Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been four days since our return from the Scriptorium, but I hadn’t seen Ominis even once. That was unlike him — disciplined and responsible, he was usually the first to stand guard at the classroom door, waiting for the professor’s permission to enter. But neither yesterday nor today had he shown up for our shared lessons or in the Great Hall. And Sebastian disappeared from everywhere before I could push through the crowd to talk to him. The feverish gleam in his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep and obsessive focus. Something was clearly wrong. And I felt it was my duty to find out what.

Everything would have been much easier if I had been in Slytherin with them. But, unfortunately, the Sorting Hat had other plans for me. So all I could do was rely on my house’s natural wit.

Even Seb didn’t appear at dinner tonight, and unable to bear the waiting any longer, I went straight to the Undercroft. There he was — perched uncomfortably on one of the old barrels, entirely absorbed in the Slytherin spellbook we’d discovered. He wouldn’t have noticed me at all if I hadn’t transfigured the barrel into a proper chair. As it shifted beneath him, Seb blinked, rubbed the back of his neck, and finally looked up.

“Uh, thanks. I was just about to send you an owl. I wanted to practice something with you.”

“Of course,” I replied softly. “But first, tell me — where is Ominis?”

“What about him?”

“I haven’t seen him since that day. It feels like he’s avoiding me.”

“Funny I’m not the one avoiding you, don’t you think?” Seb said with a wry smile, setting the book aside. “You hit me with the Cruciatus Curse like it was part of your morning routine."

“If you liked it that much, I can do it again,” I replied darkly, with just enough smugness to make him laugh.

“I’m only saying — you picked it up very fast,” he saluted me with one free hand, still holding the ancient tome with the other. “Took me longer.”

“And who did you practice on?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, drilling him with my gaze.

“We’ll discuss that another time,” he said curtly. “So, what about Ominis?”

“You really haven’t noticed he’s not been in the Great Hall? Or class? Not since last Friday?” I didn’t bother to hide the note of reproach in my voice.

“Well… I’ve been busy,” Sebastian yawned wearily. "But it’s paid off. I’ve learned more from this book than I ever did in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.”

“Maybe that’s because this book is pure Dark Arts?”

“Don’t act all high and mighty now,” Seb rolled his eyes. “We both know you’re just as curious as I am.”

And damn it, he was right. I couldn’t deny the rush — the sheer, unmatched power that surged through me when I cast a forbidden spell. I was trying, truly trying, to resist it. But so far… not with much success.

“I see you’re not arguing,” Sebastian said with a note of satisfaction, watching as I struggled to find the right words. “When you’re ready to learn more… I’ll be here.”

He stood and stepped closer, his eyes scanning mine with a look that was equal parts challenge and curiosity.

“Just tell me where I can find Ominis,” I whispered.

Sebastian shrugged, but this time he answered.

“Today’s Tuesday, yeah? No classes in the Astronomy Tower tonight. And since Ominis is a hopeless romantic,” he added with a smirk, “he sneaks off up there whenever he gets the chance. He’s probably there now.”

“Thanks.”

A thought flickered across his face, and he moved as if to follow me toward the exit.

“You’re coming with me to find him?” I asked, surprised.

Seb shook his head. “No, I’ll talk to him later, in the common room.” His eyes had already glazed over slightly — whatever new idea had taken root in his mind had clearly settled in for the long haul.

“You need to sleep,” I said, more gently than I’d intended, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He relaxed slightly at the touch and gave a small nod.

“Just five minutes in the library,” he muttered, then cast a Disillusionment Charm with practiced ease.

“And what’s the invisibility for?” I called after him, but the only reply was the echo of my own voice in the corridor.

With curfew fast approaching, I hurried to the Astronomy Tower, my footsteps quick and uneven as I climbed the spiral stairs two at a time. By the time I reached the top platform, I was breathless. The night air was oddly warm for late autumn in Scotland, and the thick fog cloaking the castle below made it impossible to judge just how high I was. It felt like I had stepped into a dream — or a memory I didn’t yet have.

At first glance, the tower appeared empty. But before my eyes could fully adjust, a voice broke the silence.

“What are you doing here?” Ominis asked, surprised. I heard the soft snap of a book closing.

Perhaps that was why he and Sebastian got on so well — no ordinary person read quite so much. Especially not one who was blind.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked, suddenly unsure of myself.

I stepped forward, and he stood immediately, inclining his head politely. The gesture struck me — elegant, old-fashioned, and so thoroughly unlike Sebastian, who couldn’t be bothered with formalities even on his best day. I smiled despite myself.

“I recognized your footsteps,” Ominis said, then paused. “And… your perfume.”

There was a beat of hesitation.

“But why are you here?”

“I was worried about you,” I said simply.

I sat beside him, leaving a respectful bit of space between us. I’d noticed he didn’t seem to like being touched — not unless it was absolutely necessary. He lowered himself back down onto the bench as well.

“Tell me honestly — are you avoiding me because of what I did to Sebastian? Do you think I’m… dangerous?”

“No, not at all!” he said quickly. “He was the one who convinced us both to go there. It would’ve been far worse if he’d used the curse on you. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Then… it’s your aunt, isn’t it?” I asked gently. I noticed the corner of his mouth twitch and quickly added, “You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”

“Thank you for asking,” Ominis said quietly. “And I’m sorry I made you worry. Honestly… there are a lot of reasons.”

He turned toward me, his unfocused gaze flickering with something I couldn’t quite name — grief, perhaps, or doubt — before it sank back to the floor.

“I don’t like what’s happening between you and Sebastian,” Ominis said, his voice heavy with concern. “Those questionable experiments will trap you both sooner or later.”

“We’re just looking for a way to understand magic better,” I protested, my words lacking conviction. “And to help Anne.”

“My ancestors probably thought they had noble reasons too,” Ominis replied, his tone distant, as if lost in thought. “And you already know what became of them.”

Unease prickled at my spine. He was right. But the allure of the unknown — paired with Sebastian’s fierce conviction and impossible charm — was pulling me into the darkness. A place where, unlike Ominis, I would be completely helpless.

Trying to change the subject, I asked, “What draws you to the Astronomy Tower?”

“Like everyone else,” he replied with a hum of skepticism, “the stars.”

“The sky’s completely invisible right now,” I said, shivering as I peered into the thick mist.

“How lucky, then, that we’re both on equal footing tonight.”

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh at the sarcasm. The silence returned, soft and comfortable — until he broke it again.

“I know it’s stupid… Sebastian laughs at me for it every week. You can too, if you like. But I love the stars. I don’t need to see them to feel them.”

“What exactly do you feel?” I asked, leaning in a little, my curiosity piqued. For a moment, I caught my reflection in the soft blue of his irises.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, awkwardly lifting his chin and offering his open hand, “give me your hand. Please.”

Intrigued, I moved closer and placed my hand in his. He brushed my wrist softly, as if searching for the sleeve of a cloak that wasn’t there, and then shook his head.

“You’re not dressed for this kind of experiment,” he said with a sigh. “It’s too cold. We should go.”

“Nonsense,” I replied lightly. “My hand is warmer than yours, isn’t it?”

“If you say so,” he murmured, not pressing the point. “Now, open your fingers like this.”

With a tenderness that caught me off guard, he gently positioned my palm, angling it just so.

“Now, turn your face into the wind,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “And maybe close your eyes. So nothing distracts you.”

I felt a flicker of uncertainty. If this were Sebastian, I’d expect some elaborate prank. But Ominis’ presence was steadying. I obeyed without question.

“Now breathe deeply,” he murmured beside me. “I’ll be here… when you’re ready to share what you feel.”

The wind was soft and warm. At first, all I noticed were gentle air currents brushing my fingertips. But after a few quiet minutes, something shifted. I felt something more.

“Ominis?” I called excitedly. “You’re right. It’s strange but… it really does feel like I’m touching the stars.”

“That’s why I come here,” his voice replied, more distant than expected. “You don’t get this feeling from the ground.”

Opening my eyes slowly, I saw him standing by the stairs, keeping his distance.

“Now I’ll know your secret,” I smiled.

He coughed suddenly and stumbled slightly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, caught off guard, a faint pink creeping into his ears.

“I mean you can see more than most people ever do,” I said, rising to join him. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay,” he replied, steadying himself.

We began to descend. After a few turns of the spiral staircase, Ominis hesitated and stopped.

“Wait,” he said. “I want to ask you something… It’s tactless, but I need to know.”

I turned, heart skipping.

“If there’s something… between you and Sebastian,” he said carefully, “I’d rather hear it now.”

I nearly choked. “What made you think that?”

“I suppose it’s his behavior,” he said, cautious. “In the Scriptorium, he acted like you already belonged to each other.”

'Belong to each other' — only Ominis would phrase it like that. We continued down in silence for a few steps.

“I think Sebastian was just jealous,” I said at last, relieved. “He’s not used to being anything but the center of attention.”

“I didn’t want to be the third wheel,” Ominis admitted gloomily. “I thought… maybe I should give you space.”

He held the door open for me, which made me feel awkward again. I had never been a lady in the muggle world.

“Ominis, you’re mistaken,” I said, stepping through — only to stop short. He didn’t notice and nearly collided with me, catching us both just in time.

“My apologies,” he muttered, flustered. “Perhaps I was overthinking.”

Then, rather dramatically, his stomach growled.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten since Friday,” I gasped.

“I have,” he said stiffly.

He clearly expected me to pretend I hadn’t heard. Unfortunately for Ominis, I wasn’t that polite.

“Come on. I’ll show you a place. Stock up, in case you want to hide from me again for another week or two.”

He hesitated, then allowed himself to be led.

We hadn’t even cast Disillusionment Charms before a sharp voice rang out behind us.

“You’re lucky it’s me who caught you,” Imelda Reyes barked with bossy satisfaction. “Be in your common rooms in ten minutes, or you’ll be cleaning Niffler cages all weekend. Professor Weasley’s on patrol tonight.”

“Oh, that eternal commanding tone,” I teased. “Thanks for the warning.”

I didn’t particularly like Imelda, but tonight, I felt grateful. We vanished into the shadows, our footsteps light and quick.

“You’re leading me in an unknown direction,” Ominis said, cautious as ever, sweeping the area with his wand.

“I promised to show you something. It’s on the way.”

That was a lie, of course. The kitchens were nowhere near the Slytherin common room. But he sensed the trick and yielded to my enthusiasm anyway.

In the kitchens’ cozy warmth, the house-elves welcomed us with sleepy cheer. They were used to working late hours, after all. Soon, we were sitting in a quiet corner, laughing and devouring fresh meringues straight from the trays set out for breakfast.

“I can’t wait to see Imelda’s face when she realizes her favorite dessert is gone,” I giggled.

To my surprise, Ominis actually laughed — a genuine, unguarded sound.

“Maybe I’ll eat a few more then,” he said, reaching for another.

“I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth,” I couldn’t resist brushing a snowflake of sugar from his chin.

He flinched slightly, then smiled, looking a bit shy.

“And I didn’t know you could be such a thoughtful friend.”

It felt good. Warm, and a little delicate.

“Please don’t avoid me like that again,” I said quietly. “Okay?”

He hesitated, then spoke, “Can I ask you a favor in return?”

“What kind of favor?”

“That you won’t deal with Dark Magic anymore,” he said gently. Almost pleading.

“Um…” I faltered. “I’ll try, Ominis. I really hope there’s another way forward.”

“Thank you.” He seemed content with that, for now. “Shall we head back?”

“Probably,” I said, wiping my hands on a damp towel offered by a thoughtful elf. “Sebastian’s probably wondering where we’ve been. If he’s even noticed.”

We thanked the house-elves and swiftly made our way out of the kitchen. Our footsteps echoed softly through the corridors, quick and quiet, as we glided through the shadows. By some stroke of luck, we encountered no one, save for the Grey Lady, who stood forlorn, wringing her hands in sorrow. We couldn’t be certain if she had noticed us, but if she had, our late-night passage seemed to hold no interest for her at all.

The clock struck half-past one as we reached the stairs. We parted there.

“Good night, Ominis,” I whispered, my gaze lingering on the faint shadow of him until it slipped quietly into the entrance of the Slytherin dungeons.

Chapter Text

By morning, my head felt thick and heavy, as if I hadn’t slept at all — which wasn’t far from the truth. An hour spent hiding under the stairs from Peeves had cost me a good night’s rest, and I’d barely crawled into bed before dawn. My roommates were already up, chattering loudly as they got ready for breakfast. Groaning, I yanked the bed curtains shut and let sleep pull me under once more.

By the time I managed to drag myself out of bed, there were only fifteen minutes left until the first class — a double lesson of History of Magic with Professor Binns.

“I’ll sleep there,” I thought with relief. Quickly washing up, I rushed toward the classroom, weaving through the narrow corridors of the Ravenclaw Tower.

Twenty minutes later, I burst into the classroom, looking guilty and ready to apologize for being late. But to my delight, the professor wasn’t there yet. From the furthest corner of the classroom, I caught Sebastian’s gaze. He waved me over invitingly, and I hurried to take a seat next to him and Ominis.

“Morning workout?” Sebastian poked me in the side as I tried to catch my breath after the unexpected sprint. He seemed well-rested, unlike others.

I didn’t have time to retort because Garreth Weasley turned toward us and addressed me directly:

“Hey, new girl. Got any plans for Saturday?”

“Depends on what you’re planning,” Sebastian interjected before I could answer, but immediately fell silent as Ominis stomped on his foot under the desk.

Unbothered by my lack of response, Garreth continued,

“I’m celebrating my birthday. Already booked the upstairs hall at the Three Broomsticks. You three should come. Seven o’clock. I promise it will be fun!”

I exchanged glances with Sebastian, who nodded enthusiastically. Ominis, however, politely smiled and excused himself, citing urgent matters for the weekend.

“I’ll try to stop by, at least for a little while,” I said vaguely. “Thank you for the invite.”

At that moment, the professor entered the room, forcing Garreth to turn toward the board, disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a clear response from us.

The class fell silent as everyone began taking notes from the monotonous lecture. But one by one, students gave up, setting their quills aside. Within ten minutes, no one was writing anymore. Only the most diligent, like Amit, stared blankly at Binns, pretending to listen.

“It was the same a hundred years ago, and it’ll be the same a hundred years from now,” I mused absently. I didn’t even try to grasp the lecture’s meaning, fully intending to catch up on sleep in the back row. But to my surprise, Sebastian didn’t put his quill down, and the constant scratching of it right by my ear was infuriating.

“For Merlin’s sake, why did you pick today of all days to take notes?”

I turned to him irritably and saw that he wasn’t following the professor but rather making notes from an old, leather-bound tome on his lap. The book looked vaguely familiar. I lifted the corner to read the spine and froze in shock. We had seen this book in the Restricted Section the last time we snuck in together.

“Is this what I think it is? Secrets of the Darkest Art?” I twirled a finger at my temple. “Did you steal it from the library last night?!”

“What’s going on?” Ominis whispered anxiously.

“I needed this book,” Sebastian replied calmly, not taking his eyes off the text. “You would’ve done the same in my place.”

“Sebastian, they could expel you for this,” I hissed in his ear. “What are you thinking? You’ll be the first person they suspect!”

“I found mentions of Ancient Magic here — the one you’re always talking about,” he whispered so quietly I could barely hear him. “Meet me in the Undercroft after class. I’ll show you.”

I sighed in resignation, expecting trouble. And trouble did not keep us waiting.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the lesson, and in strode Madam Scribner — the ever-strict, ever-watchful librarian. I didn’t need to guess why she was here. I already knew.

“Excuse me, Professor,” she said through her teeth, scanning the room with a furious glare. “The headmaster wants to see Mr. Sallow immediately.”

The professor, thrown off by the disruption of his timeless routine, merely grunted in acknowledgment and continued droning on. Sebastian slipped the book under the desk and handed it to me, mouthing the word “hide” before walking off with Madam Scribner, feigning confusion.

“Maybe you can explain what you two have gotten yourselves into this time?” Ominis asked, his voice both concerned and irritated.

“Not now, sorry,” I whispered, already feeling guilty about what I was about to do.

There was no time to make a plan, so I had to act on instinct. Drawing my wand and pointing it at the book, I quietly muttered a duplication spell I had recently learned. A perfect copy of the tome appeared. Taking it in my hands while slipping the original into my bag, I raised my arm sharply.

To my surprise, the professor actually noticed.

“Do you have a question, Miss Selwyn?”

I had no idea who Miss Selwyn was, but right now, it didn’t matter.

“I need to go see the headmaster too, Professor. It’s important.”

“Fine,” he said indifferently. “Just make sure you copy down what you missed later.”

With the book tucked under my arm, I hurried out to catch up with Sebastian. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go far — Madam Scribner was scolding him in the corridor on the way to Black’s office.

“This is an outrageous violation! You should be grateful if you’re merely expelled and not sent to Azkaban!”

She was furious, though the prison threat felt like a clear exaggeration. Sebastian remained silent, clearly strategizing his defense. He hadn’t expected the theft to be discovered so quickly.

“Madam Scribner, wait!” I abruptly interrupted, waving the book.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, making her look like a ruffled owl. Panic flashed across Sebastian’s face — he hadn’t been prepared to lose his precious source of information.

“It was me,” I said, lowering my gaze in feigned guilt. “Just a stupid joke.”

I shook my head as if devastated by my own foolishness. Taking advantage of her hesitation, I continued,

“You see, Sebastian has been trying to win my favor for months,” I sighed dramatically, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to stunned horror. “And, in a moment of sheer foolishness, I made him a deal — if he wanted a date with me, he’d have to prove his devotion by stealing a book from the Restricted Section.”

I even managed to squeeze out a tear, sniffling pathetically for effect.

“Is this true, Mr. Sallow?” Madam Scribner demanded, narrowing her eyes as she took the book from my hands.

“Yes, Madam Scribner,” Sebastian bowed his head, his tone filled with supposed remorse. “I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to reveal my motives — it wouldn’t have been honorable.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t reported this to the headmaster yet,” she scolded us. “But the all-consuming fire of first love can cloud anyone’s judgment…”

She pursed her lips in thought before finally letting us go.

“That was the last time I turn a blind eye, Mr. Sallow. And as for you, Miss — you certainly should reconsider what you find romantic.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, we couldn’t contain ourselves any longer and burst into laughter.

“The all-consuming fire of first love,” Sebastian chuckled. “Where did she even pick that up?”

“She reads romance novels under the library counter,” I said smugly. “I noticed it that day when we’d stolen the key to the restricted section.”

“Thank you for everything,” Sebastian suddenly grew unusually serious. “But why did you do this for me?”

“You know,” I tried to give my voice a mocking, philosophical tone, “I also like having friends that are in my debt.”

“Technically speaking, we’re even now,” Seb smoothed his hair with his hand — something he hadn’t done once in all the months we’d known each other. “It’s just a shame I lost the book…”

“This one?” I glanced around and pulled an ancient tome out of my bag. “I gave her a vanishing copy. But we need to put the original back as soon as possible before real trouble comes.”

Sebastian shifted his gaze from the book to me, experiencing something close to euphoria.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he whispered in admiration. “Looks like I really do owe you a date.”

“I’ll add you to my waiting list,” I joked, slipping the book back into my bag.

A noise came from the end of the corridor, and not wanting to run into Headmaster Black, we quickly retreated to another wing of the castle.

“So, what did you find in that book about Ancient Magic?” I asked as we walked.

“We’ve got another whole hour of History left…” Seb groaned, glancing at the time. “And we have the book with us. Do you really want to go back to class?”

He tilted his head toward a tapestry hiding one of the secret staircases leading to the lower floors.

“Let’s go to the Undercroft,” I agreed. “But you’ll have to explain everything to Ominis.”

“I have a feeling the crazy love excuse will work on him too,” Sebastian smirked, enjoying the way I inhaled sharply in irritation.

“Fine, I’ll talk to him myself,” I muttered, shoving Seb forward.

We quickly snuck through the rarely used corridors to avoid unwanted attention. In the cool, dimly lit room, I took out the book and placed it on the table, waiting for Sebastian to light the torches on the walls. Once the room brightened, he stepped closer and opened the tome roughly in the middle.

“I found descriptions of rituals in Slytherin’s spellbook that are only accessible to a select few wizards,” he started cautiously. “And I remembered reading about similar magic here.”

He tapped a finger on the stolen book.

“And what does that mean?”

“I suspect your unusual ability dates back centuries and was once called Moonlight Magic.” He carefully chose his words, trying to provoke the right reaction from me. “Before you ask — no, it has nothing to do with the moon. The name comes from the glow this magic emits. But only those who possess it can see it.”

“So, I indeed have a special talent?” I looked at the book skeptically, but Sebastian covered the text with his hand.

“Yes, it’s a rare gift. Like Ominis’s Parseltongue, for example.”

“Then why is it described in a book about the darkest magic ever?” I was confused.

“Because dark wizards learned to use it in the most advanced way.” Seb clearly didn’t want to develop this topic further. “But I believe you could use your power for good.”

“How? I don’t even fully understand what my abilities are.”

The more we talked about it, the more uneasy I felt.

“If I’m right, your power allows you to control energy flows that can significantly enhance your magical skills. They can be wielded consciously, and willpower is the foundation of all the rituals I managed to find.”

“Dark rituals, I assume?” I felt both wary and intrigued.

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” Seb waved a hand in mild frustration. “We could heal Anne. For example, you could amplify healing spells with your Ancient Magic and break the curse.”

“Sebastian, I’m not even sure I have any kind of gift,” I carefully stopped him. “Sometimes I can see glimpses of a silvery glow, but that’s about it.”

“We can test it!” he exclaimed excitedly. “It says here that guardians of this energy have heightened resistance to mind-invading spells. Meaning Legilimency and memory modifications barely work on you. Also… Imperius shouldn’t either.”

“Don’t tell me you’re asking permission to use an Unforgivable Curse on me,” I was shocked by his obsession.

“I think that’s why you mastered Cruciatus so quickly,” he rambled feverishly, lost in thought. “You performed it successfully on the first try — there has to be a reason for that.”

“No, Sebastian!” I raised my voice to snap him out of it. “I had to make a hard choice and hurt you to avoid dying a horrible death in the Scriptorium, but I don’t want to hear another word about Dark Magic now. Enough.”

Somehow, I recalled Ominis’s face from yesterday and decided to be firm in my decision.

“Have you ever practiced Occlumency?” Sebastian asked as if he hadn’t heard a thing I just said.

“No, never.”

“Then let’s check. Just a small, perfectly legal Legilimency spell. Please. For Anne.”

He looked at me pleadingly from under his thick black lashes, and I had no choice but to curse myself in thoughts and agree to this reckless plan. I sat down in the chair that had been abandoned in the corner since yesterday.

“You have one minute. I’m ready.”

Sebastian didn’t wait for me to change my mind and cast the spell instantly.

“Legilimens!”

Unfortunately, it didn’t bounce off like I’d secretly hoped. But my mind remained intact. I saw Seb standing before me, while behind him, a terrifying memory of my first arrival at Hogwarts drifted by.

“Focus!” his words reached me, slightly distorted. “You can push me out — I can feel it.”

The scene shifted to last night at the Astronomy Tower. Embarrassment washed over me, and when Ominis touched my hand, my discomfort peaked. Ancient Magic burst out of me like an uncontrollable avalanche, throwing Sebastian against the far wall. The visions stopped. I had resisted the attack on my mind.

“Are you okay?” I ran to him in concern.

“Never felt better,” he replied cheerfully, dusting off his cloak. “I think I was right.”

“I’m afraid I could have hurt you with that power — I didn’t control it at all.”

“It’ll come with time,” he reassured me. “Now I have hope. We just need more information.”

A distant bell rang. The second History of Magic lesson had ended.

“We need to grab our notes from the classroom,” I remembered.

“Of course,” Seb agreed, quickly following me out.

He never mentioned what he saw in my mind, and I was grateful.

We arrived to find only Ominis, gathering our scattered quills and parchment with one hand.

“Glad to see you’re both okay,” he said evenly. “I have Herbology now. See you there.”

Sebastian stayed to pack his things while I caught up with Ominis at the door. As usual, he turned toward me before I even spoke.

“Ominis, I think we need to talk,” I began awkwardly, relieved he couldn’t see the blush on my face.

“You’re about to lie to me, aren’t you?” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.

“Probably,” I sighed, unwillingly admitting it.

“Then let’s talk when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

Without another word, he descended the spiral staircase toward the greenhouses.

Chapter Text

The time until the weekend flew by unnoticed, and I spent most of it in solitude. There were several reasons for that. First, I was very busy preparing an essay on potions, which I barely managed to finish by Friday’s afternoon lesson. I knew that, at best, I should expect an “acceptable” grade because I had hastily copied the last four paragraphs from an old textbook. It would be a miracle if Professor Sharp didn’t make me clean the cauldrons after class for such a sloppy job.

Secondly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ancient Magic and Isidora. From what I had seen in the memories over the past three months, she seemed like a very brave and selfless person. It felt like Sebastian might be right — I had the ability to heal his sister’s pain, just as Isidora had done for her father. I just needed to figure out what I was supposed to do.
I hadn’t told anyone about the memories I had seen. It seemed wise to keep it a secret until I fully understood what was going on. Besides, this information would likely excite Sebastian, and he’d start pressuring me even more. I clearly needed time because Ancient Magic was too dangerous, and I couldn’t consciously control it. I won’t lie, I was scared every time I accidentally used it.

And thirdly, I was kept at a distance from my friends by the uncomfortable, lingering feeling of guilt toward Ominis, a promise I had broken to him the very next morning. He had always been kind to me, and I… I felt that he was too good for Sebastian and me. We didn’t deserve him.

I woke up early on Saturday, consumed by these thoughts, and realized I wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore. Then the idea struck me to use my time wisely: grabbing a quill, ink, and fresh parchment from my bag, I headed to the common room to write a letter to my family. They had sent me a message several days ago, but I hadn’t found time to respond during the week.

After finishing the last sentence, I rolled up the parchment and tied it neatly with a blue ribbon, which could always be found on the windowsill of the Ravenclaw common room. Cutting the required length, I placed the spool back in its place and paused for a second, admiring the bright red sunrise through the window. Then, I left the empty common room and made my way to the owlery.

Fully awakened by the crisp morning air, I climbed the tower and began searching for one of the school’s ash-colored barn owls — since I didn’t yet have one of my own. Certain I was alone at this early hour, I didn’t even bother to look around. When I called over a large yellow-eyed bird, a soft voice came from behind:

“Good morning.”

I jumped, startling the owl, and it irritably pinched my finger. Gritting my teeth from the pain, I turned around and saw Ominis, holding a small piece of yellowish parchment in his hand, just like me.

“Hi, Ominis,” I blew on my finger, trying to ease the pain. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I suppose there’s only one thing to do in the owlery,” he muttered with a grin, showing me the parchment, “send mail.”

As he spoke, I tied the scroll to the owl’s leg and watched as it flew toward the rising sun. My finger still stung.

“Give me your hand. I can hear your blood dripping,” Ominis extended his palm to me, and I complied without asking any questions. He whispered an unknown spell, and in an instant, the wound had completely healed.

“How did you do that?” I was amazed. “They don’t teach healing magic at school.”

“I started learning it because of Anne. After all, Sebastian isn’t the only one who cares about her life,” he sighed tiredly. “By the way, she recently asked about you.”

Ominis showed me the rolled-up letter again, where I could see the address written in a calligraphic hand.

“I should visit her again,” I said shyly, “I just felt awkward about intervening.”

“If it helps, we’d be happy to have you join us,” Ominis said with a polite smile. “Mr. Sallow will be gone all day, and Sebastian and I are heading to Feldcroft. If you’d like, you’re welcome to come along.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“Absolutely. He even wanted to invite you himself today,” Ominis said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “Could you help me tie up the letter? I need to put down my wand, and without it, everything feels much less clear to me…”

“No problem,” I took the scroll from him, calling over another owl. “I’ve always wanted to ask…”

“How I read and write?” he noted perceptively.

“Kind of,” I blushed at my bluntness.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I use magic,” he said, raising his wand to reveal a tiny glowing light at the tip. “I didn’t invent it — I just perfected it. And when it comes to letters, it’s even easier. I dictate the text to a self-writing quill. It makes mistakes sometimes, but not as many as I would.”

Ominis thanked me for my help just as another owl’s wings flapped, flying off toward the forest.

“What exactly do you see with your wand?” I couldn’t contain my overwhelming curiosity.

“Hmmm…” he mused. “It’s funny — no one usually asks me that. I can sense the shapes of people and objects around me, and when combined with my hearing and touch, it gives me a pretty clear picture of my surroundings.”

