In The Shadow Of - agent_pomegranate (2024)

Chapter 1: The Repository

Chapter Text

In all of the years that Matilda Weasley had served as the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had never seen so many students be so desperate to visit the Hospital Wing.

After the goblins in the main cavern had been defeated, Matilda had hurried to reach Eleazar — and you. She had burst in to find you, sobbing over Eleazar’s body, magic swirling in some kind of metal sphere. Instantly, the professors sprung into action, escorting you to the hospital wing, shutting down the school to keep the students in their common rooms, and all the while, wondering what had happened inside the cavernous space.

You now lay in the hospital wing bed, contained to a small segment of the castle, slowly healing (thanks to a large rotation of potions). The Ministry had of course gotten involved, and Matilda suspected that by the time you were released from the hospital wing, the entire school would have their two cents on the matter (although it was currently unclear what information the Ministry would actually be releasing). For now, though, she was assisting Nurse Blainey in letting you get some rest. Although some brief assurances had kept most of the students at bay, she was currently dealing with the most stubborn of the bunch.

“Mr. Sallow, I assure you, she is healing,” Matilda assured him. Sebastian was a bright boy, but he was sometimes — no, usually — too impulsive for his own good.

“Please, Professor Weasley,” he begged, his brown eyes searching hers for any semblance of sympathy. “I need to see her — make sure she's all right.”

Matilda sighed. “She needs to rest right now, but she is healing. You are free to come back during visiting hours and see her then.”

Sebastian threw his hands up in the air, pacing back and forth. “Can I just wait here until then?”

‘This boy was not going to budge,’ thought Matilda. “I understand you are worried about her, Mr. Sallow, but right now, she needs to heal and rest. I’ll tell her you came to visit.”

She turned on her heel, walking back into the Hospital Wing, where you were examining the absurd pile of flowers, chocolates, and get-well-soon cards.

“How are you doing?” Matilda asked you.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, looking up at her. “Better… I suppose.” You trailed off, and Matilda swore she saw a quiver in your lower lip.

She thought back to the first time you’d woken up in the hospital wing, the way you’d asked how Eleazar was doing. She’d had to break the news to you all over again, and your lip had quivered in that same way before you composed yourself.

“Mr. Sallow came to visit you.”

You broke her gaze. “Oh.”

“Has something happened between the two of you?” Professor Weasley asked. “You were thick as thieves last I heard.”

You remembered Feldcroft, the catacombs, the curse, the Undercroft. “We… had a, uh, difference of opinion.”

Professor Weasley could tell there was more, but she let it go. “Nurse Blainey says that you’ll likely be released from the Hospital Wing tomorrow if you keep recovering at this rate.”

You nodded, silently fidgeting with the edge of your blanket.

In the days after you were released from the Hospital Wing, people thanked you, over and over again, for saving the school from the ‘goblin threat’. You were branded the ‘Hero of Hogwarts,’ a title you resented. You’d already had enough attention this year, what with arriving late, winning Crossed Wands, and the other adventures you’d been up to. You didn’t need more of it.

Professor Fig’s memorial was a beautiful service, and you thanked Natty for letting you sit with her at the Gryffindor table, where people wouldn’t look for you. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like all eyes were on you, even as Professor Weasley spoke. The Daily Prophet had started running articles on you as soon as they’d gotten a viable photograph (you didn’t buy the newspaper, but you’d seen other students reading it). Some days were better than others. You’d be able to get through your classes, and you could almost pretend that things were normal. But then you’d catch a glimpse of your own face on a newspaper page, and you’d come crashing back to reality.

In other news, your status as the Hero of Hogwarts came with a lot more drama. You’d already had a certain mystique as the ‘new fifth-year’, but now, you received piles of thank-you cards, love letters, and fan mail at breakfast. One day, some Hufflepuff girl had cornered you to ask if you really had agreed to marry into the Lestrange family, despite your far-from-pure blood status. The rumor mill was thriving, to say the least.

Nightmares plagued you, and after one too many instances of your roommates looking at you, concerned, you started sleeping in the Room of Requirement, which had conveniently grown a bedroom for you. Some days, you didn’t bother leaving, spending your time watching over the Nifflers and Mooncalves, which allowed others to theorize even further as to where you were spending your nights.

Since everything that had happened with Sebastian, you’d been avoiding the Undercroft, and for good reason. The most popular theories on why the two of you weren’t speaking involved your long-lost evil twin and a Graphorn. Needless to say, no one came close.

Still, you felt his eyes on you during classes and through the halls, undoubtedly from the rumors of what you’d been up to, drowning your grief in classwork, assignments, and odd jobs for the people in the hamlets. Not only were you the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’, you were the ‘Troll Slayer’ and the ‘girl who cleared Aranshire of spiders’. No one was truly sure which rumors were true, but Sebastian certainly had an idea.

As much as he hated it, you continued to throw yourself into danger over and over again, saving the hamlets from their issues despite being told that it was too dangerous. You didn’t think much of Sebastian’s furrowed brows. He knew you could handle yourself, and if he was truly worried, he’d talk to you. Besides, you needed to save up for Albie Weekes’ ridiculously overpriced broom upgrade, and grateful citizens usually provided you rewards for your efforts.

On the other hand, you’d heard new rumors about Sebastian’s endeavors, most of which related to the lack of mischief he’d been up to. Not once had he snuck into the Restricted Section or gotten detention, and apart from that one time you’d run into him at Crossed Wands, he hadn’t been seen doing a single unsanctioned activity.

Ominis had become a true friend throughout the spring. You found yourself going on walks around the castle, talking and laughing, dancing around the topics of Sebastian and Professor Fig. Ominis regretted things just as much as you did, and his friendship with Sebastian was destroyed after all that had happened.

The Ministry had gotten involved, but thankfully, your ancient magic ability was not written about in the Daily Prophet. Instead, their solution was to ‘live in the Highlands and watch over the Repository until we think of a better solution.’

Admittedly, they’d phrased it more professionally than that, but fancy words weren't exactly going to make you feel better about the rare, unpredictable ability you had.

At the very least, Hogsmeade was familiar.

You thought back to your meeting as you unpacked your trunk in the meager apartment. Most of the furniture was still the same, and you were glad to see your muggle novels had remained untouched throughout the years, but, more than anything, it felt empty. You missed your parents, and you missed the Hogsmeade of your childhood when you’d watch the students practice their spells and think of the day when you’d get to go to Hogwarts.

Somehow, you already missed the castle, despite not being far from it. It certainly felt more like home than this shell of an apartment.

Your stomach growled and you decided to head to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. At the very least, you could hope that people had forgotten about your supposed heroics by now.

* * *

Walking down the streets of Hogsmeade proved that people had not, in fact, forgotten about your supposed heroics.

At the very least, Sirona offered you the private table upstairs when you entered the pub, saying it would be ‘better for privacy’.

You sipped your butterbeer thoughtfully as you sat on the couch, staring into the fireplace until a knock at the door snapped you out of it.

“Sirona said I could find you in here.”

Sebastian Sallow.

His freckles had already gotten darker from the summer sun, despite it only having been a week or so since school let out, and he was wearing a wrinkled linen shirt (rolled up to his elbows) with a pair of suspenders, and some trousers instead of his usual Slytherin uniform.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Came to escape Feldcroft, I suppose. Difficult to receive sympathy for Uncle Solomon when I’m the reason he’s gone.”

Sebastian stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

“Can I ask you something?” Sebastian eventually said.

“Sure.”

“Why did you want to learn the killing curse?” he asked. “That night, I mean.”

You instantly knew what he was talking about. After speaking with the keepers, you’d felt a sense of finality, knowing that the battle with Ranrok was fast approaching. So, before you’d gone to Ollivander’s to get the wand made, you’d stopped in the Undercroft, where Sebastian taught you the one unforgivable you’d refused to learn. The two of you hadn’t spoken since then, so you’d assumed it wouldn’t be acknowledged. Since learning it, you’d used it more than you cared to admit.

On goblins. Poachers. Ashwinders. Trolls. Hell, you’d tried to use it on Ranrok (it hadn’t worked).

How were you any better than people like Rookwood if you were willing to resort to that kind of magic? And more importantly, were those deaths worse than the enemies you’d defeated — just as brutally — simply because of a curse? Did it matter if you only used it when you were backed into a corner? Did that make it better? And what about the enemies you’d attacked without the curse, the ones who you’d defeated before they even had the chance to touch you?

Avada Kedavra.

Your words mingled with Sebastian’s in your head, echoing over and over again. You almost wanted to blame him for being a bad influence on you.

But you couldn’t.

Sebastian had cast the curse in the heat of a battle whilst overcome with emotion. You had premeditated your use of the curse.

And it was killing you inside.

“Still with me?” Sebastian broke you out of your thoughts.

You paused. “I guess… I learned the curse because I needed it. The Repository… Ranrok… I came to learn it because I figured I’d need it.”

The freckled boy nodded and silence enveloped the room.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked him. “All spring, we barely saw each other. Why?”

He sighed, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. “I — I saw you, or heard about everything you were doing, and I just — figured you didn’t need me. After everything I did, I guess I couldn’t blame you.”

“I was hurt that you didn’t say anything,” you said. “I was just convinced that you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.”

You smiled at that.

* * *

After a while, Sirona had to close up the pub, so she kicked the two of you out.

You walked through the lit streets of Hogsmeade, the two of you falling silent. Thankfully, the walk was short, and you opened the door to let Sebastian in.

“Stitches and Draughts?” he read from the sign above.

“It used to be my parents’ place,” you told him. “Admittedly not the most creative name, but keeping the name they chose felt… right.”

You pulled open the trapdoor, and the steep ladder to the upstairs apartment slid down, meeting the floor with a clunk , and you motioned for Sebastian to go up. He climbed up without a word, and you followed him into the small apartment.

You had grown up here and had kept most of the old furniture out of sentiment. There was the nook in the wall that was your ‘room’ as a child, which you had put a proper bed into, and you’d replaced your parents’ old bedroom with a cozy sofa, an armchair, and a bookshelf. The kitchen was well-stocked with treats you’d bought from Honeydukes and leftovers from your dinners at the Three Broomsticks, as well as an assortment of random ingredients from your attempted ventures into cooking.

Sebastian strode over to the bookshelf, examining the titles.

“What’s Pride and Prejudice?” he asked, pulling the well-worn copy off of the shelf.

“Only the greatest romance novel ever written,” you replied. “You’re free to borrow it, just don’t lose my spot.”

He examined the book, looking at the pages before looking back at you in horror. “You fold over the page corners?”

“So?” you said. “I marked off a few of my favorite parts.”

Sebastian was appalled. “This is an outrage to books everywhere.”

“You don’t have to borrow it, you know.”

“No, I want to read it, I’ll just have you know that mutilating your books like this is unacceptable to me.”

You sank into the sofa, and Sebastian sat beside you. “How have you been?” you asked him, and he chuckled in reply.

“Feels like I should be asking you that, Hero of Hogwarts.”

“I guess I’ve been — lonely. I don’t have Fig to help me, don’t have any guardian anymore, just a bunch of Ministry officials who are more concerned for the Repository than they are for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”

“Not just for all of this Ministry business,” Sebastian said. “I asked you to cure Anne, asked you to talk to the Keepers, and I didn’t even think about the other things you were going through.”

You didn’t reply, fidgeting with a loose thread on the sofa cushions as his voice grew more distressed.

“I cast the cruciatus curse on you. I killed my uncle. I tore apart my friendship with Ominis, who is never going to speak to me again. I’m a monster. I — ”

“ — Sebastian .” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “You are not a monster.”

He looked at you, his eyes brimming with tears. “Yes, I am. I’m broken.”

“If you’re broken, so am I,” you told him. “I’ve killed people too.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he replied. “You’ve killed goblins of Ranrok who attacked you. Dark wizards, who also attacked you. People who deserved to die, who provoked you. I killed my own family.”

“I’ve killed poachers and Ashwinders who have families,” you said.

The tears spilled over, saltwater running down Sebastian’s cheeks, and you opened your arms to him. Sobs racked his body as you traced gentle circles on his back.

“I was only trying to help.”

If you’d have known that Sebastian was tearing himself up this way, you would have talked to him more over the spring. He blamed himself for so much, and you felt your heart break at the thought. Still, you were sure you’d made the right choice not to turn him in. He saw the consequences of his actions — felt regret for what he’d done. If you’d turned him in, sent him to Azkaban, he would have kept justifying it.

“I know.”

Chapter 2: Nightmares

Chapter Text

You awoke to the sound of an owl tapping at your window, and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. It had been a few days since your run-in with Sebastian, and you still hadn’t heard from him. Were the two of you really going to end up pretending that it hadn’t happened?

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed to retrieve the letter, marked with your name in Sebastian’s signature scrawl.

To the second best duellist in school (if you ask me, it’s a much better title than the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’) —

I’ve started reading Pride and Prejudice, just as you recommended, and I’m appalled by the Muggle traditions. Yes, this book was written nearly 80 years ago, but I sincerely hope that muggle society has advanced since 1813.

I must say, though, I can forgive your shameless mutilation of such a book — there are too many good bits that need marking off. I’ve just finished Chapter 34 — where Darcy proposes to Lizzie, and I can definitively say there is something fishy about Mr. Wickham. We need to find some day to speak about this book. Send me days that work for you — I’m sure you can imagine why my schedule is so blank.

As for me, I’m doing well. Feldcroft is lonely and tiresome — I simply have the Darcies and the Bennets to entertain me.

Ominis has yet to abandon the rest of the Gaunts for the summer, although I’m expecting him any day now. He hasn’t gone back there since third year, but after the events of this past year, I can’t say I don’t understand his reluctance. I guess I’m just mad at myself for ripping apart our friendship so quickly.

Write back soon. I’ll wait for your witty and pretentious obviously delightful reply.

Your incredibly bored friend,

Sebastian

P.S. The owl won’t leave until you write back. Her name is Babbity (Yes, like the tale in Beedle the Bard. I got her when I was 11)

You glanced at the bird, which had, in fact, not left. Then, you picked up a quill and scratched out your reply.

Dear Sebastian,

First of all, I’m offended by such a nickname. Need I remind you that I absolutely kicked your arse in Defense Against the Dark Arts?

As for the book, I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it. I didn’t peg you as the type to enjoy a romance novel, but it’s nice to know you appreciate Muggle literature. However, I am sorry to say that Muggle society has not advanced much — apart from the fashions — since the days of our good friend Jane.

I’ve been rather free as well. Why don’t you come visit this Sunday? If you’ve finished Pride and Prejudice by then, I’ll let you trade it in for some other book in my vast collection.

Apart from reading and working on my summer homework, I’ve been awaiting the results of my O.W.L.s. I can practically hear you criticizing my Ravenclaw tendencies from here.

I’m sorry to hear about Ominis. I’ll send him an owl when I get the chance — he and I have been talking.

I await your signature snark.

– The Best Duellist in the School

You handed the letter to the owl, and she hooted softly before flying off. After that, your day consisted of the regular activities — reading, practicing your wandwork, spending an hour or so working through your summer assignments, and finding any reason not to go outside so as not to be swarmed by overzealous Hogsmeade residents — or worse, Daily Prophet reporters. Thankfully, the Ministry had done a good job keeping your new address secret, but the fact that you lived in Hogsmeade was common knowledge. You couldn’t go exploring anymore, not without some kind of disguise, because everyone recognized you. After a while, you drafted a letter to Ominis.

Dear Ominis,

How has your summer been so far? I know it’s only been a week(ish), but with the Gaunts, I imagine it feels like much longer. I sincerely hope that Marvolo is (somewhat) bearable.

As for me, I’m in Hogsmeade, but I might as well be in the middle of the Highlands. I barely leave my apartment for fear of seeing my own face on the Daily Prophet. Yes, I know it’s an ambition that many aspire to, but I think it’s idiotic.

I ran into Sebastian in the Hogwarts library, and we went out for Butterbeers, which led to a long-overdue conversation. I know you wanted to turn him in after everything, but I think we made the right decision. He feels a lot of guilt for what he’s done.

Sebastian also mentioned that he sent you an owl. I understand if you don’t want to write to him right now, especially while you’re dealing with the Gaunts, but please at least give me a message to pass on. He misses you, and after everything that’s happened, he deserves someone to lean on.

On a lighter note, I got him hooked on Muggle literature, which (as you can imagine) has been thoroughly amusing.

Reply soon!

You carefully signed your name at the bottom, giving it to Darcy, your owl, before retiring to bed and allowing sleep to claim you.

* * *

You were back in Rackham’s Vault, walking through the hallway, which began to fill with water. But this time, your ancient magic didn’t protect you. You held your breath as the water covered your face, and as you looked around, two of the Pensieve knights held you under, forcing you to look at the bodies lining the walls.

Deaths that you were responsible for. People you could have saved if only you had been faster or stronger.

Lodgok, Professor Fig, Bardolph Beaumont.

Your parents.

Suddenly, a hand reached through the surface, and you recognized it as Sebastian’s from the freckles, dusting across his skin like constellations. He pulled you out of the water, and suddenly, you were back on the floor of the Scriptorium. You looked up at him, only to see your own face.

“Crucio!”

Every nerve ending in your body was on fire. Blood boiled in your veins as your muscles spasmed and your head pounded.

You heard a scream, and you were vaguely aware it was coming from you.

It was too much, so you closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were staring Death in the face.

You screamed again, but no sound came out this time.

You ran, as fast as you could, away from there, only to be met with a pensieve protector.

It picked you up and flicked you across the room as though you were a bothersome fly.

You were falling, falling, falling, and then you landed back in the water.

Drowning, drowning, drowning.

You gazed upon the faces of the poachers, goblins, and Ashwinders as the last of your air escaped your nostrils.

There was no air left. You couldn’t breathe.

You were drowning.

drowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowning

drowning

drowning

drowning

drowning

* * *

You woke with a start, gasping for air. Before you knew it, you were pulling on a skirt and vest, lacing up your boots as fast as you could. On your way out the door, you grabbed the bag of Floo powder you kept with you.

“Oh, it’s so good to see young people making use of my invention!” the bust of Ignatia Wildsmith exclaimed as you approached the Floo Flame. “Although a part of me wonders where you are going at this hour of the night.”

While you normally didn’t mind indulging in Wildsmith’s gossip, you couldn’t deal with it now. Not tonight.

“Feldcroft,” you muttered, tossing a pinch of the powder into the flame.

You closed your eyes as the whirling, weightless, breathy feeling overtook you. The second you arrived, you broke into a run, refusing to stop until you were at Sebastian’s door. Only then did you rethink your decision-making. Before you could stop yourself, you knocked, and he opened it almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, folding the corner of a page in his book (the filthy hypocrite) and closing it. Then he looked at you, taking in the sight of your unbrushed hair, messy outfit, and the bags under your eyes, and his brow furrowed with concern.

“I — had a nightmare,” you said, your voice breaking. Merlin, you felt so stupid, running to Sebastian the second you had a bad dream. You weren’t five years old anymore. You should be able to handle yourself better. You —

“Come in,” he said, breaking your internal spiral and motioning for you to come inside.

In the time since school let out, Sebastian had made the cottage in Feldcroft his own. While it had been cozy before, it was closer to an organized chaos now. Precarious stacks of books were on every surface — you even spotted a few on the floor — and there were several half-written rolls of parchment, filled with scratched-out ideas and mindless doodles. Sebastian pulled the armchair away from the table, motioning for you to sit before busying himself in the kitchen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his brown eyes searching your face.

You nodded. “I — I was back in the Keeper’s trials, but then I saw all of the people who have suffered — died — because of me, and then I saw me — but it wasn’t me, and I cast the Cruciatus Curse on myself.”

Sebastian sat at the table, handing you a cup of tea, which you gratefully accepted.

“And then I fell back into the place where I started, and the room filled with water, and there was no air — ” you choked back a sob.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, opening his arms. “Come here.”

You gratefully accepted his embrace, burying your tears in his button-up shirt. He whispered things into your hair, his warm hands running up and down your back. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away.

“I feel really bad for crying all over your shirt,” you said between shaky breaths.

He shook his head. “I’ll wash it. Are you feeling better?”

“A little. I mostly just feel stupid. Dreams don’t have any real meaning, they’re just your brain’s way of processing things, but — I still let them get to me.”

Sebastian met your gaze with his dark brown stare. “There is nothing stupid about feeling this way. If there is — I’m a bloody idiot.”

You nodded, looking away from him, but he grabbed your wrist.

“Seriously, I need you to hear that. You’re not any less strong because of the nightmares. If anything, they show you how strong you are.”

You took a sip of the tea. “I suppose I should head back to Hogsmeade. It’s late, after all.”

“You’re free to stay,” Sebastian offered, blushing when he realized the implication. “I mean, there’s more than one bed here, and I think there’s some extra blankets somewhere,” he babbled.

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you fell asleep in your respective beds, but you woke up when you heard Sebastian stirring. Glancing over at his bead, you could see that his forehead was beaded with sweat.

Without a second thought, you sat on the edge of his bed, hugging him as he cried. He buried his head in your shoulder, attempting to explain.

“I — Uncle Solomon said it was my fault — and — ”

“ — Shh. It’s okay,” you replied. “I’m right here.”

You traced absentminded patterns on his back as he held you like you were the only certain thing in the world. The night continued, and you migrated to his bed, his hand finding yours in the darkness. You squeezed his hand three times, like a promise.

I’m right here.

* * *

Morning light filtered through the curtains of the cottage, making you blink. The two of you had fallen asleep shortly after Sebastian’s nightmare, and you’d spent the rest of the night alternating between nightmares and consciousness, holding each other through it all. Sebastian’s arm tightened around you, and you didn’t dare move — didn’t dare breathe — because you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, Sebastian stirred awake, and you acted as though you’d been asleep too before gently extracting yourself from his arms and sitting up.

“It’s too early,” he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow.

“Come on,” you said, amused. “It’s nine o’clock.”

“Wake me up at noon.”

