it.” Lars refused to answer. “I only have to change it.”

“Lars.” Uncle Liam drew out Lars's name.

“What are visions?” Thomas whispered his words. Feeling the tension rise between the heated gazes of Lars and Uncle Liam

“I get glimpses of the future. A possible future.” Lars said, turning to Thomas and ignoring his father's narrowed gaze.

“They always make you so...” Thomas waved his hand around, looking for the right word.

“Weak?” Lars smiled and nodded. Like it wasn't a big deal. “To a degree, this is the worst one I've had in a while.”

“And what was it about?” Uncle Liam asked again. Lars shrugged his shoulders.

“You heard what I saw.” Lars said this without telling them anything.

“Something about me?” Thomas said, remembering the chill he got from Lars calling his name. Now that things were under control, Thomas shook his head and asked, "And death?" That didn't sound good, he knew.

“That is not happening!” Lars snapped. Lars threw the blanket off, covering Thomas's head. “We only need to change something to change the outcome.” Berry had cunningly escaped from the blanket and the room, which Thomas dismissed after he noticed it. “Which is why we need to be in different houses,” Lars said, turning to Thomas. His eyes were wide open but fixed with a firm gaze as his face creased into a frown.

“How?” Thomas didn't want to push Lars. He had a worn-out appearance, and sometimes you need someone to have faith in you. Without hesitation, Lars let go of his shoulders and slipped out of bed, skirting his parents. Whose eyes watched him with unwavering love and concern.

“I'll talk to the hat. You need to be in Gryffindor.” Lars took a deep breath. Lars' voice trembled. "You must." Thomas nodded.

“Okay.” Thomas agreed. Doing what he could for Lars, which was being there and trusting him.

“I know — I know you wanted to be in the same house.” Lars stopped and looked at Thomas. “Wait, did you agree?”

“I trust you if I need to be in a different house. Then I'll be in a different house.” All three O'Sullivans turned and looked at Thomas. With what Thomas could only describe as a mixture of amazement and questions. 

“I know you're not lying.” Thomas touched his chest. Feeling as clear as day in both his feelings and his words. “I know you will do this with or without me.” Lars was a stubborn guy; you didn't need to know him for long to notice.

“I'd rather you do it with me.” Thomas looked down to collect the rest of his thoughts. Looking back up into Lars eyes. Look a man in the eye. That's what the old man would say, and Thomas tried to live by it.

“It would be nice if you could trust me too,” Thomas said. Trust goes both ways, right? Thomas scanned Lars' face. Waiting on his answer.

“Yes, Lars. It would be nice.” Aunt Merry turned her eyes to Lars. Batting them with a smile, she fought a winning battle with the frown that was once on her lips.

Lars, at some point,” Uncle Liam said, a sigh heaving off his chest. “You'll need someone—someone like Thomas—when you get to school.” Uncle Liam gave Thomas a smile. “Who you can trust.”

“Fine,” Lars signed in a manner so close to his father. Thomas grinned, wondering if Uncle Liam also possessed a strong sense of stubbornness. “Slytherin and Gryffindor share class times. We can still be together, but we can't be in the same house.”

“Why wouldn't Thomas be in Slytherin?” Aunt Merry sat on the edge of the bed.

“No!” Lars shouted, the whites of his eyes shaking his pupil.