“That explains why you always recognize me so quickly.”

“I don’t even need the wand for that,” he laughed.

I wanted to ask what gave me away the most, but Ominis suddenly decided to change the subject.

“Please keep an eye on Sebastian. He needs to be stopped before he reads something truly dangerous from Slytherin’s spellbook.”

A small owl feather drifted onto Ominis’s shoulder. To my surprise, he sensed it and brushed it away with his hand.

“I’m starting to think nothing will stop Sebastian,” I said, doubt creeping into my voice.

“You matter to him,” Ominis replied simply. “Your opinion holds weight. And while I don’t approve of you two constantly seeking out trouble, it’s reassuring to know he’s not alone in it.”

I realized that Sebastian hadn’t told him anything. Ominis still trusted me, although I wasn’t sure I deserved that trust.

“What if I’m the one pulling him into the darkness?” a thin, nagging voice whispered in my mind, while my common sense and conscience remained unforgivably silent.

“Shall we go for breakfast?” I asked, trying to distract myself.
But Ominis shook his head firmly.

“I’m taking the Floo to Feldcroft,” he explained with a slight frown, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I’d rather not eat before a trip like that.”

“I see you’re not fond of fireplaces,” I remarked immediately. “Wouldn’t you prefer another way to travel?”

“I can’t exactly fly a broom properly,” he said with a shrug. “Unfortunately.”

“What about a hippogriff?”

I had no idea why I suggested that. To say it was a controversial idea would be putting it mildly.

“I’m not sure it would be any better,” he said uncertainly. “But if you’re definitely coming with us, we can take the risk.”

“Then let’s meet in the courtyard in an hour,” I said, sealing the agreement with a handshake. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to have breakfast and warn Sebastian that I’ll join you.”

“One more thing,” Ominis stopped my fingers from pulling away from his hand, which took me by surprise. “Am I looking into your eyes right now? I want to make eye contact.”

“Yes, Ominis,” I replied, staring into his unseeing pupils, which somehow still felt like they were piercing through me.

“I want to thank you,” his voice was so soft that my knees almost gave way. “For the first time in months, Sebastian stopped obsessing over Dark Magic. I don’t know what you did, but he’s finally started to realize there are other ways to help his sister. Thanks to you.”

“I’m glad if that’s true, Ominis,” I said, my gaze drifting to his cheekbone as I absentmindedly counted tiny moles on his face. “I will do my best not to dissappoint you.”

“Just be honest with me, please,” he said with a sigh, releasing my hand. “I ask for nothing more. We’ll meet downstairs.”

“Don’t forget your gloves. It’s pretty cold to fly in November,” I added kindly, then turned and headed to the Great Hall.

The sun was shining outside, though the weather was rather deceiving. I knew that at higher altitudes, a biting cold awaited us. But for some reason, the thought of sharing this journey with a friend, despite its uncertain nature, lifted my spirits immensely.

***
Very few people were up for breakfast at such an early hour — just Mr. Moon, the caretaker, and the librarian, who unfortunately both Seb and I knew too well, sitting at the professors’ table. They were chatting quietly while pouring tea for one another. The student tables were nearly empty, too. Behind mine, a couple of nervous second-years sat with a serious-looking seventh-year, engrossed in a thick book. The Slytherin table was empty except for a very lively Sebastian. He spotted me as I walked in, waved excitedly, and moved over with his plate to sit at the Ravenclaw bench. The seventh-year glanced over at us but said nothing, just returned to his textbook. Mr. Moon, however, suddenly perked up:

“Mr. Sallow, wasn’t there enough space at the Slytherin table?”

Sebastian looked taken aback by the question — he couldn’t figure out what had gotten into Moon, who’d always been friendly with him.

“Hogwarts rules don’t forbid it, Mr. Moon,” the librarian interjected, giving us a quick, friendly nod.

“Thank you, Madam Scribner,” Sebastian said with a slight bow, then turned to me, barely able to keep his laughter in.

“The love story is still working wonders, it seems,” I smiled, covering my face to shield myself from the librarian’s all-seeing gaze.

“That it is,” he agreed, adjusting his cloak hood. “But sitting here? Absolute nightmare.”

“Of course, the Slytherin benches are far more comfortable,” I chuckled, then added, “You’re in an unusually good mood today.”

“Anne wrote to Ominis and me,” Sebastian nearly beamed, “She’s feeling better, and my dear uncle is finally leaving for the whole day…”

“I know,” I interrupted, “I ran into Ominis at the owlery. He invited me to come along with you.”

“How does he always manage to be the first one everywhere?” Sebastian scooped some porridge onto his spoon and lazily ate it. “I was going to invite you myself. Already had a plan for how I’d wake you up in the dorm.”

“I guess my roommates were lucky I woke up early on my own.”

“Oh, yes,” Sebastian almost choked on his porridge, “Very lucky. So, you’re in?”

“I’m not just in,” I was about to say more but suddenly realized how questionable my idea sounded. “Ominis and I are flying to Feldcroft on a hippogriff.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, grinning slyly.

“Has he already complained to you about how much he hates floo powder?”

“Maybe after our flight, he’ll change his mind,” I laughed nervously.

“Ominis isn’t as helpless as you think,” Sebastian reassured me. “I know he can stay in the saddle. But I still have to see it, so I’ll meet you at the entrance to Feldcroft.”

“Don’t you want to…?”

“I don’t care for horses with bird beaks,” Sebastian wrinkled his nose. “And it’s mutual, by the way.”

“Such a burden of pride and vanity, no hippogriff could handle it,” I chuckled.

“But I remember,” Sebastian feigned hurt, “I wasn’t exactly at the top of your list of partners.”

“You’re already in a different section, in case you forgot,” I blurted out without thinking.

“Hmm…” Sebastian seemed to enjoy how shamelessly I was dancing on the edge of propriety, “See you in Feldcroft, my love.”

“See you, darling.” I teased, trying to appear confident while hiding my nerves. “We’ll be there soon."

“No sooner than I will,” Sebastian nodded toward the nearest fireplace, “By the way, do you remember Weasley’s birthday? I talked to him yesterday, and he hinted he’s got something forbidden for the party. Should be a fun evening.”

“Sounds tempting,” I nodded skeptically, “We’ll stop by if we have time.”

***
When I stepped into the sunlit courtyard, Ominis was already waiting at the bottom, dressed in a perfectly buttoned emerald vest with a warm Slytherin cloak draped over it. He looked elegant, far more aristocratic than other students wearing the same clothes. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, though I couldn’t be sure. I found myself staring at the sunlight catching in his perfectly styled hair, wondering how, given his condition, he managed to look more put-together than any other boy at the school.

“I see you’re ready,” I said, trying to smooth the strands of hair that had escaped my braid, but the wind immediately messed it up again. “Have you ever sat in a saddle?”

“Yes,” Ominis lowered his head as if the thought brought some unpleasant memories, “Father thought it should be a key part of my extracurriculars.”

“We need to head to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to call the hippogriff,” I explained quickly, stepping forward. “What else was on your schedule?”

“Among the things I’m not ashamed to admit,” he paused, breathing a little faster, “literature, music theory, and dancing. Though I never excelled at the last one.”

“You dance, Ominis?” I said, finding it easy to believe given how graceful he always seemed.

“Only with a wand in hand. English country dance, cotillion, quadrille…” he listed, “and the waltz, of course. Though my stepmother considers it highly improper.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, puzzled as we approached the forest’s edge.

“Too close a distance between the partners,” Ominis chuckled. “But that’s just her opinion. Do you dance?”

“Just a little,” I blushed. “But the waltz is the only one I’m decent at. Your dear stepmother would be charmed by me.”

“I’d invite you to a family gathering just to observe her reaction,” Ominis laughed, rubbing his neck, which was turning slightly red.

I suddenly had the urge to ask about his family history, but something held me back — it felt too soon. I didn’t want to invade his personal space. I wasn’t like Sebastian, who could get away with such things and be easily forgiven.

We stopped at the forest’s edge, and I called to Highwing twice. She had chosen a spot not far from the castle, where Poppy and I often brought her treats and flew together. I was glad her new home was so close to the school — it meant fewer chances of poachers finding her again.
She was always easy to locate, and this time, there was hardly any wait. Hearing my call, Highwing quickly rushed over. I knew that Poppy had flown with her late last night, so the saddle hadn’t been removed. That worked out well for us — it would make the journey quicker.

When Ominis approached Highwing, the hippogriff snorted suspiciously at first, but without me needing to say anything, he bowed so gracefully that the creature’s wariness melted away. Before I could speak, Ominis was already gently petting Highwing’s beak.

“You’re handling this much more confidently than I thought you would,” I said as I moved closer, stroking the feathers on Highwing’s side. “Ready to fly?”

“Let’s assume so,” Ominis replied.

He nimbly jumped into the saddle, but when I moved ahead of him and took the reins, his confidence seemed to fade.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing his unease.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I can hold onto during the flight without offending you too much,” he said.

I laughed and guided his hands to my waist.

“Like this, Ominis. It’s not scary at all.”

“It’s actually very scary,” he sighed, his voice low as he whispered in my ear. “Just don’t tell Sebastian.”

“Not a word,” I promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hold on tight.”

I tugged on the reins, and Highwing took off, soaring into the sky and quickly gaining height.

“You’re going to strangle me,” I gasped, feeling Ominis grip me so tightly that it was hard to breathe.

“Sorry, I’m just completely disoriented,” he apologized, loosening his hold. “It feels like I’m floating in eternity.”

“Try to enjoy it,” I said, trying to calm him with my tone. “We’re not flying very far.”

It seemed my words helped. Ominis settled and became more confident. I leaned down, smiling to myself. Highwing was already gliding over the mist-covered valley below Hogwarts. I felt a pang of regret that my companion couldn’t see the stunning autumn scenery. But I knew he experienced the world in his own way. No one else perceived it quite like he did.

By the time we landed, Ominis had fully relaxed. When Highwing touched down in the clearing before the village entrance, he smoothly slid off her back and even offered me his hand to help me down. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“You should head back to the school,” I said to the hippogriff, giving her one last gentle pet. “It could be dangerous here.”

She didn’t need any more encouragement. With a strong flap of her wings, Highwing took off into the sky.

“And I ran almost a mile from the nearest fireplace for this?”

Through the trees, a disheveled Sebastian emerged, clearly having rushed to catch our landing.

“But for the first time, I actually used something my father taught me,” Ominis chuckled. “And, miraculously, it wasn’t about tormenting muggles.”

“I think Anne’s probably been waiting for us,” I added, adjusting my crumpled cloak. “She should’ve received your note by now.”

We walked along the road in silence, but I couldn’t help noticing Ominis smiling to himself a few times. It seemed like this wouldn’t be our last flight.

***
Anne greeted us at the doorstep, looking noticeably better than I remembered from our last meeting. A subtle blush colored her cheeks, and the deep dark circles under her eyes had lightened a little.

“Finally, you’re here!” She couldn’t stop smiling as she reached her arms out to her brother. Sebastian immediately scooped her up and spun her around while we stood back, watching.

In the blink of an eye, she had hugged both of us. I was relieved to see that Anne accepted my presence without hesitation — her bond with Sebastian was so strong that she simply accepted his choices as her own.

She led us to the table, bustling around as she prepared everything for tea.

“Are you sure you should be carrying the kettle yourself?” Ominis asked, concern in his voice. “Let me help…”

“I actually enjoy these little tasks,” Anne said, stroking his shoulder gently as she set raspberry jam on the table. “I don’t remember the last time I made tea myself.”

“But what’s changed, Anne?” Ominis’s worry hadn’t eased. “In the past year, you never felt better, no matter what we did.”

“Sebastian sent me two vials of a new potion from Madam Blainey yesterday morning,” she said, glancing at her brother, who was nervously fidgeting in his chair. “And for a while, I really did feel better.”

“You’ve only taken one? When?” Sebastian asked, his curiosity piqued, while I watched him intently.

“Actually, I’ve taken two,” she admitted, adjusting the kettle. “The effect of the first one wore off with the dawn. I wanted to meet you in a good state of mind and body.”

“So it lasts for just one day…” Sebastian murmured, scratching the back of his head. “It’s hard to brew, but I’ll do everything I can to get more, sister.”

Both Ominis and I could sense something wasn’t quite right. If this potion were part of traditional medicine, Sebastian wouldn’t be keeping it a secret. Surely, the healers at Saint Mungo’s Hospital would know about it. Still, I looked at Anne — so full of happiness and energy — and couldn’t bring myself to ruin her good mood.

“Sebastian, what…”

“Anne, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I cut in abruptly, “is it true you played Quidditch for the Slytherin team?”

I knew I needed to stop Ominis from pushing the conversation any further. We couldn’t let things spiral out of control in front of her.

Unable to convey my intention with a look, I discreetly pinched Ominis under the table. His heavy sigh told me he understood. It seemed that today, at least, this peaceful moment with the Sallow family wouldn’t be disturbed.

***
We spent almost the entire day in Feldcroft, and I realized I hadn’t laughed so much in my whole life — especially when Sebastian reminisced about how the three of them had managed to frame Peeves so badly that Headmaster Black nearly expelled him from the castle.

“Your rivalry runs way deeper than I thought,” I laughed as Sebastian listed all the vulgar names Peeves had called him that day.

“And it’s all thanks to Black’s unhealthy obsession with his persona,” Ominis added with a smirk, sipping his eighth cup of tea for the day.

“I thought the Headmaster was a friend of your father’s,” I said, surprised. “You threatened me with him when we first met, remember?”

“I know how to make a first impression,” he nodded with a grin. “Actually, he’s just a very distant relative and a terrible sycophant. I doubt my father ever had a real friend in his life.”

“Do you see what time it is?!” Sebastian almost shouted, distracted. “Solomon will be back soon.”

“Guess it’s time to go,” I agreed, recalling my only encounter with the grim and unfriendly Mr. Sallow. “It was nice seeing you again, Anne.”

“You go,” Ominis tossed over his shoulder, “I’ll stay a bit longer. I’ll be back later — still have some floo powder in my pocket.”

“Whatever you say,” Sebastian nodded. “But don’t send my regards to Uncle.”

We said our goodbyes to Anne and stepped outside, heading toward the central fireplace in Feldcroft, which was connected to the network.

“Well, do you still have the energy for Hogsmeade?” Sebastian asked with a grin.

“I can manage a couple more parties today,” I replied, wrapping a scarf around my neck.

It was already completely dark outside, and only a few pedestrians gave the impression that it was still just evening, not deep into the night.

“Don’t you ever feel,” I broke the brief silence, “like Ominis and Anne have feelings for each other?”

“What news is this?” Sebastian looked at me in shock. “Did he say something to you?”

“Of course not,” I snapped, “but he refused to go to Garreth’s birthday from the very beginning, and now they’re staying alone together…”

Sebastian burst into loud laughter.

“He didn’t go to the Weasley’s because he finds Garreth terribly annoying. Honestly, most Gryffindors irritate him. I suspect it’s a family trait of Slytherin descendants.”

“Well, that explains it.”

“Listen, we’ve been like family from the very start,” Sebastian said, sounding strangely determined to prove me wrong. “Anne is as much of a sister to him as she is to me. We’d do anything to protect her.”

“Of course, Sebastian,” I hurried to show my full agreement, “I just wanted to understand what’s going on.”

“In case you decide to fall for him yourself,” Sebastian laughed again. “I should warn you — Ominis hisses in Parseltongue when he sleeps.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I patted him on the shoulder with mock gratitude. “But tell me, what potion did you send to Anne?”

“Ah, that…” Sebastian seemed clearly embarrassed by the sudden shift in topic. “I found a mention of the recipe in Slytherin’s book last week.”

“Somehow, I thought so,” I had to use all my self-control to suppress the hint of disappointment in my voice.

“Actually, there’s nothing forbidden about it. It’s essentially a slightly modified Wiggenweld Potion.”

“Modified with what?”

“Just a little bit of Acromantula venom.” He looked at me so innocently, as if he had mentioned the Lacewing Flies.

My heart skipped a beat in shock. Acromantula venom was almost impossible to obtain, even with a lot of money. I couldn’t imagine what Sebastian had done to get even a few drops.
However, I didn’t have time to ask this question. Seb froze in place like a statue, staring upwards, then, with his wand ready, ran off in the that direction. I looked up at the sky and noticed grey smoke and fiery sparks rising from the plateau where Anne had once been cursed. It seemed like Ranrok’s and Rookwood’s followers had returned to Isidora’s house. What could possibly be troubling them there?

I ran to catch up with Sebastian, but I only reached him near the ruins. The noise of a burrowing machine tearing into the earth in search of what I suspected was an Ancient Magic vault rang in the air. I was surprised that these deafening sounds weren’t audible at all in Feldcroft itself. Two armed goblins were wandering around, but aside from them, the area seemed deserted.

“If we want to find out anything,” Sebastian seemed to be speaking to himself, “there’s no better time than now.”

I wanted to appeal to common sense, but before I could open my mouth, Sebastian shouted:

“Bombarda!”

Whether the spell was particularly powerful or he simply hit the magical seam of the machine’s metal casing just right, the back of the burrower cracked with a loud noise. It seemed to knock out at least one of the two guards. After that, an eerie silence fell.

Sebastian sprinted into the open, ready for battle, but the second goblin seemed to vanish. He spun around for a minute, looking puzzled, and then, just as I was about to call out, the second guard, who had been lurking in the shadows, lunged at him. My reflexes kicked in faster.

“Crucio!” I whispered in confusion at my own cold cruelty. A wave of destructive power surged from my heart to my wand, and the curse shot out for the second time in my life, hitting the target.

I didn’t know why I chose that Unforgivable curse over all the others. It felt as though I was… enjoying it. Pure power coursed through my veins, and it was impossible to resist its allure. When I finally managed to pull myself back from the overwhelming haze, I lowered my wand, but the enemy remained on the ground, unable to rise. Sebastian stared at me with a mix of horror and awe.

“Why did you come back here? What are you looking for?” I asked calmly, still aiming my wand at the goblin, but he only whimpered in response.

I took a few steps forward and felt the powerful presence of the Ancient Magic source nearby. Silvery streams of light spread across the ground, leading to the tip of the burrower. When the vault had been hidden beneath a thick layer of rock, I had barely sensed its presence, but now everything felt different. I watched the spiraling beams of light, unseen by anyone else, entranced, while I kept my wand trained on the unfortunate enemy. Sebastian grabbed me by the arm and turned me around. From behind the rocks, a whole squad of goblins – at least thirty – was closing in on us. We might have been able to fight off ten, maybe fifteen of them, but certainly not so many. I bitterly noticed that there were only a few dozen feet between us now, and we had no way to run.

“Depulso!” Sebastian cast the spell, sending the nearest goblin tumbling down the hill, then stood shoulder to shoulder with me.

“If you die here, I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself,” I hissed, deflecting the first goblin’s thrown axe with my wand.

“You’re really optimistic if you think we’re surviving this tonight,” he replied almost playfully, yet desperately.

We were surrounded on all sides, and that’s when I truly became scared. Unconsciously, I started to detach from the situation, losing control over my body. With great effort, I took a few steps, raised my wand high, but at that moment, the scene before my eyes ignited with a blinding silvery light, and I passed out.

Chapter Text

“Can you hear me?” Sebastian’s voice was faint, and his hands trembled as he gently shook my shoulders, trying to pull me from the haze clouding my thoughts.

As the fog began to lift, I realized I was half-sitting against a wall in one of Hogsmeade’s narrow alleys, just a short distance from the bustling central square. Sebastian was still watching me intently, his gaze full of concern. I nodded awkwardly, hoping to reassure him, and he sighed in relief before leaning against the wall beside me. With a quiet clink, he finished the last drops of the Wiggenweld potion from a small, almost empty vial.

“I managed to apparate us both here,” he said, his voice slightly shaky, “a bit tricky since I don’t exactly have a permit for that.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, my gaze fixed on the wall across from me. “Though, honestly, it might’ve been better if we’d never gone there at all.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed at my words, but he didn’t respond to the complaint.

“You’d better make sure all your limbs are still where they’re supposed to be,” he said, his tone teasing but concerned. “I’ve never been great at unauthorized paired apparitions.”

I turned to him, thinking of the last moment I remembered.

“What happened to me?”

“You tripped, hit your head, and passed out. I won’t lie, it caught me off guard.”

He chuckled, but there was something off about it. It wasn’t the usual teasing laugh I’d grown used to. The real Sebastian would’ve made some biting comment about my clumsiness, but instead, he seemed suspiciously reserved, almost as though he were trying to ignore the oddness of the situation.

“Does your head hurt?” he asked, tossing the empty vial into the pocket of his cloak. “I used the last potion from my stock, but we can buy more.”

“I feel fine,” I replied, though there was a small knot of unease in my stomach. “But…”

“Then I say we take a break,” he suggested, leaning back against the wall. “We still have Weasley’s birthday to attend to. We’re late, but I doubt he’ll mind.”

I blinked, confused. “You’re serious? After everything that just happened?”

“Can’t think of a better time,” he shrugged with a grin.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t you want to talk about the recent events?”

He looked at me with a pleading expression, his voice soft. “Let’s talk tomorrow, yeah?” he sighed, “I know I screwed up, but let’s not ruin our Saturday night over it.”

“But there’s one thing you are going to clarify anyway,” I said firmly, crossing my arms.

He groaned, already anticipating my question, and covered his face with one hand. “Fine. What is it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get the Acromantula venom for the potion?”

He smirked, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh, that? Had to make contact with a poaching camp over at Clagmar Coast.”

“How did you know they had it?” I asked, still trying to make sense of the whole situation.

Sebastian gave a smug grin.

“I just asked the Hog’s Head keeper,” he said casually. “Didn’t expect much to come of it. In the end, I got my hands on just one ounce. Some poacher was bringing it in from Ireland, thinking he could make a fortune.”

“Since when have you been dealing with them?” I asked, squinting my eyes at him.

Sebastian shrugged, his expression thoughtful, as if deciding whether to share the whole truth. “No deals, I assure you,” he said after a moment. “The poacher just handed it over. He even released all the creatures he had locked up in his camp.”

I cut him off, suspicion creeping into my voice. “Let me guess… some forbidden magic was involved, right?”

Sebastian’s lips curled into a half-smile as he narrowed his eyes, a glint of mischief in them. “Who’s talking, my dear? You’ve got quite a knack for it yourself. In fact, that’s the reason why I’m talking to you right now without a goblin’s axe in my back — thanks to that little bit of forbidden magic.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re right,” I admitted, throwing in the towel. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. But for now, I wouldn’t mind a pint of butterbeer.”

Sebastian smiled, clearly satisfied with the way things were going.

“I think you deserve something a bit stronger today,” he said, and without further ado, he tugged me toward the Three Broomsticks.

As we reached the entrance on the ground floor, Sirona greeted us with a slightly worried expression.

“New guests for Garreth? I didn’t know he had that many friends.”

She gestured toward the stairs, and Sebastian dashed up them immediately. I lingered for a moment, feeling like I should say something more.

“Don’t worry, Sirona. Everything will be fine,” I reassured her, though I wasn’t quite aware what I was talking about.

“Of course,” she replied smoothly, her calm demeanor returning. “After all, I’m friends with his mother. I know exactly who to turn to for compensation if needed.”

With a small, knowing smile, she turned away to begin polishing the already spotless glasses behind the bar. It seemed the simple task helped settle her thoughts.

“Now it makes sense how Garreth managed to book an entire floor in the best establishment in Hogsmeade,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood. Sirona nodded in response, appreciative of the praise.

“I’ll close the main entrance in an hour,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But Garreth has a spare set of keys. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking when I gave them to him. By ten tonight, though, you all should be halfway to Hogwarts. Agreed?”

“Sure,” I nodded gratefully, then quickly made my way to catch up with Sebastian.

It seemed I’d managed to ease Sirona’s mind a little. We’d always had a good rapport.

My sense of control was reaffirmed as we reached the stairs leading to the hall’s entrance, where a silence so complete it felt unnatural hung in the air.

“Are they playing Gobstones in there?” I whispered to Sebastian as we knocked on the door to the top-floor hall. I didn’t remember seeing it before, and I guessed the door was magically concealed when necessary.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the Silencing Charm?” he asked, opening the door. The instant it creaked open, a thunderous blast of music and laughter spilled out, making me flinch. We quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind us.

“I hope Sirona didn’t hear that,” I muttered, though I wasn’t exactly optimistic.

Amit, unusually cheerful and animated, made his way toward us, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Well, about time!” he hiccupped, addressing Sebastian. “I thought you weren’t going to show up to your cousin’s birthday.”

“What?” Sebastian laughed, swatting the air in front of his face. “How much have you had to drink today, mate?”

Amit blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Wait, you’re not related?” He seemed almost disappointed. “Am I the only one who thinks you two look like brothers?”

I chuckled, spotting Garreth across the room, surrounded by the lively crowd.

“Actually, he’s kind of right,” I said with a grin.

“Oh, please,” Sebastian puffed out his cheeks in mock offense, though he didn’t seem too bothered.

“Welcome!” Garreth approached us from the crowd, a wide smile on his face. “Glad you could make it!”

“Happy birthday!” I said, grinning as I pulled out a large Fwooper’s feather from the pocket of my cloak. I had been carrying it around since morning, the very same feather Weasley had asked me to fetch for him the day we met in Potions class.

“Thank you, I almost gave up hope!” Garreth laughed, taking the gift and carefully pinning it into his hair.

“You look great,” I teased, watching Sebastian continue to scowl beside me. “Did you invite the whole of Hogwarts tonight?”

I glanced around, spotting many familiar faces. Almost all of the students from our year were here, and they all wore relaxed, flushed expressions that seemed a little out of place for a school event.

“About half of those I invited showed up,” Weasley explained, grabbing two faceted glasses from the table and pouring a deep amber liquid from a small wooden barrel with a metal tap. “Since you’re late, you’ll have to catch up.”

He handed us the glasses, his face glowing with pride and excitement.

“Please don’t tell me you brewed this yourself,” I said, eyeing the drink warily as I swirled it in my glass.

“If only I could…” Garreth sighed dreamily. “It’s 70-year-old brandy from my father’s personal collection. He has so many barrels that he hasn’t even noticed when I shrunk one and tucked it away in my suitcase before leaving for Hogwarts.”

“Well, that explains why Imelda and Leander are having such a nice chat without trying to tear each other’s hair out,” Sebastian commented, taking a sip from his glass. “Phew, this certainly reawakens my senses.”

Garreth blushed slightly, pleased by the comment. “Enjoy for now, and I’ve got another surprise for everyone soon.”

I hesitated before taking a sip of the drink, unsure of what I was getting myself into. The moment it touched my lips, a fire spread across my tongue — it was incredibly strong.

“That’s not how we do it here,” Sebastian’s voice came from behind, his tone amused as he watched me. “You have to drink it all at once. Or at least half of it.”

“And how do you know so much about this?” I asked, sarcasm slipping into my voice as I watched him finish his drink in one gulp.

“Just an observation,” he said casually. “You’re actually supposed to savor it slowly, but that takes practice. And right now, we don’t have time for proper training.”

We found a spot near the entrance, and I still held my full glass, staring at it for a moment. Everyone around, except for Poppy, was obviously wasted. I felt hesitant.

“No one’s forcing you,” Sebastian whispered, so quietly that no one else could hear. His finger traced a line along my collarbone, just below my neck. “But I’ll point out that the knot of tension right here,” he tapped the spot gently, “will almost vanish after a couple of sips.”

I rested my fingers near my solar plexus, where months of stress and tension had gathered, almost palpable. Taking a deep breath, I knocked back my drink in one go. Warmth spread through my chest instantly, though my mind stayed sharp. I couldn't help but smile.

“Don’t thank me,” Sebastian said with a satisfied grin, already heading for a second round.

A few minutes later, Lenora and Samantha joined us, and soon we were speculating about the personal lives of Hogwarts professors. With each sip of alcohol, our guesses grew more ridiculous, drifting further from reality. Sober, I might have felt a twinge of shame — but right then, I felt none. My mind was free of Ancient and Dark Magic, free of the constant churn of anxious thoughts. I wasn’t even dwelling on the fact that, not long ago, I’d nearly lost my life to Sebastian’s impulsiveness.
For once, I was simply… relaxed. Something that, in my usual routine, felt almost impossible.

The music abruptly cut off, and Garreth, glowing with happiness, jumped onto a bench in the center of the room. The crowd burst into applause, eagerly waiting for his speech.

“We don’t get much time for fun,” Garreth said, gesturing toward the guests. “But today, I’m 16 — and the proud owner of this priceless treasure from the limited Honeydukes & Zonko’s collaboration.”