You stood, walking over to the kitchen. “How do you like your coffee?”

“You’re annoyingly chipper.”

“Answer the question, Sallow.”

“With an absurd amount of cream and sugar.” His voice was muffled by the pillow. You followed his instructions, pulling the pillow off his face and handing him the coffee. His hair was a bird’s nest, messy in the most adorable way, and you suppressed a giggle at seeing him this way.

“You’re evil,you know that?” he asked.

“I’m evil?” You replied. “That’s not even coffee, Sebastian.”

“Just because I don’t like bitter things…” he grumbled, accepting the cup from you and taking a sip.

“So what do you think of Pride and Prejudice?” you asked him.

“It’s a well-written novel, but their society is so restrictive . You said in your letter that things hadn’t changed that much — what’s it like?”

You smiled ruefully. “Well, I lived in a Muggle orphanage, so I was learning how to be a maid. Cooking, cleaning, you get the idea. In high society, the social season still exists, and a lot of their rules are still so arbitrary.”

“How so?” asked Sebastian.

“Think of it this way. In wizarding society, most adult women wear skirts and blouses, right?”

Sebastian nodded. “Right.”

“But it wouldn’t be unusual or inappropriate for a woman to wear trousers.”

“Exactly.”

You shook your head. “In Muggle society, trousers are far less common. They’re not modest or feminine. I remember being back in the wizarding world felt like such a breath of fresh air.”

Sebastian sat, wide-eyed with fascination (or caffeine). “What other differences are there?”

“Well, we’re both old enough that we could be starting to court, and for the two of us to be here without a chaperone, well…” you smiled. “Not to mention that we shared a bed, an act that’s typically out of the question in Muggle society.”

You could have sworn you saw Sebastian’s cheeks flush, but you set it aside. “What did you like about the book?”

He took a sip of his coffee, thinking for a moment. “I think it’s delightful that Jane Austen named the character who is beloved by everyone ‘Jane’.”

You chuckled. “You know, I never really thought about that, but you’re right.”

A tap at the window interrupted your conversation, and Sebastian stood to go meet the owl, placing a few Knuts in a small leather pouch by its leg in exchange for the newspaper. You cringed at seeing the headline.

“The Tumultuous Love Life of the Hero of Hogwarts?” you asked. “You read the Daily Prophet?”

Sebastian met your gaze. “I’ve been enjoying their series on Nellie Bly.”

“Who?”

“Nellie Bly. She’s this American journalist who was able to circumnavigate the world in seventy-three days.” He strode over to the table, sitting in a chair beside you. “Initially, when the story broke, no one was concerned, because they all figured she was a witch.”

“Wasn’t she?” you replied. “Seventy-three days on a broomstick is a good time, but if she had a high-quality broom then it’s not surprising.”

“That’s the thing.” Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “MACUSA — ”

“ — What’s that?”

“The American Ministry. They don’t have a record of a ‘Nellie Bly’ who’s magical. So now it’s this whole story, because if the Muggles can circumnavigate the globe in seventy-three days without magic, then who’s to say they can’t invent some kind of magic detector? Everyone’s worried about this being a threat to the International Statue of Secrecy and whatnot.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you don’t buy the Daily Prophet for the gossip, at least.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Far from it. I think they just put it on the front page to get people interested, but it’s all speculation, really.”

You grabbed the paper from his hands. “An exclusive interview with the Hero’s best friend, Duncan Hobhouse?”

Sebastian narrowed his eyebrows. “No way. Give that to me.”

You held the paper out of his reach while you skimmed the page. “Of course he’d do this for attention. Apparently, my love life is very tumultuous, there’s this whole love hexagon going on between you, Ominis, Garreth, Leander, Amit, and myself. Ridiculous. I’m going to hex his arse into next week when we get back to school.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’d put that on the front page instead of their Nellie Bly series.”

You smacked his arm in mock outrage. “You mean to tell me that you’re more interested in Nellie Bly than the tumultuous love life of the Hero of Hogwarts?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he chuckled.

Chapter 3: The Lake

Chapter Text

The weeks passed by relatively quickly after that. You and Sebastian alternated between time in Hogsmeade and adventures around Feldcroft. The two of you often stayed over at each other’s homes, and the pretense of separate beds had altogether been abandoned (you’d always end up sharing after the nightmares, anyway). Yet, neither of you ever talked about it in the light of day, both stubbornly refusing to acknowledge whatever it was between you.

Sebastian kept borrowing your muggle books, and the headlines of the Daily Prophet had become a source of hilarity (you’d begun cutting out the more outlandish claims and pinning them to your walls).

You examined the engraved comb before running it through the front of your hair several times. You continued the arduous process of brushing your hair until you hit a snag in the back, where the comb was now stuck.

“Sebastian?”

“Yes?” He looked up from a copy of Little Women, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Need a hand?”

“Two, as a matter of fact,” you replied. “Can you help me untangle the comb?”

He nodded, standing up and examining the tangle. “Where did you get this?” he mused. “It’s rather nice.”

“It was my mother’s,” you replied, attempting to ignore the fact that Sebastian’s hands were in your hair. “The only thing I really have left of her, other than the shop.”

“You never really told me about your parents,” Sebastian said, attempting to make conversation as he examined the comb. You smelled like dittany, he thought. Dittany and petrichor.

“They shared a boat when they crossed the lake in first year. They were the only two first-year muggle-borns, so they always told me they were equally lost.” You smiled, remembering the way they’d tell you the story. “Mum was a hatstall, but she ended up in Ravenclaw, and Dad was a Gryffindor through and through.”

Sebastian smiled, and you continued. “They started courting in seventh year, and then they opened up this shop, got married, and had me. When I turned eleven and no Hogwarts letter came, they thought it would be best to take some space from the castle. Avoid the jealousy, I suppose.” You smiled bitterly. “They put their N.E.W.T.s to good use, so we moved to London and they became Aurors. When I was twelve or so, they went on a mission and never came back. From then, I just lived in an orphanage until Professor Fig came for me.”

“I didn’t know you grew up in Hogsmeade,” he said. “I was raised around the castle for most of my childhood, since my parents were professors.” He chuckled, thinking. “We were utter nuisances around the faculty tower.”

You smiled at him. “Did you ever go to the Halloween celebrations in Hogsmeade?”

“Of course. I thought the bonfire was the most incredible thing.”

“It’s crazy how we never crossed paths,” you said, thinking out loud. “We could have played together as children and we wouldn’t know it.”

“I think you would know if you’d met me as a child,” Sebastian replied. “I was far from forgettable, that’s for certain.”

You were about to say something when he finally untangled the comb from your hair, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said.

He nodded, smiling. “Your hair is very soft, by the way.”

You felt your cheeks flush, butterflies dancing in your stomach. “Speaking of hair, yours is rather messy.”

You reached up, attempting to get it to cooperate (at Sebastian’s protest), but you only succeeded in messing it up. He glanced in the mirror before meeting your eyes, and the two of you burst into laughter.

* * *

That night, the nightmares came as usual for Sebastian.

He gazed around the catacombs, right back where it happened. You begged him to stop, to set down the relic and think, but the power flooded his brain. Then, with a pop, Uncle Solomon was there, banishing the relic and making the Inferi turn on the both of you. The battle happened as usual, but when Sebastian cast the curse, you jumped in front of it.

The jet of green light hit you, and you fell to the floor, lifeless, your school robes pooling around your figure. Sebastian tried to scream, but no sound came out.

He woke with a start, and you stirred beside him.

“Are you okay?” you murmured.

“Nightmare,” Sebastian replied.

Your hand found his, and you squeezed three times.

I’m right here.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

His eyes met yours. “More than anything.”

As soon as you were both dressed, you grabbed your nab-sack and hurried outside the shop. In a matter of moments, you released Highwing from the bag.

“Come on,” you said, glancing at Sebastian.

“Is that a hippogriff?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, that’s what she would appear to be. Sebastian, meet Highwing.”

Highwing crouched down, allowing an easy way for you both to get on. You sat on her back, and Sebastian sat behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as the hippogriff took off.

You weren't entirely sure where you were going. But the sting of the wind on your face and the feeling of freedom that it gave you was too great to worry about where you’d end up. Highwing circled around towards Hogwarts, flying through the turrets of the darkened castle.

“It’s strange to see the castle like this!” you yelled, your voice getting lost in the wind.

“What?” Sebastian shouted back.

“I’ll tell you later!”

Highwing kept flying over the castle before moving towards the Black Lake, skimming a talon over the surface of the water. The light mist hit your face, and you broke into a smile. Finally, the hippogriff landed on the dock near Lower Hogsfield, and you and Sebastian dismounted.

“What were you saying?” he asked.

“Isn’t it strange to see the castle like this?” you asked, gazing up at the silhouette, black towers grazing the starry sky.

He exchanged a glance with you. “I suppose so.” Sebastian paused. “I wish you'd have gotten to see it back in first year with the boat crossing. Seeing Hogwarts all lit up… it looks so big.”

You looked up, noting the stars in the sky. “The constellations are pretty tonight.”

He glanced up, deep brown eyes scanning the sky. You could practically see the stars in his eyes. “You're right.”

You both stood there in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder. And it was enough. You glanced up at Sebastian, meeting his eyes, which were now shifting their focus to your lips. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, your heart beating double time as his eyes met your own again.

“Do you know how to skip rocks?” you blurted out, internally cursing yourself.

Sebastian backed up, offering enough space for you to breathe normally. “Kind of. I'm not incredible, by any means, but I'm all right.”

“I always wanted to learn as a kid, but I could never quite do it right,” you babbled.

(Why on earth could you not stop talking?)

“Although I can’t exactly use my wand now. Statue of Secrecy and all, since it’s summer. I might be ministry-adjacent, but I doubt they’d make an exception or anything,” you internally cringed as you kept talking.

“Anne was always better at it than me,” he replied, “but maybe I can teach you.”

You turned your attention to the lake’s edge in front of you until you found a rock that was flat enough. “Will this work?”

“Perfect.”

You watched as Sebastian threw the rock across the surface of the Black Lake, noting the flick of his wrist as it skipped off the water three times before sinking.

“Like that,” he said. “Give it a try.”

You walked closer to the water’s edge, mimicking his movement. Still, the rock only bounced once before sinking.

“Not bad,” he said, and you shot him a glance.

“Don’t patronize me,” you said, but your tone was playful.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I mean it. It took me ages to even get that good.”

You grabbed another rock, and Sebastian demonstrated the movement again. This time, it skipped twice before disappearing below the surface.

“You’re a natural,” he told you, and suddenly, you were grateful for the darkness that hid your blush.

After a few more attempts, you perched on a rock next to each other, drinking in the night air and sitting in silence.

“Hey.”

You turned to Sebastian. “Yes?”

“I know I’ve said it before, but I truly am grateful for your friendship.”

“Of course,” you replied. “There was never a chance I would send you to Azkaban.”

“Why?” he asked, shaking his head. “By all means, what I did was unforgivable — deserving of a sentence. Even Ominis wanted to send me away.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I saw the way you dropped your wand. It was like it burned you. You regretted it — that much was clear.” You paused. “But I also know you well enough to know that when you feel cornered, you justify your actions.”

He let out a brief ha, and you continued. “If I’d have sent you to Azkaban, you would never have seen your wrongs — regretted what you’d done. Not to mention the dementors. There was no way I would send you to be surrounded by those life-sucking monsters at the age of sixteen. Or at any age, really.”

“But that doesn’t change what I did, does it? I’m still a murderer.”

“If you’re a murderer, so am I,” you said. “To a greater degree, even. There was no way I’d get you locked up in a place that miserable for something you did accidentally — not when I’ve taken down hundreds of poachers and Ashwinders in cold blood. On purpose.”

“Poachers and Ashwinders were trying to kill you. And they were dark wizards. I don’t see how that makes you evil,” he said.

“I don’t see how getting caught up in the moment, under the influence of a dark relic, no less, makes you evil,” you replied. “You just wanted the best for Anne.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sebastian replied, sighing.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

He sat silently next to you, thinking. “We were back in the catacombs. But you jumped in front of the curse. And it was all my fault.” After a brief pause, he continued. “My nightmares are usually something like that. But it’s not always you. Sometimes it’s Anne. Ominis.”

You turned to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You know that the only reason we went to London that summer was because I begged my parents?” Sebastian said, letting out a humorless laugh. “I desperately wanted to see the shops in Diagon Alley, so we rented a Muggle place nearby and they brought all of their books and things with them. It was supposed to be this fun little summer trip, and instead, they died from a gas leak. And it was all my fault.”

You opened your mouth to contest this, but he was on a roll now. “Uncle Solomon took us in, but I think he always blamed me. For my parents’ deaths. For Anne’s curse. And then his own death was my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself for these things, Sebastian.”You said it as much for him as you did for yourself, and from there, a comfortable silence engulfed the two of you.

“I didn’t say it enough, but I really do appreciate you standing by me.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder to smile at him. “You say that as though there was another possibility. I really meant what I said — you’re not a bad chap for a Slytherin.”

He smiled. “You know a lot for a Ravenclaw. Sometimes, it seems like you know it all.”

The both of you went silent for a moment. Then, Sebastian spoke. “I never properly apologized for calling you ignorant.”

You thought back to that night.

* * *

“Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?”

His choice of words cut deep. Your years in the orphanage had been hard and sad, and every September, you’d think of what you were missing out on. But then, finally, you’d been accepted into Hogwarts, sorted into your mother’s house, and somehow, against all odds, caught up with those who had been studying magic for years, only for Sebastian to call you ignorant? f*cking rich coming from him.

“Perhaps your uncle was right about you,” you spat back. “You don’t know when to stop.”

You knew that what you were saying was stupid and spiteful, but you were past caring.

“Oh, I do know when to stop.” Sebastian scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

He stormed away, exiting the undercroft while you stared at a wall. The second after you heard the gate closed, you made good use of confringo on the barrels, dueling away your anger.

* * *

“You still apologized, though.” You replied. “I shouldn’t have brought up your uncle like that.”

“I understand why,” he said. “You were hurt, and I was being an arse.”

“I’ll agree with you there,” you chuckled. “Still.”

Sebastian nodded. “Still.”

Chapter 4: Ominis

Chapter Text

The next morning, you awoke before Sebastian — as usual. He was snoring lightly, his arm wrapped around a pillow, and you couldn’t help but smile at him as you sat up, gently brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

Carefully, you tiptoed out of bed to the kitchen, placing a kettle on the stove and turning it on. While you waited for the water to boil, you grabbed the stack of books by the bedside, starting to put them back on the shelf. Just as the kettle started to whistle, your owl landed on the window’s ledge outside, and you undid the latch to let him in.

Untying the scroll from Darcy’s leg yielded a piece of parchment covered in Ominis’s perfectly neat cursive. You’d never understood how he was able to make such a thing happen until one day he’d shown you the charm he used to write.

My dear friend,

I appreciate your letter, and I’m glad to hear that you and Sebastian have been talking. Although I had my reservations about not turning him in, I’m glad to hear that he’s been working through it — and that you’ve been working through the past year as well.

As for life with the Gaunts, things are predictably miserable. I’ve kept confined to my room for most of the summer, and I am more than ready to slip away for the rest of the summer. Ideally I’ll be in Feldcroft by the start of August — unless you’d prefer me to come to Hogsmeade? Let me know.

I know you didn’t expect to hear such a thing, and I’ll spare you the details, but Sebastian’s letter to me made it clear that it was silly to leave him alone for spring. After all that he went through, leaving him to wallow in self-pity, guilt, and grief was decidedly the wrong call. Feel free to pass the message along (although I feel that it will likely go over better in person).

On a lighter note, I’m surprised you and Sebastian haven’t ravaged the Highlands with your use of Confringo yet. Do try to stay in line until I get there (and no, I haven’t forgotten about your birthday. I will decidedly not spare you from my gift-giving, no matter how you insist it unnecessary).

I’ll see you soon.

Ominis

You smiled at his dry tone. As hard of a time as Ominis had given you at the beginning of the year, the both of you had reached an understanding now, and you would be glad to see him again soon — even if it meant your time with Sebastian was cut short.

Speaking of the freckled menace, he was slowly stirring, and you smiled as he rose from the bed.

“Sleep well?”

“Something like that,” he replied, yawning.

You smiled, handing him a cup of coffee — just the way he liked it. Sebastian hummed gratefully as he took a sip.

“I’ve just received word from Ominis,” you told him. “He’ll be here in about a week.”

“Hm,” Sebastian replied.

You knew there was more than just a nonchalant response. “What?”

He sighed. “I — I guess I should be glad he’s visiting, but it’s just,” he paused. “Strange. Not knowing how to act around my best friend.”

You weren’t sure how to reply to that, but you handed Sebastian the letter anyway. His eyes skimmed over the page, and he stared at the final line for a while after finishing.

“Thank you,” he said, setting the parchment back on the table. “Truly.”

* * *

The rest of the week went by fairly quickly, and although Sebastian didn’t mention it again, you could tell he was apprehensive about Ominis’s impending arrival.

You finished scanning the rest of the page, and glanced at Sebastian as his eyes traced the final words. The two of you were laying on your stomachs, side by side, in Sebastian’s cottage in Feldcroft. The book of the week was The Picture of Dorian Gray, which Amit had sent you as an early birthday gift, saying that he’d heard it was popular among the muggles.

“Flip?” Sebastian said, glancing at you.

You nodded in reply. “Go ahead.”

The late afternoon sun lit the page, and the two of you continued.

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it,” murmured Sebastian, tracing the words with his index finger. “Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.”

You paused your reading to glance at him. “Do you agree with that?”

He glanced back, the sun making his brown eyes look amber. “I used to. But I think that kind of thought is part of what went so wrong this year.”

“I think that’s very wise of you, Sebastian.”

The both of you went back to reading until you heard a knock on the door.

“Ominis!” you exclaimed as you opened the door, pulling the blind boy into a hug. “It’s good to see you!”

The blond smiled. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”

You pulled away from the hug to reveal Sebastian, still standing sheepishly inside the cottage.

“Er… hi, Ominis,” Sebastian said, glancing at the blond, unsure of what to say.

“For Merlin’s sake, Sebastian, don’t be an idiot,” Ominis snapped, crossing the room to pull him into a hug.

“Does — does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis pulled back from the hug. “It means I’m glad you know better now.”

Sebastian blinked several times, his eyes growing misty. “Thank you, Ominis. I know I’ve been a terrible friend to you, and I know that I hurt our friendship, but I don’t think I could have dealt with losing you along with Anne.”

“Sebastian, you’re my oldest friend. I know you well enough to know when you’re sorry.” Ominis replied.

You smiled at their interaction and stepped out of the cottage to give them some privacy. You nodded at the residents of Feldcroft as you followed the trail up to Isidora’s home.

You hadn’t mentioned it to Sebastian yet, but you continued your adventures around the Highlands, if only to check on the goblin and Ashwinder camps.

(Just to make sure they weren’t coming back.)

(After all, you hadn’t seen Rookwood’s body.)

(And Harlow could break out of Azkaban.)

(Ranrok might be gone, but who’s to say all of his supporters were?)

You pushed those thoughts out of your mind as you reexamined the tents by Isidora’s house.

Per usual, they were empty, and the wood from the campfires, although charred, was cold. Everything was fine, as always. Why had you even doubted that everything was fine? Things had never been better. Sebastian and Ominis were talking, Rookwood and Ranrok were dead, Harlow was locked up, and you were safe.

You made your way back down the hill and decided to head back to the cottage to grab your nab-sack. You’d need your broom if you were going to check on the Ashwinder camps as well.

The door opened carefully, and you walked in to find Sebastian and Ominis sitting at the table, enjoying some coffee (Sebastian) and tea (Ominis).

“We were wondering where you went!” Sebastian exclaimed.

“I wanted to give you guys some privacy,” you said. “But it is good to see you, Ominis.”

“I wish I could say the same,” he replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, but a light laugh escaped you nonetheless.

“Anyway,” said Ominis, “Sebastian and I were just talking about your birthday. Any plans currently?”

“I was thinking I’d plan a get-together with a few people,” you replied. “Probably just you two and Poppy.”

“You're friends with Poppy?” Sebastian exclaimed, incredulous. “As in Poppy Sweeting?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Why?”

A mischievous grin spread across Sebastian’s face. “Congratulations. You have now been friends with Ominis and I long enough to hear about Ominis’ hopeless feelings for one Poppy Sweeting.”

You nearly laughed out loud. “I'm sorry, what? How am I only hearing about this now?”

You turned to Ominis, who was bright red, seemingly confirming Sebastian’s teasing.

“When did this begin?” you demanded.

Ominis sighed. “First year. It was four to a boat when we crossed the Black Lake, and I was stuck with Sebastian and Anne, who were complete menaces — ”

“ — Hey!” Sebastian exclaimed. “I was — and still am — a f*cking delight, thank you very much!”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing at Ominis for confirmation.

“No, Sebastian. You were pointing your wand at everything and reciting nonsense spells to try and make our boat get to Hogwarts the fastest.”

Sebastian exchanged a glance with you, as though to say ‘Can you believe him?’

You bit back a smile. “Continue.”

“Anyway, it was four to a boat, so I was with Sebastian, Anne, and Poppy.” Ominis’s cheeks flushed. “She was nice to me, but I didn’t realize my feelings until our third year.”

“What happened in third year?” you asked.

“We were partnered up in potions,” Ominis said. “She was — helpful. Potions is a difficult subject when you can’t see the color of the liquid, but Poppy was always patient with me.” He paused briefly. “The day we made shrinking solutions was when I realized that these feelings were not about to go away.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you, Ominis,” you told him. “She’s coming to visit Hogsmeade later this week, so I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Don’t be too obvious.” Ominis said. “I don’t know how she feels, and I am in no way ready for her to know about my feelings.”

“I assure you, Ominis, I am a master of subtle,” you replied. “Besides, it’s awfully sweet. You should tell her how you feel.”

