Prologue to the following thread: TBA
Credit to @Meenauh Silmataurea for writing the vision/memory/thing (which I have edited slightly). I have ensured that the word count exceeds 200 words, vision sequence excluded.

Lamik watched the window of Madam Malkin's, having just left the store into the busy street of Diagon Alley. He had just purchased a new robe, a grayish-blue thing, lined with runes sewn in silvery thread. They were merely decorative, as far as he could tell, and he didn't take much time to examine them before making the purchase. The robe looked nice, and that was enough for him. He twirled slightly, first to the left, then to the right, watching the fabric fold and flow and shift through the reflection in front of him, his expression soft and calm, if somewhat somber. Yes, it had been a good purchase.

Turning to face the road, he reflected on his surroundings. Witches and Wizards, families, friends, the occasional animal, all going about their day, single-mindedly aiming at some mysterious end, or otherwise drifting through life with little thought, as everyone is guilty of on occasion. He watched an older wizard, wearing an extravagant red robe and carrying a large lizard in his arms, and found it odd that he had never once considered getting a pet. Granted, it's not like he was suddenly interested in one, but it was unusual that the thought had never once crossed his mind during those long years at Hogwarts.

Something else came to mind then.

He was standing in a square, near a memorial. A famous memorial it was, definitely the one in Godric’s Hollow. Cold air almost burnt his skin, the village sounds were muffled as if behind glass. He looks at it, and then there’s a tug in his chest that draws him away from the memorial.

It’s like fast-forwarding, everything is blurred, and the next stop is near a ruined cottage. There are no noises, it seems to be a bit away from the village. There are Ministry-marks all over the place, but it’s worn out. The air feels colder and quieter. The insides are whirling around as if something has happened here.

The next tug draws him inside the building. He looks into a vertical shaft — there’s only darkness, pure void. He feels his own arm straining, stretching down the shaft, his hand locked around someone’s wrist. It’s slick with cold sweat. It’s not someone, it’s… Illowy…

“Lamik… Please…”

And the fingers slip, and then Illowy drops into darkness.

When he finally took a breath, 30 seconds had passed. Illowy. The name reverberated in his skull. He hadn't had a proper interaction with Illowy in... well... years. He certainly hadn't thought of her since leaving Hogwarts. But then, he had. He had thought of her, and he had seen her, and where was she? It was a memory, clear in his mind as any, but it didn't work.

A wave of nausea overcame him, spots clouded his vision.

It didn't work, it didn't make any sense. Why was he here?

They weren't ever close. And yet, as a reminder of earlier, more hopeful, times, the brief interactions that they had hit him like a punch to the gut.

She fell.

Where was she? It didn't make any sense.

Stumbling through Diagon Alley, Lamik's mind raced.