He held up a wooden box with a transparent lid, revealing brightly wrapped candies in a variety of colors. At the center sat a small hourglass. The crowd whistled in approval, but I was the only one glancing around, completely lost as to why this was such a big deal.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Sebastian, barely moving my lips.

He shot me a look of impatience, as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t already know. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it,” he said. “It’s a legendary game — but you can’t buy it until you’re of age.”

“Why’s that?”

“The candies contain small doses of Truth Serum,” he explained quickly. “When it’s your turn, you eat one and have to answer questions until the sand runs out in the hourglass. If you refuse to answer, they make you do a penalty task. Usually something pretty funny, if the players have good imaginations.”

“Sounds like one of muggle games I heard about before,” I said thoughtfully. “But much more dangerous, considering the contents of the candies. Is something like this even legal? How did the Ministry let it slip through?”

Despite the alcohol coursing through my veins, I was stunned.

“Oh, stop it,” Sebastian waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just a tiny dose of Truth Serum. It only lasts a minute or two — hardly enough to mess with your head. You’re fully aware the whole time, and you can always refuse to answer. You just can’t lie.”

“Hmm…” I mused, “Not sure what could go wrong with a bunch of drunk students playing that.”

“If it helps you relax,” he patted my shoulder, “no detailed questions involved. Just simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ ones.”

“That’s a relief,” I laughed. “But I think I’ll just sit this one out.”

“Don’t be a bore,” he teased, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “It’s fun.”

Should I admit that I once again gave in to his charm? It didn’t even surprise me anymore.

The game turned out to be surprisingly engaging. Sebastian went first, clearly hoping to inspire me to join in.

“I’ll immediately choose a penalty,” he declared before Garreth could even say a word. “A proper round shouldn’t start with questions.”

“Alright, risk-taker,” Garreth laughed, setting the candy box aside. “Your task is to kiss the hand of the most charming lady in the room.”

“Easy,” Sebastian replied without missing a beat, striding toward the opposite side of the table. “Imelda, do me the honor.”

He extended his hand toward her, and she arrogantly nodded, offering her palm in return. With a loud smack, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand and then returned to his seat, the room bursting into astonished giggles.

By the end of the first round, we had learned that Poppy had broken some laws of the magical world, though no one could quite figure out exactly what she had done. Everyone was thrilled to discover that Amit disliked Indian food, and a guy from an unfamiliar couple of sixth-year Gryffindors couldn’t even remember his girlfriend’s birthday. Leander flat-out refused to answer whether he fancied anyone in the room, so Garreth transfigured his cloak into a pink, sparkling cape, and made Prewett promise to wear it to the Great Hall for tomorrow’s breakfast. With each new player, the tasks and questions grew bolder, though they never quite crossed the line of decency.

When it was finally my turn — and I was the last one left among the players — the crowd’s excitement noticeably grew.

“Now we’ll learn something interesting about our mysterious newbie,” Weasley said with a mischievous grin, rubbing his hands together as he handed me a blue, round candy.

It wasn’t exactly fair, but I wasn’t planning on playing by the rules. There were too many things at stake that I couldn’t risk. The whole group was watching me closely, but they were all too drunk to notice when I discreetly pressed the candy into my hand and quickly hid it in the pocket of my cloak. Garreth, oblivious to my subtle move, flipped the hourglass.

“There are rumors around school that you often spend nights out of the castle,” he began with a chuckle, ready to interrogate. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” I nodded firmly. That particular fact was already well-known to everyone.

“In the Forbidden Forest?” Amit asked, still a little flushed from his own confessions.

“Let’s just get to the penalty task,” I said, irritation creeping into my voice. Even though I could lie, I didn’t want to draw attention to this. It was obvious that, from now on, everyone would be asking about my endeavors.

The players groaned in disappointment but eventually settled on a punishment: I would have to sing the full version of the Hogwarts hymn. They gave up after the third verse, practically begging me to stop this endless nightmare. And, to be honest, I did it pretty much intentionally.

“She has a magical voice, doesn’t she?” Sebastian laughed loudly as I returned to my seat next to him.

“Your turn now, Sallow,” Garreth said, passing him the candy box. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate for a second, unwrapping the candy with a flourish and spreading his arms as though he were waiting for the questions to rain down. But to his surprise, it was Poppy who took the floor.

“Did you lie to anyone today, Sebastian?” she asked, her voice sharp and unexpected.

I wasn’t surprised by the question. As Poppy and I grew closer, I knew she didn’t like my friendship with Seb. She’d told me more than once that he had no compassion, no morals, and that magical creatures always disliked him — a particularly damning trait in her eyes.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, turning to her with a curious glint in his eye.

“Is the person you lied to here right now?” Poppy pressed, her gaze steady. She was genuinely worried for me, which I found oddly sweet. I turned to Sebastian and squinted at him playfully.

“Yes,” he repeated, looking unexpectedly puzzled — though it was hard to tell what he was really feeling.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Garreth raised his fist triumphantly and pointed at me, clearly enjoying the sight of Sebastian losing his usual confidence.

“Alright, I’m ready for my second punishment,” Sebastian sighed, surrendering. “Who should I bless with a kiss this time?”

“I’ve got something else in mind,” Garreth said, looking thoughtfully between the two of us as he scratched his chin. “Looks like these two need to talk. We’ll lock them in the private chamber for the entire second round. No wands allowed.”

“What’s this for?!” I shot up from my seat, stomping my foot in frustration.

“Yes, why?” Poppy chimed in suddenly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just talk about your relationship already,” Leander cut in, sounding exasperated.

“What relationship?” I was still trying to piece it together.

“Yours,” Garreth said, forming a heart shape with his fingers and shooting me and Sebastian a condescending look.

“Wait, does someone actually think we’re together?” I asked the group loudly, my voice dripping with disbelief.

Poppy shook her head, but everyone else nodded — including Sebastian, who was nearly collapsing under the table in silent laughter.

“I’ll destroy you,” I whispered to him, barely moving my lips, as they dragged us toward the private chamber.

The room was small and tucked under the eaves, its low ceiling giving it a cozy, almost hidden feel. Chairs, a worn sofa, and a few coffee tables were scattered about, as if left there haphazardly by previous occupants. Against the far wall stood an old, carved fireplace — clearly not connected to the Floo Network, judging by the dust gathering in its grate. The whole place had the air of being seldom used, visited only now and then by those seeking solitude. I had never set foot in it before.

Leander took our wands and, with Garreth’s help, shoved us inside, sealing the door with a spell.

“You!” I jabbed my finger into Sebastian’s chest so forcefully that my knuckles nearly cracked.

“I didn’t start this,” he raised his hands in a mock peace gesture. “You convinced Madame Scribner of everything, and after that, well… you know, the rumors couldn’t be stopped.”

“And now, with our late-night escapades, I’m stuck with the reputation of being the least righteous student in the school.”

“Only if you betray our love,” Sebastian teased, unable to suppress a chuckle as he shielded himself with a couch cushion. He was clearly amused by the whole situation.

“I don’t know why I’m still talking to you after everything,” I sighed wearily and plopped down in a chair across from him. “And, apparently, you lie to me on a daily basis.”

“That’s a matter for discussion,” Sebastian replied, pulling a candy out of his sleeve — one he had clearly never eaten.

I laughed, taking my own candy out of the pocket, and waved it in front of him.

“Such a bad girl,” Sebastian said, crossing one leg over the other, his voice dripping with mock amusement. “We behave in astonishingly similar ways, don’t you think?”

“I’m still angry,” I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, trying to hold onto my frustration.

“You’re just upset that I didn’t choose you for the first task,” he continued, pushing my buttons with a teasing grin.

“As if everyone doesn’t know you’re trying to get in good with Imelda so she’ll take you into the team next year,” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Playing dirty is your special talent.”

“Well, admit it,” he leaned in with a playful smirk, though his eyes no longer held the same mischievous gleam. “You would’ve liked it if I’d come to you instead. So everyone could see how mad I am about you.”

“Are you?” I chuckled, then quickly added, “If I really wanted to, I could’ve come up to you anytime.”

The world around me felt distant, almost blurry, and the alcohol distorted my feelings, dulling some of them while amplifying others. I stood up, swaying slightly, and moved toward him.

“And what would you have done then?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly hoarse, almost daring me to cross the line.

I leaned closer, running my palm across his face. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, clearly enjoying the touch. My fingers stopped at the corner of his mouth, and our gazes locked. For a brief moment, I caught myself biting my lips instinctively. It made him exhale sharply, the breath tickling my neck.

“If I wanted to, I could make you beg for a kiss, Sebastian,” I whispered into his ear, my voice low and daring as I brushed my cheek against his. He inhaled my scent greedily, caught off guard by my sudden boldness. “And I know who you’ll be imagining tonight before bed. Definitely not Imelda.”

I started to pull away, but before I could return to my seat, Sebastian grabbed me by the waist, yanking me back toward him.

“You like to pretend you’re fearless,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, as his arms tightened around me, his heart thundering against mine. “But you always forget… this is a game we can both play.”

He pulled me closer, and before I knew it, his lips crashed against mine in an intense, almost painful kiss. I tangled my fingers in his disheveled hair, while his hands roamed urgently beneath my cloak, desperately seeking more. It felt as if we couldn’t get close enough, and at that moment, this strange overwhelming need was crystal clear for both of us.

Then, a rustling sound came from behind the door, and we broke apart instantly, scrambling to opposite sides of the sofa. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, feeling the heat of his touch lingering on my skin. Nervously, I traced the marks on my lips with my tongue, waiting for Garreth to come in and return our wands.

But the door didn’t open. The noise outside quickly faded, and Sebastian glanced at me, his brow furrowed. He walked to the door, knocking a few times and shouting loudly to draw someone’s attention.

“No one hears,” he muttered, shrugging. He turned back to me, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’d be funny if they forgot about us. And without our wands, we can’t lift the sealing spell.”

“Great,” I said, my tone grim as I rubbed my temples. The alcohol buzz was wearing off, and the weight of the situation was sobering me quickly. “Can’t wait for Sirona to find us here together in the morning.”

“It hasn’t been that long yet,” surprisingly, Sebastian tried to calm me down. “Let’s just wait.”

“I’ll never drink again,” I said, covering my face in embarrassment, the weight of the past events crashing down on me.

Sebastian didn’t respond. He simply sat beside me, and we stared in silence at the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the walls. The warmth of the fire did little to ease the tension in the room. The clock already struck midnight, but no one came back for us.

Chapter Text

I staggered back a few steps, but they were closing in too fast. Three dozen goblins charged straight at us, weapons gleaming in the dim light. Sebastian’s grip tightened on my shoulder as he stepped forward, half-shielding me with his body. He turned to meet my eyes, and in that moment, we both knew — this could be the end.

Then, the world was swallowed in a flood of blinding silver light.

I felt nothing. Not the ground beneath me, not the heat of battle — nothing. I wasn’t just engulfed by the light; I was part of it. One with it. A single surge of raw power, obliterating everything in its path.

“Wake up, come on!”

Garreth Weasley’s voice jolted me back to reality as he shook the chair I’d slumped in. At the same time, he aimed a well-placed kick at the couch, where Sebastian lay sprawled in blissful unconsciousness.

“Sirona’s going to be here any minute!” he hissed. “If we’re not gone by then, I’m dead.”

My eyelids felt like lead as I forced them open. That dazzling silver afterimage still burned behind my eyes. Through it, I saw Sebastian bolt upright, his expression flickering from confusion to something utterly unhinged.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weasley?” His gaze darted around, landing on me — and then his eyes widened even further. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Garreth crossed his arms, nodding sagely. “Someone had a very eventful night.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now let’s go before we all get hexed. We’ll talk outside.”

“Well, so much for my last chance at sleep this week,” I muttered, reaching for my cloak — it had doubled as a blanket.

“Here, take your stuff.” Weasley tossed us our wands, which had apparently spent the night abandoned near the door.

I frowned, turning mine over in my hands. “I almost forgot I even had one,” I grumbled, pouring every ounce of irritation into my voice.

We slipped out through the back door, moving carefully through the quiet alleyways. Only after we’d put a few blocks between us and the inn did Garreth finally stop and turn to face us.

“I’m really sorry.” His usual bravado wavered as he pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze. “Sirona had enough of everyone last night. She made all of them go back to Hogwarts. In the chaos… well, no one remembered you two.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. “That explains a lot.”

I exhaled sharply. “At least she wasn’t the one who woke us up.”

Garreth reached into his pocket and pulled out two small vials filled with a deep blackberry-purple liquid. “Consider this my apology,” he said. “Hangover elixir.”

Sebastian and I exchanged a glance. “Did anyone else drink this?” we asked in perfect unison.

Garreth groaned. “You two always ask the same damn thing.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I took some this morning. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it here.”

“Relax, I’m always prepared — I never go anywhere without a bezoar,” Seb told me, his tone dripping with sarcastic amusement. “Can’t be too careful around ambitious brewers and venomous beasts.”

My head pounded so fiercely that I didn’t have the energy to question the potion further. I pulled the cork out with my teeth and downed everything in one go. Sebastian did the same. Within moments, the alcoholic haze in my mind began to clear.

“Not bad, Weasley.” I gave him a thumbs-up as my vision finally stopped wobbling like ripples on a pond. “Thanks.”

“I hope that penalty task was worth it,” Garreth said in an infuriatingly playful tone, eyeing the faint bluish mark still lingering on my lower lip.

“There’s nothing between us,” I snapped, covering my face with my hand. “Drop it already.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirked but didn’t push. “I need to come by the potions shop since I’m already in Hogsmeade. See you at school.”

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the alley. Sebastian and I exchanged a glance before setting off toward Hogwarts on foot. After last night, we could both use the fresh air.

A gust of wind rustled the trees, carrying the scent of rain. I glanced up at the darkening sky. “We should hurry. There’s a storm coming.”

Sebastian didn’t bother looking up. His eyes were on me instead.

“You look awful,” he said matter-of-factly, nodding toward my wildly disheveled braid. “So bad, in fact, that I almost like it.”

I rolled my eyes but stopped in my tracks. “Listen… last night, our jokes went too far.”

“What are you talking about?” He narrowed his eyes, looking genuinely confused.

Sebastian had always been hard to read, but this time, I was almost certain — he really didn’t remember much of what happened. Hope flickered in my chest.

“Do you at least remember anything after we got to the Three Broomsticks?”

“That would be impossible to forget.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips. “You were… unforgettable.”

My jaw clenched as my hand instinctively twitched toward my wand. Sebastian noticed immediately.

“Thinking about modifying my memory?” he mused, still chuckling. “Good idea, but you’ve never actually cast that spell before.”

“And to think, it seemed like such a perfect solution,” I sighed, letting my arm drop.

“Relax. Nothing really happened. We just got a little carried away.” He stepped closer, patting my back in mock reassurance. “You should’ve seen what went down in the Slytherin common room last year after we won the Quidditch Cup….”

“So… we’re still friends?”

“Of course! Teasing you is way too much fun. Not that you’re bad or anything, but…”

“Shut up, Sebastian.”

“Alright, alright.” He turned to face me, suddenly serious. “I won’t tell anyone. And I won’t touch you again — unless you beg me to, of course.”

“Much better,” I said dryly, ignoring the jab. “Otherwise, I really will have to learn the Obliviate spell.”

His smirk deepened. “Now I’m actually starting to be afraid of you.”

“But from now on,” I adjusted my cloak collar, suddenly self-conscious, “I don’t want people thinking we’re… together.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Why do you even care what they think? Most of them are brainless idiots.”

“I could argue about who the real idiot is,” I muttered under my breath. But before he could respond, the memory of my dream surged back — the blinding silver mist, the overwhelming power. I shivered. “Honestly, it’s a miracle we’re even alive right now.”

A black owl swooped low over our heads, cutting through the thickening air. Sebastian’s mood shifted instantly. Without another word, he quickened his pace toward the castle, leaving me to chase after him.

“We have more important things to worry about than all this nonsense.” Sebastian’s expression darkened, his focus sharpening in an instant. “Anne is still cursed. She needs our help.”

I nodded. We walked in silence for a while, my thoughts tangled in a knot I couldn’t unravel. It wasn’t just the hangover — I couldn’t believe that last night, I’d had my first, and so far only, kiss. Out of a million possible scenarios, why did it have to happen now? And with him?

Sebastian and I got along great, but we were definitely not in love. And yet, last night, the lines between us had blurred in a way I hadn’t expected. A way I wasn’t sure how to handle. The uncertainty unsettled me, but I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on it — not seriously. Unfortunately, bravery had never been my defining trait. There was a reason the Sorting Hat hadn’t even considered placing me in Gryffindor.

“Do you have any new ideas about curing Anne?” I asked, eager to steer my mind away from dangerous territory.

“All the ideas are old ones, really.” Sebastian seemed utterly unfazed by what had happened at the Three Broomsticks. “I still want to get more Acromantula venom… and take a closer look at our mysterious Ancient Magic. And Slytherin’s spellbook.”

“You do remember,” I said carefully, “that we’re not using the Imperius Curse on me?”

“For now,” he shot me a skeptical glance. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then what?”

“I think I’ve found the location where we might find the last fragment of Isidora’s triptych. We’ll be able to start searching for answers very soon.”

“That’s good news. What about the venom? Have you found someone who can give more?”

“Everyone knows who can,” Sebastian said, lowering his voice. “The real question is where to find them. I discovered evidence that Acromantulas inhabit caves beneath the marshes north of the Forbidden Forest.”

“That’s not far from here,” I said in surprise.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “But even the most reckless poachers won’t go in there. Too dangerous. Those things never come outside — you have to go into their lair, where no wizard ever survived.”

“We need to study this and prepare properly first,” I said, hesitating.

“We’ll go over everything in detail in the Undercroft,” Sebastian cut in. “Where no one can eavesdrop.”

By then, we had reached the castle gates. As we passed through the corridor, I caught sight of my reflection in one of the mirrors and nearly recoiled.

“Looks like the Hangover Elixir does nothing for appearances,” I laughed, staring at the bird’s nest that was apparently my hair and the dark circles under my eyes. “I’ll join you soon — I can’t walk around school looking like this.”

“Of course, my lady,” Sebastian said mockingly, though the smirk on his face softened the jab.

I stuck my tongue out at him before glancing around and hurrying toward the Ravenclaw Tower while the corridors were still mostly empty. I had never needed a warm shower more.

When I stopped by my dormitory to grab a towel, I let out a breath of relief — the other girls were still sound asleep. Good. That meant they had no idea when I’d come back. The fewer questions, the better.

Quickly, I ruffled my bedcovers to make it look convincing, pulled the curtains tightly over the window, and slipped back out as quietly as I had entered.

After freshening up, I unlocked the Undercroft’s gate — only to be met with a stream of the filthiest curses I’d ever heard. Luckily, they weren’t aimed at me.

“If I hadn’t woken Weasley, you two would’ve already been dragged to the Headmaster in disgrace,” Ominis’s voice echoed off the stone walls, cold and furious. But Sebastian, as usual, didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“Sorry, Mom,” Seb shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ominis exhaled sharply, as if physically restraining himself. Then, realizing I was there, he turned slightly, tilting his head to catch my footsteps.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice tight with frustration.

“I just arrived,” I said cautiously, keeping my distance. I’d never seen Ominis this angry before.

“There was a massive explosion near Feldcroft last night.” He struggled to keep his voice even. “Solomon was there. He was on his way home when it happened.”

I said nothing — just glanced at Sebastian, who was suddenly very interested in the pattern on the tapestry behind him. The events of last night were starting to come into focus, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know everything. But what I wanted didn’t matter. I needed to know.

“What exactly happened?” I asked, trying to sound composed, though my voice wavered.

“The area was so devastated it’s hard to tell,” Ominis said, his fists clenching at his sides. “Solomon said the ground on the plateau literally split in two. None of the goblins survived. There’s no one left to ask.”

I gripped the nearest table for support, struggling to process what I was hearing. Ominis took a slow breath before adding,

“I’m almost certain you two had something to do with this. When Sebastian didn’t return to the castle last night…”

“You should be this worried about Anne,” Seb interrupted irritably.

Ominis scoffed in disgust. “How hypocritical. If you’d slept where you were supposed to, your owl would’ve delivered her letter to you this morning instead of me.”

"So that’s what had changed his mood on the way back." - I though instantly.

Ominis pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and waved it in front of Sebastian’s face. Seb snatched it from his hands, eyes scanning the words with desperate urgency. The deeper he read, the darker his expression became.

“And why do I even care what you two are up to?” Ominis went on, his voice like ice. “You don’t solve problems — you create them. Deal with this mess yourselves.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out, his robes billowing behind him. The metal gate clanged shut, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Sebastian let out a confused breath. “And I haven’t even told him about the Acromantula venom yet.”

Then, almost hesitantly, he held the letter out to me.

“She’s getting worse.”

I sighed, taking the parchment from him. But as I read, nothing in Anne’s words seemed particularly alarming. She thanked us for visiting, urged us to take care of ourselves, and told us — very firmly — to stay out of trouble.

“Look at the handwriting,” Seb said impatiently when he saw my puzzled expression. “Her hands only shake like that when she’s in pain.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, still reeling from what Ominis had said.

“We need to hurry.” Sebastian pulled out an old map of the Hogwarts grounds, dropped it on the floor, and marked a spot near the top with a piece of charcoal. “The entrance to the caves should be somewhere here.”

“Wait.” I stopped him, kneeling at the edge of the map. “After all, you clearly lied to me last night.”

“I’d say I just left some things out,” he corrected. “I was going to tell you everything today, but Ominis had to ruin it.”

“I caused the explosion, didn’t I?”

Sebastian hesitated, then nodded. “I think you used your gift against them.”

I felt a chill crawl up my spine. “So I applied Ancient Magic — without even realizing it — and killed them all?”

“Isn’t that incredible?” Seb’s eyes gleamed with something unnervingly close to excitement. “Just imagine what else you could do.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He blinked, caught off guard by my tone.

“I blacked out and committed mass murder, and that impresses you?”

Seb frowned. “Since when does killing goblins matter? They would’ve torn us apart without hesitation.”

“This isn’t a game, Sebastian.” My fingers traced the worn edge of the map as I tried to steady myself. “I could’ve killed you too. I can’t control this.”

“That’s what practice is for,” he argued. “If you could just do it again…”

“No.” My voice was firm. “Not anytime soon. I’m not ready for that kind of risk.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened. He still held Anne’s letter, his grip tightening. “So that’s how it is. You feel guilty over a bunch of filthy goblins, but you’re willing to watch my sister slowly die? That’s your priority?”

His words hit like a slap. I met his gaze, but there was no warmth in it — only resentment.

“You’re not yourself, Sebastian.” I spoke carefully, though anger burned inside me. “We’ll talk after you calm down and apologize.”

His jaw tightened. “If we don’t share the same goals, then I don’t need you. Why would I want yet another person who doesn’t believe in me?”

That was it.

I turned sharply and left, forcing myself not to look back. But as soon as I reached the corridor, my vision blurred. The tears came fast and unbidden, but they weren’t just for Sebastian.

I was afraid — of many things, yes, but mostly of myself.

Afraid of what I had done.

Afraid of what I might be capable of.

Afraid of how easily that power had surged through me, how it had taken control. As if it had a will of its own. As if it had been waiting.

What if I was never meant to wield it?

What if, in the end, it consumed me instead?

If only someone had the answers I so desperately needed.

I wiped my swollen face with the sleeve of my robe and trudged toward my tower, every step heavier than the last. I kept hoping that Seb would realize his mistake, catch up with me, and stop me. But with each passing moment, that hope shattered more and more, like fragile glass beneath my heels. The truth settled in — when it came to Anne’s condition, Sebastian became someone else entirely. Someone I didn’t recognize at all.

As I passed by the Great Hall, I still sniffled occasionally. It was probably this sound that caught Ominis’s attention as he stepped out of the doors. He immediately stopped and called out to me.

“Are you alright?” His voice was softer than usual, filled with genuine concern. He raised his wand slightly, as if ready to act in case I needed help.

“I’m sorry, Ominis,” I said, trying to steady my breath, my emotions threatening to spill over once again. “You were right all along.”

I had almost stopped crying, but the tremble in my voice betrayed me. Ominis pressed a finger to his lips, then turned toward the open oak doors and called out, his voice carrying.

“Hobhouse, I can hear you snuffling behind me. You have ten seconds to go snuffle somewhere else before I turn your ears into a pair of Bubotubers.”

The door creaked, and Duncan Hobhouse peeked out from behind it. His eyes widened when he saw me, and without a word, he bolted down the corridor.

“That was harsh,” I said, surprised.

“He should learn to mind his own business,” Ominis muttered, his tone laced with vindictive satisfaction. “That’s why I can’t stand him.”

“Are you in a hurry?” I asked, glancing at his tightly buttoned outdoor cloak.

“Not at all,” he replied, though his tone was evasive. “I just wanted to take a walk after breakfast. The morning has been… stressful.”

I smiled weakly through my tears and took a step closer to him.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll join you.”

“Alright,” he nodded, starting toward the exit. “But I have a small personal thing to attend to along the way.”

We stepped outside again, just like the morning before, but the air felt completely different this time. The sky was heavy with even darker clouds, and the scent of autumn rain hung in the air. The downpour could begin at any moment, but I didn’t mention it. There were far more important things to talk about.

“I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier. That won’t happen again,” Ominis said, his voice polite, but distant, almost formal.

“Thank you for not sending me away,” I replied as honestly as I could. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“Sebastian can be… difficult,” Ominis said with a sigh. “He can be cruel, and he holds onto resentment far too long.”

He turned his face away, as if ashamed by the truth in his own words.

“Funny — he told me the exact opposite about you,” I remarked, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.

“Maybe that’s why we’ve managed to stay friends for so long,” he added, smiling faintly.

We crossed the school courtyard and made our way down the path toward the lake. The weather had driven all the birds into hiding, leaving the place eerily quiet.

“Ominis, about last night…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Garreth already explained everything to me. And Sebastian, too,” he said quickly. “I’d rather not hear it a third time.”

His response was abrupt, and it made the words stick in my throat. I struggled to find something to say, but the tears threatened to return.

“Please, don’t cry,” Ominis said, his voice gentle but insistent. “I only meant to say that….”

I stopped abruptly, and Ominis, caught off guard, walked straight into me. We collided with a thud, and before either of us could react, we found ourselves in an unintentional embrace.

“If this keeps happening, I’ll start thinking you’re doing it on purpose,” Ominis said, stepping back with a soft, conciliatory smile. “I’m not angry with you. You haven’t done anything wrong. I know exactly who’s responsible for all the trouble in this story.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” I asked, my voice shaking as I fought to hold back the tears. “What if it’s all my fault?”

“Then I’d like to know why you think that.”

I hid my face in my hands for a moment, trying to pull myself together before answering.

“Remember when you told me in the Scriptorium about your ability to speak with snakes? You called it a mark of Dark Magic.”

“Of course I remember.”

“What if my ability is far more dangerous and terrifying than yours?”

“Having knowledge isn’t the same as using it for evil,” Ominis replied calmly, his voice steady. “We decide who we are, not our talents”

“But don’t circumstances shape our choices?”

“They influence them, but the decision is always yours.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I muttered softly. “Before I met you, I didn’t know such perfect people even existed.”

Ominis chuckled lightly. “You might be the first person in a century to say that to a Gaunt. It’s nice to hear. But I’ve done terrible things in my life I'm not proud of.”

“So have I, Ominis,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because the explosion in Feldcroft yesterday — it was me. And I don’t even remember how.”

I paused, as if weighing the consequences of what I was about to say. But in the end, I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

Abandoning every promise I’d made to Professor Fig, I told Ominis everything I knew about Ancient Magic — the Keepers’ memories, including some fragments even Sebastian hadn’t heard about. I also mentioned our experiment with Occlumency. When I finished, Ominis shook his head, disappointment clouding his expression.

“I’m the one who taught him Legilimency,” he said, as if offering an apology. “You should have trained with me instead. I could have done it… respectfully.”

“You think I should continue training?” I asked, surprised.

“I think that sooner or later, you’ll need to master this magic. When you’re ready,” he replied thoughtfully. “Because what’s truly dangerous isn’t the power itself — it’s the lack of control over it. And that doesn’t seem like real Dark Magic to me. Not like whatever fills Sebastian’s new favourite book. Would you mind waiting for me here for a few minutes?”

With that, Ominis left me standing by the dock and walked toward the edge. He sat down effortlessly on the wooden planks, staring into the water with his unseeing eyes. I tried not to watch him, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his lips move — he was whispering something, though I couldn’t make out the words. He barely touched the water with his fingertips before standing and returning to me, his expression unreadable.