Sebastian shot a pointed look at Ominis.

“I haven’t found the right time yet,” the blind boy said. “But I will, I promise.”

“It’s agreed then,” you told him. “You’ll confess your feelings by the end of the year.”

“Hey!” said Ominis. “I have agreed to no such thing!”

“Don’t you worry, Ominis,” Sebastian said, smirking. “Now, you have someone on the inside.”

“How did you even meet?” Ominis asked.

“It’s a long story,” you said.

“We have time.”

“Well, Howin partnered us in Beasts Class, and then she introduced me to Highwing — ”

“ — Who?” Ominis interrupted.

“A hippogriff,” you replied. “Then we took down an illegal poaching ring and stole a dragon egg —”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Sebastian exclaimed.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” you replied. “You know I got up to things with Natty and Amit. I mostly just didn’t want her to go alone and get hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Ominis muttered.

“So we stole the dragon egg and returned it to the dragon — Poppy nearly got knocked off the cliff because of it, but it was fine — and then we met some centaurs and worked with them to find the golden snidgets so the centaurs could protect them.”

“With all due respect,” Ominis said, “How the f*ck are you still alive?”

A good question, you thought, avoiding eye contact with Sebastian as you responded.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Your voice came out monotone, detached, thought Sebastian. He knew you’d been through a lot this past year, but he had the feeling you weren’t telling him everything. Or, at the very least, like you weren’t telling him how it affected you.

It wasn’t like you talked about it outside of the context of nightmares. And it certainly wasn’t like you’d be sharing a bed or talking at night anymore with Ominis here. Sebastian adored his friend, but Ominis had given him a hard enough time about his feelings already, and he certainly wasn’t planning on telling Ominis about what had happened between you. At the very least, not before the two of you acknowledged this (whatever it was).

* * *

A few days later, your O.W.L. results arrived with your supplies list for the new year. Ominis was unfazed by his results, scoring Es in almost everything, a P in Potions, a D in History of Magic, and an O in Muggle studies (“This ought to make my parents ashamed of me,” he commented upon hearing). Sebastian, of course, scored relatively well, passing everything except Astronomy and History of Magic, and even getting an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.

You opened yours last, unsure of what to expect. You’d been so busy this past year that there hadn’t been much time for studying, but thankfully you’d managed to scrape a passing grade in most of your classes. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Charms all got Os, and thankfully, you’d only failed Divination and History of Magic.

The supplies lists were relatively simple this year, and you already had most of what you needed, aside from the textbooks for the new classes (you’d opted to pick up Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Magic Theory for N.E.W.T. level, and you were already sure you’d sorely regret it).

Thankfully, you had a Diagon Alley visit coming up, so it would be as good a time as any to get your school supplies.

Chapter 5: The Birthday

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Ominis arrived in Feldcroft, and things were decidedly different. Sebastian was staying with him in Feldcroft, leaving you in Hogsmeade for the nights. Most days, the boys would floo over to Hogsmeade and you’d have fun together.

Today, however, Poppy was flooing over from her home in Pitt-Upon-Ford to visit Hogsmeade. Today, you would ask her about Ominis.

You climbed down the ladder and darted to the door when you heard Poppy knock.

“It’s good to see you!” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. “I hope your summer has been less eventful than your year.”

“It’s definitely been a change of pace,” you said. “D’you want to go by the Three Broomsticks? I’m getting hungry.”

“Sure.”

As you made the short walk, Poppy rehashed her summer so far, which consisted of helping her Gran with the new Kneazles she adopted, as well as attempting to find a humane way to fix the local Dugbog problem.

You sat at the bar and ordered two butterbeers.

“So, your birthday’s coming up, right?” Poppy asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Speaking of which, I wanted to invite you to come to Diagon Alley on my birthday. I was planning on going with Sebastian, Ominis, you, and Natty, but she’s off visiting Uganda for the summer, so it would just be the four of us.”

“Ominis?” Poppy asked. “As in Ominis Gaunt?”

“What other Ominis would I be referencing?” you replied. “Yes, Ominis Gaunt.”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. Ominis Gaunt is just as awful as the rest of his family: he’s a horribly condescending blood purist.”

You shook your head, bewildered. “How so?”

“Ugh,” Poppy replied. “We were in the boat to the castle together as first-years and he didn’t say a word to me. No doubt considered me ‘below his status’ or something.” She rolled her eyes. “And then, in third year, Sharp made us potions partners, and I had to make our Shrinking Solution practically by myself.”

“You do know he’s blind, Poppy?” You said.

The Hufflepuff in question rolled her eyes again. “Yes, I know he’s blind. But that shouldn’t be an excuse for refusing to do anything at all. He just read me the instructions and expected me to make the potion. He didn’t even offer to stir.”

“Okay, but has there been anything recent?” you asked.

“Yes!” Poppy replied, throwing her hands in the air. “Last year, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, when we did Boggarts, Duncan’s was a puffskein.”

You nodded, holding back a smile as you remembered Duncan’s nickname.

“I was going to find a time to introduce him to Gerald,” Poppy said. “Help him face his fear. But then Ominis had to go and start that nickname, and Duncan didn’t want to meet anymore.”

“I’ll admit that starting the nickname wasn’t the nicest thing ever,” you replied. “But have you met Duncan Hobhouse? He’s far worse than Ominis.”

“I vehemently disagree,” she said. “I don’t understand why you’re friends.”

“At the very least, you could be cordial. I want you there for my birthday, and I’d like you to get along with him.”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll be nice as long as he is.”

“That’s all I could ask,” you told her, smiling. How the f*ck were you going to tell Ominis that Poppy hated him?

“And I’m only doing this for your birthday!” she added.

“Well, then, consider it a gift for you to be nice to Ominis.”

After that, the subject shifted from Ominis to Sebastian as Poppy pressed you for details on whatever was happening between you two.

“All I’m saying is, it doesn’t seem platonic to me,” she said.

“I’m not denying that I have feelings for him,” you replied, “but I value our friendship too much to do anything about it. Besides, we’ve both had rough years, and don’t think either of us is ready for anything romantic.”

“I bet you’ll be a couple by this time next year,” she retorted.

* * *

“I have good news and bad news,” you told them. “The good news is, she’s coming to Diagon Alley with us for my birthday.”

“So what’s the bad news?” asked Sebastian.

“The bad news is, she thinks you’re a blood purist, Ominis.”

“What? That’s outrageous!” Sebastian said again. “As though Ominis would be anything like the rest of his family.”

“I tried to tell her as much, but she won’t really listen to reason,” you replied. “She thinks it was stupid that Ominis didn’t help more with the Shrinking Solutions, and she hated that he started ‘Puffskien Dunkein.’”

“So what do I do?” Ominis asked, his voice slightly muffled as he hid his flushed face in his hands.

“Well, we’re all visiting Diagon Alley soon. My suggestion is to show her that you’re different and nice. Just know that Poppy is stubborn, so it might take her a while to warm up to you.”

“But hey, if anyone can get people to like them, it’s you!” Sebastian said. “I mean, you were spouting pureblood bullsh*t back in first year, but now we’re friends!”

“And you yelled at me when we first met, but hey, look at us now!” You added. “It’ll be just fine, Ominis.”

“Is this supposed to be a pep talk?” The blond asked, still bright red. “Because if so, you’re failing miserably.”

“All we’re trying to say is that first impressions aren’t everything and you still have a chance,” you said.

* * *

Your birthday finally approached, and you awoke to find a tawny owl at your window, holding a package and a letter, and you recognized Natty’s handwriting.

My dear friend,

Happy sixteenth birthday! I’m sorry I can’t make it to your Diagon Alley visit (although visiting Uganda again has been amazing), but I hope this gift will make up for it.

You are one of my best friends, and I’m glad to know you. Happy birthday, and here’s to a more calm year ahead.

Love from,

Natty

The parcel held a set of leather bags (a note from Natty said they were meant to be strapped to your broom). Inside, you found a collection of Shakespeare, and you smiled at the gift, making a mental note to thank her later.

You got dressed and made some coffee, sipping it as you started reading (Much Ado About Nothing seemed interesting). Still, you’d barely gotten a chance to finish reading about the characters before you heard someone pounding at the shop’s door downstairs.

You headed down the ladder, still in your pajamas, to find Sebastian at the door.

“Happy Birthday!” he exclaimed. “Uh, why are you in pajamas?”

“Why are you even awake right now?” you retorted. “It’s only 9 AM.”

“We’re heading to Diagon Alley, remember? Ominis is already waiting for us.”

“I thought we agreed we were going at noon?” you asked.

“Change of plans,” Sebastian replied, closing the shop door. “Go get dressed and then we’ll floo over.”

You rolled your eyes but obliged anyway, settling on a skirt and a simple dress shirt with a vest.

“Took you long enough,” Sebastian said when you made your way back down the ladder.

You shot him a look. “It’s my birthday and I will not tolerate this slander.”

“I just don’t want to leave Ominis alone for too long,” he replied. “Especially since Poppy still hasn’t arrived.”

He was right, of course. Thankfully, you made it to the Leaky Cauldron before Poppy arrived, and Ominis was excited to offer you a ‘happy birthday’.

The fireplace in the corner of the pub glowed green from Floo powder and the short Hufflepuff appeared, dusting the soot off of her knickers as she approached your table.

“Happy birthday!” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“I’m glad you could make it, Poppy!” you replied. “Shall we?”

* * *

“Okay, but how do we know how many people have died from lethifolds?” Sebastian asked thoughtfully, still holding his cup of chocolate ice cream as he walked down the main street. “Like, they eat their prey whole, but who’s to say someone hasn’t faked it before”

“Well, Sebastian,” you replied. “People have faked it before. We really have no way of knowing.”

“I mean, no one’s really sure,” Poppy said. “Although I would imagine it’s more than we think. The patronus charm is the only thing that drives them away, and that’s advanced. Besides, what if you don’t sleep with your wand within reach?”

“You don’t?” Ominis asked. “I mean, I suppose I’m biased, since I use mine to see, but still.”

“I mean, yes, I sleep with my wand within reach,” Poppy replied, her voice suddenly cold, “but I’m referring to the people who don’t.”

The four of you paused for a moment outside of Flourish and Blotts.

“I’m going in,” you said.

“Between you and Sebastian in a bookstore, we’ll never leave,” Ominis replied. “Try to keep it under two hours.”

* * *

Nearly three hours later, you emerged from the bookstore with your textbooks for sixth year, a book detailing the process the Ministry used to catch Herbert Varney back in 1889, and a book describing the Great Poacher Raid of 1878.

Meanwhile, Sebastian emerged with his textbooks, a book titled Why Do Muggles Do That? a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and a bookmark enchanted to yell at you if you folded over the page corners (he offered it to you as a birthday present).

“Shall we floo back to Hogsmeade for some drinks at the Three Broomsticks?” Ominis offered. “Besides, I doubt you two will want to lug those books around Hogsmeade.”

“Sounds good,” you replied, and after dropping off the books at your apartment, the four of you made your way to the Three Broomsticks.

When you entered, the place seemed surprisingly empty, until everyone popped up from behind the tables, the bar, and other hiding places to yell, “SURPRISE!”

You turned to Sebastian. “Did you plan this?”

“Well, you should really be thanking Ominis as well,” he replied. “He had the idea. And Sirona is the one who offered the venue.”

“Don’t be so humble, Sebastian,” Ominis replied. To you: “He did invite everyone.”

Glancing around the room, you saw several of your friends. Imelda and Garreth were engaged in a heated debate over something, while Samantha and Amit were enjoying butterbeers. Nerida and Adelaide were gossiping with Sirona, and even Lucan had shown up.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want Clopton, Prewett, or Hobhouse here, but I figured better safe than sorry, so I skipped them,” Sebastian said.

“No, you definitely made the right call,” you reassured him. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“And we have presents!” called Imelda from her table in the corner.

“How much butterbeer have you had, Reyes?” Sebastian replied.

“Piss off, Sallow!”

Sirona offered you a satchel, smaller than your nab-sack, with the same charm on it (“For your school things so they don’t get eaten by cabbages.”)

Imelda offered a book entitled How To Charm Every Wizard You See (which you briefly skimmed before setting aside. Later when Sebastian left for the bathroom she told you to put it to use and stop his “pathetic pining”).

Amit gave you a nice new quill, Samantha gave you a tin of Chocolate Frogs (“To start your collection”), and Lucan offered a book on dueling combos (“Not sure you need it, but you could probably add to it.”).

Ominis gave you a wizard’s chess set, Nerida offered you a broom service kit, Adelaide gave you a book enchanted to ‘put things simply’ (you could write down a term and it would explain in a manageable way), Poppy offered a scarf (“Knitted by my Gran,” she said) and a tin of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, while Sebastian gave you a book on creating your own spells.

The party got into full swing after that, and while it was nice to see everyone else having fun, you needed a moment of peace and quiet, so you headed up to the mezzanine with your glass of butterbeer. Garreth had started an arm-wrestling tournament, and a very drunk Imelda (you didn’t know how it was possible to get drunk off of butterbeer, but apparently Imelda was able to) had challenged him — by some miracle, she was winning.

“I thought I’d find you up here.”

You turned to see Sebastian standing in the doorway to the stairwell, holding his glass of butterbeer and leaning against the doorframe. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him there.

“I just needed some peace and quiet for a moment,” you replied. “I’ll head back down in a moment.”

“You’re still having fun, though, right?” Sebastian asked, walking towards you and sitting down next to you. “I wasn’t sure if big parties were your thing, but I want to make sure you’re having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you told him. “This has been the best birthday I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.”

It was true. Your eleventh birthday had been marred by your lack of a Hogwarts letter, and your twelfth was only a reminder. Your birthdays at the orphanage had all been fine, but every August you couldn’t help but wonder what you were missing at Hogwarts. Then your fifteenth had rolled around, and you knew you were going to Hogwarts, which was nice, but this, the level of thoughtfulness and celebration that you’d gotten this year was definitely better.

“Of course,” he replied. “And thank you, for being born.”

“I mean, it’s not like I had a say in the matter,” you said. “But sure.”

You took a sip of your butterbeer, feeling the sweet liquid fizz on your tongue before swallowing it. You turned to glance at Sebastian and noticed him staring at you. Warmth spread through your body as you felt your face flush.

“What?” you asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you were staring at me.”

“Was I?” Sebastian asked.

The two of you went silent then, sipping your butterbeers and hearing the party through the floor.

“Should we head back down?” you asked.

“Probably.”

Neither of you moved.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Imelda called from the doorway, having stumbled her way upstairs. “Quit flirting and come enjoy the party!”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, but nonetheless obliged and headed downstairs, where a game of Truth or Dare was getting started.

“Let’s start with the birthday girl!” said Lucan. “Truth or dare?”

This was risky. Dares could involve all sorts of embarrassing things, but then again, you didn’t trust a drunk Imelda or a tipsy Poppy not to spill something about your feelings for Sebastian. Then again, with the bottle of Firewhiskey everyone was passing around, there was a good chance no one would even remember if you said or did something embarrassing.

“Uh… truth,” you said.

“Have you ever had romantic feelings for someone in this room?”

“Yes,” you replied, and the room exploded into a barrage of questions.

“Go on, tell ‘em who it is,” Imelda said, sloppily raising her glass of butterbeer before Garreth gently extracted it from her hands.

“I am not obligated to say anything more than that,” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Imelda, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” the girl replied.

You smiled. “Serenade the person who you last touched.”

(Said person was Garreth, and Imelda gave a delightfully entertaining rendition of ‘Loch Lomond’).

Following that, you discovered that Poppy’s first kiss was Arthur Plummly in third year, Lucan had a crush on Zenobia Noke (everyone cheered him on to make a move), Garreth did a downright horrible American accent, and that Amit’s biggest fear was spiders. All of this happened as people were adding Firewhiskey to their butterbeer, and by the time people were leaving, you were pretty sure you were drunk.

Poppy flooed home to Pitt-Upon-Ford, and Ominis returned to Feldcroft, but Sebastian walked you home as you cursed your choice of shoes.

“Why the f*ck did I wear heels?” you said. “Like, this was terrible. I’m already tall without them. Sebastian, how tall ‘m I?”

“Um. I don’t think you’re that tall,” he replied. “I’m taller than you.”

“Yeah,” you said. “You’right.”

You flopped onto his shoulder as the two of you paused outside your door.

“Will you be able to make it to bed by yourself?” he asked.

“I‘ll b’ fine.” You replied. Was Sebastian always so pretty? “Were you always so pretty?”

His face flushed spectacularly and a laugh bubbled up his throat. “I think you’re drunk.”

“I probably am,” you replied, shrugging. “G’night, Sebastian.”

“Good night.” he replied

You approached the door, but your heel got stuck in the gap between cobblestones, causing you to trip and fall (thankfully Sebastian caught you).

“Okay, maybe you do need some help,” he said.

“M’kay.”

It took quite a bit of effort for Sebastian to get you up the ladder, but once you were in the apartment, things were okay. He set out a pair of pajamas for you before heading back down the ladder.

“I need you to get changed on your own,” he said. “Can you do that?”

“Think so,” you said.

(A few minutes later, Sebastian heard a crashing sound and rushed back upstairs. You were in pajamas, but you had knocked over a cabinet of dishes.)

“You’re ridiculous,” he told you as he picked up the broken pieces and tossed them in the trash can. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’really remember.” you replied. “But I feel fine.”

“I’m sure you do,” he replied, chuckling. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You stumbled over to the bed, crawling under the covers.

“Good night,” he said. “I do not envy the hangover you will have tomorrow.”

“Sebastian,” you asked.

“Yes?”

“Will you stay?”

He sighed. “Okay. But I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You pouted, sticking your lower lip out. “Why? S’ not like we haven’t slept together before.”

Sebastian’s face flushed again. “You’re drunk,” he said. “Good night.”

“G’night,” you replied.

Pause.

“And Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“S’ my best birthday yet.”

* * *

You awoke in the morning with a pounding headache. It felt as though your skull was squeezing in on itself, and opening your eyes proved to be too much of a challenge.

“How are you feeling?” asked Sebastian, looking up from his book.

You groaned. “Too loud.”

He grimaced in response. “I’m sorry. You must feel like sh*t right now.”

“I’m never drinking again,” you said.

“There’s breakfast and coffee on the table,” he said, and sure enough, a plate sat at the table, yellow yolks on buttered toast waiting for you.

“You’re a saint,” you told him, crawling out of bed to sit and eat.

You turned to look at him, and took note of the indents in the couch cushions. “You didn’t have to stay,” you told him in between bites.

“Please,” he replied. “You were in no state to get yourself in bed.”

You took a sip of the coffee as the memories of last night began to return to you.

“So, um… did I call you pretty last night, or did I dream that?” you asked, feeling your face flush.

A glance at Sebastian revealed a blush under his freckles as well — and were his ears turning pink? “Uh, yeah. You did.”

The room went silent apart from the sounds of Hogsmeade outside of the window.

“I mean, you were drunk,” Sebastian said eventually. “We can just forget about it.”

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “Let’s just — forget about it.”

* * *

The door to the cottage creaked open and Sebastian crept through the door, hoping that Ominis was still asleep.

(Ominis was not in fact asleep.)

“Where were you all night?”

Sebastian froze in place, looking to see Ominis sitting in one of the spindly chairs at the table.

“Whatever do you mean?” Sebastian asked, lying through his teeth. “I went out for an early morning stroll.”

“Please,” Ominis said. “I stayed up for three hours waiting for you to get home, and now I catch you sneaking back in? Besides, you and I both know damn well that you are not a morning person. Now, tell me: Where were you?”

“I — ”

“ — Wait. Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“For your information,” said Sebastian, closing the door behind him and sitting across from Ominis, “I was walking the birthday girl home, but she was in no state to get herself into bed, so I stayed over.”

“Sebastian, I swear on Merlin’s beard if you took advantage of her — ”

“ — Despite what you may believe, Ominis, I do have some self-control,” huffed Sebastian. “I slept on the couch and made her breakfast to help with the hangover. And she got herself changed.”

“You really need to tell her how you feel.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sebastian said. “Only this summer have I finally mended our friendship. I’m just glad for her company, and I don’t want to rush anything.”

“How, Sebastian, is it not simple? You tell her how you feel, and she reciprocates. Frankly, I’m getting sick of watching you two pine after each other.”

“There’s no way of knowing if she reciprocates. And if it’s simple to confess your feelings, why haven’t you told Poppy how you feel yet?”

“Well,” said Ominis, “Poppy hates me and believes me to be a blood purist. That’s why I haven’t said anything.”

“Touche.”

Chapter 6: September

Chapter Text

The weeks following your birthday sped by in a blur as September first approached. Packing for Hogwarts became the main focus, and you made a plan with Sebastian, Ominis, and Poppy to all floo to London and take the Hogwarts Express.

To be frank, you didn’t see the need for it, considering how close you were living to the castle (“It’s perfectly reasonable to simply make the walk,” you argued), but Sebastian insisted that to get the true Hogwarts experience, you needed to take the train at least once.

Platform nine and three-quarters was bustling, a combination of overconfident third-years, sentimental seventh-years, and first years, who were either terrified, thrilled, or tiny.

“I swear I wasn’t that short when I was a first year,” mused Sebastian as you all pushed your trolleys up to the train.

“I agree,” Poppy said. “I think they’re shrinking.”

“Good news for you then,” you joked. “Maybe you won’t be the shortest magizoologist after the class of ‘98 graduates.”

“Very funny,” Poppy remarked. “Make fun of the short one, very creative of you.”

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s get a good compartment before they’re all taken.”

The group obliged, and you found an empty compartment with little trouble. You took a seat near the window, with Sebastian across from you, and Poppy sat near the door, Ominis across from her.

Natty and Imelda approached the compartment a few minutes later, and you offered to let them join you.

“First time taking the train, eh?” Imelda asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Apparently, it’s a hallmark of the Hogwarts experience.”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you wouldn’t have missed out on much by skipping. The train is fine, but all day is a long while to travel.”

