The moment the memory starts spinning out, Presley steps to the front of the group, the Omamorning Star held in front of him, ready to protect the others. Which is ridiculous, since it's a memory, but maybe not ridiculous, because it's one hell of a memory. Even Presley, eternal teenage cynic, audibly gasps when he takes in Pocket's fire-wreathed form. The party bug. The one who tried to save them. The one they have to save now.

This would look great on your Auror application, he thinks to himself, which just makes him feel sick for some reason. Right. No time for introspection. Presley has never seen the bowling alley like this, but there's a lot of things they're all getting used to seeing now.

"Linchpin," Presley says, once he's sure the memory is done playing. Impossible to focus on things in this chaos, much less the most memorable one. "I don't suppose they expect us to carry back that terrifying vortex?" He can't stop looking at it.