I sensed that he didn’t want to talk about it, so instead, I returned to our previous conversation.

“I’m scared,” I admitted honestly, looking uneasily at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. “I’m afraid I might hurt one of you. You two are the best thing that’s happened to me this past year.”

“Both of us? The best?” Ominis raised an eyebrow, astonished. “I’m starting to feel sorry for you.”

I laughed, but my amusement was quickly drowned out by the roar of the downpour that suddenly crashed down like an icy waterfall. We were soaked to the bone in seconds. Ominis lifted his head to the sky, closing his eyes as if he were completely unfazed by the cold. For a brief moment, he seemed to forget I was even there.

“We need to find shelter!” I called, shivering.

“Let’s go to the groundskeeper’s hut!” Ominis shouted back, snapping out of his trance. He grabbed my wrist and led me confidently toward the woods. “Mr. Moon was in the Great Hall when I left, so we won’t be disturbing anyone.”

I had no objections, so we ran along the edge of the forest. In the distance, over the lake, lightning split the sky, though the thunder still rumbled far away. We had time before the storm really hit.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the small wooden cabin where Ominis, with a flick of his wand, knocked off the padlock and opened the door for me. I had passed by this hut countless times on my way to the Forbidden Forest, but I had never really paid it much attention.

“I’m glad you remembered this place,” I said happily, shrugging off my heavy, soaked cloak. It fell with a loud thud on the floor, as though it had absorbed half of the Black Lake.

“Funny how, between the two of us, I turned out to be the more observant one,” Ominis smirked, unfastening the silver clasp of his cloak and stepping past it toward the fireplace.

“I know a water-repelling charm, but I suppose it’s a little late for that now,” I said, defeated, wringing out my sweater sleeve.

“There’s also a drying spell,” Ominis mused, twirling his wand. “But it’s been so long since I last used it, I can’t quite remember it.”

“Well, at least now we know which spells we need to brush up on for our O.W.L.s,” I smiled, lighting the fire in the fireplace.

We sat down by the flames, stretching our frozen limbs in front of us. Ominis was irritably trying to smooth down his hair, which had fallen messily over his face, tickling his cheekbones. I watched him with a smirk, being sure he would never know about it.

“You’re looking at me, aren’t you?” he squinted, turning his face toward me.

“I’ve never seen you without your hair perfectly styled before,” I giggled, as though we hadn’t just had such a heavy conversation.

“I hope that improved your mood,” Ominis sighed, giving up on his futile attempts to fix his hair. “Thank you for being honest with me today. I’ll try to think of a way we can explore your ability safely.”

“Thank you for not leaving me alone back at the castle,” I whispered, feeling a pang of gratitude.

“That’s what friends are for,” he replied simply.

“But I still owe you an apology. More than one, actually.”

“If you insist,” he narrowed his eyes slyly — almost like Sebastian. “I’ll think about what you can do for me.”

“Agreed.”

Time passed, the rain didn’t stop, and silence settled between us. I sensed that Ominis had drifted into his thoughts, lost in some distant place. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I sat quietly by the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance in his unseeing eyes. He was, at his core, a genuinely kind person. In his presence, everything felt safe.

“You surprised me,” Ominis suddenly broke the silence. “I was sure you’d immediately ask about what I did at the lake.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your personal matters,” I said calmly.

“And that sets you apart from Sebastian,” he chuckled, then added, “But I do want you to know — today is the anniversary of the worst day of my life. The day my mother died.”

“I’m so sorry, Ominis,” I managed to say, shocked. Until then, I had known almost nothing about his parents.

“It happened near our estate, by the lake too,” he continued, as if speaking to himself. “But that place doesn’t keep a single memory of her anymore. There’s no grave, no name left behind, and no one but me who remembers her.”

“Why?”

“My father said she chose to end her own life, and therefore, she didn’t deserve to be remembered. He cursed her name and burned all of her belongings. Except for one small trinket I managed to save.”

“Why would he be so cruel?” I asked, bewildered.

“You wouldn’t be asking that if you knew him,” Ominis replied bitterly. “My entire family history is vile. He literally kidnapped my mother and forced her into marriage despite her youth and distant relation to the Gaunts…”

“Ominis…” I murmured sympathetically.

“He was obsessed with blood purity and wanted more children,” Ominis continued, his voice thick with bitterness. “When his first wife couldn’t give him more heirs, he simply left her and found another. My mother was that unfortunate woman. You can imagine how he treated her after she gave birth to a failure like me.”

Ominis stared at the floor, trying to remain composed, but the pain was evident in his expression. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing.

“Despite everything, she loved me very much. The only reason I’m not completely helpless is because of her.”

He flicked his wand, sending out sparks as though his emotions were responding to the magic.

“That’s horrible,” I whispered, noticing the faint shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“I’m afraid of losing Sebastian the way I lost her. The way we almost lost Anne…” Ominis said, struggling with his emotions. “I’d give anything to go back to that summer when the three of us played Gobstones, ate Solomon’s awful cooking, and were happy.”

“Maybe it’s not too late to fix things,” I said boldly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If I can help Anne, I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. I promise.”

“You’ve already done so much for us,” Ominis assured me, covering my hand with his and intertwining his fingers with mine. “Since you arrived, life has started to feel like it used to. Even Sebastian is more like his old self again.”

“Then we’ll fight to bring back what we can.”

“He’s too obsessed with curing his sister at any cost,” Ominis frowned, tightening his grip on my hand. “Sebastian is dangerous to himself right now.”

“Especially when I’m not much better than him,” the thought crossed my mind, but I kept it to myself.
Ominis misinterpreted my hesitation and quickly pulled his hand away.

“It’s alright,” I reassured him gently, patting his shoulder. “I thought you didn’t like being touched.”

“I usually prefer to keep my distance,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Except with people I trust.”

“I really hope I can live up to that trust,” I said seriously, placing my hand next to his. Compared to his long, pale aristocratic fingers, mine looked too small and inelegant.

“Thank you for listening,” Ominis said simply. “Please, let’s keep this between us.”

“You can count on it,” I promised.

The rain outside had slowed, and we quickly gathered ourselves to head back to the castle before the caretaker discovered us trespassing.

“The storm bypassed Hogwarts,” Ominis noted, listening intently. “That’s a good sign.”

“Can I ask you a silly question, just out of curiosity?” I hesitated, extinguishing the fire in the hearth.

“As many as you like,” he chuckled, opening the door for me.

“How did you manage to wake up a drunken Garreth Weasley so early in the morning?”

“I expected something more scandalous,” Ominis sighed, replacing the padlock on the door. “I just sent a Howler to his dormitory.”

I imagined the chaos in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory at dawn and shuddered.

“No wonder some people are afraid of you.”

“Why, thank you,” Ominis quipped with a charming smile. “But I do hope there won’t be a need for that again.”

As the rain eased, the air turned colder, and our breath misted in the chilly day. Despite the cold, I hesitated, sensing something important was still left unsaid. Ominis stopped, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I need to tell you something else,” I began cautiously. “Yesterday, at the party, we drank too much, and….”

“I already know,” he interrupted gently. “It was the first thing Sebastian told me.”

“We agreed not to talk about that!” I exclaimed, embarrassed.

“You two obviously fancy each other,” Ominis stated matter-of-factly. “I don’t see why you keep denying it.”

“I think we’re just a couple of morons who enjoy teasing each other,” I sighed.

“That too,” Ominis said with a smile, gesturing for me to hurry into the castle. I followed him, my thoughts drifting to the warmth and rest I had been craving all week.

At that moment, neither of us knew that the truly difficult days were still ahead.

Chapter Text

After a long Sunday rain, the temperature had dropped sharply. The water that hadn’t soaked into the ground froze into a thin, treacherous layer of ice — so slick that hardly anyone could step outside the castle without slipping. Of course, Headmaster Black could have done something about it, but he was far too busy in his office to notice such a trivial inconvenience.

The morning walk took an unexpectedly dramatic turn when Adelaide Oakes went sprawling to the ground right in front of me on our way to Beasts class. The sickening crunch that followed made my stomach twist — I had no doubt that someone would be needing Skele-Gro today. A simple Wiggenweld Potion wouldn’t be enough.

“Adelaide, can you get up?” I rushed to her side, nearly slipping myself and grabbing onto Lenora for balance. She stood nearby, eyes wide with shock.

“I can,” she groaned through gritted teeth. “But I think I broke my arm.”

I carefully lifted the sleeve of her robe, wincing at the sight of bone pressing unnaturally against the skin in several places. Lenora took one look and immediately covered her face with her hands.

“I’ll take her to the hospital wing,” I said, helping Adelaide up by her good arm. “Let Professor Howin know I’ll be a little late.”

Lenora gave me a quick nod, then whispered, “I’d take her myself, but I think I’d pass out looking at that.”

I didn’t bother replying. Lenora irritated me — easily one of the most selfish, insufferable people in my social circle. To this day, I had no idea how we’d managed a pleasant conversation at Weasley’s birthday party, though I suspected a few glasses of brandy I’d downed that night had something to do with it.

Slipping every now and then, I guided my classmate slowly back to the castle. Near the main entrance, we ran into Ominis, who was hurrying toward his first Herbology lesson. Hearing Adelaide’s heavy breathing and sensing my presence, he stopped and pulled open the heavy doors for us.

“What happened?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s like an ice rink out there,” I said vaguely, still inching forward. “You’d best stay inside unless you want to break something too.”

I shifted my grip on Adelaide’s waist, and she inhaled sharply in pain.

“Wait,” Ominis halted us calmly, scanning her with his wand. “She has a broken rib.”

“I thought it was just my arm,” she protested weakly.

“One doesn’t cancel out the other. I can numb the pain if you’d like,” he offered with a small, reassuring smile. She nodded, too surprised to argue.

With a quiet incantation, he cast the spell over her injuries.
“That should get you to Madam Blainey without too much trouble,” he said. “But take it slow — the fractures are still there.”

“Thank you,” Adelaide murmured, her pain now replaced by an awkward sort of embarrassment.

“Next time, perhaps you’ll remember that ice isn’t difficult to melt with magic,” he teased lightly.
Then, ruffling my shoulder as he passed, he added, “See you in Potions.”

We parted ways at the hall — I wasn’t about to leave Adelaide until I knew she was safely in the nurse’s care. She was walking steadily now, but kept casting me these odd, thoughtful glances. After a while, I couldn’t take it any longer.

“Something wrong, Adelaide?”

She blushed faintly, as if caught in a moment of indecision, before finally voicing the question that had clearly been on her mind.

“Am I imagining things, or did Ominis Gaunt just… almost hug you?”

I blinked in surprise. “And what’s so strange about that?”

Adelaide lowered her gaze shyly, then continued, almost nervously. “In all our years at Hogwarts, he’s never approached a girl. Well, except for Anne, but she’s basically his sister.” She paused, her dimples deepening as she fought a smile. “And there’s even a joke about it in our house... but never mind.”

“Now you’ve piqued my interest,” I grinned, sensing some juicy gossip. “What’s the joke?”

Adelaide hesitated, but then her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Right now, I only have one theory,” she said, sidestepping my question. “While everyone thinks you’re off having a fling with Sallow, the truth is far more intriguing.”

I raised an eyebrow. Her bluntness annoyed me, but at least she was honest.
“I’m afraid reality’s much less exciting. We’re just good friends — with both of them.”

“Of course,” she murmured, her gaze drifting away. She didn’t believe me.

I sighed inwardly. “Is there anyone left in this castle who doesn’t think I’ve seduced half the senior Slytherins?” I thought irritably, but decided not to argue.

Madam Blainey greeted us with a weary look and an exasperated sigh. “You’re the third broken bone case this morning,” the nurse grumbled.
“But none of them had injuries this severe,” she added, carefully examining Adelaide’s arm and side. “You’re handling the pain quite well, Miss Oakes.”

“She’s under a numbing spell,” I explained before Adelaide could.

The nurse blinked, clearly taken aback. “That’s advanced healing magic. Even I don’t know that spell. Who cast it? You?”

“Er… no,” I hesitated, unsure whether to out Ominis. “A rather talented student.”

Madam Blainey smiled knowingly, shaking her head. She retrieved her wand and tapped the keyhole of a cabinet across the room. With a whispered password, the metal door creaked open, revealing rows of potions. She pulled out a large bottle of Skele-Gro, poured a generous amount into a glass, and handed it to Adelaide.

“If they are shy, that’s fine,” she said, securing the potion back in the cabinet. “But tell this ‘rather talented student’ — if they ever consider a career in magical medicine, they should come see me. I’ll connect them with the right people.”

“Thank you, Madam Blainey,” I said with a polite curtsy, exchanging a meaningful glance with Adelaide. She nodded, sniffing the potion with evident distaste and grimacing.

“Shall I go to class?” I asked, ready to make my exit.

“Of course,” the nurse agreed. “Miss Oakes will need to stay here for the next few hours.”

“Thanks,” Adelaide squeezed my hand with her uninjured one, her eyes wary as she stared at the nearly full glass of Skele-Gro. “I hope I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Muggles take months to heal fractures like these,” I reassured her. “By evening, you’ll hardly remember it. It’ll be fine.”

***
The rest of the morning passed quietly. I didn’t run into Ominis or Sebastian again — our schedules only overlapped in the afternoon for Potions.

For a brief while, I even managed to immerse myself in my studies, momentarily pushing aside yesterday’s argument and the near-deadly adventure from a few days ago. But problems never truly disappeared — ignoring them just meant they lurked in the background, waiting.

On my way to Potions, I seriously considered acting as if nothing had happened. But the moment I saw Sebastian deliberately turn away from me, I lost the motivation. If he wanted to sulk, he could sulk. I had no interest in working with him today, so I walked across the entire classroom and took a seat in the corner beside Imelda.

“Let him stew,” I thought irritably. “Maybe next time he’ll think twice before speaking to me like that.”

Less than a minute later, Ominis entered. Without sparing a word to Sebastian, he made his way directly to my side. Imelda, ever the gossip, glanced between us with thinly veiled curiosity, barely restraining herself from asking questions. But she didn’t have to suffer for long — Professor Sharp strode into the room, levitating a tightly sealed cauldron. With a flick of his wand, he set it down on his desk and pried open the lid.

A light haze curled through the air, carrying an aroma that sent a shiver down my spine — rich chocolate, aged leather, and something warm and elusive, just beyond my grasp. If I had to name it, I’d call it the scent of summer.

The entire class stilled. We all knew what we were looking at. Our gazes were locked on the cauldron, not daring to blink, until Sharp shut the lid again.

“Who can name today’s lesson topic?” he asked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he took in the dreamy expressions on half the students’ faces.

Natsai hesitated before answering, “We can’t brew Amortentia without a license… so, the antidote to it?”

“Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Onai,” Sharp announced, nodding approvingly. “Indeed, brewing a love potion without Ministry clearance is strictly prohibited. Fortunately, it is — because personally, I see no difference between Amortentia and the Imperius Curse.”

A murmur rippled through the class.

“Then why did you brew it, Professor?” Garreth asked, ever the troublemaker.

“The Ministry ordered a batch for one of its… less public departments, Mr. Weasley,” Sharp replied, unimpressed. “Their in-house potioneers are struggling to meet demand.”

“But it’s just love,” Leander asked, prompting a demonstrative scoff from Imelda. “What’s so dangerous about that?”

“You simply haven’t seen what that kind of love can drive someone to do, Mr. Prewett,” Sharp said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The full antidote recipe is on page 86 of your textbooks. You have two hours to provide me with a proper sample. If you have any questions, I’ll be in my office — finishing grading last week’s assignments.”

And just like that, he was gone — floating the cauldron of Amortentia out with him. Garreth let out a disgruntled groan, clearly having planned to pocket a sample.

“Well, shall we begin?” I asked awkwardly, flipping open my textbook. My stomach twisted as I remembered the blatantly copied assignment that Sharp was probably reading at that very moment.

“I hate Potions,” Ominis sighed, already exasperated. “How am I supposed to brew anything decent if I can’t tell the difference between eye of newt and frogspawn?”

“Planning to drop it next year?” I asked as I weighed the first ingredients.

“Not a chance.” He shook his head. “I won’t get into medicine without Potions.”

“You do things with just your wand that make Potions seem completely irrelevant,” I praised teasingly. From the corner of my eye, I caught Imelda glancing between us, clearly trying to decipher our conversation. Lowering my voice, I added, “By the way, Madam Blainey was quite impressed with your talent today. I didn’t mention your name — just in case.”

Ominis smirked. “Thanks. Otherwise, I’d have to explain how I know spells that are only found in the restricted section of St. Mungo’s medical library.”

“So what you’re saying,” I whispered in his ear, “is that pillaging libraries is a shared trait between you and Sebastian?”

“I wasn’t there,” he clarified, barely moving his lips. “But my older brother, Marvolo, was. The book ended up with me thanks to his passionate love affair with a nurse…”

“Now that’s news!” I blurted out, loud enough for Natty to shoot me a curious look.

“He got into serious trouble for it,” Ominis added in a whisper. “Not for stealing the book — for the affair. Our father found out and put an end to it immediately. Said the Gaunt family would never accept a ‘lousy half-blood.’”

I sighed, shaking my head.
“Your family is full of quirks.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Ominis reached for a jar of ingredients. “Ever since then, Marvolo completely lost his mind. He wasn’t kind to begin with, but after that, he became unbearable. And in the end, all that effort was for nothing — none of the spells I mastered helped Anne.”

“We’ll find a way to help her,” I promised, stealing a glance at Sebastian. He wasn’t paying attention to anything around him, methodically measuring out his ingredients — clearly determined to finish as quickly as possible.

I rolled up my sleeves, lit the fire beneath my cauldron, and got to work, occasionally exchanging words with Ominis and Imelda. I didn’t look at Sallow even once.

As expected, Sebastian was the first to complete the task. He sealed his vial with a satisfying click and vanished behind the door to Sharp’s private office. The moment the door shut, a flurry of whispers erupted at the Gryffindor table.

“Leander, calm down…” I heard Garreth’s strained whisper, just as Prewett called out from behind me, pronouncing my name like it was some kind of curse.

“What?” I turned, noticing the gleam of malice in his eyes.

“Maybe you need some help? We could fix things between you and Sallow. Or was he really that hopeless that night?”

“Leander, shut your mouth!” Imelda snapped suddenly, her voice harsh. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Prewett sneered, his gaze shifting between me and my two Slytherin friends. “Seems like you were sorted into the wrong house,” he spat.

“You were told to shut up, Prewett,” Ominis said coldly, his voice dripping with barely contained menace. “Shame you didn’t grasp the message the first time.”

With the perfect precision, Ominis flicked his wand. A light gust of air swept past my shoulder, and before I could blink, the spell hit Leander square on the forehead. He slumped back into his chair, giggling idiotically, clearly incapable of doing anything more complicated than drooling on his cloak.

By an unfortunate coincidence, at that very moment, Professor Sharp entered the classroom — Sebastian trailing behind him. The two were deep in conversation.

“We didn’t work together,” the professor was saying. “But I read his publications, and I’m sure he mentioned something on the subject. You can request the archive in the library…”

He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene before him. For a split second, Sebastian’s focused expression flickered with concern as he met my gaze. But after quickly assessing that Ominis and I were unharmed, he turned away and slipped wordlessly out of the dungeon, leaving the rest of us watching in stunned silence as Leander sat there, laughing stupidly and furiously picking his nose.

“Care to explain, Mr. Gaunt?” Sharp’s voice was icy, clearly recognizing the caster and the spell. It seemed it wasn’t too serious — otherwise, he would have immediately sent Leander to the hospital wing.

“Mr. Prewett, in a dazzling display of his usual intellect,” Ominis began, his voice like cut glass, while Imelda barely suppressed a smirk beside him, “insulted a fellow student.”

“And you thought a Jigglyhead Jinx was an appropriate response?” Sharp’s tone was cold, but more curious than furious — yet.

Ominis didn’t blink. “With all due respect, Professor — look at him.” His hands were clenched tight at his sides. “He had jelly for brains before the jinx. Now he just looks the part.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Ominis Gaunt had never spoken with such venom before — not in public, not even close.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Sharp sighed, “but after Friday’s lesson, you’ll be serving detention, Mr. Gaunt.”

“Understood, Professor,” Ominis nodded stiffly, his breathing heavy.

“Time’s up,” Sharp addressed the class. “Mr. Weasley, prepare Mr. Prewett’s potion sample for my review. Miss Onai, escort him to the nurse. She should have the appropriate medicine… Just make sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs on the way.”

Natty nodded and dragged Leander out of the dungeon while the rest of us prepared our potion vials for grading.

I was the last to approach the professor’s desk. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure the room was already empty, he sighed meaningfully. "I read your written assignment," he said, his voice disappointed.

I shrank back like a defenseless slug and muttered, “I assume I’ll be joining the Friday detention as well, Professor?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and for just a moment, through the deep scars on his face, I caught a glimmer of something mischievous — almost like the expression of a naughty child.

“At first, I was only going to give you a warning. But since you seem so eager… Perhaps some disciplinary work alongside Mr. Gaunt will do you good,” he said with a wry shake of his head. “And some intellectual work as well. Both of you will write me twenty inches on Calming Draughts by Friday. Given today’s events, your friend could especially use it.”

“Of course, Professor,” I mumbled, regretting not keeping my mouth shut.

“And I only accept original work,” Sharp added pointedly. “That reminder is directed at you specifically. You may go.”

As I backed toward the door, my eyes landed on Sebastian’s cauldron. I hesitated, torn — I wanted to know what he had asked Sharp about, but I knew the professor wouldn’t tell me anyway.

“Do you have any questions left?” Sharp lifted his head and looked at me expectantly.

“No, thank you, Professor,” I replied, shaking my head awkwardly, eager to leave as quickly as possible.

“Such a brilliant move — getting myself detention,” I muttered, rolling my eyes in frustration. But I didn’t get the chance to fully indulge in my self-reproach because, right outside the classroom door, I ran into two people no one would ever expect to see together.

“Forgive him, please,” Weasley pleaded, while Ominis stood beside, arms crossed over his chest. “Leander hasn’t been himself since Saturday. On his way home, he tried to kiss Imelda and got smacked in the face. He’s been stomping around like an enraged hippogriff for two days now. He thought you and she were talking about him during class.”

“If only he could think for once,” I said dismissively, flicking a hand through the air. “But, honestly, I don’t care. He got what he deserved.”

“Fair enough,” Weasley agreed without argument. “And that hex of yours, Gaunt — impressive! I think you’d wipe the floor with Sallow in the duelling club!"

Ominis smirked, clearly entertained by the comparison, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“I need to discuss something with Ominis in private,” I told Garreth, hinting that it was time for him to leave.

“Oh, yeah, of course…” he stammered. “See you later!”

I watched him until he disappeared around the corner, then turned to my companion.

“Ominis, thank you. But I promise I can defend myself.”

“Of course. Sorry for stepping in. Though I think I may have just found my new least-favorite Gryffindor.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle — Ominis somehow managed to be endearingly funny even when he was annoyed.

“I have some news,” I muttered guiltily, knowing I couldn’t put it off any longer. “We’re getting double detention.”

“You got punished for this too?!” His eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“No, this is for the copied assignment. So now we both have to write an extra twenty inches on Calming Draughts for Friday’s class.”

“Between the two of us?” he asked hopefully.

“Each,” I said grimly, pressing my lips together.

“Well then,” Ominis murmured, stepping aside to let me pass down the narrow corridor. “Shall we meet in the library on Thursday evening?”

“Not there!” I begged, wincing at the thought of my last few encounters with Madam Scribner. The last thing I needed was for her to assume I’d swapped Sebastian for a new romantic interest. “I’ll bring the books to the Undercroft, agreed?”

“Are you sure?” He adjusted his grip on his bag of textbooks. “Sebastian is likely to be there.”

“Hmm…” I hesitated for a moment, then a brilliant idea struck me. “Merlin, why didn’t I think of this sooner? I’ll meet you in the eighth-floor corridor, by the tapestry with the ballet-dancing trolls.”

“That’s on the way to the Astronomy Tower?” he clarified calmly.

“Exactly.” I nodded enthusiastically. “The perfect place where no one will bother us.”

“As you wish.” He showed one of his rare, genuine smiles. “I’ll be there after dinner on Thursday.”

***
The next three days passed quietly. I finally managed to get some proper sleep, finish most of my homework, and — most importantly — avoid any new trouble. There were no updates from the Keepers, and Sebastian was still ignoring me (as I was him, to be fair). Honestly, the break was probably good for me.

Thursday evening arrived, and I was preparing to meet Ominis so we could work on Professor Sharp’s assignment together. Even the fact that this was technically a punishment couldn’t dampen my mood.

As I left the Great Hall, I noticed Ominis was still inside.

“Perfect. I’ll get there first and meet him at the stairs,” I thought, taking my time as I made my way upstairs, lost in my thoughts.

Sebastian had skipped dinner again, which only reinforced my suspicion that he was holed up in the Undercroft, plotting some reckless new scheme.

When I reached the eighth-floor corridor, I was surprised to find Ominis already waiting for me. He stood in the middle of the hallway, facing the ridiculous tapestry of dancing trolls. Of course, he couldn’t see it, but from the confused set of his profile, I could tell he was struggling to make sense of the absurdity of the piece.

“I’m glad I didn’t make you wait,” he said, turning just as I took two more steps toward him.

“How did you get here so quickly?” I asked, my eyes widening in surprise.

“Obviously, I know more secret passages in this castle than most,” Ominis replied, amusement dancing in his voice. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, here’s our personal study room.” I answered, spotting the grand carved door that materialized in the wall the moment I thought about it.

Without another word, I grabbed his arm and led him inside. He followed without hesitation, trusting me completely. The gesture reminded me of that night on the tower — a strange mix of closeness and distance. Sneaking through the castle corridors, making our way to the kitchens… It already felt like a distant memory.

We slipped through the doorway, and I was pleased to see that the Room of Requirement hadn’t let me down. It was an ideal blend of a library and a common room — spacious, unexpectedly bright, and cozy enough to inspire focused study. Soft armchairs and round tables dotted the area, surrounded by tall bookshelves. A fire crackled cheerfully in the far corner.

For a moment, the sight reminded me of the private room at the Three Broomsticks. My cheeks turned pink as I thought about how Ominis would never drink himself into oblivion, never resort to cheap, sleazy flirting with me. And he certainly wouldn’t endanger my life for a reckless thrill.

As I reflected on those differences, Ominis wandered the room, his fingers trailing lightly over the furniture as if mapping the space in his mind. After a brief circuit, he confidently chose a table by the fireplace, tossing his bag onto the floor before waiting for me to join him.

I grabbed a few books from the nearest shelf — unsurprisingly, they were all about Potions. The Room had a way of catering to our every whim. Balancing a mismatched stack of volumes, I hurried over and set them down with a soft thud. As I spread the books out, Ominis lowered himself gracefully into the chair beside me.

“My aunt once mentioned this place,” he murmured, his wand scanning the ceiling as if admiring something I couldn’t see. “I even tried to find it before… but it never revealed itself to me.”

“The Room of Requirement won’t appear if someone else is already inside,” I explained, watching his quiet fascination with amusement. “Honestly, I spend way too much time here.”

“So you’re the reason,” Ominis smirked, flipping idly through one of the books. “Though, perhaps we shouldn’t let Sebastian in on this little secret.”

I didn’t need to ask why. Instantly, I imagined what our dear friend would do with a space like this. A dueling arena? A potions lab for highly questionable experiments? Whatever it was, it would be chaos.
So, I silently agreed. The last thing we needed was Sebastian turning the Room of Requirement into his personal playground.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder to keep it from getting in the way as I pulled out my Potions textbook. Ominis noticed the motion — a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he muttered thoughtfully:

“Magnolias…”

I froze, my eyes flicking to him, silently asking for an explanation.

“Your perfume,” he clarified, his head tilting slightly with a touch of amusement. “Almost every girl in the school smells like violets this year. But you… you’re the only one I can always recognize by the scent of magnolia. That’s how I find you, even in a crowd.”

“So the mystery is finally solved,” I said, setting my book aside, intrigued. “I never thought a simple muggle perfume would give me away.”

“Let me guess,” he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something from the Baldwin & Co. fragrance collection?”

My throat tightened in surprise.
“How do you know that?”

“My perfume is from there too. ‘New Mown Hay’, I believe,” Ominis said casually, crossing one leg over the other, clearly enjoying my astonishment. “Professor Baldwin, the perfumer’s wife, teaches Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. She was kind enough to give it to me as a gift.”