“Why thank you, Imelda, for showing your enthusiasm and helping our newest charge enjoy one of the classic experiences of Hogwarts,” remarked Sebastian sarcastically.

“Anytime.”

“So how was your summer, Natty?” asked Poppy. “I heard you were visiting Uganda again.”

“Oh, it was wonderful,” the Gryffindor in question replied. “It was great to visit my old school friends, even if Hogwarts is my home now.”

You heard the train horn go off. “I suppose we’re about to leave.”

“Room for one more?”

You turned to the door of the compartment, seeing Garreth.

“Of course,” you replied.

“How was your summer, Weasley?” Sebastian asked as Garreth took a seat in between him and Imelda.

“Relatively calm. Spent some time deknoming the garden, went to a birthday party, picked up school supplies. Just the usual things.”

“I am sorry I couldn’t make it,” remarked Natty. “But I’m glad that you had fun.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of use out of your gifts,” you told her.

“Speaking of which, have you put any use to mine?” asked Imelda, shooting you a meaningful look.

Admittedly, you had read over How To Charm Every Wizard You See, but you hadn’t had much of a chance to use any of it. Besides, it was more of a gag gift than anything else.

“Um… I’ve read it,” you said, “But, y’know, who’s to say I want to charm every wizard I see?”

* * *

As you approached the castle, you and the rest of the girls kicked the boys out while you changed into your school robes.

“Poppy, I’m telling you, Ominis isn’t as bad as his family,” you said.

“Then why,” Poppy said, “did he not even notify me that he was throwing you a surprise party?”

“In all fairness, you should be annoyed with Sebastian too,” you said. “He did the planning to invite everyone, and he heard you were coming to Diagon Alley with us, so he probably thought he didn’t need to tell you.”

“Still — ”

Imelda butted in. “Poppy, what are you going on about? I’ve known Ominis since first year, and he’s always hated pureblood politics — he’s a sweet guy once you get to know him — he just comes off a little stuck up at first.”

“All I’m saying is that I don’t see what you do in him.”

You sighed. “Look, Poppy, Ominis yelled at me when we first met. Sebastian had shown me something that Ominis shared with him and he was annoyed about it, but after getting to know him better he’s one of my closest friends — ”

“ — He yelled at you?” Poppy exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Yes,” you replied, exasperated at Poppy’s apparently selective hearing. “But he’s apologized since then and now we’re great friends.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to wait for my apology then,” Poppy huffed.

After the four of you were changed, you waited outside of the compartment for Ominis, Garreth, and Sebastian as they got into their school robes.

“What are you ladies talking about?” Leander asked as he approached you.

“Nothing in particular,” you replied.

“Well, why are you out here?”

“We’re waiting for the boys to get changed,” Natty said. “Where are you off to?”

“Just patrolling the train,” he said, flashing his prefect badge at you. “I’m a prefect. Hoping for Head Boy next year.”

You all offered lukewarm ‘congratulations’ to Leander, who remarked that his summer had been ‘incredible’ and that he’d gone to visit some relatives in America (“The headmaster of Ilvermorny said that he wished I had gone there instead — brilliant man, really!”).

You couldn’t help but wish Leander had gone to Ilvermorny as well.

The compartment door slid open, showing the boys in their robes.

“Prewett.” Sebastian nodded.

“Well, it seems everything’s in order here,” Leander said. “I had better go rejoin the prefect compartment. The Head Boy mentioned he had a special job for me.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me he’s a prefect!” Sebastian said, annoyed as you all sat back down in the compartment.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And he’s aiming for Head Boy next year.”

“I would have hoped you were planning to break fewer rules this year, Sebastian,” Ominis remarked. “There was far too much excitement last year.”

“I wasn’t planning on much,” he replied. “After all, the Restricted Section is only restricted for one more year, so there’s not much benefit sneaking in. I’m more worried about Crossed Wands.”

“Leander’s a member, so I doubt he’d shut it down,” you told him. “And I don’t think Crossed Wands is as secret as you think. Last year Hecat told me to win a few rounds as an assignment.”

“Hecat knows everything,” Sebastian said.

“Fair. But what’s all this about the Restricted Section not being restricted anymore?”

“Seventh years get access without needing permission,” Ominis told you. “Or, in Sebastian’s case, disillusionment. A lot of the N.E.W.T. material is down there.”

“So you’re telling me that you snuck down there using disillusionment,” you said, turning to Sebastian, “when you could have just recruited a seventh-year to do it for you?”

“As though you would trust anyone else to get the exact books you asked for,” he replied.

* * *

After a long journey, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station, and the platform was soon flooded with students.

“First years over this way, please!” Mr. Moon said, holding a lantern. “First years over here!”

“Come on,” said Poppy. “We’re this way.”

She led you over to a line of carriages, all pulled by thestrals. You sat with everyone and waited to depart.

“Mind if I join you?” Leander asked, approaching the carriage. Before you could reply, however, he got in himself.

“Sure…” Imelda trailed off. “Thanks for asking.”

You exchanged a glance with her as the carriage began to move.

“Creepy how they move by themselves, isn’t it?” Leander said.

“Actually,” Poppy said, “They’re pulled by thestrals. Beautiful creatures.”

You made a mental note to ask Poppy about how she could see thestrals.

“Interesting choice on Hogwarts’ part,” Leander said. “Thestrals are back luck, you know.”

“They’re actually quite misunderstood,” Poppy replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Call it what you want, it’s still a death horse,” Leander said, yawning.

Garreth glanced between the two. “So, sixth year! How is everyone feeling?”

“Hungry,” Sebastian replied.

You shot a greatful glance at Garreth as the carriage approached the castle.

* * *

You all found your seats at your respective house tables, and you saw Amit chatting with Samantha.

“Prefect!” Amit exclaimed, showing you his badge. “Can you believe it?”

“Actually,” you replied. “I can. Congratulations, Amit.”

The chatter continued before Headmaster Black stepped up to the main podium.

“Silence!” he exclaimed. “Before we can enjoy our beginning-of-term feast, we must have our first years sorted. Professor Weasley?”

She stepped up, conjuring a wooden stool, and setting the Sorting Hat on it. In her right hand, she held a scroll, but before reading anything off of it, the Hat opened its mouth and —

Every single person here has put me on their head
Don’t be scared,
just come along,
Or listen well instead
Slytherin in ivy green
Ambition proves their worth
Cunning, sly, and capable,
They’ve been that way since birth
Ravenclaw in midnight blue
Intelligent and wise
If you’re unafraid to learn,
They might be your kind
Gryffindor in crimson red
Brave to every end
Adventure around every turn
They could be your friends
Hufflepuff in bright yellow
Loyal, just, and kind
Hard work and lots of empathy
Like they can read your mind
Just don’t forget we all go here
The school must be as one
Hogwarts is a magic place
So have yourself some fun!

You turned to Samantha, wide-eyed. “The hat sings?”

“Always has,” she replied. “Although I suppose you didn’t see it last year. It sung about ‘impending doom’ and whatnot. Scared the first years half to death — I much prefer this.”

Professor Weasley walked up to the hat, picking it up.

“Avery, Jane.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The respective table erupted into cheers, and you spotted Sebastian shooting you a glance.

“Bickle, Archie.”

You exchanged a glance with Natty as the Sorting Hat yelled “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Brattleby, Benjamin.”

The hat waited for a few seconds before announcing “RAVENCLAW!” and you clapped along with everyone else, stealing a glance at Lucan, who was applauding as well.

The Sorting continued, finally finishing with “Yaxley, William,” being sorted into Gryffindor.

“Thank you,” Headmaster Black said, walking up to the podium again. “Just some housekeeping before we all eat — Quidditch has been reinstated — ”

Loud cheers from every table in the room cut him off.

“Silence!” he said. “Don’t make me take it away again.”

The room went silent.

“As I was saying, Quidditch has been reinstated, but there are a few new rules unrelated to that. First of all, Hogsmeade is now off-limits for first and second years, and it will require a permission slip from your guardian to go. Additionally, you may now only visit Hogsmeade on the approved Hogsmeade weekends — you can find a calendar on the board in your common room.”

He paused to glance around the room. “Finally, I would like to welcome our new Magic Theory professor, Elizabeth Nott.”

The room offered some polite applause as a petite woman waved from the faculty table, a few streaks of grey running through her dark updo.

“You may begin eating.”

* * *

After the feast was finished, you followed the rest of the Ravenclaws up the stairs to your common room.

The landing was flooded with students, prefects standing closer to the entrance with a gaggle of first-years.

“You have to answer a riddle to get in,” Amit explained. “It sounds difficult, but it’s not too bad. The door will usually accept anything correct, even if it’s not the perfect answer.”

He reached a hand up to knock.

“Which building in the city always has the most stories?”

Amit paused, turning to the first-years. “What do you think?”

They all paused, looking at each other, before one of them (Lucan’s brother, you thought) spoke up. “Couldn’t it be the library?”

Amit smiled. “That sounds good.” To the door knocker: “The library.”

“Nicely done,” said the door, swinging open.

* * *

After a brief bath, you found your new dorm room, seeing your trunk inside.

“Finally rejoining us?” Samantha asked upon seeing you enter. “We missed you last spring.”

“I just needed some space after everything that happened,” you said. “But I am glad to be rooming with you again.”

“Us too,” Constance said, smiling. “And hey, maybe I’ll stand a chance against you in Crossed Wands this year.”

“You wish.”

* * *

“Welcome to Magical Theory. I am Professor Nott.”

You sat at your desk attentively, watching the professor walk down the stairs from Professor Fig’s — no, her office. Purple robes skimmed the floor as she approached the desk, perching herself on the edge of it.

“This is a class that is only open to sixth and seventh years who have done extremely well on their N.E.W.T.s. If you haven’t already noticed, this is a smaller class size, since Magic Theory is a class far different from any others here at Hogwarts. I expect nothing but the best from every one of you, and I encourage you to study and work together as the material we will cover is highly advanced,” She glanced around the room. “A little bit about me before we begin. I went to Hogwarts as a young girl, but moved to America shortly after graduation, where I taught Magical Theory at Ilvermorny.”

You felt a tap on your knee, and glanced to your right as Sebastian handed you a note.

Should we add some Magic Theory review to our next study session, then? Speaking of which, I'll write your Charms essay if you do mine for Transfiguration.

You shot him a small smile and a nod as Professor Nott kept talking.

“The main question that Magical Theory centers around is one that sounds simple at first, but you’ll notice that nothing is quite as it seems in this subject. So: What is magic?”

You wrote down the question at the top of your parchment, noticing a glint in Professor Nott’s eye as Amit raised his hand.

“Magic is — a force which we wizards and witches are able to harness and use to our benefit.”

She smiled. “You’re not incorrect, Mr…”

“Thakkar.”

“You’re not incorrect, Mr. Thakkar, and frankly, that was phrased much better than I’ve heard before. 10 points to Ravenclaw.” Standing up from the desk, Professor Nott wordlessly pulled a chalkboard closer to the front of the room. “However, there is much more to magic than simply saying that it is something we use. Yes, we use magic to do things for us, but what is magic fundamentally besides a tool?”

You smiled, scribbling down notes with your quill as Professor Nott explained how Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration demonstrated one of the core limits of magic — “You can not create something out of nothing.”

* * *

Two weeks into term and the professors were already relishing in reminding you that N.E.W.T.s were approaching. You were already working on nonverbal spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, not to mention that you’d picked up Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and while Magic Theory was only once a week, it was a lot more difficult than you’d expected. Not to mention the 20-inch potions essay Sharp had assigned you on the use of boomslang skin outside of Polyjuice Potion.

You stood outside the library entrance in Central Hall, waiting for Sebastian. Per usual, he was late to your study session.

“Please don’t tell me you got detention again,” you muttered to yourself, fed up.

“What’s going on?” Leander Prewett approached you, and you internally cursed Sebastian for being late.

“Just waiting for Sebastian. We’re going to finish that nightmare potions essay.”

The redhead grimaced at your mention of Sebastian before composing himself. “Did you hear about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend?”

“I did,” you replied, wishing Sebastian would hurry up.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“Uh, sorry, Prewett, but I’ve already planned to go with some friends,” you said. Please just walk away now, Prewett.

“With whom?”

You took a deep breath to avoid hexing the pompous Gryffindor into next week. “I’m — ”

Thankfully, Sebastian arrived at that moment, jogging towards you. “I swear it’s not my fault I’m late!” he said. “A ton of first years were clogging the grand staircase, it’s a long story. Shall we get started?”

You gave Leander what you hoped to be an apologetic shrug — just not too apologetic, you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea — and entered the library with Sebastian.

“What was Prewett bothering you about?” he asked you in a low voice as the two of you found a table.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “Let’s just get this essay out of the way.”

Sebastian gave you a strange look but didn’t think much of it. At least, not until later that day, when he overheard some girls talking in the common room.

“Didn’t you hear? Leander Prewett asked out the Hero of Hogwarts.” Violet McDowell said, smiling conspiratorially.

“No way,” Imelda replied. “She’s too smart to go out with someone as idiotic as Prewett. And she has a name, you know.”

“Did you hear if she is going with him?” Grace Pinch-Smedley asked.

Violet shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it seems entirely possible.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” Imelda looked incredulous. “He hid Zenobia Noke’s gobstones last year and she nearly hexed him into tomorrow for it. Besides, she has better things to do than date any of the pompous imbeciles in Gryffindor.”

“I think she will,” Grace spoke up. “I mean, normally she goes into Hogsmeade with you, Imelda. It’s this weekend, and she still hasn’t owled you about going together.”

Imelda scowled. “This is stupid anyway.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to think. Over the summer, the two of you had been so close — he’d been too busy this last year to do anything about his feelings. But now, he’d been thinking about making a move. You were already familiar with each other — it felt like you’d been friends since first year. But if you were going to go out with Leander Prewett, of all people — he didn’t know what to think.

That, however, was made much easier when he was approached by Charlotte Morrison with an intriguing proposition by the fireplace in the Great Hall.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard about Prewett asking your Ravenclaw out?” she said.

“She’s not my anything,” replied Sebastian. “And why does it matter anyway?”

Charlotte glanced around to make sure they were alone. “I happen to harbor some — feelings for Leander, and I’d like to make him jealous. I can only assume you’re in a similar situation.”

“It’s not like I can make her jealous if she doesn’t have feelings for me,” Sebastian said. “She’s free to date whoever she wants, and if she’s going out with Prewett it’s clear that she’s not interested in me.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy. Everyone knows that she’s as infatuated with you as you are with her — Lucan’s got a group of people betting on when you two will get together.”

Sebastian made a mental note to talk to the young Gryffindor about said betting pool when he got the chance. “So say she’s interested in me. Then what? It’s not as though I can do anything about it.”

“We act like we’re courting. You tell your friends, I tell mine, we act like a couple in public, and then when she and Prewett go their separate ways, we stage a public argument and act as though we’ve broken up.”

Sebastian began to pace.

“Look, Sallow, do we have a deal or not?” Charlotte held out her hand, meeting Sebastian’s eyes.

“Fine. Let’s do this,” Sebastian said with a sigh, shaking her hand.

Chapter 7: Grace and Finesse

Chapter Text

A myriad of reasons led to you being late to breakfast that morning — you’d woken up late, been in desperate need of a bath, and all of the baths had been taken, forcing you to wait. Then, you’d mixed up your uniform with Samantha’s, which was an entire ordeal. When you’d finally walked into the Great Hall, you scanned the room for your friends, noticing Poppy engrossed in conversation with Adelaide at the Hufflepuff table, Natty and Garreth at the Gryffindor table, Amit at your own table, and you waved hello to each of them.

However, when your gaze finally made it to the Slytherin table, you were entirely surprised by the shock that awaited you. Charlotte Morrison — of all people — was sitting next to Sebastian, engrossed in some kind of thrilling conversation. He leaned in close to whisper something in her ear, and before you knew it, the two of them were fully and completely kissing, a sight you had never thought you’d see.

Last year during Summoner’s Court, it had taken every ounce of restraint in you not to hex Morrison into tomorrow for her smug-arse lines — it had taken you far too many attempts to beat her. And now, Sebastian, your closest friend, who you — rather inconveniently — had feelings for — was kissing her in a way that was better suited for a private place.

You bit your tongue and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, finding an empty seat and reaching for a piece of toast. Yet somehow, your gaze kept drifting to Sebastian and Charlotte, completely wrapped up in each other, making you lose your appetite.

Were they using tongue?

You shuddered at the thought, pushing all thoughts of Sebastian and Charlotte “I’m too good for this” Morrison out of your mind, grabbing your satchel and leaving without a second glance at them.

The day started with a mind-numbing test on Ancient Runes, which was admittedly not as difficult as Magic Theory, just far more tedious.

Thankfully, after Ancient Runes, you had a free period, which you decided to put to good use by studying in the library. You were skimming through your notes as you entered, attempting to decipher the scattered thoughts from class. You’d barely even covered new information, but you were lost already. Not to mention that your half-asleep scribbles were barely legible.

You dropped your bag at a table with a thump, earning a dirty look from Madam Scribner, and started scanning the bookshelves for something decipherable that would explain ancient runes to you.

Naturally, the only book that would explain things was one shelf too high for you to reach. Of course, you could try Accio, but that would risk making the other books fall, and Scribner already hated you enough without making a scene in the library.

“Need a hand?”

You turned, seeing Leander behind you. “Yes, please. Although I’m seriously regretting Ancient Runes right now.”

He reached up, grabbing the book. “It’s not for everyone. I tried for an O.W.L. in it, but my score was so bad, I couldn’t go for a N.E.W.T.. I suppose it’s got to be difficult for you, though,” he pondered. “Not as much foundational knowledge to go off of.”

“I’m a quick learner,” you replied.

“Either way, good luck. I had to skip almost every party last year to scrape a passing grade on the course, and I still got a ‘D’ on my O.W.L.”

He handed you the book, and a thought ran through your mind. If Sebastian was so interested in Charlotte “Such grace — finesse!” Morrison, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to show Sebastian what exactly he was missing.

“About Hogsmeade…” you said. “I thought I would go with my friends, but they’re all caught up with these awful essays from Binns. If you’re still available…” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Sounds fun,” he replied. “10 sound good?”

You faked a smile. “See you then.”

Admittedly, this plan felt uncharacteristic of you. But if Sebastian could move on from whatever had happened during the summer, so could you. And besides, Leander wasn’t bad-looking. Maybe you could get him to stop being so pompous.

* * *

“Prewett’s outside the common room for you,” Zenobia told you when you came up from the dorm on Saturday.

“Thanks,” you said to her, approaching the door and taking a deep breath as it swung open to reveal Leander on the landing.

“Off to Hogsmeade we go,” he said. “I think Weasley wanted to check our permission slips, so we have to go down to the main entrance. sh*t ton of stairs to get up here, by the way.”

A chuckle escaped you inadvertently. “I would know. I climb them every day.”

The walk down to the exit wasn’t terrible, and conversation flowed relatively well as Leander recounted the fiasco that had happened when Cressida Blume had tested her new charm on Archie Bickle (“The poor kid probably thinks we’re all insane in Gryffindor, but then again, he wouldn’t be wrong.”).

“Permission slip?” Professor Weasley asked you as you approached the exit, and Leander handed her his.

You reached for your pocket before realizing that you didn’t have a permission slip or a guardian to sign for it.

“Professor Weasley — ”

“ — No need. The head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement who is overseeing your situation already owled me. You’re free to go.”

“Thank you,” you said.

She smiled. “Go enjoy yourself.”

* * *

Overall, Hogsmeade with Leander wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. After a stop at Honeydukes and a brief visit to J. Pippin’s for some fresh ingredients, you sat with Leander in the Three Broomsticks, talking over butterbeers.

“I’m sorry that I was such an arse to you last year,” he said. “You didn’t need to deal with that.”

An apology? From Leander?

“Thank you,” you said. “To be honest, it just seemed pathetic more than anything else.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not proud of it.”

A lull in the conversation approached.

“Y’know, it’s not an excuse, but I had the biggest crush on you.”

“Had?”

He shrugged, flushing a little bit. “Still do.”

You smiled at him. Why was he acting… nice?

“Well, why do you think I said yes to Hogsmeade?”

Leander paused, his eyes darting to your lips before he started leaning in.

Your mouths met in the middle, and you weren’t sure what to think.

The kiss itself wasn’t bad. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Your mouths were moving together in sync, and it was… fine.

It just wasn’t Sebastian.

* * *

“Do you know who’s on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?” Leander asked you a few weeks later as you walked to Potions. The charade had not stopped with him, and Sebastian had,apparently, not lost any interest in Charlotte.

“Not sure,” you replied. “I don’t really follow Quidditch.”

“I don’t suspect many Ravenclaws do,” he replied. “Too caught up in your books to have fun.”

You bit your tongue, suppressing a retort. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy fun; I do Crossed Wands, and I love it. I just don’t see the point in flying around on broomsticks and chasing all of these different balls.”

“You could be so good at Quidditch though. You put Reyes in her place last year with all of those broom trials.”

“Imelda and I have a mutual respect,” you replied. “I just prefer flying to Quidditch. Seems more practical.”

He shook his head. “Well, at the very least, you ought to come to the Gryffindor-Slytherin game. It’s in a few weeks. Although practice is taking ages right now.”

“I’d pay to see that game,” you replied. And it was true. You would gladly pay to see Imelda lead Slytherin’s team to victory over Leander.

Leander opened his mouth to reply, but thankfully he was cut off by Professor Sharp entering the room.

“Thus far, we have covered numerous potions and reviewed the basics of the Draught of Living Death. That being said, you are now N.E.W.T. students, which is the only reason I’m teaching you this potion. Before I explain what it is, can I get a student to answer?”

You glanced at the deep pink potion in the cauldron. Its surface was almost iridescent, glowing, and the steam rose in spirals around it.

“That’s Amortentia, sir.” Amit Thakkar spoke up.