“You take Muggle Studies?” I asked, my amazement growing.

“Well, I had to take something instead of Astronomy,” Ominis gestured vaguely in front of his eyes — a quiet reminder of his blindness. “Though, of course, my dear family has no idea. For everyone’s peace of mind.”

“That’s great,” I said, genuinely impressed. “We often forget how different the non-magical world is from ours.”

“Honestly,” Ominis mused, “there isn’t that much of a difference. Except that muggles wave around guns instead of wands to solve their problems. Oh, and they’re absolute moralists.”

“Can’t argue with that…” I muttered.

“Good thing we don’t attend a muggle college,” he added dryly. “Otherwise, after a night with Sebastian, you’d both be expelled — and branded for life.”

Was that… bitterness? It seemed my last trip to Hogsmeade had bothered him more than I’d realized.

“We really are lucky to be at Hogwarts,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I hope Prewett’s nonsense didn’t upset you too much.”

“Of course not,” he replied a little too quickly. “I’m just tired of this fake romantic drama.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I agreed, clenching my fists involuntarily. “If it helps, Hufflepuff’s already moved on to a new rumor — this time about you and me.”

“Finally,” Ominis laughed, sounding almost relieved. “At least something new in this monotonous school life.”

We began unpacking our quills and ink, and as I unrolled my parchment, Ominis decided to bring up another topic.

“I ran into Sebastian in the common room before dinner,” he remarked casually, though there was a clear note of concern in his voice. “He didn’t even ask why we were punished. Our dear friend is completely preoccupied with something again.”

“I’ll try to talk to him in the next few days,” I replied seriously. “It’s definitely best for both of us to keep track of what’s going on in his head.”

“Thanks,” Ominis smiled again, the corners of his lips curving in a way that made him look almost… endearingly cute, like some enchanted toy brought to life. “He needs us, and we should be by his side before it’s too late.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I nodded, grabbing a heavy tome from the pile. “Alright, we should really get to studying.”

We turned our attention to our books, but before long, I found my focus slipping. Instead of studying, I was watching Ominis. The way he read was unlike anything I’d ever seen — his wand hovered lightly over the pages, moving with precision, while he murmured under his breath, lips barely moving.

“You’re not writing anything down… How do you remember so much information?” - I couldn’t resist asking.

“I mark the important paragraphs,” he said, clearly amused by my distraction. “It’s very convenient, since only I can track these marks. Then later, I dictate my notes to the quill.”

“Impressive,” I said awkwardly, lifting my book in front of my face. “I won’t bother you anymore, then.”

“It’s fine,” he assured, stifling a small yawn behind his hand before diving back into his textbook.

The warmth from the fire was comforting, casting flickering golden light over the room. Ominis, absorbed in his work, had unfastened his vest, his usual poise softened by exhaustion. As he leaned forward, something glinted from inside the lining. I hadn’t meant to pry, but the flash of bronze caught my eye.

Ominis noticed my another distraction almost immediately.

“Everything alright?” he asked cautiously, straightening up.

“These calming potions make me drowsy without even drinking them,” I admitted with a small smile. Then, forgetting my manners, I added, “I noticed you’re wearing jewelry. It caught my attention.”

“This?” He pulled back his vest slightly, revealing a small bronze brooch pinned to the lining. It was simple but striking, the kind of piece that seemed to hold a quiet history of its own.

“It belonged to your mother, didn’t it?” I asked softly.

“You’re very perceptive.” His face darkened slightly as he buttoned his vest again, as if shielding something fragile. “It’s the only thing I managed to keep. With everything that happened, I completely forgot to take it off last night.”

“You must be afraid of losing it,” I observed gently.

“Very much,” he nodded, curling slightly into his chair at the thought. “It’s the only proof she ever existed.”

His voice was steady, but I could hear the weight behind his words, the way grief sometimes lingers like an old echo.

“What was she like?” I whispered, careful not to push too hard.

“Once, a long time ago, when we were walking through Diagon Alley…” Ominis frowned slightly as he recalled the memory. “People used to say I was the spitting image of her… I wish it wasn’t just in appearance.”

“Of course, it isn’t just that!” I reassured him quickly, before foolishly throwing, “Though, honestly, plenty of people at school are already going crazy over your looks alone.”

“Well, thanks to my terrifying family name, they all keep their distance,” he said with a faint smirk. Then, after a moment, he added, “Still… She traveled across Europe, from west to east, just to find me this wand. My father couldn’t have cared less.”

“Not everyone gets to experience unconditional love,” I said quietly, dimming the fire with a flick of my wand. “And I’m glad you did, even if only for a short time. I’m sure that feeling will find its way back to you someday, in some form.”

“Unconditional love…” he repeated, as if testing the weight of the words. “I like how that sounds.”

For a while, we focused on work again. Ominis dictated to his quill in a soft murmur, his voice blending into the crackling fire as I jotted down key points from my book.

Then the sound changed.

I glanced over. The rhythmic scratching of his quill had faded, replaced by deep, even breathing.

Setting my book aside, I turned to find Ominis fast asleep, his face resting against the open pages of the Potions textbook. His mouth was slightly open, and beneath his closed eyelids, his eyes flickered faintly in dream. One hand had curled beneath his cheek, like a child’s.

I couldn't help but smile.
"I wonder what you’re dreaming about", I whispered quietly, though, of course, there was no response.

Carefully, I began stacking the books, but when I checked everything, I realized Ominis had fallen asleep on my textbook. I stood and leaned over his shoulder, glancing at page 154, which had become his pillow.

“Ominis,” I murmured, gently shaking his arm. “Maybe we should go to our rooms and get some sleep?”

He jerked awake so suddenly he nearly bumped into my chin.

“I knew I’d pass out,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “Sorry.”

“You fell asleep on my textbook. If you need it…”

“Seriously?” He pointed his wand at the pages in front of him, as if verifying my claim, then shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, I must have taken it by accident. I don’t even remember when.”

He shut the book and handed it to me, and I tucked it safely into my bag.

“Let’s get some rest,” I repeated firmly. “I think we’ve written enough for today.”

“If you say so,” Ominis murmured, yawning so contagiously that I couldn’t help but yawn in return.

***
Alone in my room before bed, teetering on the edge of sleep, I couldn’t stop replaying the events of the past few days. Every glance, every word — spoken and unspoken — drifted through my mind like echoes of a dream.

Then, all at once, one memory surfaced, sharp and vivid, banishing my drowsiness in an instant. In Potions class, when Professor Sharp had opened a cauldron of Amortentia, I was confused. The love potion was said to smell like what one desired most, but at the time, I couldn’t quite grasp what I was feeling. It had been fleeting, slipping through my thoughts before I could make sense of it.

Now, after minutes of restless contemplation, it hit me.

I threw back the bed curtains and padded barefoot across the cold stone floor, my breath quickening. Kneeling by the window, I rummaged through my bag until my fingers found the worn cover of my Potions textbook. Clutching it tightly, I climbed back into bed, my hands trembling as I flipped to page 154.

I brought the book close to my face and took a slow, deliberate breath.

A refined, subtle perfume drifted up from the pages — soft, aristocratic, unmistakably familiar.

My heart clenched.

“So that’s what it was”, I thought, biting my lip in confusion. “New Mown Hay.”

I barely had time to process the realization before a sharp tapping at my window broke through the quiet.

Startled, I turned. A black owl perched on the ledge, its talons clinking against the window sill. I recognized the bird instantly.

Untying the scroll from its leg, I unrolled it, fully expecting some kind of apology. Instead, my stomach tightened at the short, urgent message scrawled across the parchment:

“I’ve found a new lead and I’m heading out tonight. If you want to join, you know where to find me.

S.”

I glanced around the room. The other girls were already hidden behind their heavy curtains, their steady breathing filling the air.

I was still upset with Sebastian. But I couldn’t let him go alone.

With a deep sigh, I set the letter aside, changed swiftly, and cast a Disillusionment Charm. The magic shimmered over me like a thin veil, blending me into the darkness. Without a sound, I slipped from the room and made my way straight to the Undercroft.

Chapter Text

Despite the late hour, Hogwarts was buzzing with life. As I descended the spiral staircase from Ravenclaw Tower, I nearly collided with two prefects patrolling the corridors in search of rule-breakers. I slipped past them unnoticed — but only because they were far too wrapped up in each other to notice anything at all.

“Utter madness,” I muttered to myself, casting a glance back at their heated kiss. “Then again, who am I to judge, if…”

I didn’t finish the thought. The truth was, I’d done the very same thing with Sebastian Sallow not even a week ago. And just this Monday, the love potion had smelled unmistakably like Ominis Gaunt. Honestly, what did I know about love? Still tangled in these hopeless musings, I arrived at the Undercroft, lifted the Disillusionment Charm, and slipped inside.

I didn’t spot Sebastian immediately. It wasn’t until I reached the far corner — a cluttered heap of broken odds and ends — that I found him, seated on the stone floor, eyes fixed on something with unwavering attention. Curious, I moved closer, and the reason for the room’s chaos became a little clearer.

“We’ve got a doxy problem,” Sebastian called over his shoulder, having noticed me at last.

“I thought I at least deserved a ‘hello,’” I said coolly — but the sight in front of me made me forget to keep up the cold act.

The small, mischievous creatures — typically devoted to nothing but troublemaking — were methodically collecting rubbish and stuffing it into a sack. A dozen more were hauling a heavy broom, apparently intent on cleaning up the mess they themselves had caused. Calling this behavior “unusual” for doxies would be an understatement.

“What is going on here?” I narrowed my eyes, though I already had a hunch.

“Yes, I’m practicing the Imperius Curse,” Sebastian said, perfectly calm, eyes still fixed on the scene. “And before you say anything — note the nonverbal casting. Far more difficult than just shouting it like a barbarian. I could teach you, if you’re interested.”

“Are you completely insane?” I shook my head, hardly able to believe what I was seeing. “Another one? At Hogwarts?”

“Merlin’s beard — a few days with Ominis and now you’re just as dull as he is.” Sebastian turned to me, giving an exaggerated eye-roll. “This is part of my plan.”

“Well, thanks for including me,” I snapped. “You’ve been brilliant at pretending I don’t exist lately.”

Sebastian looked at me, his gaze slightly unfocused, as though he hadn’t quite caught my meaning.

“Not pretending — I’ve been following leads,” he said evenly. “I spent the whole week trying to get more venom, checked every poacher I could find. I’ve also been looking for a spider lair…”

“You’re lucky you’re still alive,” I sighed, my eyes drifting to the old map with a black cross drawn over it — the same one we’d argued about not long ago. Sebastian followed my gaze and shook his head.

“There are no Acromantulas,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve searched every cave and ravine. Just ordinary, useless spiders — even if they’re the size of hippogriffs.”

Privately, I was relieved. If he had found what he was looking for, he likely wouldn’t have made it back. His recklessness would be the end of him — and that was the last thing I wanted.

“While I was searching, I had a bit of a revelation,” Sebastian went on, a bright smile suddenly lighting up his face. “My father was a professor with the Potions Association — worked extensively with different toxins. And my mother, funnily enough, did research in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry…”

“Impressive,” I said honestly. “Sounds like you come from a very distinguished family.”

“I’m more impressed by how thick I’ve been,” he laughed. “I never thought to check their publications until now. I found a few tucked away in the library and learned a bit more about the species itself.”

“And what did you find?”

“Well,” he began, ticking points off on his fingers, “first, venom from a living Acromantula is several times more potent than from a dead one — obviously more volatile, too. And second, their colonies are strictly patriarchal. There’s always a leader — a dominant male — and the rest follow his command without hesitation.”

I tilted my head. “Alright… Let’s say that’s true. Your plan is to somehow find this leader?”

“And bend him to my will,” Sebastian finished, not missing a beat. “That’s what all this practice has been for.”

“That is utterly unreliable,” I said flatly, glancing back at the doxies, who had nearly finished tidying the room with eerie precision.

Seb smirked — and without a second thought, stunned the creatures one by one. They dropped on the floor like stones.

“Relax. I’m not doing anything yet,” he said reassuringly. “I haven’t even found them.”

“Then what are you planning?” I asked, a flicker of concern creeping into my voice.

“I want to retrieve my father’s old lab journals,” he said simply. “They’ve got to be full of useful information. Maybe even a location for one of the nests — there were rumors about a colony in the Marunweem lake region.”

“And where are these journals now?”

“At home,” he said, eyes fixed on the wall. He seemed to wrestle with the words before speaking again.

“At home?” The pieces fell into place. “You mean… where…”

“Where they died.”

His face remained unreadable — but the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he clenched his hands, told me more than words ever could.

“I haven’t been there in seven years,” Sebastian said, his voice trembling with a note I’d never heard from him before — a fragile ring, like glass about to crack. “And I don’t want to go alone.”

“Of course I’ll go with you,” I said firmly. “But where exactly is this house?”

“Near Edinburgh.”

“That’s pretty far… Are you thinking of Apparating? Or flying?”

Suddenly, that familiar, impish smile lit up his face.

“I’ve already sorted it,” he said, pulling a battered wooden comb from his pocket.

I raised an eyebrow, eyeing his disheveled hair. “Is that for styling or…?”

“It’s a Portkey,” he said, tossing it lightly onto the table. “It activates at 2 a.m. and takes us straight there.”

He glanced at the clock.

“We’ve got about eighty minutes until departure.”

“I’m not even going to ask how legal this is,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “But why two in the morning?”

“For one, the muggles living there now shouldn’t see us sneaking into the basement,” Seb said, grinning like he’d just won a bet. “And two, illegal Portkeys are cheaper during the night shift.”

He stuck his tongue out, childishly proud of himself. I stared at him, a whole swirl of emotions rising in my chest — but in the end, it was warmth that won out. Of all people, he wanted me with him for this.

While I lingered in that thought, two doxies in the corner began to stir. Sebastian gave them a quick glance before turning back to me with a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“Are you sure you don’t want to learn the curse?” he asked. “Might save your life one day.”

Ominis’s face flashed uninvited in my mind, full of disapproval — but curiosity was stronger. Maybe it always had been. And if I was being honest with myself… yes, I did want to learn it.

“But I promised to watch Sebastian,” squeaked that familiar, feeble voice of reason in my head, “not become him!”

I shoved it aside — just as I had many times before.

The whole time I hesitated, Seb watched me with an infuriatingly smug little smile.

“Ah, screw it,” I sighed, already disappointed in myself. “Let’s do it.”

Sebastian’s expression brightened instantly. He demonstrated the wand movement first, then carefully explained the correct way to channel intent — cold, sharp, deliberate. I practiced again and again over the next hour, but something was always off. On my final attempt, a doxy flung a twig at my head in protest.

“Looks like you’re better at tormenting than controlling,” Seb laughed, recalling my triumph with the Cruciatus curse and reaching over to pluck the twig from my hair. “You’ve got to clear your mind. No second-guessing. Unforgivable Curses don’t tolerate hesitation.”

“Shut up, Sebastian,” I snapped, trying again — only to accidentally stun the creature.

He stepped beside me, taking my hand around the wand. His fingers were warm — warmer than I expected. And close. Too close. The blush rose before I could stop it.

“Here,” he whispered. “Feel it. Push it out with your will — no emotion. Just command.”

Together, we spoke the spell. This time, it worked. The magic moved through me like a current, clear and sharp. One of the doxies froze mid-flight, still conscious, but completely still.

“That was almost romantic,” Sebastian teased, his voice low and smug. Strangely, the comment didn’t embarrass me. It felt… right. As if nothing between us had changed at all.

“I think it’s time,” I said softly, glancing toward the clock, its hands ticking steadily toward two.

“Let’s go,” Seb said, flicking his wand to levitate the stunned doxies into a dusty old crate. With a quick sealing charm, he turned back toward the table.

We both reached for the comb at the same time. For a heartbeat, we just stood there, fingers nearly touching, eyes locked — and then the Portkey activated, pulling us through space in a rush of wind and light, all the way to the opposite side of Scotland. 

Moments later, Sebastian and I landed soundlessly atop a hill. The wind tugged at our cloaks, though the air was noticeably warmer than it had been at Hogwarts. The scent of seaweed hung in the breeze — the sea couldn’t have been far.

Sure enough, a dark, shimmering stretch of water lay in the distance to one side, nearly indistinguishable from the night sky. Below us, nestled at the hill’s base, sat a small village. It looked like dozens of others I’d seen — quiet, unremarkable. But to Sebastian, this place clearly meant something else. Without a word, he started down the slope, and I followed.

“Shouldn’t we be disguised or something?” I asked quietly.

“The entrance I need is on the street,” he replied, eyes fixed ahead.

“And you think it’s still untouched? After all these years?”

“My father’s lab was protected with anti-muggle enchantments,” he said. “They don’t even know it exists.”

There was something hard in his voice when he said that — a flicker of resentment. I didn’t press further.

We reached the edge of the village in silence. The first house near the trees was where Sebastian stopped. It was small and grey, a two-storey building already half-consumed by ivy, the leaves starting to wither with the cold. He stood still for a long time, just staring. Then, slowly, he moved around the back, wand in hand.

With a flick, the ivy parted to reveal an old wooden door, sunken slightly into the earth.

Seb reached for the handle, then froze.

“I haven’t been down there since the day they were found,” he said softly. “Technically, Anne found them first… but it was already too late.”

His voice wavered just slightly. He shook his head, bracing himself, then finally pushed the door open and stepped inside. I followed.

The basement was shallow but long, the air stale with disuse. Sebastian lit the space with a wave of his wand, revealing what looked like an abandoned potioneer’s workspace — or what was left of one. There were no cauldrons, no ingredients, no parchment-strewn tables. The shelves along the walls were bare, as was the wide central workbench. Even the bookcase at the far end stood empty.

In one corner, two cracked leather armchairs sat gathering dust, untouched by time.

“They cleared it out,” Sebastian muttered, scanning the room. “The Ministry came through — tried to investigate — but they didn’t find anything. Not really.”

“Then what were you hoping to find?” I asked, uncertain.

“What’s hidden from sight,” he replied. He approached the empty bookcase and whispered, “Revelio.”

Nothing.

His brow creased. He tried an unlocking charm. Still nothing.

“Why are you so sure something’s here?” I asked, stepping up beside him and peering into the bookcase’s empty shelves.

“Because I saw my father hide things here. Records. Journals. He was careful, but I know this is where he kept them.”

I crouched slightly and reached out, brushing my fingers along the back panel. On instinct, I pressed lightly — and with a faint click, something shifted.

A small compartment slid open.

“Well, that’s clever,” I said, smiling as I eased the panel aside. “Hide your lab from muggles, then use a simple muggle trick to hide the vault itself. No wizard would think to check for that.”

Sebastian gave a faint, weary smile. “He was far smarter than I’ll ever be.”

He stepped forward, carefully retrieving a worn, leather-bound journal from the compartment.

“And thanks to you,” he added, “we won’t be leaving empty-handed.”

With that, he pulled out several thick notebooks and a stack of papers, dumping them carelessly onto the table.

“Oh no… this makes things harder,” he sighed, flipping through the pages. “He wrote all his lab notes in Scots Gaelic.”

“And you don’t understand it?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” Sebastian waved a hand dismissively, “but I’ll need time to sort through the technical terms.”

“I think the word Acromantula is pretty universal,” I said, picking up a small notebook with that word scrawled across the spine. The “A” was written unusually — the crossbar split into two curves like a little snake.

“Exactly,” Sebastian said, eyes brightening. “I really hope this helps us.”

“I see something in English here,” I added, reaching for a crumpled piece of parchment.

The heading read: Summons to Closed Hearing. The subject: Abuse of Authority by Professor Albert Sallow. The prosecution’s witness — also a Professor Sallow, presumably his wife — was ordered to appear by a specified date.

I set it down quickly, feeling awkward. Sebastian noticed and picked it up. His face clouded.

“I don’t know anything about this,” he said after a pause. “All I know is my father studied poisons, Acromantula venom included, and published a few articles in niche journals.”

“It could’ve been anything,” I said gently. “An accident in the lab, maybe. Experimental work is risky.”

“You’re right,” he murmured, gathering all the papers into his bag. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to stay any longer.”

We concealed the compartment in the bookcase and headed for the stairs. At the bottom step, Sebastian stopped and squeezed my shoulder, turning to glance one last time at the room. His eyes held something between defiance and grief. I thought he might say something, but instead he gave me a small nudge, and we climbed quickly to the street.

As the door clicked shut behind us, the ivy slithered back into place. The house above remained silent — the muggles inside still asleep. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but the sky was beginning to lighten at the edges.

“I can’t lose them all,” Sebastian whispered, still staring at the house. “Anne is all I have left now.”

I stepped forward and wrapped him in a firm hug, burying my face in his shoulder. He held me back, one arm around me, solid and warm.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice a whisper caught in memory, “the last conversation I remember my parents having was… a fight. A terrible one. I’d never heard them yell like that before.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling him closer.

“Dad went downstairs. Mum stayed up with us.” His voice trembled. “She looked so upset… I’ll never forget the look in her eyes.”

He paused, trying to steady himself.

“A little later, she told us to play in the living room. Said she’d be right back. Kissed me on the head, like she always did. Then she left to go find him. No one ever saw them alive again.”

He turned without another word and began walking back toward the hill. We climbed in silence — only the crunch of twigs and the occasional hoot of an owl broke the quiet. I let him walk ahead. It was clear he needed the space.

When I reached the top, dawn had begun to spill across the sea. The horizon glowed faintly orange, painting the clouds in soft fire. Sebastian stood still, watching the sunrise with quiet intensity.

When he heard my footsteps, he spoke again, his voice low.

“I missed you, all this time. I hope you’re not still mad at me.”

“I can never stay angry at you for long,” I said, giving a tired smile. “No matter how much of an idiot you are.”

He glanced at me sideways, managing a smirk.

“Thanks for always being there. I mean it.”

“Then try to remember that the next time you question my priorities,” I replied, poking his side gently.

His smirk grew. There he was — the old Sebastian, creeping back to the surface.

“It’s time to go home,” he said, gesturing to the old comb lying on the ground. “Grab it on three.”

We crouched beside the Portkey, hands outstretched. The golden light of morning touched Sebastian’s face — and I noticed the faint, almost-dried tracks of tears on his cheeks. He saw me looking and muttered shyly,

“I never wanted to come back here. And I probably wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for you.”

“You always know where to find me,” I said simply, and began the countdown.

The Portkey activated with a jolt — the rush of color, wind, and sound swept us away. But when we landed again on soft ground, I immediately realized we weren’t at the castle.

Dark trees loomed above us. The air was thicker, more humid. The shadows felt alive. I was almost sure we were in the Forbidden Forest.

“Bloody cheap thing,” Sebastian cursed, tossing the comb into the bushes and brushing autumn leaves off his cloak. “Never works properly…”

“So, this isn’t your first time?” I asked, eyeing our unfamiliar surroundings. The trees clustered tightly, a faint stream whispered below us, and higher up the hill, the crumbling silhouette of an old abandoned building loomed.

“We should be close to the school,” Seb said, avoiding my question. “We just need to climb a bit higher, and we’ll spot the castle.”

“Alright,” I replied flatly, already resigned to the fact that something would go wrong tonight. It always did.

We began the climb again — for what felt like the hundredth time that night — but halfway up, I stopped abruptly. A familiar tingling sensation rippled through me. Thin silvery threads danced just beneath my feet, coiling around my senses and tugging gently toward the ruins.

“Something’s not right,” I murmured, narrowing my eyes. “We have to investigate.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned toward the ruins. The closer I got, the more vivid the threads became. This wasn’t just magic — it was Ancient Magic. And it was calling to me with unmistakable urgency. Even if I’d wanted to resist, I couldn’t have.

Sebastian followed quietly. From the look on his face, he understood that now was not the time for questions.

A few enormous spiders had made the ruins their home, but they were no match for us — we dispatched them quickly. As their remains skittered down the slope, I circled the old stone walls, my wand drawn. That’s when I saw it.

A blinding silver light pulsed from the ground, small but alive, more intense than anything I’d seen since the goblins unearthed the source near Isidora’s home. It was mesmerizing — untouched, brimming with raw power, and beautiful in a way that defied explanation.

“What is it?” Seb asked softly, brushing cobwebs off his shoulders.

“You really can’t see it?” I asked, eyes still fixed on the light.

He squinted into the rubble. “Nothing but dust and rocks.”

I kept silent, not being able to pronounce a word.

“Then it’s Ancient Magic,” he said, watching my expression. “What now?”

I stepped closer. The light shimmered with rainbow hues, swirling like a memory inside a Pensieve. I touched it with the tip of my wand. The strands immediately followed, rising with the motion like mist in moonlight. When I brought the wand closer to my face, the light responded to my breath.

Then, instinctively — and without knowing why — I inhaled.

The magic surged into me, flooding every nerve, every vein. It was warmth and fire and clarity all at once. My skin tingled. My heart raced. I felt limitless.

And then it was gone.

The source faded. The light disappeared. All that remained was a patch of dirt and moss.

“That was incredible,” Sebastian whispered, staring at me. His voice was laced with awe.

I turned to him, confused. The rush of magic had already faded, leaving behind only questions.

“I saw it,” he said, eyes wide. “For just a second — when you absorbed it — your eyes flashed red. Like something… ancient looked through you.”

A chill slid down my spine. I hadn’t felt that. But I had lost control — again. And each time, the magic felt more seductive, more possessive. Where had it gone? What was it doing to me?

“Try using it,” Sebastian urged. “Channel it into a spell. It’s supposed to amplify your magic, right?”

His gaze landed on a boulder the size of a graphorn. Covered in moss and half-buried in earth, it looked immovable.

“Depulso!” he shouted. The spell hit the stone with a spark and fizzled out. The boulder didn’t budge. “Yeah… beyond me. Your turn.”

I took a breath and raised my wand.

“Depulso.”

Nothing.

Again. And again. I poured every ounce of will into it, but the rock might as well have been part of the mountain.

“You’re probably just tired,” Seb said gently after my seventh attempt. “Let’s head back.”

I gave a silent nod, unsettled. The magic was gone — but where to?

A few minutes later, the trees thinned, and the shimmering surface of the Black Lake came into view. Beyond it, Hogwarts stood majestic in the morning light. My eyes drifted to Ravenclaw Tower. I imagined my dormmates just now waking up, stretching beneath warm quilts, completely unaware of the night I’d just lived.

“We’re close,” Sebastian said cheerfully. “Just need to pass through Lower Hogsfield and climb up. The Portkey almost worked perfectly.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Almost.”

“We’ll practice more,” he said firmly. “I’ll talk to Ominis today. But for now, you need some sleep.”

“Now?” I scoffed. “History of Magic starts in less than an hour.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” Seb laughed, real warmth in his voice. “I wasn’t even planning to go yesterday. And now….” He shook the bag full of his father’s notes. “I’ve got bigger things to focus on.”

He picked up the pace, practically glowing with renewed purpose.

I followed him slowly, my mind still lingering on the ruins… and the magic now resting somewhere inside me.

We walked briskly, and within ten minutes, the last village houses lay behind us. The lake shimmered ahead, the path winding toward the castle in the distance. My mind wandered, weighing the risk of skipping another History of Magic class. How many would it take before Professor Binns even noticed? After some thought, I had to admit Sebastian was probably right — Binns wouldn’t care if the entire class vanished. He’d just float in and drone on, oblivious to an empty room.

A sudden high-pitched cry broke through my thoughts, followed by the unmistakable sounds of a struggle near the water. Seb and I exchanged sharp glances, drew our wands, and sprinted toward the commotion.

By the lake’s edge, we found Poppy and Highwing tangled in chaos between two massive dugbogs. One had seized the hippogriff’s hind leg and was dragging it toward the water. It might not have managed on its own, but the second dugbog — snapping viciously at Poppy — clearly planned to help. She held it off with a quick toss of a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, a trick I knew she always kept up her sleeve.

The scene was alarming, but not unfamiliar. I’d dealt with dugbogs before and knew how to handle them. As one lunged, tongue lashing out like a whip, I cast Levioso and followed with a sharp Diffindo. The spell struck true, silencing the beast instantly. At the same moment, a green beam streaked past me, hitting the second dugbog square in the chest. It collapsed, lifeless.

I hadn’t caught Sebastian’s incantation — but I didn’t need to. There weren’t many spells that left a glow like that.

Poppy, meanwhile, was crawling through the grass, frantically searching for her wand. Highwing, sensing freedom, sprang into the air with a snort and a beat of great wings.

“What was that just now?” I asked, glancing over at Sebastian. His expression was unreadable.

“It all happened so fast,” Poppy said, her voice shaky as she sank onto the ground to catch her breath. “I just came to gather some fresh clover for Gerald. Then they appeared out of nowhere. Highwing panicked and knocked the wand from my hand.”

She finally spotted it behind her, brushed off the sand, and slipped it back into her robes.

“Thank you,” she added quietly. “I don’t even want to think about how that could’ve ended.”

“Always happy to help,” Sebastian said, managing a bright, too-innocent smile. “But now that the danger’s past, I really must be going. Things to do.”

I shot him a pointed look, but said nothing. He avoided my gaze — no doubt wanting to dodge the obvious question about using a Killing Curse. His silence said everything. Clutching his bag of notes tightly, he turned and strode off toward the castle.

I watched him disappear into the distance before turning back to Poppy.

“Be careful,” I said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s getting dangerous out here.”

“Yeah…” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “Something strange is going on with magical creatures lately. They’re acting more aggressive than ever.”

“Maybe we should head back to the castle?” I suggested, not wanting to leave her alone.

“In a minute,” she said vaguely. “I still need to collect that clover.”

“It’s nearly winter,” I said, scanning the barren lakeside. “Where are you going to find any?”

Poppy just smiled. She whispered a charm I didn’t recognize, and suddenly, a few brittle plants at our feet straightened up, green and vibrant once more. As they began to bloom, she gathered the clover quickly, repeating the spell a few more times until her pouch was full.

“That’s so Poppy,” I thought. “Risking her life for a puffskein”. But aloud, I only asked:

“What’s that spell?”

“Blooming Charm,” she said proudly. “My grandmother created it, actually. But… why were you and Sebastian….”

“Will you teach me?” I interrupted. I didn’t really need the spell, but I wasn’t ready to talk about Sebastian just yet.

“Of course!” she said, brightening. She explained the charm, and within minutes, I was reviving a few flowers myself, their petals unfurling beside the lake.

“You’re a natural,” Poppy said, impressed, as she tucked a few more treats into her pouch for Gerald. We began walking back toward the castle, chatting about classes and homework.

“If only Ancient Magic were that simple,” I thought, watching the ripples glide across the lake’s surface.

As we passed the gamekeeper’s hut — the one where I’d taken shelter with Ominis during a storm not long ago — I remembered we were supposed to meet after lunch.

How much was I ready to tell him?

I wasn’t sure. But one thing I was certain of:
There would be no History of Magic today. I needed rest.


Chapter Text

I found myself standing in an unfamiliar place, shrouded in silvery mist. Fog curled low over the ground, and the occasional snowflake drifted down to settle on my shoulders, glittering in the moonlight. I looked up — there he was. Ominis stood a short distance ahead, his sightless eyes turned toward the sky.

I tried to call out to him, but my voice refused to cooperate.

Before I could panic, he took a few steps closer. His expression was unreadable — cold, focused.

“We need to go that way,” he said, gesturing behind me.

Only then did I realize I was standing at the edge of an abyss. It was utterly black, bottomless, and impenetrable.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” I whispered. But strangely, I couldn’t hear my own voice.

“So am I,” he replied, his tone calm. “But I’ve lived in it all my life.”

I reached for his hand, gripping it tightly, my eyes fixed on the terrifying void ahead.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, leaning in, his hands settling on my shoulders.

I nodded — what else could I do? His touch, usually cool and comforting, sparked now with something electric. He held me differently this time — bolder, more certain, more… intimate. I rose onto my toes as if it were second nature, and our lips met.

Then I jolted upright in bed.

My heart thundered in my chest, as if I’d just played a full Quidditch match. Sunlight streamed through the window, and the clock read ten — I’d barely managed an hour of sleep.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I tried to anchor myself in the present. My eyes wandered the walls, searching for something to latch onto, but the vivid memory of the dream clung to me. Every time I blinked, I saw his face. I could still taste the kiss. The confusion made it hard to think straight.

Sleep was out of the question. I dressed quickly and slipped out toward the Undercroft. The first lesson of the day was still underway, and I hoped to find Sebastian before anyone else noticed I was gone.

But I hadn’t expected to meet Samantha Dale in the common room. We exchanged a quiet hello — her words were clipped, distracted. She mentioned urgent family matters, offering no details. I didn’t pry, but the worry in her eyes said enough.

Later, in the hidden passage between floors, I nearly collided with Garreth Weasley. He was muttering darkly to himself, and in the flickering torchlight, he didn’t see me coming.

“Watch it! You’re not the only one using this passage,” I snapped, rubbing my sore shoulder.

“Sorry,” Garreth said quickly, throwing up his hands. “I’m just — my aunt’s treachery is beyond belief.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“I’ve been banned from the potion shop in Hogsmeade,” he huffed, sounding deeply offended. “Mr. Pippin personally kicked me out and told me never to come back.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re sure this isn’t because of that time you smashed your Incendiary Potion vial on his floor?”

Garreth rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation, muttered something under his breath, and stormed off without so much as a backward glance.

When I finally reached the gates of the Undercroft and slipped inside, I was met with an unexpected sight — Sebastian was already there, and so was Ominis. Both were hunched over their books, completely absorbed. I brushed aside a flicker of awkwardness and offered a casual, “Good morning,” before adding with a smirk, “I wonder if anyone actually made it to History of Magic today?”

“Don’t worry, Amit and Natty are definitely there — I’d bet on it,” Sebastian replied with a chuckle, rifling through a stack of his father’s notes spread across the table.

Ominis, meanwhile, sat in the armchair I’d conjured, poring over a book — one I recognized, to my surprise, as Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook. His jaw twitched repeatedly, like he was resisting the urge to hurl it across the room.

“This is the most revolting book I’ve ever read,” he muttered, turning a page as if it offended him.

“You haven’t even cracked open Secrets of the Darkest Art,” Sebastian said with a dry chuckle. “One chapter on Horcruxes and you’ll want to boil your eyes.”

“Well,” Ominis replied sharply, “at least some dark rituals weren’t invented by my ancestors. That’s a relief.”

“Why are you reading it at all?” I asked, lowering myself onto a battered crate nearby.

“We were talking about Ancient Magic,” Ominis said, a little vaguely. “And since Sebastian thinks Legilimency might help, I want to learn everything we can access about your special ability.”

"You want Ominis to enter my mind? Are you sure?” I shot Sebastian a pointed look. Surely, he didn’t want his friend sifting through every detail of our recent escapades. And as for my thoughts — especially the ones from this morning — there were things I definitely didn’t want anyone seeing.

“Relax,” Sebastian said with a grin. “He’s a gentleman. He uses non-invasive Legilimency — you’ll love it.”

Ominis let out a loud, exaggerated sigh but said nothing.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I said quickly, checking the time. “We’ve still got two joint classes — and detention afterward.”

“I’ll explain more in the evening,” Ominis added quietly, snapping the book shut with finality.

“Brilliant. Keep me in the loop,” Sebastian murmured, not really listening. He was bent over a thick brown journal, the same one he’d pulled from the stash yesterday. I watched as he traced the inked lines with a fingertip, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Why didn’t you start with that notebook?” I asked, nodding toward a black-covered one labeled Acromantulas, half-buried beneath a pile of parchment.

“I need to work something out first,” he said, not looking up. “I’ll tell you everything — once I understand it myself.”

I had just reached the door when Sebastian caught up to me.

“Don’t make any plans for tomorrow night,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Ominis wasn’t listening. “I’m fairly sure we’ll be going after the final triptych piece. I just need to double-check the maps.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” I said, with a warning edge in my voice.

Sebastian snorted softly, completely unfazed. He clearly wasn’t afraid of my temper.

***
After lunch in Potions class, the three of us sat together again. Ominis and I handed in the written assignment we’d toiled over the night before, and we spent the rest of the lesson brewing a Calming Balm — almost as if Professor Sharp had planned the practical to hammer the knowledge in one last time.

Unsurprisingly, Ominis (with a bit of my assistance) and I produced excellent results. Sebastian’s potion, however, turned out a shade too dark and slightly too thick. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered — his mind was clearly elsewhere, lost in the puzzle of his father’s notes.

Near the end of the lesson, as usual, Professor Sharp emerged from his office to collect the samples. His gaze swept the room, briefly pausing at the workstation we’d used last time. Then, spotting Ominis and me at a different table, he raised a single brow.

“I strongly encourage each of you to choose a permanent workstation and not drift around the classroom,” he said to the whole room, though his eyes locked pointedly with mine.

Then, in a tone as dry as over-steeped tea, he reminded us that Mr. Gaunt and I were expected to serve detention after class. We both nodded without protest.

I felt a prickling sensation between my shoulder blades — someone was staring. I turned and, sure enough, caught Leander Prewett grinning like he’d just bested a troll in chess.

“What’s his problem?” Sebastian followed my line of sight and frowned toward the Gryffindor table.

“It’s… complicated,” I sighed. “But somehow, Leander’s convinced we’re to blame for his romantic misfortunes.”

I flicked a glance at Imelda, who was working alone today and looking entirely unbothered.

“He got that jinx from Ominis because of it?” Seb asked, half-smirking.

“Exactly,” Ominis murmured, sealing the vial with his potion. “And if he keeps it up, he’ll get another.”

Sebastian cracked his knuckles with theatrical flair. “Allow me,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I’m in the mood today.”

The last class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sebastian and Ominis headed for the Undercroft during the break — it was just around the corner from the classroom — while I wandered upstairs, craving a moment alone.

I paused by a tall, carved window in the corridor and watched the first snowflakes swirl on the wind. Soon, the entire courtyard would be blanketed in white — winter had finally arrived. The sight tugged something inside me, pulling my thoughts back to that dream. I turned away from the window, cheeks warming with embarrassment, only to bump straight into a very gloomy-looking Garreth Weasley.

“How are you?” I asked, startled by his drawn, almost hollow expression.

“My aunt has officially declared war,” Garreth muttered darkly. “And now she’s started destroying my potion supplies.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“That’s why I’ve decided to give up. All of it.” He let his arms fall limply. “Potions, experimenting… pointless, really.” He reached into his bag. “Here. I’m giving away the last of it. Would you like an Incendiary Potion? The Hangover elixirs disappeared first — this is all I’ve got left.”

He handed me two vials of shimmering orange liquid. I took them out of sympathy more than anything else, murmured a quiet thanks, and tucked them into my robe pocket. I knew this potion hadn’t been meant to explode — its destructive side effects had been discovered entirely by accident.

Garreth beamed at me as if I’d just validated his entire existence. I promised myself, silently and immediately, that I’d throw them out the first chance I got.

We walked up to the classroom together. To my surprise, Ominis and Sebastian caught up with us not long after — both looking decidedly grim, like they’d just had an argument.

“When do they even find the time for that?” I wondered. It had been barely fifteen minutes since the last class ended.

The corridor outside the classroom was crowded; the door was still locked. Students huddled together, chatting, their breath fogging in the cold air. The swirling snow outside had everyone thinking about Christmas.

“I’ve already chosen a gown for the ball,” Adelaide said airily, giving Lenora a gentle pat on the shoulder — her hand fully healed now. “But there’s still plenty of time to decide.”

“What ball?” I asked under my breath, glancing at Ominis and Sebastian.

“Oh, right — you’re new,” Sebastian said, tapping his forehead. “Our oh-so-generous Headmaster hosts a Christmas Ball every year for the upper years. House colors, musicians, the works.”

“The House with the most points gets their colors displayed in the Great Hall,” Ominis added, sounding only mildly invested. “Black’s idea of motivation.”

“And it actually works,” Imelda chimed in behind us, clearly listening in.

“I thought the Yule Ball was the thing?” I asked, squinting slightly as I tried to recall a passage from Hogwarts: A History.

“That only happens during the Triwizard Tournament,” Ominis said with a small shrug. “But honestly? Not much difference.”

Footsteps echoed up the staircase — Leander Prewett, predictably late, and looking confused to find the rest of us still waiting in the hall. And that was precisely when Sebastian made his move. He nudged me gently in the ribs and turned, all charm.

“Imelda, my dear,” he said with a grin that could melt frost, “would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Christmas Ball?”

Imelda blinked in surprise and, oddly, looked at me — as if seeking my approval. I managed a small, amused smile. Seemingly reassured, she gave Sebastian a gracious nod. His attention had clearly made her day.

“You’d better doublecheck with his girlfriend before making plans,” Leander sneered, looking directly at me. His tone dripped with bitterness.

Sebastian’s smirk widened in triumph.

“I’d be careful, Prewett,” Ominis said softly, almost pleasantly. “There’s still a long list of hexes we’ve yet to try out on you.”

Amit let out a surprised giggle, earning a thunderous glare from Leander. But before anyone could throw a curse — or a punch — Professor Hecat appeared at the top of the stairs, striding toward us with a stern-faced man in tow. Something about him — the way he held himself, the tension in his jaw — reminded me uncomfortably of Solomon Sallow. Professor Hecat unlocked the door with a flick of her wand, and we filed silently into the classroom, each of us sensing something unusual in the air. We took our seats quickly, exchanging uneasy glances as we waited for an explanation.

“Today’s lesson will be a special one,” she began, her tone uncharacteristically solemn. “We’ll be discussing the Unforgivable Curses — a topic as complex as it is controversial. And to help us understand the true cost of such magic, I’ve invited someone who knows it firsthand: Auror Thaddeus Flint.”

The grim-faced guest gave a curt nod, then stepped forward and launched into his stories — grueling tales of duels with dark wizards, of missions gone wrong, of lives lost. Each account painted the Unforgivables as something far more terrifying than just words in a textbook.

But despite the horror, it all still felt strangely distant… until Poppy Sweeting stood up.

“Mr. Flint,” she said clearly, chin high, “many spells can be deadly if used with enough force. Take Diffindo, for example. In the wrong hands, it can kill. Brutally. So what makes it fundamentally different from the Killing Curse?”

My heart stuttered.

She saw everything.

“That’s an excellent question,” the Auror replied, giving her an approving nod. “You’re absolutely right — any spell can be turned into a weapon. But the Unforgivable Curses? They’re different.

He began to pace the classroom slowly, his voice steady but intense.

“First, there’s the matter of purpose. You can trim a hedge with Diffindo. But Avada Kedavra? It exists for one reason only — to kill. And it’s not just the incantation that makes it dangerous. To cast it successfully, a wizard must mean it. Truly mean it. That kind of magic doesn’t just require power — it demands something monstrous from within. And the more you use it, the more it takes. Quietly. Steadily. It changes you. Warps you. Even the finest Aurors have fallen that way — corrupted before they ever realized they were lost.”

“He’s talking about my uncle,” Sebastian whispered beside me, far too calm for my liking. Poppy’s question hadn’t fazed him at all.

The lesson ended shortly after, with the teacher assigning an essay on one of the Unforgivable Curses — our choice — and a final warning from Auror Flint: if we ever encountered Dark magic, we were to report it immediately to the Ministry.

The moment we were dismissed, Ominis bolted from the room like something had scalded him. I didn’t blame him. The lesson had dragged too many things to the surface, and I wasn’t exactly feeling steady myself.

Leander, as if on cue, managed to trip and smack his head on the doorframe — right in front of Imelda.

“Nonverbal spellwork again?” I muttered, glancing at Sebastian.

He nodded, smug. “In case you forgot — playing dirty is my special talent.”

I caught his sleeve as he moved to leave.

“Aren’t you even slightly worried Poppy will say something?”

Sebastian shrugged. “She didn’t see anything. She’s guessing. And besides, she owes us.”

“Wish I had your confidence,” I murmured, casting a quick glance toward the front of the room. Professor Hecat and Auror Flint were still deep in conversation.

“I’d love to stay and worry,” Seb said cheerfully, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “but I’ve got a thrilling evening of cryptic journal entries waiting.”

And with that, he disappeared down the stairs.

I remained frozen, Flint’s words echoing in my head.

It changes you. Warps you…

Corrupted before they realized…

Could I say the same was happening to me?

Probably.

Something inside me had shifted — subtly, but undeniably — since I first cast Crucio in the Scriptorium. And I didn’t like what that meant. Not one bit.

I squared my shoulders, pushing the thoughts down as I turned toward the dungeon stairs. Time to get this bloody detention over with.

I caught up to Ominis right at the entrance to the dungeons. He looked tense, his frame drawn tight.

“How are you feeling?” I asked gently, giving his arm a light pat.

He flinched — startled, almost grabbing my hand before stopping himself just in time.

“It’s been a surprisingly rough day,” he said, inhaling slowly through his nose. “And it started so well… until I realized Sebastian hadn’t slept in the dorm again.”

“I can tell it’s weighing on you.”

“Not so much upsetting as… draining,” Ominis muttered, shaking his head. “You know, half the stories we heard today involved my family or my father’s circle. And then Sebastian…”

He trailed off, waving a hand in frustration like he couldn’t even put it into words.

“I noticed you two had been arguing before class,” I said, watching him carefully.

“He told me about last night,” Ominis replied, his tone low and dark. “And I know the man who sold him that Portkey. He’s bad news. But of course, Sebastian doesn’t care who he gets involved with — as long as they’re not goblins.”

I stayed silent. He was right, and I didn’t feel like making excuses.

“He’s recklessly compromising your safety,” Ominis added, quieter. And that, clearly, was the part that truly bothered him.

“But we found his father’s notes,” I offered weakly. “Isn’t that something?”

“I don’t know,” Ominis said with a shrug. “I can’t read Scots Gaelic, but I doubt Professor Sallow was much more cautious than his son.”

“Did you ever meet him?” I asked softly, slowing my pace.

“Once,” Ominis said after a pause. “My mother dragged me to one of his public lectures — something about poisons and bloodline curses. I barely remember. She never gave up trying to cure me. Tried every avenue.”

His voice softened, and I smiled faintly, imagining a tiny, sleepy Ominis fidgeting through a dark academic speech on blood magic.

We walked the next few corridors in silence until we reached the Potions classroom and knocked. Professor Sharp answered almost immediately, already prepared.

“The most predictable punishment of all,” I thought indifferently as Sharp announced it — scrubbing cauldrons after the first-year class. Without magic, of course.

He took my wand without hesitation but faltered when it came to Ominis. Clearly uncomfortable, he clenched and unclenched his fists before saying stiffly, “No wand usage for cleaning, Mr. Gaunt. But you may keep it.”

Ominis nodded politely, clearly amused at Sharp’s discomfort. The professor informed me I could retrieve my wand at dinner in the Great Hall, then left us to it.

Then, we got to work. Unlike Sebastian or me, Ominis had an actual conscience — and he was genuinely trying to scrub the scorched bottoms of the cauldrons. But the harder he worked, the dirtier they seemed to get.

“Is this your first punishment?” I asked, watching his awkward scrubbing with a grin.

“Not the first in my life,” he said, sighing. “But the first at Hogwarts. Definitely better than a dead snake nailed to my bedroom door by my dear brother.”

“What? Why?”

“It wasn’t just a snake,” Ominis said softly. “He was my friend. I saved him once — he used to live in the yard of my family’s estate.”

I froze. “You’re serious?”

Ominis tilted his head slightly. “I know it sounds strange. But don’t forget — I’m a Parselmouth. However, it didn’t help me save him a second time.”

“Why would your brother do something so cruel?”

“I took our family ring,” he said, his voice flat now. “Without permission. Our father had just given it to Marvolo for his coming of age, all very ceremonial.”

“Why couldn’t you touch it?”

Ominis stopped scrubbing. “Because that ring — along with Slytherin’s locket — is worth more than my pathetic life.”

He said it with a bitter smile. “That’s a direct quote from my father.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Every time he spoke of his family, it seemed to bleed hurt he kept stitched tightly beneath his calm exterior.

“I thought I was going mad,” he whispered, dropping his rag. “But I swear I heard my mother’s voice calling me from the ring. That’s why I took it.”

“You know what?” I said softly, putting aside my cauldron. “Let’s take a short break.”

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle crackle of torches along the stone walls. I realized how easy it was to be quiet around Ominis. With most people, silence felt awkward — something to fill. But with him, it felt like we were sharing something deeper than words. I really appreciated that about him.

“I promised I’d tell you more,” Ominis said at last, breaking the quiet, “about possible ways to harness your Ancient Magic.”

“You mean Legilimency?” I asked uncertainly.

He gave me a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. There’s a big difference between prying into someone’s secrets and having a private mental conversation,” he said calmly. “There are advanced techniques that let us communicate silently — especially useful when we need to talk in public without being overheard.”

“Now that sounds interesting,” I said, lifting my gaze.

“I can try to speak to you through your mind, and you can answer me the same way,” he continued gently. “But I won’t hear anything you don’t want me to.”

“How have I never heard of this before? It sounds incredibly useful.” I smiled, genuinely intrigued.

“It’s a rare ability,” Ominis said with quiet pride. “Aunt Noctua taught me how to do it. It was our way of surviving family gatherings.”

“What about Sebastian?” I asked, eyeing him curiously.

“I can speak to him, but he never learned the technique himself,” Ominis said with a slight smirk. “Not exactly his style.”

“So it’s basically telepathy?” I mused.

“As long as we’re close enough,” he added, a touch sheepish. “From here, I doubt I could reach Sebastian’s thoughts.”

“Got it,” I said, shifting in place, eager to try.

“I hope it helps you connect with your Ancient Magic,” he said softly. “But I can’t make any promises.”

“Let’s give it a go,” I said, glancing dismissively at the half-scrubbed cauldron beside me.

“Are you sure we should be doing this here?” Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to appeal to my better judgment.

“One try won’t hurt,” I waved him off. “Then we’ll get back to work.”

He didn’t argue. Lifting his wand, he gave the faintest flick, without uttering a word.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

A strange, distant sensation washed over me — like a voice trying to reach me through a wall of water. The sound echoed in my mind, warped and muffled, then slowly faded away.

“I think I sensed your Ancient Magic almost instantly,” Ominis said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “It’s guarding your thoughts. That’s why I can’t hear you clearly. But if you focus, you might be able to sense it yourself.”

“Let’s try again,” I said quietly, shutting my eyes tight.

This time, as Ominis tried to reach my thoughts, I became aware of a pliable wall surrounding my mind. It was flexible, yet firm — an instinctive barrier, humming with the familiar energy of Ancient Magic. I realized then just how much of it I carried. It wasn’t just a gift — it was a shield, guarding me from intrusion. Somehow it hadn’t been there the first time I practiced with Sebastian.

“Try to take control of that energy,” Ominis said aloud, still gently pushing at my mental defences.

I concentrated, willing the barrier to yield. It gave slightly under pressure, then snapped back into place. I tried again — harder — and in a sudden surge, a stream of silvery light burst from my hand, slamming into a large jar behind Ominis.

The jar shattered.

Ominis stood frozen, drenched from head to toe in greenish-brown slime, his breath shallow and eyes wide.

“That was… intense,” he murmured, stunned. “Didn’t expect that kind of result. Especially without a wand.”

He cautiously brushed a few clumps off his sleeve and sniffed with clear suspicion.

“Eye of Newt?”
“Toadspawn,” I winced.
“Have I mentioned I’m hopeless at Potions?” he said stiffly, still holding his arms out like a scarecrow.

I laughed, and on impulse, ran forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“What are you doing?” he protested weakly. “I’m covered in sludge.”

“Fair’s fair,” I said cheerfully, squeezing tighter. “I’m the one who splattered you.”

He gave in, smiling despite himself, and returned the hug. Through the damp fabric of his robe, I could hear the steady, calm beat of his heart. He felt safe with me — and I knew he appreciated the ridiculousness of the moment. That made me oddly happy.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “It’s so much nicer practicing this with you.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, letting go at last. “Try to find that power again sometime — without my help.”

“I will,” I nodded, glancing at the rows of cauldrons.

Every one we’d managed to clean was now dirty again.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Ominis asked, raising his wand.

With one flick, the cauldrons gleamed. With another, our robes were spotless.

“That’s cheating,” I said, mock-scandalized.

“We’ve done enough honest work for one day,” he replied, eyes twinkling.

We left the classroom in much better spirits — only to nearly collide with Auror Flint and Professor Sharp, walking down the corridor deep in conversation. I couldn’t hear all of it, but the word “goblins” stood out. Flint’s gaze drifted to me and lingered a second too long. Unease crept up my spine.

Once they were gone, I turned to Ominis.

There was something I needed to confess. Something I wasn’t proud of.

“Ominis,” I began in a low voice, “I promised to be honest with you. Yesterday… I learned the Imperius Curse.”

He didn’t react at first. Just inhaled slowly, the muscles in his jaw tightening. A deep crease formed between his brows, but his expression remained unreadable.

“And did you like it?” he asked quietly, his voice flat and unreadable.

I hesitated only for a moment.

“At first… yes,” I admitted. “But after today’s lesson, I’m starting to question it.”

Ominis lowered his head, arms crossed. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Maybe one day,” he said wearily, “you’ll have to use it — to stop me from wringing Sebastian’s neck.”

He opened the next door as we made our way to the Great Hall, his expression unreadable but the weight of his words hanging in the air. Despite the hint of humour in his voice, it was clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

Chapter Text

The weekend began rather quietly. Overnight, most of the snow had melted away, only to return by Saturday morning in a delicate flurry, dusting the grounds with a thin lace of white. Every fireplace in the castle roared to life, working tirelessly to chase off the cold and wrap the halls in a comforting warmth.

I was still lazily stretching beneath my blankets when Sebastian’s owl arrived, tapping at the window with a note tied to its leg. Its dark silhouette stood out starkly against the snow-flecked glass. As I opened the window and untied the parchment, I felt oddly grateful to be alone. The sideways glances were becoming tiresome. It seemed everyone had something to whisper, even Professor Weasley, who, I was fairly sure, had been watching me more closely since I started spending time with the Slytherins. Perhaps she suspected Professor Fig had entangled us all in something dangerous. In truth, the Keepers’ trials were the least hazardous thing I’d faced recently.

I shuffled over to the fire and opened the envelope. As usual, there was no greeting, no explanation — just a set of coordinates and a meeting time. This evening. Just as he’d promised.

With a sigh, I let the parchment fall onto the bed. Everything on the surface seemed the same, but something in me had shifted. Maybe it was an unusual anticipation — or perhaps the start of something more. Either way, the day promised to be interesting.

After a quick lunch, I made my way to the Room of Requirement. I’d promised Ominis I’d practice wielding Ancient Magic, and I meant to keep that promise. Thanks to yesterday’s Legilimency session, I was already doing better than expected — I could now locate the magic’s source within my mind. That was progress. But channeling it? That was another matter entirely.

I tried threading it through spells, casting at various objects scattered throughout the room. It only worked twice — and both times, it fueled only damaging spells. I was beginning to suspect that Ancient Magic was, by nature, aggressive, no matter what the old texts said about its broader applications. Still, the final piece of Isidora’s triptych might offer some answers.

Time slipped away as I practiced. By the time I burst out of the room and jumped on my broomstick, I knew I was going to be late. All I could do was hope Sebastian wouldn’t rush into anything reckless without me.

When I landed with a graceless thud near Marunweem Lake, I felt a rush of relief at the sight of him — alive, unharmed, and very much deep in thought. He stood beneath a tree, motionless, staring off to the north with his hand pressed to his chin.

As I approached, he didn’t turn, only muttered through clenched teeth, “They must be nesting somewhere nearby…”

Acromantulas. Of course. Even with everything we’d uncovered about his family, curing Anne was still his top priority. I opened my mouth to reply, but Sebastian suddenly turned to face me and blurted out:

“Before you say anything… I’ve thought about what happened, and I admit it — using the Killing Curse was too much.”

I met his gaze. There wasn’t true remorse in his eyes, but there was something — something close. Regret, perhaps. And that was more than I’d expected.

“What made you even think of that?”

“I noticed Poppy was looking for her wand and hadn’t seen me…” He bit his lip. “And I’d been reading about the spell in Slytherin’s spellbook the night before. It just… happened. Instinct.”

“You know what that could’ve led to.” My voice was flat. Not angry — just tired.

“Exactly why I’m promising it won’t happen again,” he said, unusually serious. “Can we consider it behind us?”

“We can,” I nodded, though not without hesitation. With that, Sebastian turned and began walking along the path that wound around the lake. We moved in silence for a few minutes, the snow crunching softly beneath our feet, until — unsurprisingly — he broke it.

“Did you like my surprise yesterday?” he asked, a smug tone creeping into his voice as if the earlier conversation had never happened.

“What surprise?”

“Fewer people think we’re a couple now,” he said with a sly grin. “Had to ask Imelda to the ball and everything — took one for the team. You’re welcome.”

“And Leander’s ready to hex you into next week,” I added dryly.