“Correct, Mr. Thakkar. 10 points.” Professor Sharp replied, and you internally celebrated the victory for Ravenclaw. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion on earth, and today, you will attempt to brew it. That being said, this potion does not create real love — it’s artificial, closer to an obsession, and I will not allow any of it to leave this classroom. Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir’s” drifted around the room, and you divided up to work at your stations. You were paired with Garreth Weasley.

“To start, we heat the cauldron and then put the crushed rose thorns in,” you muttered, reading over the recipe.

“Y’know,” said Garreth. “It might be better if we — ”

A firm glance on your part cut him off. “I will not fail this class because of your antics, Garreth. I’m happy to help, just as long as it only affects your potions and your grade.”

“I was just going to say you could give me the instructions and I’d do the actions. So we don’t add things twice,” he replied. “I wasn’t intending to mess around. I’m reserving it for outside of class this year, I promise.”

You raised your eyebrows, not believing him, and he raised his hands in the air. “I swear, okay?”

Finally, you nodded. “Go ahead and add the bruised peppermint, then.”

You waited for it to stew, so you started to make small talk. “So, Leander mentioned the Quidditch match. Against Slytherin, right?”

He nodded. “Yep. But frankly, I don’t think we stand a chance. Imelda’s been reserving the pitch — we’ve had to start practicing elsewhere.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” you replied. “She almost seemed disappointed when I told her I wouldn’t be playing Quidditch against her this year.”

“In need of some competition, no doubt.” Garreth chuckled. “Leander likes to think we’re the best out of the house teams, but Imelda made the Slytherins practice even last year — we don’t stand a chance.”

You smiled, not sure how to reply.

“You can add the powdered moonstone now,” said Garreth.

Carefully sprinkling the iridescent dust into the potion, it turned from a hazy lilac to a deep purple.

“Now we do three counterclockwise stirs and add the frozen ashwinder eggs.”

You followed what he was saying, watching as the potion changed colors yet again, becoming a deep pink.

“And now we let it stew.”

You sat in silence, pulling out your Magic Theory notes to review while you waited.

“You should be finishing up right about now,” Professor Sharp announced. “The potions will need to stew overnight, so we’ll revisit this in tomorrow’s class. Dismissed.”

You gathered your books, and Leander approached you. “So I have quidditch practice tonight — we were finally able to reserve the pitch since Reyes has been hogging it.”

“Interesting,” you said, uninterested.

“I was thinking you could come by and watch us play,” he said.

You sighed. “I actually have a ton of assignments to catch up on — I’m swamped right now.”

“I was just hoping you’d be able to make it,” he said. “Surely you can set aside your schoolwork for one night.”

“I wish I could, Leander,” you replied, “but since I’m making it to your Quidditch game, I figure your practice is less necessary to show up to.”

“Fine.” He sighed, his mouth compressing into a tight-lipped smile. “You know I’m saying this because I want to spend time with you.”

“I know,” you said.

“See you later,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m off to divination.”

* * *

You hadn’t considered the ramifications of dating Leander when you were sitting next to Sebastian in Magic Theory, but it was too late now to change anything about it.

(How much could happen in one class period anyway?)

(You had barely spoken to Sebastian since you went to Hogsmeade with Leander, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to speak at all during class.)

“Welcome back, class,” Professor Nott said, sitting herself back on her desk. “I hope your weeks have all been effective. I would also like to congratulate all of you for your exemplary work on these essays. Rarely are short-form works assigned, and you were all able to keep things concise, which is frankly much more applicable in the workforce. No one is going to read a 20-inch paper unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

You felt a tap on your knee as Sebastian handed you a note.

Undercroft after class?

You shot him a glance and wrote your reply.

Can’t. Homework.

“One of the core rules of Magic Theory, as we’ve already discussed is that…?” Professor Nott trailed off as Sebastian raised his hand. “Mr. Sallow.”

“Magic is inherently temporary. Every charm will wear off given enough time.”

“Correct. 10 points to Slytherin.” The professor summoned the chalkboard from the side of the room. “Today, I’d like to talk about the exceptions to that rule, or exception, singular. Anyone want to take a guess?”

You raised your hand as you recalled the jet of green light hitting Solomon, Isidora, Rookwood.Professor Nott nodded at you.

“Dark magic,” you said. “Certain aspects of it are irreversible, such as the killing curse.”

“Well put. 10 points to Ravenclaw.” Professor Nott waved her wand, and some words appeared on the chalkboard. “That is the core distinction between dark magic and ‘typical’ magic. Certain hexes, jinxes, and even charms could be used to brutally harm someone. However, our medical capabilities allow most of that to be undone. The reason we label dark magic as ‘dark’ is because it’s irreversible, no matter what you do. Even Unforgivable Curses such as the Cruciatus or the Imperius aren’t irreversible, as they can cause permanent mental distress, and in extreme cases, affect the magic of the victim.”

You stole a glance at Sebastian, who was turning paler by the moment, no doubt revisiting the catacombs or the scriptorium in his mind.

“Mr. Sallow, are you all right?”

“I just need — a moment,” he said, grabbing his satchel and leaving the class.

Professor Nott looked after him, worried. “Some people get disturbed by talk of dark magic in this course. Can I get a volunteer to offer him notes after class?”

You raised your hand. Sebastian might have been dating Charlotte “Look at me, I’m so great” Morrison, but no one else would be able to understand what was going through his head.

The rest of the class period passed by peacefully, and the moment Professor Nott dismissed you, you were rushing downstairs to the Undercroft to check on Sebastian.

* * *

Sebastian summoned the dueling dummy closer to him, blasting it with confringo before continuing to shoot hexes and spells at it. Regret consumed him, and he levitated the dummy before slamming it to the floor.

(Maybe he could duel until he forgot.)

(Sebastian would love to forget everything he’d done.)

His arm was getting sore from making so many movements with his wand, but he pushed the feeling aside, freezing the dummy before slicing it with diffindo. Repairing it quickly, he continued to blast it with curses.

(Why had he agreed to Morrison’s plan? If there was ever a way to disintegrate your friendship, dating — or pretending to date — someone like her would only make things worse.)

(Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be with Leander forever. Relationships at Hogwarts rarely lasted into adulthood these days.)

(Then again, maybe it was for the best that you weren’t a couple. If you wouldn’t last with Leander, who was to say you’d last with Sebastian?)

The entrance to the Undercroft slid open, and your heart sunk at the sight of Sebastian, breathless, his hair a mess, his robe discarded and his tie askew.

You longed to brush the creeping tendrils away from his forehead, to walk over to him and tell him how you felt.

But he was with Morrison, and while you might have despised her with every fiber of your being, you knew you would never allow yourself to be someone’s second choice.

Especially with someone like Sebastian.

“How are you?” You asked, words hanging in the air.

He paused his assault on the dummy, swallowing thickly as he stared at the floor, air entering and then leaving his lungs.

In. Out. In. Out.

Breaths happened, seconds passed by, and the world kept moving and the end of the universe grew imminently closer as the continents shifted, one nanometer at a time.

Sebastian knew all of this. But time stood still in that moment. “I — don’t know.”

You wheeled the dummy back to its corner of the room. “Professor Nott told me to give you my notes — ”

“ — Don’t need them.” he replied. Something sharp lingered in his voice.

(Did he really matter so little to you that you had to be told by a professor to talk to him?)

“I also wanted to check on you,” you told him. His tone of voice might sting a little bit, but it was probably nothing in comparison to what Sebastian was going through. “You can talk to me, Sebastian.”

He paused then. “I guess — I just wish I had heard that last year. I didn’t understand why dark magic was dark — and hearing that makes me realize how wrong I was.”

You walked over to him, itching to straighten his tie and tell him everything.

But that wasn’t what he needed right now, so instead you pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I’m sorry too.” he said.

(Maybe you would pick up on everything he was sorry about. Morrison and all.)

Another few seconds passed by in silence.

“I’m going to leave a copy of my notes here — there’s some more dense material that you’ll need to review. But, um, I’m here. If you ever want to talk.”

He nodded, and you set the notes on a spindly table before leaving the Undercroft, everything unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Chapter 8: Patronuses

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed by in relative calm, and Halloween approached with the usual decorations.

You couldn’t help but think back to this time last year, when you were still facing the trials of the Keepers, when the Scriptorium was happening, and Rookwood was still after you.

(You were past this now. Rookwood was dead and Harlow was in prison.)

(Everything was fine, truly.)

The quidditch game, and then Halloween feast would be a much-needed break from the relentless studying, as your professors clearly didn’t intend to give you a break between O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s (“No wonder they’re called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests,” Constance remarked one night as you proofread each other’s essays).

* * *

Breakfast on the day of the Quidditch game was an interesting sight to behold from the Ravenclaw table. From your seat, you could see Imelda getting the Slytherin team worked up (“Don’t have toast, Wakefield! You need protein to play well,” you heard her remark as she snatched the piece of bread from the girl’s hand).

On the other hand, Leander was rivaling Imelda in intensity, as the Gryffindor team walked into the Great Hall looking windswept.

“Great practice, everyone,” he remarked. “Now eat. You don’t want to crush Slytherin on an empty stomach.”

He met your eyes from the table, and you smiled at him, blowing a kiss, which he mimed catching.

After finishing up breakfast, you met with Poppy to see the game.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Gryffindor team to the stadium. We have here Leander Prewett, recently named captain, playing chaser, as well as Garreth Weasley and Eric Northcott playing beater. As for the chasers, look no further than Nellie Oggspire, Natsai Onai, and Hector Jenkins. Finally, please welcome your seeker, Jacob Doyle!” A familiar voice rang through the stadium.

“Is… Lucan Brattleby doing the Quidditch announcing?” you asked, leaning towards Poppy.

She smiled. “I don’t normally go to Quidditch games, but from what I’ve heard, yeah. He certainly knows what he’s doing.”

“And now, please welcome the Slytherin ream, featuring Iris Sullivan playing keeper, Walter Hayes and Cyric Macmillan playing beater. Chasers include Imelda Reyes, the well-known captain of the team, as well as Priscilla Wakefield and Violet McDowell. Lastly, we have Hugo Flint playing seeker!”

“He could stand to sound a little more enthused about the slytherin team,” you said.

“He put all his money on Slytherin winning. He’s running a betting ring,” Nerida remarked from the row behind you. “Naturally, he wants to get people to bet on Gryffindor so they lose and he wins.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you remarked dryly.

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for Gryffindor anyway?” she asked. “Since you’re with Leander and all?”

“I am,” you replied. “I just know how hard Imelda’s been working for this, so I would feel bad if they didn’t do well.”

You watched as Leander and Imelda shook hands before the teams took flight.

“And Onai has the Quaffle, now to Oggspire, wait — no, Reyes has it, and she’s streaking towards the goalposts, and she scores!”

You were amazed by how fast the game moved, and you watched as Eric Northcott aimed a Bludger at Imelda, who dived out of the way at the last moment.

The seekers, it appeared, had not seen a thing yet.

“Now it’s Gryffindor’s possession. Jenkins to Oggspire to Onai, who shoots and — Sullivan saves it!”

You couldn’t help but notice the excitement growing in Lucan’s voice — and the frustration that was growing amongst the Gryffindor team on the pitch. You watched as Leander, tiny from your point of view, berated Natty for not scoring.

“Interesting choice, there,” Nerida remarked. “I don’t know what you see in him.”

I don’t either, you thought. But instead, you simply pretended not to hear.

“What’s this? While Prewett was scolding Onai, Flint seems to have spotted the snitch — Doyle’s hearing this now and is looking frantically for it — but it seems — yes, that’s right, folks, Flint has caught the snitch. It’s a Slytherin victory, one hundred and seventy to zero!”

* * *

“Remind me why I’m taking nine classes?” you asked, walking arm-in-arm with Poppy towards the Great Hall after the game. “I only need five to be an Auror.”

She shrugged, smiling up at you. “Uh, overachievement, I suppose?”

“I am so going to hate my past self in seventh year.”

The Great Hall was adorned in jack-o-lanterns, and the ghosts were circling through, flying in formation. You sat at the Ravenclaw table and waited for the rest of the school to trickle in, which didn’t take long. The Gryffindor team entered after a while, smiling sheepishly, but Natty still shook hands with Imelda when she entered.

Leander, it seemed, had gone to sulk.

* * *

Professor Hecat swept into the room, her blue robes skimming the floor as the class buzzed.

“Hello, class. Today, we will be learning the Patronus Charm, which is a highly advanced piece of magic used to repel dementors as well as lethifolds. Before we begin, are there any questions?”

Charlotte’s hand shot up. “Is it true that your patronus can show your soulmate?”

You glared at her before reminding yourself that it was perfectly fine for her to ask such a question. She was seeing Sebastian, after all, and who cared if she believed they were soulmates? Never mind that she didn’t know about the Undercroft or the catacombs or the summer. Sebastian was with her, and that was enough.

“Soulmates are a frivolous idea better suited to Divination than anything else, Miss Morrison. However, your Patronus can indeed indicate compatibility. You may notice that your friends have animals in similar habitats. This is perfectly normal.” Professor Hecat gazed around the room. “Wands out, everyone. Spread out.”

With a flick of her wand, the desks flew to the sides of the room, freeing an open space.

“Conjure an image of your happiest memory. The Patronus feeds off of positivity, so make sure it’s a powerful one. When you’re ready, the incantation is Expecto Patronum.”

You closed your eyes, thinking through your memories. There was the moment when Professor Fig had arrived at the orphanage and told you that you were a witch, but that memory was too sad — bittersweet — now. You thought again.

Instantly, the night at the lake came to mind. As much as you resented it, that night was perfect. You envisioned the beating of Highwing’s wings around you and Sebastian, his arms snaked around your waist. You remembered the stars in the sky that reflected in the lake.

That reflected in his eyes.

The way you talked. How he finally apologized. How you put your head on his shoulder.

Fulfillment felt like that.

“Expecto Patronum,” you said, flicking your wand, and a cloud of silver smoke formed into a bird.

“The rook is an intelligent bird known for its sociability. 20 points to Ravenclaw,” said Professor Hecat as she walked by.

You watched your Patronus fly around the room before turning your attention to your classmates. With a flick of her wand, Poppy’s patronus was the next to emerge, a ferret. Ominis successfully found his patronus, conjuring a mongoose. You were about to congratulate him, but Sebastian got there first.

“Don’t they eat snakes?” he chuckled. “Rather fitting.”

“Why don’t you focus on your own Patronus, Mr. Sallow?” Professor Hecat said, and Sebastian’s cheeks flushed as he turned his attention back to the charm.

“Expecto Patronum,” he muttered, and soon enough, his patronus was soaring around the classroom next to yours.

“Is that a crow?” Everett Clopton asked, gazing at the birds in amazement.

“No,” said Sebastian. “It’s a raven.”

On the way out of class, you walked next to Poppy, who was chattering excitedly about finally being able to use the Patronus charm.

“But what do you think it means that you and Sebastian had the same Patronus?” she said, thinking.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you replied. “And besides, rooks and ravens are different species entirely.”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Even Professor Hecat was caught off guard by the similarities.”

“Regardless, it doesn’t change anything. He’s still with Charlotte, and I’m still with Leander.”

The redhead in question approached you.

“Speak of the devil,” Poppy said, lightly grimacing. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You smiled at Leander, bracing yourself for another condescending anecdote about the Gryffindor quidditch team and how Imeldadefinitely cheated during the game.

“How could you do this to me?” he asked.

You shook your head, unsure you heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Leander rolled his eyes. “The Patronus thing. With Sallow. What was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he scoffed. “Your patronuses were essentially identical.”

You sighed. “And why does that have to mean anything?”

“Your patronus is a manifestation of your soul in its most raw form. Of course it means something.”

“What, did you take that from the textbook?” You met his brown-eyed glare. “You’re acting like this is my fault.”

He looked at you. “Well, it kind of is.”

Outraged, you turned towards him. “I’m not able to control what form my patronus takes, Leander. Don’t act like this is anything more than you being angry at Sebastian.”

For once, the redhead had no reply, so with a huff, he left.

During your free period, you went up to the Room of Requirement to study. Despite having dropped Astronomy, Flying, and History of Magic, your class load was still ridiculous, as you’d added Arithmancy, Magic Theory, and Ancient Runes. After finally finishing your essay for Professor Ronen — a whole roll of parchment on the Silencing Charm — you packed up your belongings and began to head to Charms. As you passed through the Astronomy wing, you bumped into Ominis.

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed. “Where are you headed to? I’ll walk you there.”

Ominis smiled. “Charms. Apparently, I forgot to drop it after fifth year, so I suppose I’m going N.E.W.T. level now.”

You smiled. “Same. I just finished up Ronen’s silencing charm essay. Brutal.”

“Anyhow,” said Ominis, “I’ve heard far too much gossip about Defense Against the Dark Arts lately.”

You couldn’t help but sigh. “What is there to tell? I cast the charm and it was a rook. Sebastian cast it and his was a raven.”

“But you don’t suppose that means something?” Ominis said. “I mean, your Patronus is a representation of your purest self. You and Sebastian — ”

“ — Why is everyone assuming that it means something?” you snapped. “It’s just a stupid charm.”

Ominis went silent.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just — sick of the gossip.”

“I may be blind,” he said quietly. “But I think I see more of this situation than anyone involved.”

“Well, it’s good to know that Sebastian’s not reading into it either.”

Ominis chuckled. “I suppose so.”

* * *

You sat on a couch in the Ravenclaw common room, completely immersed in the task at hand — drawing a doxy. Although you enjoyed doodling occasionally, sketching things out properly was not your forte, and you’d delayed doing this assignment for far too long. It’s getting late, you thought, glancing at the clock. Your blinks were definitely getting longer.

“Oi, you!” some second-year nodded in your direction. “There’s someone fighting with the door knocker? He says he needs to see you and it’s important.”

Not looking up from your doxy sketch, you replied. “If it’s Leander Prewett, tell him I’ve already gone to bed.”

“It’s not Prewett. Some Slytherin from the dueling club.”

With a sigh, you set down your quill, walking to the common room entrance, where Sebastian was standing outside.

The first thing you noticed was his face. He had a welt over his right eye, and a cut above his eyebrow was bleeding.

“Merlin’s beard, Sebastian. What happened?” you exclaimed, rushing towards him.

You scanned the rest of his face, but other than a small scratch on his left cheekbone, he appeared to be alright. You gave him a glace up and down, and that’s when you noticed his bloody knuckles.

He chuckled. “You should see Prewett. I look proper perfect compared to him.”

“Please don't tell me you got in a fight with Leander,” you said.

“More like he got into a fight with me. I was minding my own business, reading in the library, when he came up and started yelling at me.” Sebastian sighed. “Something about the patronuses, I’m sure. Anyway, I told him to back off, but he only got more angry, and well, you can see where that led.”

“I assume you came to me due to the abundance of Wiggenweld I keep on me at all times?”

Sebastian smiled. “Something like that.”

You approached the door knocker.

“What is green, loud, and extremely dangerous?” the eagle asked.

Frankly, you were fed up with the knocker. “A rampaging herd of dugbogs.”

The knocker gave you a disapproving look as the door swung open (you were technically correct), and Sebastian stood on the landing for a moment.

“Well,” you said. “What are you waiting for?”

Sebastian hesitated, his dark eyes meeting yours before he stepped forward into the common room and the door swung shut behind you.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in amazement as he took in the view of the Ravenclaw common room — which was somehow everything and nothing like he’d expected. Celestial carvings glowed from the ceiling, bookshelves lined the walls, and despite the time of night, there were still several students in the common room. A few third years gawked at him from their sofa near the windows, but you waved them off, sitting Sebastian down in an armchair by the fire.

“Bloody hell, you never told me that your common room looked so nice,” he said, still gazing around in amazement.

“It almost makes the stairs worth it,” you replied. “Truly, I wouldn’t survive without Floo Flames.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Careful. If Wildsmith hears you she’ll never shut up.”

You pulled a vial of Wiggenweld out of your pocket. By now, it was mostly on instinct that you kept it with you at all times.

“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll make the swelling go down a bit, at least.”

Sebastian nodded, his fingers brushing yours as he grabbed the vial from you. Against your will, you felt a flutter in your stomach, which you promptly suppressed. This is not the time, you chided yourself. He examined the vial for a moment before downing the green potion in one gulp.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” you asked.

“Not really. Mostly my knuckles.”

You stood. “I’ll be right back. I think I have some murtlap essence in my room, and it’s good for small cuts.”

Sebastian nodded, gazing around the room as you rushed down the stairs.

When you returned with the murtlap essence, the two of you went quiet for a moment as you dabbed the liquid onto his knuckles, holding his hand in yours. Eventually, you spoke.

“You said you look perfect compared to Leander. How bad is it?”

He winced as the murtlap essence met his bloodied knuckles. “Most of it was self-defense, but he definitely had it worse.”

You smiled. “I suppose you gave as good as you got.”

“That duel feels so long ago.” Sebastian’s brown eyes glowed amber in the firelight, meeting yours. “I was so surprised that you beat me that easily.”

You thought back to that day, your first-ever class at Hogwarts. Professor Hecat had paired you with Sebastian for a mock duel, and you had destroyed him. However, you hadn’t expected him to be such a good sport. After all, this was the supposed ‘best duellist in the school’. You figured him to at least complain about losing to the new student, even if he didn’t mention that you were a girl. But no. Instead, he had brushed himself off and complimented your skills.

“Not bad for a beginner.” he smiled down at you. “You give as good as you get.”
And thus had begun your legendary partnership.

“I was surprised you were such a good sport about it,” you replied, breaking his gaze and turning your attention back to his knuckles. “I expected you’d make some kind of snarky remark after that ‘time for a proper Hogwarts welcome’.” You lowered your voice as you imitated Sebastian’s first words to you.

“I don’t really sound like that, do I?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Your accent is considerably more Scottish. My parents were both from London, so of course I can’t get it right.”

Sebastian chuckled, and then the pair of you went silent again as you tended to his knuckles, which were now considerably better — but not healed enough that he’d be able to save himself from the rumors — you thought. Now you turned your attention to the cut on his face. Although the Wiggenweld had done a great deal to heal his eye and the cut above his eyebrow, the cut on his cheekbone was still open, and deeper than you’d thought initially.

“You’re staring,” Sebastian said, bemused.

“I’m examining your injuries,” you said, ignoring the way your heart had just leapt into your throat.

You dipped the rag into the bowl of murtlap essence, applying it to the cut. This, of course, left you in the awkward position of holding a rag to Sebastian’s cheek. If the rag weren’t there, you’d be cradling his face. You looked away from his unfairly square jaw and chiseled features, glancing around the common room as you felt your cheeks grow warm.

You felt Sebastian’s hand move over yours to hold the rag in place, and you internally thanked Merlin for allowing you to stop holding Sebastian’s face as you removed your hand from under his.

“I’m going to bottle up the last of this murtlap essence,” you told him. “Apply it to your cuts for a few nights in a row, and you’ll probably avoid scarring too much.”

Sebastian nodded at you as you stood up, taking the bowl with you as you returned to your dormitory.

Why on earth had you been so flustered? This was Sebastian, after all. The same Sebastian who — well, you supposed he’d always flustered you.

Regardless, now was not a good time to deal with your inconvenient feelings towards him. You were seeing Leander, and he was seeing Charlotte. Simple as that. Were you jealous? Of course. Did you wish that Leander would find other topics of conversation that didn’t involve badmouthing Sebastian? Of course. But this wasn’t summer anymore. You couldn’t afford to dwell on the time you’d spent together, the days that were full of mock duels and teasing. The nights when you’d hold each other through the nightmares. The mornings when you’d wake up in his arms and still pretend to be half-asleep, just so the moment would last.

(Really, it was out of your mind by now.)

You walked back up the stairs, meeting Sebastian’s gaze as he reclined in the armchair, and smiling before handing him the bottle of murtlap essence.

“Just apply this every night until your scars have faded — it’ll help speed up the process,” you told him.

“Thank you,” he replied, looking up at you through his dark lashes. Was it just you, or had it gotten hotter in here? “I suppose I should be going, then.”

You nodded, the words stuck in your throat as he stood, your eyes level with his mouth.

It was a rather nice mouth.

You pushed all thoughts of Sebastian’s lips out of your mind as you escorted him out of the common room. He lingered on the landing for a moment, his eyes meeting yours and lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night, Seb.”

Chapter 9: Amortentia

Chapter Text

The next morning, you approached Leander, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table nursing a nasty black eye and a few bruises. Sebastian, it appeared, gave much better than he got.

“We need to talk,” you told him.

“What is there to talk about?” he replied. “You and Sallow are soulmates. Who am I to stand in your way?”

“Sebastian and I are friends. There’s nothing more there,” you shook your head at him. “And why did you feel like that was any justification for brawling with Sebastian in the library last night?”

Leander met your eyes. “He was running his mouth about your Patronuses.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Because from what he told me, you attacked him for no reason when he was minding his own business.”

“Well, if your precious Sebby said it then it must be true.”

“Stop it.” you snapped. “I am dating you, Leander. Not him. And besides, he’s just as taken as I am.”

Leander continued. “You know, I bet he cast some kind of illusion to make your Patronuses look the same.”

“And what would be the reason for that?” you said. “He’s dating Charlotte Morrison, and I’m dating you. It’s not like he’d achieve anything, even if he had cast an illusion spell, which, I can confirm, he didn’t.”

“You can date someone without having feelings for them,” he said. “I don’t trust Sallow.”

Inadvertently, Leander had guilted you. He was nice enough most of the time, but you didn’t have feelings for him the way you did for Sebastian. Nonetheless, he was inflammatory, and you couldn’t help but bite back.

“He’s my friend. Nothing more. I hang out with Cressida Blume and Nellie Oggspire and Eric Northcott on your behalf, but do I suspect you of having feelings for any of them?” you shook your head at him. “No. No, I don’t. Because I, unlike you, Leander, am secure in myself.

“Be as secure as you want. Go date Sallow and see if I care,” he scoffed. “You’re still nothing but a worthless squib.”

You looked down at Leander, who was still sitting at the table. “That was uncalled for,” you told him. “We’re done.”

“Fine by me.”

The next day, you had a scheduled Crossed Wands tournament, and you were thrilled when Lucan told you it was a one-on-one match with Leander Prewett.

You were going to destroy him.

You walked into the clock tower early, depositing your cloak on the floor near the entrance, along with your schoolbag.

Leander arrived a few minutes later, not meeting your gaze as you stared at him. A crowd had begun to gather as you rolled up your sleeves.

“Ladies and gentlemen, duellists of all ages, welcome to Crossed Wands!” Lucan announced. “This year, we’re doing a classic tournament, and I am pleased to welcome the competitors for our first match!”

You couldn’t help but smile. The kid definitely had a flair to him.

“First up is none other than the redheaded devil himself. Please welcome Leander Prewett!”

You glanced to the crowd, watching the light cheering. Strangely, Charlotte Morrison was the loudest.

“And the challenger, last year’s champion, you know her as the Hero of Hogwarts!”

You glanced to the crowd again, smiling wider at the raucous cheers.

“Begin!”

The second the match started, you hit Leander with a levioso, the charm he had mocked as ‘simple’ on your first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

You added a barrage of simple curses before slamming him to the ground with descendo, a move you usually reserved for enemies threatening your life. Breathless, you shot confringo at him, smelling the hint of smoke that always came with such a spell.

Leander ducked out of the way at the last moment, grabbing his wand. “Petrificus Totalus!”

The curse hit you, and you could feel the curse working its way up your body as he smirked.

“Finite!” you said at the last moment, before dodging a diffindo from Leander.

You were on the upper level of the room now, where the pendulum was swinging back and forth, and you ducked, narrowly avoiding a hit to the head.

“Glacius!” Leander sent the curse your way, but you blocked it with protego, whirling around to counter with stupefy.

You gave a moment to dust himself off and stand back up before you continued destroying him. Leander brandished his wand at you, aiming to strike.

He wasn’t smirking anymore.

“Depulso!” you shouted, and he collided with the back wall.

From there, you used accio to bring him near you again, and then you levitated him off the ground with levioso. He was levitating right in front of you, helpless, and for a moment, you considered some kind of big-name jinx, something that would make him regret those words.

Worthless squib.

He had targeted your worst fears, and he f*cking knew it.

Without a second thought, you grabbed his wand out of his hand. For a moment, you considered breaking it in half, but instead, you threw it to the ground, out of his reach, leaving him levitating there. You looked up at him.

“f*ck you, Prewett,” you spat, words dripping with venom. Glancing at Lucan, you asked “This is a win, correct?”

The Gryffindor smiled. “Indeed it is! Thank you everyone for coming — and for those who bet on Leander, you owe me five galleons each. Don’t forget it.”

You smiled, victorious, as you retrieved your things and left the clock tower.

* * *

A few days later, you were sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, minding your own business, when Sebastian and Charlotte walked into the Great Hall, arguing at the top of their lungs.

“I can’t believe you were rooting for her during Crossed Wands!” Charlotte shrieked. “It’s like you don’t even care about me!”

“You say that like you weren’t rooting for Prewett. She’s my friend, what did you expect?” Sebastian retorted.

“You’re always talking about her too! Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You always talk about Lenora and Adelaide, but I don’t get jealous of them!”

Charlotte turned away from him. “I think it’s time we break things off.”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Charlotte stormed out of the door, and Sebastian turned to look at the tables of people — all of which were looking at him.

“Oh, buzz off,” he said, walking over to the Slytherin table, and the Great Hall slowly resumed conversation.

You couldn’t help but stare at him, then. Had he really just broken up with Charlotte over you?

* * *

The next day was Potions, and Sharp’s lesson in Amortentia resumed. You walked there with Poppy after Beasts, only to find the hallway blocked by Leander and his cronies.

“All I’m saying is, there’s a reason she’s so scorned,” Leander bragged, surrounded by his idiotic friends. “Hero of Hogwarts? More like harlot.”

You approached him, your voice full of vitriol. “You’re kidding yourself if you think I’d ever sleep with the likes of you, Prewett.”

“I was nothing but a gentleman to you,” Leander replied, smirking. “And besides, if it didn’t happen, then why are you so upset about it?”

You sighed, glaring at him. “You’re allowed to be hurt. Breakups do that to people. But you are no f*cking gentleman.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you spoke before he had the chance. “ — You’re forgetting why they call me the Hero of Hogwarts. I defeated Ranrok and Victor Rookwood after joining this school five years late. And I still had time to beat you in Crossed Wands and Summoner’s Court.”

Leander glanced back at Northcott and Oggspire, looking for backup. “If I’m so insignificant, then why are you so worked up? Let’s face it, you’d deny it either way, so you’re just proving my point.”

You leaned in closer to him. “I do not suffer cowards nor liars. And you, Leander, are both.”

Finishing your sentence, you turned on your heel to walk into Potions, but you sensed a spell approaching you.

“Levioso!” Leander said, aiming it at you.

It was pathetic, really. You sidestepped it, countering with glacius and shooting him another icy glare.

“I pity the person who marries you.”

Poppy approached you. “Damn. I can’t believe you ever dated him.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right.”

Garreth was waiting for you at your shared station, and you set down your satchel. “Ready to finish making amortentia?” you asked.

“Ready as ever,” he replied.

Sharp entered the room from his office, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he waited in there while students trickled in so he could do some dramatic entrance.

“Today, we will finish making Amortentia. Once again, this is an extremely powerful potion, and if a single drop of it leaves this room, I will not hesitate to recommend your expulsion to the Headmaster. Understood?”

Murmurs of “yes, professor,” drifted around the room, and Sharp flicked his wand, instructions appearing on the board. “Begin.”

“So we’ve stewed it,” said Garreth, reading it. “Guess all that’s left to do is add the lacewing flies and the activator.”

“The activator is…?” you asked, trailing off in uncertainty.

“What determines who you fall in love with if you drink it,” Garreth replied. “Your hair or mine?”

“Couldn’t care less, honestly.”

Garreth nodded, plucking a thread of his ginger hair from his head and placing it in the mortar and pestle.

“Lacewing flies?” he said, motioning for you to hand them to him, which you did.

Crushing the dried insects with his strand of hair, Garreth handed you the mortar and pestle, and you poured the powder into the potion.

“Seven counterclockwise, one clockwise,” you muttered, repeating it to yourself as you stirred.

* * *

“I’m happy to crush those lacewing flies for you if you’d like,” Ominis offered shyly as Poppy ground the mixture. “I know you’re doing a lot of the work since I can’t see the color, so I’d like to be helpful.”

Poppy glared at him, grateful he couldn’t see. Why hadn’t he offered sooner? Ominis had all of last class to help out, but now they were doing some final steps. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Done.” Ominis remarked a few moments later. “Now we add it, correct?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And then it’s supposed to be a light pink after we do the stirring pattern eight times.”

“I can — ” Ominis offered, trying to be helpful. He knew that Poppy despised him, but he was determined to prove her wrong.

“ — I think it’s better if I do this part,” she replied. Then, a moment later: “But thank you… for offering.”

* * *

“Your hair or mine?” Sebastian asked after reading over the instructions.

“Mine.” Imelda replied. “Like hell I’m letting you do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian replied, incredulous.

Imelda scoffed. “I mean, you are clearly head over heels for someone we both know. I, on the other hand, am free of any attachment whatsoever right now.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I smell in the Amortentia, Sallow. But I can guarantee you, there will be nothing more than broom polish and my mother’s pie.”

* * *

“Time is up!” Professor Sharp announced, beginning to walk around the room.

Examining Imelda and Sebastian’s potion, he remarked, “Acceptable.”

Ominis and Poppy got an “Exceeds Expectations.”

Approaching the station you shared with Garreth, he announced, “Outstanding. But in the future, I would like to see more equality between the workload. As glad as I am you are keeping the experiments outside of class this year, your fellow students need to learn as well, Mr. Weasley.”

Garreth nodded. “Understood, professor.”

“Clean out your cauldrons,” Sharp said, “Then gather around my desk.”

A quick evanesco handled your cauldron, and you approached Professor Sharp’s desk.

He handed a vial of the potion to Natty. “Smell, but don’t touch or drink. I expect an essay — 25 inches — on what you smell in the Amortentia and where you believe it comes from — as well as why the regulation of love potions is important.”

Poppy received it next, and lifting the vial to her nose revealed the smell of her gran’s perfume, fresh hay, and strawberries. She smiled. Highwing made it in.

Passing it to Ominis, she watched as his cheeks flushed. Shrinking solution, linen, and jasmine, Ominis thought, feeling his cheeks heat.

Sebastian accepted it from there, breathing in the heavenly sent. He smelled petrichor. Petrichor, dittany, and the Forbidden Forest.

If Sebastian had ever doubted his feelings for you, there was none anymore.

Handing it to Imelda, he muttered “Just broom polish and pie then?”

She rolled her eyes as she smelled it, noting the hints of leather (quidditch uniforms, she thought, ignoring the fact that only Beaters wore leather padding), pine, and…

Fizzing whizbees? Imelda shook her head, taking another sniff. This couldn’t be possible, she thought. Hell, she didn’t even like fizzing whizbees. Weasley, the idiot, couldn’t stop experimenting with them, and…

Oh.

She felt her cheeks heat as she passed the vial to Garreth, who noted cedar, butterbeer, and rosemary. Jotting it down on his paper, he passed it to you.

You took a sniff of the potion. Smoke. Like the smell of confringo in the Undercroft. Coffee. Like the kind you drank every morning this summer. Books. Like the Restricted Section.

Well, sh*t.

There was definitely no avoiding it anymore.

Chapter 10: November

Chapter Text

That Friday, Magic Theory approached as usual, and you walked to class with Sebastian after dinner.

“Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?” you asked, glancing at him.

He shrugged. “Suppose it is. I’ll be of age, but it’s not that big a deal.”

“Of course it is,” you said, playfully smacking his arm. “You threw me a birthday party, of course I’m going to celebrate yours.”

You started walking up the stairs, turning the corner. “So when do you want to do another study session?” he asked. “The Amortentia one from Sharp is gonig to be a nightmare. Not to mention the amount that my brain is fried from nonverbals in Charms.”

You chuckled. “No clue how we’ll make it through seventh year at this rate.”

Walking into the classroom, you set your bag down and sat next to Sebastian, still making light conversation.

Professor Nott entered the classroom a moment later.

“Today, as discussed, will be the first major test of the course. As I’ve mentioned, test corrections will be available for the first few tests as this is a difficult course. If you happen to do exeecingly awful, extra credit assignments are also available if you’d like to raise your grade.”

Waving her wand, a stack of papers floated from her desk to distribute the tests between everyone. “Quills out,” she said. “You have twenty minutes, and then some individual study time while I grade. Afterwards, we’ll go over the test as a group to discuss common mistakes.”

You grabbed your quill from your satchel and glanced at the paper.

What distinguishes dark magic from regular, although still possibly harmful, magic?
a) Dark magic is permanent, while regular magic is temporary
b) Dark magic is illegal and regular magic is not
c) Dark magic is used by dark wizards, leading to the label ‘dark’
d) There is no difference

Circling A, you moved on.

How does Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration play into things you can’t affect with magic?

* * *

After turning in your tests, you pulled out your textbook, reviewing the chapters you had just tested on. Then, you felt a tap on your knee, and glanced at Sebastian, who handed you a note.

I definitely failed that test. You?

Stealing a glance at him, you wrote back.

Tough to say. I feel like I did all right, but who knows?

You handed the piece of folded parchment back to Sebastian, and your little fingers brushed, sending butterflies through your stomach.

* * *

You approached the slytherin table the next morning, tapping Ominis and then Imelda on the shoulder. “We need to talk.”

“What about?” Sebastian asked, grabbing a muffin as he sat down.

“Nothing important,” you said. “Just about an herbology assignment.”

“But we don’t have any herbology — ” Ominis protested. “And Imelda’s not even taking — ”

“ — Come on, let’s go,” you said, marching them out of the room into the entrance hall, where Poppy, Natty, and Garreth were waiting.

“What’s this for?” Poppy asked.

“Sebastian’s birthday is coming up, and I want to throw him a party,” you told them.

“Sure,” Imelda said. “But it’s November, it’s not like we could use the Three Broomsticks at this time of year.”

“I actually have a venue,” you said. “No need to worry. I just need your help keeping him in the dark about it until the 26th.”

“Where is this venue of yours, exactly?” Ominis asked.

“Follow me,” you replied, approaching the nearest Floo Flame.

* * *

“What is this place?” Natty asked, gazing around.

“This,” you replied, “is the Room of Requirement. Also known as where I keep the beasts and brew my potions and do homework. My Undercroft, if you will.”

“Your what-now?” Garreth asked.

“Never mind,” you said. “D’you want to see the beasts?”

Poppy nodded, and you led the group into the first vivarium, where Highwing and your other hippogriffs, as well as your puffskeins, nifflers, and jobberknolls.

“Who’s this little guy?” Poppy asked, staring at the baby hippogriff standing next to Highwing.

“This is Rufus,” you said. “Highwing’s baby.”

“Highwing,” Poppy cooed, “You’re a mother!” Turning to Garreth, Imelda, and Ominis, she said, “This is Highwing. I rescued her from a poacher camp a few years back.”

She reached out to pet the hippogriff, still cooing softly. “Hi, Rufus. My friend here’s been taking good care of you, but it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You shot a glance at Ominis, whose cheeks were tinged with pink. “Garreth, I was thinking you could handle the food.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Imelda asked.

“You can keep an eye on him if you’d like,” you told her. “Natty, I was thinking you’re on decorations? You’ve been really good at conjuring lately.”

“Sure,” she replied.

“Ominis, guest list?”

“I can do that,” he replied.

“Poppy, you and me on activities…? Does that work?”

“I’m up for anything,” she said, still petting Rufus.

“Great,” you said. “Now we just can’t let Sebastian know about it until the 26th. We’ll iron out the decoy plan some other time, but this is a good start!”

* * *

Monday morning, you headed down to breakfast, exhausted after trying to get started on your Charms homework, and the owl delivery swept in as you sat next to Imelda, across from Sebastian, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you yawned.

The Ministry screech owl dropped the paper in front of Sebastian, and he put a knut in the leather pouch before reading the paper. You watched as his brow furrowed while he scanned the page.

“What is it?” you asked, looking at him.

Sebastian glanced at you. “Better if you read it yourself.”

---

THEOPHILUS HARLOW ESCAPES FROM HOLDING CELL WHILE AWAITING TRIAL AT THE MINISTRY

Theophilus Harlow, a known Dark Wizard, has escaped while awaiting trial at the ministry. In the last year, Harlow murdered one Arthur Bickle (now survived by his wife and son, Johanna and Archie Bickle), kidnapped Mr. Isko Rabe, attacked Agabus Philbert, and committed many other crimes under the leadership of Victor Rookwood.

However, the crime that got him incriminated was the attempted murder and use of the cruciatus curse on two Hogwarts students, including Miss Natsai Onai and (naturally), the Hero of Hogwarts herself. Although Victor Rookwood has since passed, Harlow has now escaped, and if you have any information regarding his whereabouts, you are encouraged to submit it to the Ministry of Magic… (continued on page 6)

---

You read the snippet and read it again. How was this possible? How was Harlow not in Azkaban already? Was he going to reform the Ashwinders? Was he going to come for you? What about —

“You all right there?” Sebastian asked, concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I might as well have,” you replied. “I didn’t know he was still awaiting trial. I thought he was already locked up.”

Ominis shook his head. “Ministry affairs always take time. I daresay it’s how my family’s darted around the law for so long.”

“It’s going to be fine, though,” Sebastian said. “I mean, Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth. And the Hogsmeade weekends mean there’ll be loads of people. Everything will be just fine.”

You sighed. “Can we just — not? Talk about this?”

Sebastian nodded. “Of course.”

(Imelda nudged you under the table, as if to say “Make a move already!”)

* * *

November marched on and the week of Sebastian’s birthday approached. It had taken a while, but the Room was decorated, the food was prepared, the guest list finalized (although Ominis had kept it small, saying that he “wanted to keep the Room as your space.”)

“Where are we going, exactly?” Sebastian asked, confused as you marched him up the third flight of stairs.

“A place I’ve been meaning to show you for ages,” you replied. “Think of it as my own personal Undercroft.”

“You have an Undercroft?”

“A ministry-approved one that Professor Weasley showed me last year,” you said. “For catching up on my studies.”

“The Undercroft is not ministry-approved,” Sebastian said. “This is more like a prefect bathroom or something.”

You rolled your eyes as you passed by the Charms classroom. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe wait until you see it to make a judgment.”

Finally, you made it to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, who was once again being crushed by the club of a troll in a tutu, and you paced back and forth in front of it three times. The Room of Requirement for Sebastian’s birthday. The Room of Requirement for Sebastian’s birthday. The Room of Requirement for Sebastian’s birthday.

Finishing the routine, the door appeared, and you motioned for him to step through.

“What is this place?” he asked, gazing around.

“The Room of Requirement. Also known as where I keep the beasts I rescue, where I brew my potions, and where I grow my herbology plants,” you replied.

“Happy birthday!” Garreth yelled, jumping out from the upper hallway before noticing that no one else was out. “Were we not supposed to jump out yet?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you told him as the rest of the guest list emerged from their hiding spots.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Sebastian said.

“Sure,” you replied. “But I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“There’s cake this way,” Poppy remarked, stepping out of the beach vivarium with Imelda. “That being said, we ought to hurry if we don’t want the Lord of the Shore to eat it first.”

“The Lord of the Shore…?” Sebastian asked, looking at you.

“My graphorn,” you replied. “Come on, you heard Poppy. Let’s eat some cake.”

Leading Sebastian up the stairs, he muttered, “You have a graphorn?”