“Another delightful bonus, isn’t it?” He laughed, clearly proud of himself.

“You would know best,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

Ahead, a small goblin camp came into view. Thin grey smoke drifted lazily from a dying fire, but no voices reached us. The place felt… emptied.

“Still,” Sebastian added, suddenly adopting a mockingly tender tone, “know that, no matter what, my heart is forever yours.”

He dropped his gaze sheepishly as our eyes met.

“No promises I’ll wait,” I smirked, savoring my small but satisfying victory in our ongoing unspoken battle of glances.

We stepped into the camp, but it was deserted — abandoned recently, by the look of it. I peered into a tent, found nothing of note, and followed Sebastian as he continued down the path.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk about,” he said, and the mood shifted again, more serious now. “My father’s notes.”

“You found something on the Acromantulas?”

“Not quite…” He hesitated. “There were a few short entries, but he never encountered them himself. He got venom from someone else — probably a poacher.”

“Too bad you didn’t find anything more useful,” I said lightly, though in truth, I was thinking how unsurprising it was. Seb’s moral flexibility clearly ran in the family.

“That’s not the important bit,” he waved it off, as we followed the path skirting a tall, impassable cliff. I idly collected a few moonstones while he went on. “I think I figured out what that closed hearing was about — the one my mother was called to as a witness.”

“And what was it?” I looked over at him — and saw, to my surprise, embarrassment in his eyes.

“He did a lot of work with venoms,” Sebastian began, voice low. “His notes were a mess, but I’m almost certain he had a basilisk hatchling in his lab.”

I stared at him. “A basilisk? As in, deadly-serpent-kills-with-a-look kind of basilisk?”

Sebastian nodded, swallowing hard. “Young ones don’t kill with a glance — at least, not right away. But they’re still venomous. Oh, and Acromantulas absolutely terrified of them. Even more than fire,” he added, briefly veering off track. “But anyway — back to the point. The hatchling escaped. Into the Muggle village we were living in at the time.”

“You’re joking,” I said, though I already knew he wasn’t. A chill ran down my spine. “Professor Sallow always struck me as a bit… careless.”

“He was more than that,” Seb said quietly. “If he’d been more considerate, Anne and I wouldn’t have been born so soon after he left school.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to ask more. Another part was afraid to hear the rest.

“One of the local muggles stumbled across the basilisk,” Sebastian continued. “And didn’t survive.”

I’d expected that. We stopped walking. I reached out and gave Seb’s shoulder a gentle pat.

“Did your father write about it in his journals?”

“Not everything,” he said, shaking his head. “But some notes, yes. Enough to piece it together. And I think — it was mum who reported him to the Ministry. That’s probably what the hearing was really about.”

He started walking again, and I fell in step beside him. We were nearing the second camp, but it too was silent, still — eerily so. From the lack of movement and the cold ashes in the firepit, it was clear: this place had been abandoned too.

“I found a few notes saying there were Dark wizards in the Ministry who wanted to buy the results of my father’s research,” Sebastian added shortly, stepping boldly over the camp’s boundary as if danger was a thing that happened to other people.

“Don’t be so quick to assume he agreed,” I said gently, eyes scanning the quiet surroundings. A goblin’s enchanted pickaxe tapped rhythmically at the rock nearby, but there wasn’t a goblin in sight. We slipped into a narrow pass between the cliffs and pressed on.

“I’m afraid I’ve got good reason to think he might have,” Sebastian said after a pause. He rummaged through his robes and pulled out a crumpled, yellowed piece of parchment. I took it carefully and unfolded it. The letter was short, the handwriting rough and heavy, each word etched into the paper like a warning.

Dear Brother,

I can no longer stand by and watch the chaos you’re creating at the Ministry. You’re putting yourself, your family, and your reputation at serious risk. I urge you to cut ties with that person immediately, or I will have no choice but to take action.

Solomon

“The Ministry wasn’t exactly rushing to fund his work…” Sebastian said, almost defensively, when I glanced at him. “I fear he found the money somewhere else.”

I studied the parchment again, frowning. Something didn’t sit right. Why would Professor Sallow keep a letter like this in the vault? What could possibly make it worth hiding? I turned it over and spotted a faint scribble in graphite on the back — just a street and a house number, nearly erased by time. The handwriting didn’t match Solomon’s.

“Was this written by one of your parents?” I asked.

Sebastian peered at the scrawl, squinting.
“Definitely not my father’s,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe my mum’s… Do you think it’s a clue?”

“If only we knew where it was,” I said slowly. “It might lead us to more answers.”

“I was in Feldcroft this morning,” Sebastian said grimly. “Tried to coax more out of my uncle.”

“And?”

“He was his usual charming self,” Seb huffed. “Yelled at me and threw me out.”

“Yeah… not exactly helpful,” I said with a small sigh.

We kept moving, the narrow passage hemming us in on both sides. I felt a pang of sympathy for Sebastian, but I wasn’t sure this hunt through his father’s past was helping him. Some secrets were better left where they lay. Still, it did explain why Solomon had used his brother’s name instead of a choice insult — they clearly hadn’t gotten along.

“Look,” Sebastian said, pointing to a crevice overgrown with weeds.

Without waiting, he stepped off the path and cleared the way with a quick spell, slipping into the darkness beyond and motioning for me to follow. The short trail opened onto a broad cliffside ledge, where thestrals were nesting. A mother and her foal stirred uneasily as we approached.

Sebastian watched them quietly, a softness in his expression that didn’t match his usual easy charm.

“I’m sorry we can both see thestrals,” I whispered.

“Certainly not something I’d hoped we’d have in common,” he replied, offering a faint half-smile that didn’t quite hide the sorrow behind it.

I stepped up to the edge of the cliff. In daylight, the view of the lake must have been stunning. But now, under the dim silver glow of moonlight, the landscape was shadowed and still. Behind us, the thestrals settled again, curling up in their nest as if they sensed the danger had passed. Sebastian stood nearby, gazing out toward the black horizon. A single firefly drifted past his shoulder — pausing, hovering — before darting into the darkness as if looking for something it had lost.

“We haven’t had any luck with the Acromantulas so far,” Sebastian said softly. “So I’m pinning all my hopes on Ancient Magic now. I really hope today brings something new.”

In response, I told him about my most recent attempts to harness my ability. His reaction was pure delight.

“Please, show me!” he said eagerly, his eyes wide, full of that pleading puppy-dog look he used far too effectively.

“The problem is,” I said cautiously, “so far I can only channel it into destructive spells. And if I end up blowing up half this cliff, every goblin in the region will know exactly where we are.”

“I’ve already handled everyone who was outside,” he said offhandedly, not meeting my gaze.

“So it was you,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “Do you have any instinct for self-preservation?”

“You were late,” he shrugged. “And I got bored waiting.”

I huffed a laugh, despite myself, and raised my wand. I didn’t want to frighten the thestrals, so I decided to try something gentler. I focused on the trampled, lifeless ground in front of us. A spell came to mind — something I’d recently learned — and I whispered the incantation, pouring every drop of Ancient Magic I could summon into the cast.

To my amazement, the spell bloomed to life more powerfully than anything I’d conjured before. The rocky cliffside burst into green, fresh grass unfurling over the stone like a blanket, and wild purple thistles sprang up in clusters, swaying gently in the winter breeze. They must’ve once grown here, long ago, before the soil gave way to dust and rock.

Sebastian stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by summer in the heart of winter, staring in open wonder. The thestrals stirred, then took to the air in a flurry of wings.

I lowered my wand, heart pounding. My hand trembled. The Ancient Magic still pulsed through me — wild, alive — and it wasn’t done.

Within seconds, the green began to burn.

Flames leapt from the grass, devouring the flowers as if my magic had simply shifted direction without asking permission. I fought for control, heart racing, until Sebastian jumped in to help. Together, we smothered the fire quickly, and the thestrals’ nest remained untouched — but I was shaken.

Even the gentlest spell had turned to destruction in my hands.

“That was incredible,” Sebastian said, his face lit by flickering embers. He doused the last of the fire with a wave of his wand. “You’re progressing fast.”

“That’s… not what I expected,” I said breathlessly. “We should go.”

I tried again to connect with the source of Ancient Magic within me — but it felt drained, sluggish, almost silent. Whatever I’d drawn from before had vanished, and I could already tell: I’d need another dose if I wanted to keep training.

Sebastian walked quietly beside me, but the grin on his face said it all. As we made our way back to the main path, he spotted a tiny flower sprouting from the scorched earth — a lone survivor of the blaze. With careful hands, he bent down and plucked it, avoiding the sharp thorns on its leaves. He turned it thoughtfully between his fingers as we continued on our way.

“You know thistle’s the national flower of Scotland, right?” he said, offering it to me.

I nodded silently and took the flower. The stem was covered in soft, fine spines, and the bloom gave off a faint, summery scent — the kind of garden fragrance that felt warm and timeless. It instantly brought to mind the Potions lesson and the cauldron of Amortentia.

“Keep it,” Sebastian said simply. “Let it remind you of your success today.”

“Was that really a success?” I said with a sigh, though I still tucked the flower carefully into my cloak pocket. My hand brushed something cold — and I froze. I’d completely forgotten about the Incendiary Potion Garreth had handed me yesterday. It had been sitting in my pocket this entire time, miraculously unbroken. Upon contact with air, it would explode like dynamite. The dose Weasley had accidentally smashed in Pippin’s Potions shop was just a tiny aliquot. The one I had was much more dangerous.

We were nearing the center of the cliffs now. I could hear the telltale grunts and creaky voices of goblins gathering up ahead. Sebastian’s eyes lit with mischief and momentum — he looked ready to storm the barricade — but I caught the edge of his cloak just in time.

“Wait,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Let me try something first.”

I pulled out the potion. Sebastian recognized the vial instantly and smirked, stepping aside with a mock bow to let me lead.

I wound my arm back and hurled the vial high over the barricade, aiming for the cluster of voices. The explosion was immediate — a deafening boom that shook dust from the cliff walls, followed by sudden, absolute silence.

We stepped cautiously over the barricade and stopped, stunned.

“Four with one vial?” Sebastian let out a low whistle. “I’ve seriously underestimated Weasley’s brewing skills.”

“Well, if you forget that it was originally meant to be a tonic,” I laughed, carefully stepping over the sprawled goblins. “Here, take the last one. Just don’t drop it.”

I handed him the second vial. Sebastian accepted it like it was made of dragon eggshells and tucked it securely away.

“We’ve definitely got big plans tonight,” he said with a grin, falling into step beside me. “And nothing’s stopping us now.”

***
Recovering the final fragment of the triptych wasn’t easy — but we did it. Unfortunately, it only complicated things further. After seeing how Isidora could literally extract pain from someone, Sebastian became convinced I could do the same for Anne. He clung to the idea like a lifeline, completely forgetting what happened to the beautiful meadow I had conjured — how it had bloomed in seconds and then burned to ash just as quickly.

In the days that followed, I completed another trial from the Keepers. It went well, but they still held back, not yet ready to trust me fully. They offered no new teachings, and Sebastian couldn’t understand why. We didn’t argue, but the air between us felt heavier with each passing day. He spent more time buried in his father’s notes, still trying to decipher the cryptic address scribbled on Solomon’s letter. So far, it had led us nowhere.

Midweek, I met with Ominis in the Room of Requirement to try channeling Ancient Magic into something creative again. As I suspected, there was nothing left to draw from — the well was dry. I’d seen how Isidora replenished her power by siphoning emotions from others, but the memory of her father’s fate made that path feel like a cliff edge. I couldn’t do it. Not to anyone. If I wanted to learn more, I’d have to search the grounds around Hogwarts instead — slower, but safer.

With no new leads and nothing else to try, I turned my attention back to my classes. On Thursday evening, I stayed up late finishing an essay for Professor Hecat on the Imperius Curse. I’d chosen it because, compared to the other Unforgivable Curses, it seemed the most contradictory. Even as I read the horrifying accounts in the books, a small part of me found it… understandable. In certain cases, I reasoned, it might even be justified.

“According to Mr. Flint,” I mused, writing the final sentence, “someone’s soul here is already lost beyond saving.” Still, I didn’t feel inhuman for thinking this way. If anything, I felt more grounded. In my world, the Killing Curse still had no place — and I was determined it never would. My mind wasn’t fully convinced, but I had also banned myself from using the other Unforgivables. Not because I feared for my own soul, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of deceiving Ominis. That, in the end, was enough to stay my hand.

With the essay done, I made my way to the Great Hall. It was late, but there was still time for dinner. Just near the entrance, I spotted Garreth leaning against the wall. He looked uneasy, his eyes darting like he was bracing for bad news.

“Hey,” I greeted softly, stopping beside him with a warm smile. “How’s it going with your aunt?”

“Seems like she’s left me alone,” he said vaguely, avoiding my gaze.

I wanted to cheer him up, so I praised the Incendiary Potion — skipping the part where and how I’d used it. His face lit up, as if I’d sparked a fire in him.

“If you ever need more, just let me know,” he whispered.

“I thought you were done with potion-making,” I teased, crossing my arms as his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I told everyone I was done — just to make sure the rumor reached our Transfiguration professor,” he grinned. “But I’ve got a secret lab on the eighth floor now.”

I shook my head in mock dismay. Now, I’d be sharing the Room of Requirement with Garreth Weasley too. But despite the chaos he often caused, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. He was talented, and, more importantly, he hadn’t given up on what he loved.

“Just make sure you hide well,” I warned. “Professor Weasley walks by often.”

“I know,” he sighed. Then, quieter, he stared at the floor again.

“Something on your mind?” I asked gently.

“I want to ask a girl to the ball,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “But I’m afraid she’s not interested.”

“You’ll never know unless you ask,” I said with a reassuring nod. “Fortune favors the bold — especially in matters like this.”

I gave him a parting wave and stepped into the Great Hall. The magical sky above was gloomy and dark, the tables seemed half-empty. I sat at mine, slightly apart from the others, and scanned the food trays, trying to decide what to eat — letting my thoughts drift, just for a moment, into silence. Then, I heard Ominis’s soft voice in my head.

“Can you hear me?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I answered silently, glancing toward the Slytherin table. Ominis was sitting beside Sebastian, eyes half-closed, his hand resting under his chin.

“Want to join us?” His voice was softer than it ever sounded out loud.

“On my way,” I replied, grabbing my plate and a goblet of pumpkin juice before heading over.

“You’re bold tonight,” Sebastian chuckled as I sat down between them. “Not everyone dares to switch tables under the Headmaster’s nose.”

He nodded toward Professor Black, who was lazily poking at a salad like it had personally offended him. The man seemed completely uninterested in anything that didn’t revolve around himself.

“I was invited,” I said with a smirk, sticking my tongue out playfully before turning to smile at Ominis. Even though he couldn’t see it, he smiled back instinctively.

“Don’t tell me you’re whispering secrets with this telepath again,” Sebastian huffed, clearly a little miffed. “You never let me into your head that easily.”

“If only you could,” I said, scooping roasted vegetables onto my plate while shooting him a pointed look.

“Lucky me — I don’t have to eat dinner with you every day,” he teased, trying to poke at me like always. But I was long immune to Sebastian Sallow’s bait.

“Careful, or I’ll find a way to spend more time with you,” I shot back casually.

“That’s easier than you think,” Ominis cut in with a quiet laugh. “Did you know we’re not just allowed to sit at other house tables — we can even visit different common rooms?”

“Seriously?” Sebastian and I turned to him in unison.

“Feels like I’m the only one who’s actually read the school rules,” Ominis sighed.

“You are,” we confirmed together, and I added quickly, “Then I have to come visit you sometime.”

“Better when no one else is there,” Ominis said softly. “It’s not technically against the rules, but… the other Slytherins probably wouldn’t be thrilled.”

“Obviously,” I snorted, picturing Imelda’s face if she found me lounging in her favorite chair. “So, what’s your password?”

Ominis whispered it directly into my mind. I gave a slight nod in thanks, and Sebastian rolled his eyes — clearly noticing we were back to our private, silent conversations.

Not long after, Sebastian stood and left the Great Hall. I knew he hadn’t stopped searching for new leads. We didn’t talk about Anne much, but it was clear she was always on his mind.

Ominis and I finished our meal slowly, nearly the last ones to leave. The Great Hall felt unusually empty, its vast stone walls echoing the silence as everyone had long since eaten and retreated to their common rooms.

At the staircase where we were supposed to part ways, we paused. Strange muffled sounds drifted down the corridor — screaming and sobbing, tangled together. I peeked around the corner, and there she was: the Grey Lady, ghostly tears glistening as she yelled at the Bloody Baron, as though he were the cause of every pain she’d ever felt — in life and in death.

“Never!” she cried again and again. “Never try to speak to me. About anything — and especially not such nonsense.”

The Bloody Baron said nothing. He simply bowed his head and watched her disappear through a wall, then floated off through the opposite one with a long, heavy sigh.

I turned to Ominis, startled. “Do you know what just happened?”

“The Bloody Baron tried to invite her to the Headless Hunt’s ball,” he replied, completely unfazed. “And I warned him it was a bad idea.”

“You’re friends?” I blinked in disbelief. “And there are ghost parties?”

“Well, he’s very grumpy, but has a soft spot for Slytherin’s descendants,” Ominis said with a calm nod. “And the event is quite real — they rehearse daily for various occasions. I’m surprised you haven’t stumbled upon their ethereal music hall yet.”

“I’ve never heard of it…” I said with great interest, unable to picture it clearly.

“It’s near my common room,” he said, turning toward me and straightening slightly. “I can take you there whenever you’d like.”

“Thanks,” I replied, ready to follow. “If you have time, I wouldn’t mind going now.”

Ominis nodded, and together we headed down into the winding dungeons, where not a single ray of sunlight ever reached. The cold grey stones echoed beneath our feet. I couldn’t help but wonder if the students here ever missed daylight. For Ominis, though, darkness was constant — whether in the dungeons or the owlery, it made no difference. These thoughts stirred up the dream from last week, and my cheeks flushed. Walking behind my companion, I took several deep breaths to bring myself back to reality.

When the last door along the way opened into a spacious hall, I stood in awe.

Dozens of ghosts — familiar and not — floated over the marble dance floor, many dressed in their finest spectral ball attire. They spun gracefully through the air, as if caught in some strange, eternal midnight dream. Candles hovered above, their glow cold and pale, like the light of a young moon.

In a far corner, the ghostly orchestra played a solemn minuet I didn’t recognize. None of the dancers or musicians paid us any mind. Their rehearsal continued, timeless and serene.

“Ominis, this is… incredible,” I breathed. “I’ve seen a lot of amazing things, but this really stands out.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, his expression softening with a hint of shyness. “Unfortunately, I can’t see the ghosts at all — not even with magic. But I can hear the music perfectly.”

Just then, the orchestra shifted into a new piece. Ominis tilted his head, listening with care. I noticed a small nod. Then he turned to me and extended his hand.

“When Joseph Lanner’s music is playing,” he said, bowing slightly, “it’s improper to stand in the corner. Will you dance with me?”

My heart stuttered. It was the rhythm of a Viennese waltz — graceful, sweeping… and fast.

“I’m not exactly dressed for it,” I mumbled, glancing down at my plain school robes.

“As if I could see what you’re wearing,” Ominis chuckled. “But I’m not insisting. It was a passing impulse. Later I’ll drown my sorrows with the Bloody Baron and a pint of butterbeer.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” I said, catching his hand before he could retract it. “I’ll dance with you, Ominis Gaunt — just so you’ll know exactly what I was trying to spare you from.”

We stepped onto the floor. I rested one hand on his shoulder, the other entwined with his. He held me with calm certainty, his wand still clasped in his right hand behind my back, guiding him through the space.

The piece was already halfway through, but we didn’t care. With steady steps and quiet confidence, Ominis led me in smooth circles. No fancy flourishes at first — just the rhythm, the flow, and our silent coordination.

He held me gently, and with each turn, my confidence grew. I still managed to stumble once, tripping over my own foot, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it.

By the third pass, he spun me into a classic waltz pirouette. My body followed naturally — as if it had done so a hundred times before. We twirled beneath the cold candlelight, and I found myself matching his pace, even closing my eyes to simply feel the movement.

He wasn’t a professional, but he was elegant — not just in form, but in spirit. I could see now that the way he moved through the world had its roots in things like this. He knew how to be gentle with strength.

The music faded, and reality returned like a soft sigh. A few ghostly couples clapped in our direction, ephemeral and approving. We bowed to them — though I had to gently direct Ominis, guiding him where they were. Then, sheepishly, we stepped off the floor. The ethereal dancers resumed their endless spinning to the next haunting tune.

“You should believe in yourself more,” Ominis said, catching his breath as he sat on a stone step. “You dance better than all my cousins.”

“You’re being far too kind,” I replied, smoothing the twisted hem of my robe and sitting beside him.

I looked at his warm, patient smile… and the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Do you want to go to the Christmas Ball with me? As a friend, of course.”

The last part sounded utterly ridiculous the moment I said it. Ominis’s face grew solemn, and I braced for a polite refusal.

But what he said instead was quiet, and unexpected.

“I’m sorry you won’t be going with Sebastian.”

“I have no regrets,” I said softly — and realized, with surprise, that it was true. “I asked you because I want to go with you.”

Ominis paused, just for a heartbeat — and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

“Then I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

A flicker of joy passed through his unseeing eyes — light and slightly uncertain. I noticed the way his fingers lightly tapped the handle of his wand — a quiet, familiar gesture he made when unsure of what to say.

It felt surreal — like I was caught between two lives. One filled with life-and-death adventures, curses, goblins, and Ancient Magic… and the other, something simple and luminous: a school dance with Ominis. I was almost ashamed to admit it, even to myself — but my heart fluttered when he agreed to go with me. I always thought I’d be above emotions. But when it came to him… something warm always stirred inside me. Something I didn’t have a name for.

He walked me to the main staircase, then disappeared back into the dungeons. The last time we’d said goodbye here, he’d been hiding at the top of the Astronomy Tower, lost in grief. Only a few weeks had passed — and yet everything between us had changed.

I stood alone on the dimly lit stairs, my heart still racing — not from the dance itself, but from him. From his steady hand. His quiet confidence. The way he led.

I didn’t know what to call the feeling. It wasn’t wild or dramatic. It was deep. Steady. Like the still waters of the Black Lake on a windless night.

It felt wrong to be this happy, with so much fear and pain swirling around me. But I allowed myself to embrace it anyway. Slowly, I made my way upstairs, barely registering the steps beneath my feet. I was proud of my courage — perhaps I was the only girl at school who didn’t wait to be asked. And strangely, it felt liberating.

The creak of the heavy front doors snapped me from my thoughts. They swung open, letting in a sharp gust of December air — and in stepped Poppy Sweeting, her face flushed. At first, I thought it was from the cold. Our eyes met immediately, and we waved in greeting.

As we began climbing up the stairs together, I noticed something was off. Poppy was nervous — I could see it in the way she kept opening her mouth to speak, then stopping.

“Did something happen?” I asked gently.

She hesitated a moment longer before finally saying, “Something strange.” Her eyes stayed focused on the steps ahead. “Garreth Weasley asked me to the ball.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it — a soft, surprised sound of relief. Given everything that had happened lately, I had half-expected to hear something alarming. Something about her grandmother, or poachers, or a magical creature going rogue.
But this? This was something sweet.

“And what did you say?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm — though I couldn’t stop grinning.

“I told him I’m not sure I’ll even go,” she admitted. “I’m not good at… all of this. Curtsying, dancing… It’s easier talking to Highwing.”

“Do you want to go with him?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

“I don’t know… maybe. Probably.” She shrugged. “He’s kind. Funny. I just feel… awkward. Like it’s not my territory.”

“If you don’t try, you’ll never know,” I said, déjà vu settling over me like a fog. “Fortune favors the bold.”

Poppy smiled — not her usual cheerful grin, but something quieter. Her shoulders eased a little. We talked as we climbed, the conversation shifting easily between ball gossip and potions homework.

And just before we reached the top of the stairs, when I had almost decided not to bring it up…

“Poppy… By the lake, back then…” I started, hoping she’d understand what I meant.

“I saw everything,” she said softly, cutting me off. “And it’ll stay between us. Just… be careful. Sometimes friends can be no better than enemies.”

I nodded. There was no point in arguing. Deep down, I agreed with her. It was only a matter of time before Sebastian crossed another line. That was why I had to keep searching for new sources of Ancient Magic — to distract him from the darker paths he was starting to consider.

Still, despite everything, my heart buzzed with warm anticipation for the ball. I let myself imagine it: my dress, his formal robe, our dance. The floating candles casting reflections in his hair, the way he gently hold my hand — soft and sincere.

For just one evening, I wanted things to be simple. Light. The way they’re supposed to be when you’re sixteen.

But back then... I had no idea how that night would unfold.

Or how that ball would divide our lives into 'before' and 'after.'

Chapter Text

“Don’t worry, just try again,” Ominis said patiently the next morning as I practiced the Numbing spell on him. He held his hand close to the frame of a burning torch while I attempted to dull the pain with my wand.

History of Magic had officially been canceled in honor of the anniversary of Professor Binns’ death, so — for once — I didn’t feel the slightest guilt about skipping it. Still, the spell wasn’t working.

“Sorry. Something’s always off,” I muttered, lowering my wand in frustration as Ominis once again pulled his hand back from the heat. “No wonder Madam Blainey said this was advanced magic.”

“You just need a bit more sympathy for my suffering,” Ominis said with a smirk. “Healing magic is rooted in compassion — your ability to feel someone else’s pain.”

He moved his hand back toward the hot metal, and I whispered the incantation again. With a faint hiss of pain, he flinched and yanked his hand away.

The idea had come to us that morning at breakfast in the Great Hall, while Sebastian was still fast asleep. I needed to master the charm before attempting to enhance it with Ancient Magic. One way or another, I had to start practicing.

At first, we tried the Room of Requirement, but it wouldn’t open — no doubt Garreth had taken it over for his potion making experiments. I made a mental note to talk to him someday about sharing the space more fairly. So, we ended up in the Undercroft instead. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable, but at least there was no queue.

We’d been practicing for almost an hour with no success. I genuinely felt sorry for Ominis, burning his hands like that, but somehow it didn’t seem to help my spellwork.

“It’s the opposite of the Cruciatus Curse,” I reasoned. “If I’m good at one, the other probably won’t come easy.”

“Destruction is always easier than creation,” Ominis said suddenly, as if reading my mind. “We’ll try again in a bit.”

He cast a quiet healing spell, instantly soothing the reddened skin on his palm. Shifting his weight, he hesitated, then spoke.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you about the Christmas Ball…”

A chill shot through me — I half-expected him to change his mind about going. I braced myself, ready to take a deep breath and mask the disappointment. But the pause didn’t last long.

“It’s become tradition in recent years for everyone to wear their House colors. I figured you might not know, so I thought I’d tell you ahead of time.”

My heart, already racing, skipped a beat. He wasn’t backing out — just trying to spare me a lecture from the Headmaster. Meanwhile, I’d been bracing for rejection. Ridiculous.

“Well, lucky for me blue suits me,” I said, awkwardly caught off guard.

“In my view, you’d look lovely in anything,” Ominis chuckled. “Not that I’ve ever seen a color in my life, of course.”

“Then how do you always manage to dress so stylishly?”

“Easy,” he said, more relaxed than usual. “All my clothes are labeled on the inside.”

He shrugged off his jacket and showed me the elegant embroidery stitched onto the tag. It stood slightly raised from the fabric, clearly made to be read by touch rather than wand. But the symbols meant nothing to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, tracing the threads with my fingers. “Some special script?”

“Muggles have used it for decades,” Ominis replied offhandedly. “But hardly anyone in the magical world’s ever heard of it. My mum discovered it and had all my clothes embroidered when I was little. Even taught our house-elves how to do it.”

“Elves? Plural?”

Even the wealthiest families I knew had, at most, one. It surprised me.

“There are three at the manor, but they’re all quite old,” Ominis said with a shrug. “I try not to overwork them, but their help makes life a lot easier.”

He slipped his jacket back on just as the clatter of the Undercroft gate echoed behind us. Sleepy-eyed, Sebastian stepped into view, holding a folded note. He paused when he saw Ominis fastening his jacket, then quirked a brow.

“There you are… You two are getting awfully in sync,” he said, squinting theatrically like Madam Scribner. “Planning another escapade, perhaps?”

“Not without the main troublemaker,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. “Hope you actually slept.”

“Let’s say I did,” he said, yawning sweetly as he stretched. “Anne sent me a note during breakfast. Solomon’s gone into town — won’t be back until after lunch. Who’s coming with me?”