“Sure do,” you replied cheerfully. “But I thought nothing I said was surprising to you anymore.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling, before following you into the vivarium, where a table was waiting on the beach.

“Garreth made the cake,” Imelda told him, and Sebastian raised his eyebrows at her. “I kept an eye on him! It’s not poisoned or anything!”

“Imelda, with all due respect, I don’t trust you that much more than Garreth when it comes to food,” Sebastian said, taking a seat. “But I appreciate it.”

“It’s peppermint-flavored!” Garreth said. “You always ate Pepper Imps in detention, so I figured I’d base the cake off that.”

Sebastian smiled. “Well, then, let’s eat!”

You lit the seventeen candles on the cake, and the group sang Happy Birthday before Sebastian blew out the candles. Slicing the cake, you passed the plates down the table and watched as Sebastian took the first bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“This is really bloody good, Garreth.”

The redhead smiled. “I hoped you’d say that. Happy birthday, Sallow.”

You took a bite, the rich chocolate flavor on your tongue, undertones of peppermint in the cake. “This is really good,” you said, surprised.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Garreth said. “I tested the recipe loads of times. Imelda made a great taste-tester.”

“You’re welcome for vetoing Exploding Bonbon flavor,” she remarked. “And Fizzing Whizbee flavor. And stopping him from putting actual Pepper Imps in the cake.”

Sebastian shot a greatful look at her. “All good calls, Reyes.”

“How is everyone coming with Sharp’s Amortentia essay?” Natty asked. “I realized we’re all taking Potions.”

“I’ve outlined,” Sebastian said. “Just haven’t actually written it. But speaking of which, Imelda, you never told me what you smelled.”

“Broom polish, leather, and pine,” Imelda said. “Also known as quidditch, more quidditch, and yet again, quidditch. The one love of my life.”

“But Chasers don’t wear leather,” Garreth commented.

“I started out playing Beater as a child,” Imelda said quickly, shoving a bite of cake in her mouth.

You shot a glance at her. “I haven’t started,” you said. “Been overloaded with nonverbal stuff and Arithmancy assignments.”

“What did you smell?” Poppy asked, and you froze, debating what to say.

“Uh — books,” you said.

“That’s it?” Ominis asked, skeptical.

“That was the main thing,” you replied. “There was also the, um, ocean, and — something floral — not sure what.”

Now it was Imelda’s turn to shoot you a skeptical look. “What about you lot?”

“Strawberries, fresh hay, and my gran’s perfume,” Poppy remarked, nonchalant. “Just some of my favorite things.”

“Jasmine and linen,” Ominis said. “I only got two smells, for some reason.”

You exchanged a glance with Sebastian at that. No doubt the third smell was something Poppy-related.

“I got cedar, butterbeer, and rosemary,” Garreth said casually, not noticing Imelda flush bright red. Did he know that she used rosemary perfume? Was that related to her?

“I got fresh grass, sunflowers, and vanilla,” Natty said. “What about you, Sebastian?”

“Petrichor,” he said. “And… parchment, and, um, Pepper Imps.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if that had something to do with you. Last year, you had spent an awful lot of time in the Forbidden Forest, which did smell a lot like petrichor. But nothing was for certain, so you just took another bite of cake.

Chapter 11: Christmas

Chapter Text

At long last, December approached, and with it, the usual decorations — Professor Weasley made it an assignment to see who could Transfigure their lamp into the most extravagant Christmas tree, and even Professor Nott was getting in the spirit as she gave you a much-needed break from homework with semifinals approaching.

Professor Hecat, on the other hand, was not about to let up.

“Today, we will be reviewing Boggarts,” she announced. “Mr. Moon found one in a spare closet, so today, we’ll get rid of it. For those of you who don’t remember, Boggarts are dispeled by laughter. The simplest way to do this is the riddikulus charm. Envision turning your worst fear into something funny. When you have it, line up and we’ll all get some practice.”

You took a moment before heading to the back of the line, but Professor Hecat pulled you aside. “I’d like you to go to the back — if your fear happens to be something related to the events in the Repository, it could be a Ministry security issue.”

You nodded, lingering until everyone was in line.

Poppy went first as Professor Hecat unlocked the cupboard. The Boggart’s form swirled before stopping in the form of two people — one with Poppy’s short stature, the other with her brown eyes. In front of them was a kneazle, and they brandished their wands at it.

“Cruc — ” they started, and you noticed Ominis tense.

“ — Riddikulus!” Poppy yelled before they could finish speaking, and the people swirled around, just leaving the kneazle, who elicited laughter from the room after chasing a ball of yarn around the room.

Sebastian stepped up after that, and the Boggart shifted again, turning into Solomon Sallow, a flash of green light approaching him, his own voice yelling “I won’t let her suffer!”

“Riddikulus,” he said, shaken, and Solomon disappeared, instead becoming The Bloody Baron in a tutu, which evoked raucous laughter from everyone.

Ominis was next, and you watched with wide-eyed fascination as the Boggart disappeared.

Then the screams started. You recognized them, and glanced at Sebastian as he went pale. It was your own voice, from the Scriptorium.

From the cruciatus curse.

More layers came in then — a deeper, masculine scream (if a sound of such pain could even be gendered) — someone begging for forgiveness — the sound of Ominis’ voice, cruel and hard, remarking almost casually, “crucio.”

Ominis gulped. “Riddikulus,” he said softly, walking to the back of the line as the sounds turned into laughter.

* * *

After class, you headed to Professor Weasley’s office, last week’s copy of the Daily Prophet in hand. Knocking on the door, you heard a faint “Come in,” and entered.

“Oh, it’s good to see you,” Professor Weasley said, looking a the doorway. The figure sitting across from her turned around as well, revealing Ruth Singer. “I was just discussing some extra security for Hogsmeade with Officer Singer here.”

The woman in question smiled. “I understand that after everything you went through last year, you’d be concerned about Harlow. But I assure you, between me and the Ministry, everything will be just fine.”

“What kind of extra security are you thinking of?” you asked. “I want to know the details if it’s me Harlow’s after.”

Officer Singer pursed her lips. “That’s none of your concern. Everything is handled.”

“But surely — ”

“ — There’s no need to worry. Run along now.”

You glanced at Professor Weasley, and she smiled apologetically. “I think it’s best if you don’t stress over this too much. You’re still a child and you deserve to have fun without worrying about such things.”

Biting your tongue to suppress a reply, you nodded, leaving the office.

* * *

You sat at a table in the Ravenclaw Common Room, free of homework for once. Now, you could finally write the letter you’d been meaning to for ages.

Dear Anne,

First things first, happy seventeenth birthday! I know we only truly spoke once, but you are Sebastian’s sister, and thus, I want to write to you. I hope Saint Mungo’s is treating you well.

I understand that after the events of last year, you can’t forgive him. It took me a while to reach an understanding like that myself, but I understand that it must be more difficult for you, as Solomon was your family.

That being said, I believe that Sebastian truly regrets what he did. Over the summer, we had several long conversations about it, and he would undo it in a heartbeat if he could.

The truth is, he cares about your well-being, and while it’s no excuse for his actions, it does explain that his heart was in the right place.

I know you voiced that you didn’t have much time left when we met, and I’m not looking to cure you if that’s not what you want. I simply want to offer you and Sebastian a chance to spend time together while you still can.

If an in-person meeting is too much, I’m happy to be a go-between for the two of you. I’d just like to try helping you reconcile — even if it’s only a little bit.

I wish you the best.

Signing your name at the bottom, you headed to the Owlery to send it off with Darcy to Saint Mungo’s. Hopefully, Anne would reply given enough time.

On the walk back to the castle, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. What part of it was paranoia and what part of it was justified, you had no clue.

Maybe Singer and Weasley were right.

But maybe you were truly in danger.

* * *

The final week of December leading up to Christmas approached, and most of the castle left to be with their families. You went to Hogsmeade Station with your friends to see off the majority of the castle (“My gran was too happy about me hanging out with humans to let me leave the castle,” Poppy had said).

After the train left, the Room of Requirement beckoned, and you relaxed on the couches, sipping Garreth’s latest batch of Fizzing Whiz-beer. The subjects moved, but eventually made it to your horrendous and short-lived relationship with Leander.

“Wait,” Natty said. “Please tell me he wasn’t your first kiss. He’s not that good of a kisser.”

“Not going to ask how you know that,” you said, laughing. “No, mine was a boy from America. He was visiting Diagon Alley before starting his second year at Ilvermorny, and his family rented a room in the Leaky Cauldron. We had a little peck before he left.”

“Aww,” Poppy said. “That’s cute.”

“What about you, Natty?” you asked. “Was it really Leander?”

She nodded solemnly. “I was brand new to Hogwarts but he told me he liked me before leaving for Christmas break. He kissed me at Hogsmeade station. Not the best I’ve had.”

Imelda shook her head. “Amateurs.”

You looked at her strangely. “Why, who was yours?”

She laughed, glancing at Sebastian. “Promise you won’t hate me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I will make no such promise.”

Shaking her head, Imelda gave in. “Anne.”

“Wait, WHAT?” you asked, surprised.

“She was on the quidditch team in fourth year. I was captain. We were the last out the door, and so I asked, and she said yes.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Imelda, I have no problems with you, but please. That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

Imelda laughed again. “It didn’t last long. We decided we were better off as friends after a week.”

Garreth raised his eyebrows. “Beats mine.”

“Who?” you asked, curious.

“Cressida Blume,” he replied. “Second year. I had a huge crush on her, but she got jealous after I talked to Imelda, who was my literal potions partner. We had an essay due and she thought we were on some kind of a date in the library.”

Imelda rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were bright red. “I question your taste, Weasley.”

Eventually, Sebastian spoke up. “I was… eleven? I think?” Shaking his head, he continued. “Mr. Ndiaye’s daughter. Etta,” — he took a sip of his fizzing whizz-beer — “She left to go to Beauxbatons, but she visits sometimes in the summer, but I think she had a thing for Anne more than me last time she visited.”

Ominis was still silent, until Imelda asked, “What about you, Gaunt?”

“I’ve never been kissed,” he said softly, and the room went quiet aside from the sounds from the vivariums. The only person who didn’t look shocked was Sebastian.

“It’ll happen for you one day,” Garreth shrugged. “You’re a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Ominis shrugged, but his cheeks were growing pink. “My family’s reputation often makes things like this hard. No need to pity me.”

Poppy blinked several times. Maybe you were right. If Ominis was like the rest of his family, he’d be more resentful. And he certainly wouldn’t be hanging around with Imelda or you or Sebastian.

Or her, for that matter.

* * *

Christmas day finally arrived, and you awoke to presents at the foot of your bed.

A locket from Sebastian, which, upon opening, revealed an inscription from Little Women — ‘I am not afraid of storms, for I am still learning to sail my ship.’

Ominis gave you a freshly made scarf in a deep blue — the note attached mentioned that ‘You’ll certainly need it with all of the meandering about the Highlands you’ve done.’

Poppy gifted you a book on Hippogriff development as well as the process it takes to adopt a crup or kneazle.

Amit gave you a fresh telescope, Natty a fresh collection of Shakespeare, Garreth a properly bottled batch of Whiz-beer, and Imelda, a cheekily written note about Sebastian, as well as a broom compass.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a cozy ordeal, and after drinking your usual coffee, you grabbed a cinnamon roll to eat on the way to Hogsmeade. Although it was a Friday, the village was open to the few students who had stayed behind.

Taking a bite out of the cooked dough, you felt it warm you up inside.

“Merry Christmas,” Sebastian remarked playfully, and you couldn’t help but think back to this time last year.

The catacombs had just happened. Ranrok was impending. The Keepers were keeping everything from you.

This, you decided, was a vast improvement.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” you replied. “Oh, and I hope you’ll read the book I gave you.”

He smiled. “Do you even know me? I’ve already started it.”

“And what is your opinion of it?”

“What on earth does it mean to be as dead as a doornail?”

You shrugged. “It’s a classic opening line. What do you expect?”

Imelda jogged over to you as you passed the fountain, currently frozen over. “What on earth are you two blathering about?”

“A Christmas Carol,” you replied. “Muggle novel. Classic.”

She shook her head. “You fascinate me.”

Finishing your cinnamon roll, you fell into step with Sebastian, your hands brushing. “So what are your plans in Hogsmeade?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Probably just going to be at the Three Broomsticks. Might go by Honeydukes for the Christmas chocolates.”

You nodded, and your fingers interlocked with his, arms swinging back and forth in unison. “I’m going to stop by Madame Snelling’s,” you told him. “I’m due for a trim — shouldn’t be longer than an hour, tops.”

“Meet me at the Three Broomsticks when you’re done?” Sebastian replied.

“Naturally.”

You caught Imelda rolling her eyes yet again. “Did you even read the letter with my gift?”

You glared at her. “Bold of you to say such things when you’re hopelessly pining over Garreth.”

She looked at you, disbelieving, but her face was bright red, betraying her. “Piss off.”

You smiled sweetly at her as you approached the village, waving goodbye to Sebastian and Imelda as you turned into an alley off High Street, passing J. Pippin’s Potions and finally reaching the Tress Emporium.

“Ah, so good to see you!” Madam Snelling remarked. “What are you here for today?”

“Just a trim,” you replied.

“This shouldn’t take long, then.”

* * *

Half an hour later, you left the shop, passing by J. Pippin’s again to refill on Fluxweed. Making your way back to the Three Broomsticks, you felt a hand pull you into an alley between buildings, and the tip of a wand was at your throat.

“Move or scream and I’ll end you right here,” a familiar voice muttered in your ear, and your wand clattered to the ground as you felt a tug at your navel, Apparated away.

Chapter 12: Worry

Chapter Text

Sebastian waited at the Three Broomsticks for an hour and three minutes before starting to worry. First, he notified Poppy, Ominis, Garreth, and Imelda, and together they searched the village, finding absolutely nothing.

Then, they talked to each of the vendors. Madam Snelling said you had left nearly half an hour ago, and Mr. Pippin (who, for some reason, couldn’t stop looking at Garreth suspiciously) said that you had stopped in to buy some fluxweed not long after that.

“What if we trace her steps to the Three Broomsticks from here?” Imelda asked, thinking out loud. “Surely we’ll find something.”

The group divided up, spreading out from J. Pippin’s, finding absolutely nothing yet again.

That is, until Ominis found your wand, discarded in an alleyway.

“Forget this,” Poppy said. “We need to notify Professor Weasley.”

Sebastian sprinted all the way there, out of breath by the time he reached Garreth’s aunt.

“Mr. Sallow, are you quite all right?” she asked, looking at him, concerned.

“We searched the whole village — found her wand in an alley — she was supposed to meet us nearly two hours ago,” Sebastian panted.

“Who, Mr. Sallow?”

He said your name then, urgently, and that was when Matilda knew something was wrong.

“We need to evacuate the village,” she said. “I’ll notify the Ministry and they’ll get their Aurors on it.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “Will — will she be okay?”

Matilda sighed, smiling hesitantly. “I hope so.”

* * *

The swirling sensation of Apparation finally stopped, and you were pushed into a chair.

“Incarnacerous,” muttered the voice, and bright red rope snaked its way around your form.

Finally, your captor revealed themselves, heels clicking on the tile as they made their way around the chair into your field of vision.

“Nice to see you again,” Officer Singer said with a smile.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in wringing hands and worried glances. Sebastian couldn’t stop pacing throughout the Slytherin Common Room, and when he finally annoyed Violet McDowell too much, he went to go pace in the Undercroft instead.

“Ominis, you in here?” Sebastian called as he entered the chamber.

“Yes,” came the downtrodden reply.

Sebastian sat against one of the stone pillars. “Harlow had to have taken her,” he said. “Right?”

Ominis pursed his lips. “She made a lot of enemies. Could have been anyone.”

They sat in silence, and Sebastian rested his head on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s not… dead,” Ominis said. “She’s too strong for that — there’s no way — ”

“ — Of course she’s not,” Sebastian replied. “She’ll be fine, she always is.”

* * *

The room was cold, and also, it turned out, excessively boring. You were facing a stone wall, likely underground, and the only piece of furniture, as far as you could tell, was the spindly wooden chair you were sitting on. Since introducing herself, Singer hadn’t come in, and the little bit of light you had relied on from the doorway had since gone away as night fell.

You heard the door slide open, and someone you didn’t recognize walked in. All you could tell from their footfalls behind you was that it wasn’t Singer.

You felt the ropes tying you to the chair loosen, and the person (whoever they were) instead left the chair untouched, placing your wrists in cool (if rusty) metal shackles.

At the very least, they weren’t attached to the wall, linked to the floor instead, allowing slightly freer movement.

You’d take it.

* * *

Ominis left the Undercroft to find Poppy wandering the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower alone.

“Are you all right?” he asked, approaching her.

She turned to him, tears welling in her eyes. “No! No, I’m not all right,” she said, her voice trembling. “My best friend, my first human friend, has just gotten kidnapped — she could be dead — and it might be my fault.”

Ominis furrowed his brow. “How could this be your fault?”

Poppy swallowed thickly. “We took down a poacher ring last year — ”

“ — She mentioned.”

“And while there were a lot of other people after her, the goblin rebellion stopped and the Ashwinders are disbanded, so the most likely scenario for who captured her is poachers.”

“Once again, I don’t get how this is your fault.”

Poppy sighed. “I dragged her into the poacher revenge business.”

“Why did you want to take them down?” Ominis asked. “Outside of the animal cruelty.”

“My parents were poachers,” she said eventually. “I was raised in a poacher camp — I escaped with Highwing. And now I’m worried that my parents took her to get to me.”

“So when do we get to the part when this is supposedly your fault?” Ominis said.

Poppy let out a frustrated groan, but it turned into a sob. “My parents — if they did this, then it’s my fault she’s not here right now.”

Ominis softened. “You are not your family, Poppy.” He sighed. “If anyone knows that, it’s me.”

Poppy looked up at him, his face blurry through her tears. “How so?”

Ominis bit his lip, considering what to say. “My family used to — well, no, they still do it — they torture Muggles for sport. With the cruciatus curse.” Sighing, he continued. “When I first got my wand, they wanted me to cast it, but I wouldn’t. So they cast it on me.”

Poppy wiped her eyes. “That’s horrible. Ominis, I’m so sorry.”

“It was… awful, to say the least, so when they asked again, I did it,” he said. “It’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“You were just a child, Ominis,” Poppy said. “It’s not your fault.”

He smiled. “It’s not yours either.” Ominis continued, reflective. “I used to think that I could never redeem myself from that one action. But I’m starting to realize that it’s my family’s fault for putting me in that situation. I am not responsible for their actions, as despicable as they are, and you are not responsible for your family’s actions either.”

Poppy finally smiled through the tears. “Thank you, Ominis.” A pause, and then: “Can I… hug you?”

Ominis smiled too, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “Of course.”

* * *

“Why?” you asked Singer as she walked in later, holding a tray with rock-like bread and lukewarm water. “Why are you doing this?”

Singer laughed, placing the tray on the floor next to you. “Why do you think? You’ve been a nuisance to me since you showed up at this school. And when I, the lead Auror on your case, find you outside of the old goblin camp, confused, with no memory of who took you, you’ll finally get out of my way.”

You bit your tongue, thinking. There had to be more than that to why Singer was doing this. She may have been incompetent as an Auror, letting you do her job instead, but there must be another reason. Something she wasn’t telling you.

“You can’t just be doing this for a promotion,” you told her. “What’s in it for you besides that?”

She smirked and you watched the door creak open, catching a glimpse of sunlight and treetops before it slammed shut.

Then, Theophilus Harlow was standing in front of you.

“I see you’ve already met my lady friend,” he said, looking down at you. “Now, tell me,” — he leaned in closer, and your nose crinkled at the smell of his rancid breath — “Where is the Repository?”

You spat in his face. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Harlow was affronted at first, wiping the saliva off his cheek. Then, he smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

He kicked the tray and the cup over on his way out. “No food or water until you tell me what I need to know.”

Singer followed behind him, heels clicking on the smooth stone stairs before the door slammed shut again.

Sighing, you evaluated the situation. Singer, one of your captors, was the lead Auror on your case. Then again, you doubted that the other Aurors and officials were in league with her. The Ministry was no doubt searching for you right now.

You simply had to trust that someone would doubt Singer enough to look into it on their own.

And you had to hope that your friends wouldn’t be that someone.

* * *

Matilda paced around Professor Black’s office as the other professors sat, worried expressions on their faces. A knock at the door snapped her out of it, as Officer Singer entered the room.

“Please, sit,” Professor Black said, motioning at the two empty chairs amongst the other professors.

“What have you discovered so far, Officer Singer?” asked Professor Hecat, looking intently at the woman in question.

Singer’s eyes darted to the ground, and she swallowed hard, blinking several times, almost as if to hide tears. “Nothing much yet. The Ministry has sent several other Aurors and Unspeakables to track the location of where she was taken, but the best will take at least a few days to make it here from Brighton. Awful situation, really. Several Dark Wizards, hundreds of Muggles to Obliviate…” she trailed off. “That being said, the Ministry understands that this is important, and it shouldn’t be long until we have some leads.”

Dinah nodded, and Matilda spoke up. “Any guesses as to who took her?”

Singer sighed. “Unfortunately, your student made a lot of enemies. My best guess is the remaining goblins in support of Ranrok. While the Ministry is of the belief that they’re all gone, I find that difficult to agree with.”

“What about the Poachers?” asked Aesop then. “Surely they’re more active than a minority rebellion, and we all know that she worked with Miss Onai to cause significant damage to their operations last year.”

Shaking her head, Singer paused. “I… worked very hard this summer to clear out Poacher camps around Hogwarts. We believe she was taken in Hogsmeade, and while it’s certainly possible, I find it hard to believe that I did my job so badly that Poachers are responsible.”

Aesop and Matilda exchanged a glance.

“Is that all?” Singer asked, eyes sweeping over the collection of teachers, who said nothing.

“Thank you for your time,” Professor Black said. “We’ll speak again after the Unspeakables and Aurors get here.”

Singer nodded, leaving the room, and Matilda couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

* * *

It had been nearly a day since you were taken, and when Singer and Harlow reentered your cell, they were carrying a glass of water, drops of condensation clinging to the glass, as well as a freshly made (you thought) bowl of soup, steam rising from it.

“If you tell us what we need to know,” Singer said, “We’ll give you these.”

“What do you want to know?” you asked, staring her down.

“Exactly what we asked last time,” Harlow said. “Where is the Repository?”

You narrowed your eyes, then smiled. “Hogwarts,” you said simply.

Harlow screamed, kicking the wooden chair in frustration. “I know that!” he yelled. “Where, in Hogwarts, is the Repository?”

You furrowed your brow in mock confusion. “I thought I just answered your question as asked. Doesn’t that mean I can have the food and water now?”

Singer sighed. “I said what we needed to know. Not one question.”

You shook your head. “To be completely honest with you,” you said, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Harlow glared at you. “What do you mean, you don’t know where it is?”

“I always used Floo Flames to get to the entrance,” you said. “But the Keepers before me controlled how to unlock it from the entrance, and they’re all gone.”

“I know that,” Harlow roared, frustrated. “You’re the Keeper. So how do you unlock it?”

You smiled, shrugging. “No clue.”

Harlow screamed again, and Singer dropped the tray (you internally groaned) to hold him back as he tried to charge at you.

It was exactly as you’d expected, and you couldn’t help but be glad.

They wouldn’t kill you if you were the only person with the information they needed.

Sure, they might do all sorts of awful things to you, but as long as you didn’t tell them anything (and really, the only thing you were withholding was the Map Chamber. You didn’t know how to get to the Repository from there, that much was true. The Keepers had left you sorely underprepared) you could survive until someone rescued you.

Or, worst case, you could plan your own escape.

Nonetheless, you’d be fine.

Chapter 13: Suspicion

Chapter Text

It had been three days since you were kidnapped.

Three days too many, thought Sebastian, wordlessly eating his breakfast, not noticing the rest of the group staring at him. With so few people in the castle over Christmas, tables had become mixed groups of friends, from the first years at the Hufflepuff table on the other side of the hall to the fourth years over at Ravenclaw who believed they were on top of the world. Thankfully, they had the Slytherin table to themselves.

“Are you feeling all right?” Poppy asked, looking concerned.

He sighed. “No.” After a pause, he continued. “I don’t think any of us are.”

Natty looked solemn then. “Is Singer the Auror on the case?”

Garreth nodded grimly, and Natty scowled. “She was useless last year. Wouldn’t accept any of the proof we gave her.”

“It’s better to try and ask her what’s happening than to do nothing, though,” Poppy said. “Right?”

Natty sighed. “It is worth a try. But I would not expect anything from her.”

It was still Christmas break, so the group waited outside of Professor Black’s office for Officer Singer to go in or out, leaning against the stone walls in sober silence.

When she finally emerged, Poppy shot up from her seated position. “Officer Singer, do you have a moment?”

The Auror looked down at the five-foot-nothing girl, fixing her with a stern look. “Actually, I — ”

“ — Never mind,” Poppy said. “I was just wondering what you’ve discovered so far.”

Officer Singer sighed. “I understand that you’re worried about your friend, but it’s better if you stay out of this.”

Sebastian heard this and decided to interject. “Officer Singer,” he began. “Surely we have a right to know what you think has happened to our friend.”

Singer didn’t try to hide her glare at the boy. “It happens to be a sensitive Ministry matter. Classified information.”

“Then why are you allowed to tell the professors?” Garreth said.

“They already know the classified information. If you’ll excuse me — ”

“She’s our friend,” Imelda said. “We already know just as much as the professors.”

She was, of course, completely bluffing, and Sebastian exchanged a glance with Natty, the only other person who had an idea of the classified information. Ancient Magic, no doubt.

“The Ministry has a catalog of who knows what,” Singer said. “And no one here is on it.”

“That would be wrong, then,” Natty said. “You have no reason not to tell us your theory.” Smirking, she looked up at Singer. “Unless you have something to hide.”

Singer glared at Natty, making her way through the group. “Your friend will be fine. I’m doing my best to work on it. That’s all you need to know.”

“My family — ” Ominis said, preparing to use his connections.

“ — Run along now, children,” Singer said condescendingly, heels clicking as she walked away.

* * * * * * * * *

“Where is the entrance?” Harlow yelled at you when he next entered the room. “You can’t have found the damned Floo Flame without having gone there properly at least once!”

You stared at him, unfazed. “I might be more motivated to tell you something if my mouth wasn’t as dry as sandpaper and my stomach wasn’t growling,” you replied.

Reluctantly, he obliged, and although it was far from the best you’d ever had, the rocklike bread and lukewarm water was certainly better than nothing. After draining the meager cup, Harlow asked again.

“Where is the entrance?” he said, slowly this time.

You smiled. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. But even if I did, I still wouldn’t bother telling you.”

He growled, rolling up his sleeves and brandishing a wand at you. Somewhere in your mind, it registered that it wasn’t the same one he’d had last year. It was stolen, likely from some other Poacher around the camp (you’d heard them arguing at times).

“I’ll give you one more chance to tell me,” Harlow said, threateningly, “Where. Is. The. Entrance.”

“No. Clue.” you replied in a mockery of his tone.

“You little — ” he pointed the wand at you. “Crucio!”

If you had thought that the Scriptorium was bad, it felt like a walk in the park compared to the pain you were experiencing now. Your blood boiled in your veins and arteries, every nerve ending on fire as your vision blurred, only vaguely making out the jagged red edges of the spell.

You were hazily aware of screams echoing through the room, and only when the spell stopped did you realize they were coming from you. Tremors ran through your body even after it was over, aftershocks of pain zapping through you, your vision still blurred from the hot tears beginning to run down your cheeks.

Just as you thought it was over, he cast the spell again, and a fresh bout of pain ricocheted through your body, every muscle tensing, blood pounding in your ears. You screamed again, screamed until your voice went hoarse, and just as you thought you couldn’t take another second, it finally stopped.

“Where’s the entrance,” Harlow asked again, holding up the wand. “Don’t make me do this again.”

“No,” you replied, still shaking, “Please. No. Not again. I’ll tell you where it is.”

“I’m waiting,” Harlow said, the wand still pointed at you.

“It’s in the dungeons, you can find it through a fancy-looking door. It’s called the Map Chamber because the floor is a map of the highlands. I don’t know how to get to the Repository from there, but that’s the entrance,” you said quickly, tears still falling.

“Where in the dungeons?” he lifted the wand’s tip away from you, and you internally breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you said. “I usually used Floo Flames to get there but I remember passing a white marble statue of a dragon.”

He nodded. “Excellent. Seems you’re finally learning what’s good for you.”

* * * * * * * * *

Singer walked down the corridors, following the instructions. She narrowed her eyes. Surely the door should be here somewhere? She’d already passed the dragon.

Her search, however, was put to an abrupt end upon running into Aesop Sharp.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, looking at her suspiciously.

Thinking quickly, Singer improvised. “I thought I heard a disturbance, so I came to investigate.”

Aesop narrowed his eyes at her. “As an Auror, it’s not your job to investigate disturbances,” he said. “That’s the responsibility of Hogwarts Professors.”

“Well, it’s not like you would know much about being an Auror these days, would you?” Singer replied coolly.

“I’d much prefer you to be focusing on finding our missing student than investigating the disturbances of our safe ones, Singer,” Aesop said, fixing her with a sharp gaze.

“I suppose I’ll be on my way then, Sharp,” she said crisply.

Turning on her heel, she walked away.

“Professor.”

She glanced back at him, confused. “What?”

“That’s Professor Sharp to you,” he said, his voice cold.

Nodding imperceptibly, Singer walked away, heels clicking on the floor.

* * *

Dinah couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. So when Matilda asked her and Aesop to meet, she was grateful she wasn’t the only one.

“I can’t help but feel like something’s wrong,” she said upon walking into Matilda’s office.

Aesop sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple. “So it’s not just me, then.”

“I think you both know why I asked you to meet me,” Matilda said. “Something is wrong with Singer.”

Dinah glanced at Matilda. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Singer has some… strange methods, but at the very least, we need concrete proof of interference or trouble before going to the Ministry.”

Matilda nodded. “You’re correct, of course. I suppose we should plan the best course of action — ”

A knock at the office door cut her off.

“Yes?” Matilda asked, listening. “Who is it?”

A muffled voice came through the doorway. “It’s me. Um, Sebastian.”

She softened upon hearing that. The poor boy had lost so much recently. She could not stand by and let him lose anything else. Especially not a student who already had too much on her shoulders. “Come in, Mr. Sallow.”

The dark circles under the boy’s eyes matched his last name, and his expression was downtrodden. “How is the search going?” he asked in earnest, his eyes fixed on your wand, sitting on Matilda’s desk. “Singer refused to tell me anything, and I’d like to know what’s happening.”

Matilda sighed, exchanging a glance with Aesop and Dinah. “Officer Singer is of the belief that there are some remaining supporters of Ranrok, and she thinks they took your friend.”

Sebastian looked confused. “That makes no sense. Didn’t the Ministry handle all of the supporters?”

Aesop sighed. “Exactly our thought process.”

“So,” Sebastian began. “What does this mean? When are we searching for her? Where? Who do we think took her instead?”

Dinah looked at him. “Well, we believe it means that Officer Singer isn’t telling us everything. We will do a search for her, but you will be remaining at Hogwarts. We haven’t decided where to search and we’re not sure who is responsible.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to object. “But — ”

“ — No.” Aesop said firmly. “We already have one student missing, and although we are happy to keep you informed, we are not going to put the life of another student in danger.”

“ — I’m a skilled duellist!” Sebastian argued. “Feldcroft was overrun with goblins and poachers last year — it’s still full of poachers — and I handled it. I’m more than qualified!”

Matilda looked at him with pity. “I understand that you are concerned for your friend, Mr. Sallow. But regardless of how skilled you are, we cannot in good conscience allow you to risk your well-being like this.”

He blinked several times. “But I’m of age!” Sebastian eventually said, the last-ditch argument floundering about like a fish out of water.

“Regardless of your age,” Dinah said, “And you know I rarely care about such a thing,” — Sebastian had to concede to that point — “You are still a Hogwarts student. Which makes you dependent until you graduate. We’d all like to see her back and healthy. But if you follow us and choose to put your life at risk, I will recommend your expulsion. And I don’t particularly want to do that.”

Sebastian sighed, blinking several times (Matilda couldn’t help but wonder if he was blinking back tears). “Fine,” he paused. “And thank you. I just — don’t want to lose her.”

Matilda smiled sadly at him. “We don’t want to lose her either.”

Sebastian left the office slightly less downtrodden then he entered, and the three professors waited in silence for a moment as he walked away.

“So what’s the plan?” Matilda asked as soon as she was sure Sebastian was out of earshot.

“You heard the boy,” Dinah said. “We don’t know where to search.”

“So how do we find out where to look?” Matilda asked.

Aesop, who had been deeply in thought, smiled. “We get her to tell us.”

Dinah shot a confused look at him. “You expect her to do that?”

He shook his head. “No. But I doubt she’s immune to Veritasereum.”

“You have some?” Matilda asked. “I thought you didn’t have a store of it.”

Aesop shrugged. “I’ve been maturing some. I had a feeling I’d need it.”

“When’s the soonest it could be ready?” Dinah asked him.

Thinking, Aesop finally said, “Two weeks. But if we don’t have enough time, I could always go by Pippin’s. I’m sure he has some, even if he’s not selling it to students.”

Dinah nodded. “Mature your batch in case Pippin doesn’t have any. We’ll put some in the… necessary beverage next time we see her, and she’ll tell us what we need to know.”

Matilda smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Another knock at the door caused all three professors to look up.

“Who is it?” Dinah called, listening for a response.

Without a response, the door opened, and Officer Singer walked in. “What’s going on? What potion do you need from Pippin?”

Matilda sighed, frantically thinking of an excuse, but Aesop spoke up first. “One of the third-years recently had her pet cat pass away. We were going to give her a grief potion, since we’re all a little worried,” he said smoothly. “Although I’m at a loss for why it’s your business at all.”

Singer straightened herself, staring down at the professors. “I heard you talking, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t giving students potions without authorization.”

“I think there are more important things for you to be worrying about, Officer Singer,” Dinah said. “We’re all adults here. There’s no need for you to worry about us being bad professors.”

Biting her tongue, Singer left the office, and Matilda shot Aesop a look that clearly said ‘Hurry.’

Chapter 14: The Rescue

Chapter Text

Aesop rushed to Hogsmeade as soon as he could. The sun was low in the sky, but it couldn’t thaw the chill in the air as he hurried to Pippin’s.

Finally reaching the purple building, he knocked. After a moment passed with no response, he knocked again, louder this time.

Another few moments without a response.

Aesop hoped, for your sake, that Pippin hadn’t already closed. And that he had the Veritaserum. And that it was matured.

(Aesop seemed to be hoping a lot right now.)

He knocked again, more insistent, and when there was no response for the third time, he thought f*ck it and twisted the doorknob.

The door swung open ominously, creaking as it went, to an empty shop. The lanterns, usually lit on the walls, were dark, and Aesop scanned the room, walking over to one of the candles, touching the wick.

It was cold.

He can’t have left already, Aesop thought. Before leaving the castle, it had only been around four, and he’d had enough drinks with Pippin over the years, complaining about Garreth Weasley, to know that the shop usually closed at six.

Walking out the door, he hurried to the Three Broomsticks.

“What are you doing here?” Sirona asked upon seeing him walk in.

“Long story,” he said. “Have you seen Pippin? He’s closed up shop for some reason.”

Sirona’s brow furrowed. “No. No, I haven’t.” Thinking, she looked up at Aesop. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

He nodded and left the pub. On the walk back to the castle, Aesop resolved to be outside Pippin’s at opening time tomorrow.

* * *

Opening time, it proved, was just as abandoned as yesterday.

When Aesop arrived at the shop, the windows were still dark. Opening the door, he found the same deserted room inside. Pippin was gone.

While Aesop usually couldn’t condone stealing, he still searched Pippin’s drawers. Thunderbrew, Maxima, Edurus, Felix Felicis, Wiggenweld. No Veritaserum.

Whether Pippin had any of it to begin with was one question. Whether his disappearance was tied to yours was another.

He rushed back to Hogwarts as quickly as he could, hurrying to the Potions classroom, to his office, rushing to open the drawer where he’d been keeping the Veritaserum until the full moon.

The drawer was empty.

Of course it was, thought Aesop. No doubt Singer had gotten to it.

He slammed the drawer closed, leaving the Potions classroom to find Matilda and Dinah.

The hallways all seemed to morph together as he walked (he would have jogged if it weren’t for his damned leg). Finally approaching the Floo Flame, he reached for the small leather bag he kept in his pocket, tossing it into the flame and muttering, “Transfiguration courtyard.”

For once, Wildsmith didn’t say anything.

The Floo network was just as chaotic as ever, and when Aesop finally reached the courtyard, he hurried to Matilda’s classroom, passing through it to get to her office.

Without bothering to knock (such a thing had wasted time, too much time, recently), he entered, finding Singer sitting across from his fellow professors.

“I assure you,” Singer simpered, smiling sickeningly at Dinah and Matilda, “I will find your student.”

Aesop couldn’t stand to hear another word of Singer’s bullsh*t today. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

Singer looked up at Aesop, confused. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked. “I’m fully dedicated to finding her.”

He glared at her. “No you aren’t,” he replied. “I happen to find it incredibly suspicious that my almost-mature Veritaserum is gone. And that Parry Pippin — as well as any Veritaserum he may have had — seems to have disappeared.”

She looked taken aback. “Why is that an issue? Veritaserum is strictly controlled by the Ministry. You know this.”

“You know why it’s an issue,” Aesop said. “You can drop the act.”

Matilda and Dinah exchanged a glance, concerned. “Aesop, surely — ” Matilda began.

“No,” he said. “We’re getting answers. Here and now.”

Singer moved to stand, but Aesop was faster. “Incarnacerous,” he muttered, and she was tied to the chair.

“Aesop!” Matilda exclaimed, outraged, standing from her chair. “There’s a proper way to do this!”

He turned to look at Matilda. “We need answers. The Veritaserum’s gone. And we all know she knows why we need it.”

Sighing, she relented. “Fine,” Matilda said.

Dinah rose from her seat, grabbing her wand. “Where is she?” Dinah asked, scowling at Singer.

The Auror smiled. “None of your business.”

“Of course it’s our business,” Matilda said, walking around the desk to glare at Singer. “She’s our student, and you, a Ministry Auror, had the audacity to take her? And then mislead everyone on the case?”

Singer didn’t say anything.

“Where is she?” yelled Matilda, pointing her wand at Singer. “What have you done with her?”

“The Ministry could arrest you for this, you know,” Singer said calmly. “Veritaserum is illegal without authorization. And you’re restraining an Auror right now.”

“I don’t think any of us give a damn about that,” Aesop replied, stoic. “And I doubt the Ministry will, either. Not if the Auror took and restrained the Keeper of the Repository.”

“You don’t know that,” Singer said.

“Lose the act,” Dinah said. “Where is she?”

Aesop could tell by Singer’s silence that this wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“What for?” Matilda asked him.

“Trust me,” he said simply.

The minute he exited the classroom, he retrieved his bag of Floo Powder, muttering to the insufferable bust of Ignatia Wildsmith, “Ministry of Magic.”

* * *

Finding Susanna Ettington wasn’t hard. The head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement always made sure she was easily able to be contacted. Such a thing came with the job.

The hard part was convincing her to authorize the use of Veritaserum.

“I see no reason it would be needed, as you are no longer an Auror, and you are certainly not on the case,” she said, sternly staring Aesop down with the same look she’d give him during assignments.

“Madam Ettington,” he began, “The Keeper of the Repository is missing. She has been since Christmas day. It’s been five days and all that Officer Singer has told us is that she believes goblins did it.”

Ettington furrowed her brow. “Remaining Ranrok supporters?”

“Yes,” Aesop said. “There aren’t any left. Poaching operations, however, are still quite common, and she shut down that idea rather quickly.”

“You know that’s not enough for me to authorize it, Sharp.”

Aesop nodded. “I know. But I found her wandering the halls near the Repository recently. She seemed to be looking for something. Upon talking to my fellow professors about this, bringing up Veritaserum or another truth potion, my store of it disappeared and so did the local potioneer.”

“Suspicious,” Ettington said. “But that could simply be an unfortunate coincidence.”

“If it is a coincidence, then surely there should be no problem with Veritaserum,” Aesop argued. “Officer Singer’s lack of action last year led to one of my fifth-year students taking a cruciatus curse from Theophilus Harlow.”

“He escaped while awaiting trial, correct?”

Aesop nodded again. “Yes. And now Singer is disregarding the possibility that Harlow could have done it.”

Madam Ettington sighed. “Fine. But if the Veritaserum shows nothing, I trust you will back off this case and leave it to the Ministry?”

“Yes,” Aesop said, albeit reluctantly.

“Then you may use it.”

* * *

Aesop returned to Matilda’s classroom victorious, a bottle of Veritaserum in hand. Dinah smiled upon seeing it.

Administering the potion was a process, to say the least, but eventually, they could ask the question they’d been waiting for.

“Where are you keeping her?” Dinah said.

“Down south,” Singer said. “Manor Cape. As far south from Bainburgh as it goes.”

“Why did you take her?” Aesop asked.

“Harlow,” she said simply. “He wanted to know where the Repository was. I wanted to erase her memory afterwards and dump her outside of a Goblin camp. Get her out of my hair.”

“What can we expect to find there?” Matilda said next.

“Poacher camp. Tents. She’s in a tomb down there.”

The professors exchanged a glance. “She’s not… dead, is she?” Dinah asked.

Singer shook her head. “No. It just made for a good place. No one can hear the screams.”

* * *

You slumped against the wall, defeated, listening to Harlow get into yet another argument with one of the poachers.

If you could call it an argument.

It was more of a screaming match, really.

Help wasn’t coming. You’d accepted this by now.

Then, you heard the familiar sound of spells moving through the air along with the grunts and cries of them hitting their target.

What was happening?

You strained against the metal shackles, rusty iron rubbing at your wrists until they were raw.

“NO!” you heard Harlow scream as footsteps grew closer to the entrance of your cell.

A familiar voice called your name, and the door opened to reveal Professor Weasley. Flicking her wand at the chains, the metal cuffs came loose and you rubbed at your sore wrists.

“What are you doing here, Professor?” you asked her.

She looked confused before simply replying, “Rescuing you.”

Crossing the small room, she pulled you into a hug, the reality of the situation still sinking in for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and she pulled away, smiling before handing you your wand, the distinctive handle standing out.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “The others are waiting.”

“Others?”

Professor Weasley smiled again. “We weren’t going to leave you here.”

She led you up the stairs out of the darkened cell. Looking back, it seemed like — no — it was — a tomb. The sunlight on your face was warm, and you blinked several times as your eyes adjusted to the afternoon light.

Professor Sharp and Professor Hecat both turned to smile upon seeing you emerge. The poachers were all incapacitated, held by the same red rope that you’d been tied with. Harlow was on the ground, his replacement wand just out of reach.

“Glad to see you,” Sharp said, nodding in your direction.

Harlow crept towards the wand. A little bit closer.

“Likewise, Professor,” you replied.

Closer.

“Are you in need of any immediate assistance?” Hecat asked you, her eyes scanning up and down for injuries.

Closer.

“I’ll be all right,” you said, smiling at her.

Harlow grabbed the wand, springing up. “Reducto!”

Time seemed to slow down as the curse rushed towards you, and you watched as Hecat’s face morphed from contentment to worry.

Then, the curse hit you, and the world went dark.