“No question about it. Let’s go while we’ve got the time,” I said, quickly fastening my winter cloak. I heard Ominis doing the same behind me.

“We’ve only got a couple of hours, so no exotic transport,” Sebastian warned, handing out Floo Powder pouches. “We need to be back before afternoon classes.”

Ominis nodded heavily but said nothing. He politely let me step through the gate first, right after Sebastian rocketed out like a cannonball.

It was a tiny gesture, but for some reason, I found his gentle courtesy deeply endearing.

We ended up spending even less time in Feldcroft than expected. Anne wasn’t feeling well, and it quickly became clear that our visit, however well-meant, was mistimed. In the few lucid moments before the pain returned, the only thing she managed to talk about was the Christmas Ball.

“Remember how we used to dream of going when we were third-years?” she whispered conspiratorially, forcing a smile. She was clearly trying to seem cheerful, but the effort showed — in her pale, almost translucent skin, in the tight way she held herself, in every breath that came too shallow.

Sebastian brought up Imelda, though without much enthusiasm. Anne raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“You two will definitely be the most eccentric couple there,” she teased.

Then she turned to us. “And what about you two? Don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Of course we are,” Ominis replied, after the tiniest of pauses — one I noticed, though I doubted anyone else did. “We’re going together.”

Sebastian blinked, then gave a short, hollow laugh. “Naturally. I’m always the last to know,” he muttered — more stunned than upset.

To Anne, it felt inevitable — hardly news at all.
“You’re lucky with your partner,” she said to me, a sly glint in her tired eyes. “Unlike Imelda.”

We laughed — Sebastian too — but when his eyes met mine, there was something in his gaze that didn’t laugh with the rest of us.

And he was right to worry. It wasn’t long before Anne’s strength gave out, and she could no longer pretend.

“Go on,” Sebastian told us firmly. “I’ll stay.”

But Anne shook her head. “No need. I’ll lie down for a bit — alone. It’ll be better that way.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she wouldn’t budge. And so, reluctantly, we stepped out into the frosty air, the door clicking shut behind us.

“The worst part is, I’m starting to get used to seeing her like this,” Sebastian said quietly. “I don’t want this to feel normal.”

That, I realized, was exactly why she’d sent us away. I felt a knot of guilt twist in my chest, remembering how clumsy my attempts at healing had been earlier.

The silence that followed hung heavy until Ominis broke it.

“Sebastian…” he said cautiously, as we made our way toward the central fireplace, “why don’t you send her the potion anymore? The one that used to help?”

Seb glanced my way. I blinked slowly, then gave him a steady nod. It was time.

For the first time in weeks, he told Ominis about the Acromantula venom — how effective it had been, and how impossibly rare. He left out a few… questionable details, like practicing Unforgivable Curses on school grounds, but those weren’t crucial to the story.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake…” Ominis groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Why didn’t you just talk to me? Venom like that is rare, sure — but it does go up for sale now and then. Why not just buy it?”

“Maybe because I don’t have any money?” Sebastian snapped. “Fifty Galleons an ounce. I’d have to stop eating for two years just to afford a couple days’ supply.”

“But I have money,” Ominis said, in that infuriating tone people use when explaining something obvious to a very stubborn child. “You always forget we’re in this together.”

I said nothing. Sebastian stared at the ground — clearly ashamed, but also quietly grateful. For him, asking for money was worse than walking into an Acromantula nest without a wand. His pride was certainly taking a beating.

Without another word, we stepped one by one into the hearth. The green flames swallowed us and spat us back into Hogwarts with a crackle and a rush of air. Ominis swayed slightly as he emerged, brushing ash from his cloak — the Floo travel had clearly left him dizzy — but he was already planning.

“I’ll get the venom,” he said, short of breath. “Don’t know how much yet, but I’ll find it. I just need to write a few letters.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian said, still unusually quiet.

Ominis nodded and turned down the corridor toward the dungeons, already gone in mind if not in body.

“I hope he manages it,” I said, watching him disappear.

“Let’s head back to the Undercroft. I’ve got something to show you.”

As we walked, I found myself wondering why no one at Hogwarts seriously monitored the fireplaces. If an armored troll suddenly crawled out of one and started wrecking the school, I wouldn’t even be surprised. Surely, at some point, students would lose the privilege of unrestricted travel. But as long as Headmaster Black was in charge, there was probably nothing to worry about. Even a troll wouldn’t get his attention — unless, of course, it stole his mustache paste. I smirked at the silly thought and quickened my pace to catch up with Sebastian.

Back in the Undercroft, he wasted no time.

“Look what I found.”

Seb pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. On it was a drawn, lifelike portrait of a man with sharp features and an unmistakable energy in his eyes. The article announced the youngest potioneer in a hundred years to earn a professorship. There was no doubt — it was his father.

Still, Albert Sallow bore more resemblance to Anne. Sebastian’s chestnut-brown hair and freckles must have come from their mother. But that glint in his father’s eyes — quick, restless, razor-sharp — that was all Sebastian. Especially when he was elbow-deep in some of his magical obsessions.

“He was made Potions Professor at twenty-six,” Sebastian said, pride in every word. “No one this century’s done that.”

I took the clipping and examined it. The man in the portrait wore a modest expression that didn’t quite hide how much he was enjoying the attention. I chuckled — like father, like son.

“But that’s not what I wanted to show you.” Seb slipped the article back under a messy pile on the desk. “I think I found the address.”

“From Solomon’s letter?”

“Exactly. And you’ll never guess where it leads.”

His tone gave nothing away, so I waited, curious.

“It’s a Muggle pub,” he said, spreading his hands, “on the outskirts of London. Completely ordinary.”

“And you’re sure it’s the right place?”

“I went there,” he said, anticipating my question. “Talked to the barkeep. Showed him the portrait from the clipping. He remembered them — my father and mother. Said they’d come in now and then, always sat in the same corner, talking for ages. What stood out was their clothes — he said they looked… ‘odd’ to him.”

“But why would your parents go to a Muggle pub? In London, of all places?” I asked, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” Sebastian admitted, scratching his head. “I’ve been turning it over in my mind, and I still can’t make it fit.”

We fell into a thoughtful silence. None of the theories we considered seemed to add up.

“Why didn’t you take me with you?” I asked, crossing my arms, narrowing my eyes.

“Because I used an illegal portkey again,” he said with a shrug. “And if Ominis knew I dragged you along, he’d have murdered me.”

“And what exactly is so dangerous about them?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though I was genuinely curious.

“Same risks as Apparition. If the portkey’s dodgy, it can splinch you — or drop you somewhere entirely random. But I’ve got it under control. Someone’s just a bit too proper… and a bit too protective of you.”

“You don’t understand, Sebastian,” I said firmly. “He really worries about us.”

“Mostly about you,” he muttered, a flicker of jealousy in his voice.

I didn’t want to get into that. I’d already turned toward the door, heading to our afternoon class, when his voice stopped me.

“Do you regret our kiss?” he asked. It was the first time he’d said it out loud since that morning.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, carefully vague. “But keeping it quiet might’ve been the better choice.”

“I needed someone to share the drama of my shattered heart,” he said dryly, watching me roll my eyes. “Though I’ll admit, Ominis is sweet… But one day you’ll realize you don’t really like the good boys.”

“And let me guess — you think you’re the bad one?”

“Let’s just say society casts us in certain roles…” His eyes lit up with mischief. “Take the Muggle barkeep, for example. He wasn’t too eager to talk at first…”

“Sebastian,” I sighed, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Tell me you didn’t use….”

“Who’s to say?” he said, with maddening cheer. “Maybe Legilimency. Maybe just my charm.”

“Merlin, you’re incorrigible,” I muttered, picturing the poor Muggle — who had likely been nudged into cooperation by means better left unmentioned.

“You know,” Sebastian said suddenly, voice quieter now, “I wish I’d met you in another life. One where things were… easier. You’d have liked that version of me more.”

“And what’s stopping you from being that person now?”

“Circumstances, my dear,” he said lightly, but his eyes were serious. “Always circumstances.”

He reached for Slytherin’s spellbook and opened it, clearly retreating. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d said too much — and maybe he had. It felt, strangely, like a confession.

“I’ll see you in class,” I called as I stepped into the hallway. But as I walked, one truth echoed louder than the rest.

I didn’t understand anything anymore. Still, we never spoke of it again.

***
Just a few days later, Ominis burst into the Undercroft, clutching a quarter-pint vial of venom. With great care, he handed it to Sebastian, who was so overjoyed he forgot everything else.

Everyone knew it was only a temporary fix, but it was better — safer — than our endless, desperate wanderings across Scotland. Later, Ominis confided in me that he’d cleared out the entire potion shop in Knockturn Alley, and no one knew when the next batch would be in stock. The venom had to be freshly harvested — from a newly killed Acromantula — and collected before its kin found you. Since they lived in large colonies and had a charming habit of devouring their dead, any wizard who lingered too long was just another crunchy snack waiting to happen.

“Not the easiest task,” I murmured, watching Sebastian, already deep in potion preparation at the far end of the room. “But this would only be enough for…“

“Ten doses,” Ominis finished my thought. “We’ve got ten days before he runs out… and starts spiraling again.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell him I’d already caught Sebastian practicing Dark magic — even after receiving the venom. He was still chasing something. And I had a sinking feeling his plan was tied to the holidays. Anne’s potions would run out right around Christmas, just as we were all meant to return home. That timing alone made me uneasy. So did Sebastian’s forced cheer and careful deflections. Especially with Ominis, who clearly felt the distance and couldn’t understand why his best friend was shutting him out.

Over the following week, I made two more trips to Feldcroft. Sebastian and I delivered new vials of the potion, and when Solomon was home, we met Anne outside the village. I was there as backup — in case she wasn’t allowed to leave, I’d be the one to slip in. We also convinced her not to tell Solomon about the new treatment. Trying to explain it would only complicate things. But we did tell her a little more about our search for a cure. It moved her. Worried her too.

Just days before Christmas, when we brought her the last three doses, Anne looked… better. A full week without pain had revived her. But by terrible coincidence, that was the day the goblins attacked Feldcroft.

We’d been talking about the holidays when a barrage of poisoned arrows came flying at us.

I reacted instantly, casting shields around us. But Anne, startled by the ambush, dropped the bundle of vials. From the brittle crunch beneath her boots, I knew at least some had shattered.

“Get her somewhere safe,” Sebastian hissed, already charging at the attackers with a wild, furious cry.

I hesitated — then cursed. I couldn’t let him go alone.

But before I could act, Anne drew her wand and ran after him.

Sebastian wasn’t just angry. He was vengeful. Unhinged. I’d seen him reckless before — frustrated, even cruel. But this was different. What I saw now was raw, seething hatred. He fought like someone possessed. And worse, he used Unforgivable Curses — more than once. But that wasn’t all. He’d clearly been studying more from Slytherin’s spellbook than I’d realized.

There were no flashes of green — not yet — but it didn’t matter. He was terrifying.

And Anne saw it too. She looked more afraid of her brother than of the goblins.

Then, a shout from behind made me turn.

Solomon.

He’d seen the fight and was sprinting toward us. If he witnessed what Sebastian was doing…

“Imperio,” I whispered, careful not to let Anne hear.

The spell hit easily. I seized control and calmly told him to return home.

And he did.

We pushed the goblins back into the forest and eventually defeated them. The change in location turned out to be a blessing — I found a tiny source of Ancient Magic nearby. While Sebastian checked on Anne, I slipped away and absorbed it with one deep breath. For a fleeting moment, I felt that raw, exhilarating power course through me again. And I realized I’d missed it.

On the way home, we discovered that one vial had survived the ambush — one more day of peace for Anne. That fact immensely lifted our spirits.

Sebastian was acting like his usual self again — or at least pretending to. But both Anne and I exchanged worried glances. She pulled him into a tight hug before whispering something in his ear. He gave a small nod, then turned and trudged toward the central fireplace with me, his expression unreadable.

“What was that?” I asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. He brushed it off — not unkindly, just… distant. I didn’t try again.

“Nothing,” he muttered through his teeth.

“I had to curse your uncle so he wouldn’t see that ‘nothing,’” I admitted grimly.

He glanced at me but stayed quiet, lost in thought.

“What did Anne say to you?” I asked softly, trying to ease the tension.

“She reminded me about emotions,” he said, voice flat. “Said our father probably died because of one.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“She thinks he made a mistake in his lab — something that killed both him and our mother — because of an argument they’d had. Because he was angry.”

“Do you believe that?”

Sebastian shook his head slowly. “Hard to say. He usually didn’t make mistakes like that. It’s strange.”

Then he stopped and looked me dead in the eye.

“Thank you,” he said. “For your friendship. No matter what happens next, I’m glad I met you.”

No teasing. No sarcasm. Just honesty.

And somehow, that terrified me even more than his outburst that day.

***
The next morning, the younger years boarded the early train home. For the older students like us, the holiday festivities continued for three more days. That evening, the long-awaited Christmas Ball was finally upon us, and the day was filled with laughter — snowball fights, sledding on the hills near the castle, and an easy, sparkling kind of joy.

Sebastian, however, vanished for half the day. I eventually found him holed up in the Undercroft, buried in his favourite book again. He didn’t seem to care about the ball at all, but when I asked if he was going, he nodded without looking up.

“And please, stop ignoring Ominis,” I said, watching him flip pages without interest. “He’s done so much for Anne, and you….”

“I thanked him,” Sebastian snapped. “Twice, even.”

That was all I was going to get.

I left him and made my way to the Map Chamber, hoping to speak with the Keepers. But they were still waiting for the “right moment” to begin the next trial, and clearly had no intention of sharing anything in the meantime. Frustrated, I left with more questions than answers. That old, familiar sense returned — that they didn’t fully trust me. And maybe, after yesterday, they had another reason not to.

The memory of using an Unforgivable again hung heavy. I told myself it had been necessary. There had been no other way.

Trying to push it aside, I headed to Ravenclaw Tower to prepare for the ball.

I only had two dresses, and neither was the required color. Thankfully, I’d paid attention in Transfiguration class. Altering the fabric was easy enough, though choosing the right shade proved harder. I observed my dormmates closely, noting their choices, then adjusted mine again and again until I landed on a distinct azure blue — one none of them had. It pleased me more than I expected.

As the evening drew closer, nerves crept in. I hadn’t seen Ominis since the day before, and some irrational part of me worried he might change his mind. He wouldn’t — not Ominis — but I still felt a little foolish. I tried to reason with myself and eventually made peace with the mirror version of me, lips bitten nervously, as I descended the Ravenclaw staircase.

He was waiting at the bottom.

Composed. Elegant. Ominis wore a formal dark green robe, so deep it looked nearly black, lined with emerald silk. At a glance it resembled his usual attire — until I brushed the sleeve. The fabric flowed beneath my fingers like water.

“I’m glad to share this evening with you,” he said, bowing as tradition required.

I suddenly felt awkward. A seventh-year girl in front of me offered her hand for a kiss, so I mimicked her. Ominis brought my hand to his lips gently. Unlike his cool hands, his lips were warm.

I mumbled something incoherent, already flustered.

“It seems your house look is missing a touch of bronze,” he said, smiling. From his pocket, he pulled a brooch I recognized at once — his mother’s. “If you’d like…”

I stared at it, touched. The brooch depicted a Celtic knot — no beginning, no end — though I’d never seen this particular design in jewelry before. It had to be rare.

“Of course I’d like to, but… are you sure? This must mean so much to you,” I asked, lowering my gaze.

“I’m willing to lend it for the evening,” he said with a soft smile. “It deserves to see the light again.”

“Then I’ll be proud to wear it tonight.”

“May I?”

I nodded, and he carefully pinned it just beneath my left collarbone. Though small, the ornament had a surprising weight.

I caught my reflection in one of the corridor mirrors. The brooch did suit the dress perfectly.

“Thank you, Ominis,” I said quietly, fingers brushing the cool metal. “I’m… really happy to spend this evening with you, too.”

I took his arm, and together we walked toward the Great Hall like something out of a dream, passing whispers and glances all the way. Every head seemed to turn — not because of me, I knew, but because Ominis Gaunt had chosen to attend the ball with someone. Anyone. That alone was enough to stir the rumor mill.

Half the school had expected me to walk in with a different Slytherin altogether.

They’d be disappointed.

As long as I didn’t run into the librarian — who had been an enthusiastic shipper of that particular pairing — I figured I could survive anything else.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, we ran into Sebastian and Imelda — loudly laughing and chatting about Quidditch. It didn’t seem like either of them had made much of an effort for the ball — maybe just gave their robes an extra wash. But up close, I noticed Imelda wore a simple bottle-green dress with black trim, and Sebastian had clearly made some attempt to tame his hair. Still, no matter what they wore, the two of them would always carry that same unshakable “troublemaker” energy. Somehow, I liked that about them. I respected people who stayed true to themselves, whatever the occasion.

From the look on Imelda’s face, it was clear Sebastian had gotten what he wanted — his spot on next year’s Slytherin team was secured.

That thought made me smile. Just then, the two of them spotted us and approached confidently.

Imelda gave us a brief greeting before hurrying off to greet a group of older students. Sebastian, meanwhile, stood awkwardly, clearly debating how to handle the moment.

“You look good,” he said after a short pause. “Definitely the most Ravenclaw look of the evening.”

His eyes lingered on the brooch, but I could tell he didn’t recognize it. That surprised me — Ominis had never shown it to him? I gave a polite nod in response, and as I did, I noticed two sixth-years staring at me in shock behind Sebastian’s back. I vaguely remembered them from Garreth’s birthday party.

Once Imelda was safely out of earshot, Sebastian leaned in and muttered to both of us, “We need to meet tomorrow morning. I want to show you something.”

He straightened, looking far too pleased with our concerned expressions. He always did enjoy keeping us on edge.

“Nice of you to acknowledge me again for the occasion,” Ominis said dryly.

“Quit whining and make sure my girl doesn’t get bored with you,” Sebastian shot back, his grin sharp, then took Imelda’s hand and strode into the hall.

Ominis’s posture stiffened. I could see the tension in the line of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. But I chose not to comment on Sebastian’s unnecessary digs. There was something happening between them that I wasn’t privy to, but it wasn’t the right moment to ask. I simply gave his shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze, and we walked through the open doors together.

The first thing I noticed was the color — the Great Hall was decorated in warm shades of yellow. I hadn’t kept up with the house competition, but apparently Hufflepuff had pulled off a surprise win.

Thinking about it, it wasn’t that surprising. The rest of us had broken too many rules to even count. Between me, Sebastian, and Garreth alone, our houses had probably lost more points than Hufflepuff had earned all term. Not that I’d ever say that out loud. Whatever the reason, the win was deserved.

Headmaster Black, despite having organized the ball, was notably absent. Officially, Professor Garlick was in charge — but no one, especially not the older students, took her presence as anything resembling authority. In truth, the night felt like it was entirely ours.

To my surprise, music echoed through the hall from an orchestra pit set where the staff table usually stood — and it was ghostly.

“They play at events a few times a year to pay rent,” Ominis explained before I could even ask. “Otherwise, Black would’ve evicted them from the dungeons ages ago.”

Overhead, the enchanted ceiling was calm and clear, dotted with stars. Floating candles filled the space with a warm, comforting glow that perfectly complemented the golden hues of the decor.

In the corner, seated alone at the long table, I spotted Leander Prewett. Imelda gave a smug little snort when she saw him. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who noticed. Sebastian certainly didn’t seem to care about her romantic antics.

Scanning the room, I was happy to spot Poppy — she stood beside Garreth, radiant in a sunny yellow dress that made her look like a blooming dandelion. Her partner looked equally proud, albeit nervous — constantly fidgeting with his hair, as if his own body suddenly didn’t feel like it fit quite right. But when she looked at him, his entire face lit up with a dopey grin.

“Is that how I look from the outside?” I wondered to myself, straightening my shoulders and trying to move with with a touch more elegance.

Poppy noticed my attention and gave me a shy nod. I waved back.

Sebastian, meanwhile, remained suspiciously charming — with everyone except us. He kept his distance, sticking to the bare minimum of interaction. Ominis didn’t seem to mind. And I… I wasn’t ready to try and bridge the gap between them tonight. There was already enough emotional weight in the room.

People still glanced our way, curious. But it was getting easier to ignore. What did amuse me, though, was Adelaide Oakes’s expression when Ominis and I greeted her — jaw dropping like she’d just seen the final chapter of a mystery novel. The look on her face screamed I knew it first. Honestly, I wished someone would explain what was going on in my life. Because even I couldn’t tell anymore. My thoughts were a tangled mess.

The music for the first dance began, and my insecurities melted away as I watched the others — no one seemed to know how to dance properly.

“You know, ghosts move much more gracefully than our classmates,” I whispered to Ominis with a laugh, recalling our first dance together. He flinched, as if it tickled, and pulled me toward the dance floor.

“Want to show them how it’s done?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“If only I knew how,” I said, panicking slightly, and tugged him back. He stopped.

“No one here knows how,” he said, taking my other hand beside his wand. “Just follow me.”

I was impressed by his complete lack of embarrassment. I hesitated for a moment, then followed his lead. We melted into the crowd, still holding hands, and began dancing the English Country Dance. I had seen it before, which helped. So did the fact that Ominis gently guided me, demonstrating the steps as we went.

Not far from us, Sebastian and Imelda were creating their own chaotic style of dance — which could only be described as “the mad whirlwind.” They spun across the floor with an almost unnatural speed, and the other couples leapt out of their way in fright. I noticed Imelda casting sly glances toward Leander, who was still without a partner. She nudged Seb toward the part of the hall where Prewett could see them best.

A few dances passed this way. Eventually, tired, Ominis and I made our way to a table to rest. We sat far from the gloom of Leander’s solitude, taking glasses of non-alcoholic Christmas punch.

Etiquette dictated we keep a respectable distance. And we did — each of us sitting as though we barely knew each other. Two polite guests, worn out by the evening’s bustle, resting with drinks in hand. The laughter, music, rustling of dresses — all of it faded into the background. But under the table, in the shadows of the cloth and folds of fabric, my fingers found his.

At first, I brushed his hand carefully, as if by accident. He didn’t pull away. On the contrary — it felt like he’d been waiting. His pinky twitched and responded with surprising ease. We didn’t betray anything outwardly, but beneath the table, our hands slowly found their way to each other.

First, just fingertips. Then he turned his palm over, and I placed mine into his. Softly, like breath between words. He ran his thumb across my knuckles — as though reading something important there. Silently. Carefully. As if every movement could say more than we were ready to express aloud.

The music played on, and in its rhythm, I could feel his pulse — steady, a bit faster than usual. Like mine. We still sat apart, but in that secret, interlacing of hands beneath the tablecloth, there was more intimacy than in all the night’s dances.

He whispered my name — just with his lips, so gently, so tenderly — and for the first time in a long while, I truly understood why Amortentia smelled like his perfume. Why I always wanted to stay close to him and hear his voice. The tangled mess in my head began to clear.

And, of course, just then, Sebastian plopped down next to me on the bench.

We quickly let go of each other’s hands, hoping it hadn’t been too noticeable.

“While my future captain is busy,” Sebastian said with a sarcastic smile, “may I steal your date for one dance, Ominis?”

“Only if she wants to be stolen,” Ominis replied flatly, rubbing the hand that had just been tightly holding mine.

I didn’t want to leave Ominis at all, but I couldn’t say no to my dear friend.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered to Ominis, standing up and following Sebastian onto the dance floor. Imelda was nearby, dancing with her older brother. That must have been why Seb was suddenly free.

By some strange coincidence, the orchestra began to play a waltz. We were just about to take our positions when, from behind, my classmate Andrew Larson accidentally bumped into me. I lost my balance and, with no way to recover, fell right into Sebastian’s arms. He caught me effortlessly, steadying me before I could hit the floor.

Andrew quickly apologized and whisked his partner away to the other side of the floor.

“There’s never a dull moment with you,” Seb chuckled. “That’s why I love our partnership.”

And before I could protest, he lifted me in his arms and spun me around with the music.

“Sebastian!” I cried out, laughing as he waltzed by himself, holding me high in the air. “Put me down!”

He smirked but eventually complied, gently lowering me back to the floor.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he began, voice suddenly cautious. “About everything.”

I looked up, surprised to see him genuinely hesitant — even a little embarrassed.

And then, a sharp clink cut through the violins and chatter — dull, but clear enough to silence my thoughts. We both looked down as a bronze brooch skittered across the marble floor, spinning slightly before coming to rest at Sebastian’s feet. The clasp must have come undone when I was bumped earlier.

Sebastian slowly bent to pick it up.

“Where did you get this?” His voice changed instantly, turning strangely flat, almost detached. He examined the brooch with the intensity of someone seeing a ghost.

“This…” I hesitated. “It’s Ominis’s mother’s brooch. He lent it to me for the evening.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. His face darkened, the expression tightening like the sky before a storm. He handed the brooch back to me, then took several steps away.

“This can’t be…” he muttered, shaking his head frantically, before turning and storming out of the Great Hall, leaving me completely confused and disoriented.

I stood there, clutching the brooch in my hand. The metal was still warm from his touch, but a chill ran through me. I turned the brooch over and noticed something I hadn’t seen before — an inscription in a language I couldn’t read, but definitely recognized.

Still in a daze, I returned to Ominis long before the dance ended.

“Is everything alright?” he asked kindly when I sat down beside him, sensing that something was off.

“Did you know there’s an inscription on this brooch?” I asked directly, still turning it over in my fingers.

“What inscription?” Ominis asked, confused. “I need to know it’s there to read it.”

I held out the brooch, and he scanned it with his wand, just as he did with books. The shock on his face was immediate.

“That’s impossible. It simply can’t be.”

For a moment, horror twisted his features, but he quickly regained his composure. Gently placing his hands on my shoulders, he said:

“I must apologize for disrupting your evening. But I need to find Sebastian.”

I nodded, still unsettled by his sudden seriousness.

As he stood, he added, his voice calm yet firm:

"All will be well, I promise. Just give us a little time. And please, keep this safe for me.”

I held the brooch tightly as I watched him walk out of the Great Hall. Once he was out of sight, I opened my fingers again and examined the engraving.

At the very bottom, I saw something that looked like a signature: a beautifully written 'A' with a crossbar that curled like a snake.

Only, it wasn’t a snake.

It was a Latin 'S.' And I had seen that combination before.

Whatever the engraving meant, one thing was certain — it had been left on this brooch by Albert Sallow.

Chapter Text

Merriment rang out from every corner of the Great Hall, so loud and joyous that no one seemed to notice when two Slytherins slipped quietly out — right in the middle of the dance. The moment I stopped moving, a chill wrapped around me, and I quickly pulled on the warm cloak I’d had the foresight to bring along to the ball. I stared at the floor, lost in thought, unsure of what to do next.

Ominis had asked for time — and I respected that. I accepted it. But something about the whole situation felt undeniably off. Sebastian’s father had given such personal gifts to Mrs. Gaunt… And the fact that no one from either family seemed to know how close the two had become left little room for innocent explanations. Among pure-blood families like theirs, a bond like that was not just rare — it was unacceptable. If word ever got out, Ominis’s mother would face a social ruin from which she’d never recover.

“That might even have been the cause of her death,” I thought bleakly, fastening the brooch inside my cloak pocket to keep it from getting lost again.

At last, the endless waltz came to a close. I lifted my head and immediately sensed someone watching me. Of course — it was Imelda, looking rather put out without her dance partner.

“Do you know where Sebastian went?” she asked, approaching with that familiar touch of haughty annoyance.

“I’m sorry, Imelda, but he received an urgent message,” I lied smoothly, without missing a beat. “He and Ominis had to leave right away. But he sends his sincerest apologies.”

To my surprise, her expression softened — and even shifted toward concern.

“I hope nothing’s happened to Anne,” she said seriously. It was a logical conclusion, and I gave a sad little shrug to support her theory. There wasn’t much more to say. She gave me a brief, awkward nod and stepped aside. Moments later, one of her brother’s older friends invited her to dance — right in front of Leander — and she darted back to the dance floor, not hesitating for a second.

“This comet only appears once every eighty years!” I heard Amit exclaim to my right. He was animatedly explaining something to Lenora and Adelaide, who looked entirely unimpressed. “It’ll be visible over Hogwarts around four in the morning. I have to see it — even if I get caught after curfew…”

I smirked. The thought of Amit breaking the rules was almost laughable. That comet must really mean something to him.

I glanced at the center of the hall and spotted Poppy and Garreth weaving their way through the crowd toward me. They quickly noticed I was alone. After exchanging greetings, Garreth vanished to the far end of the table, trying to cheer up his Gryffindor mate, who looked about ready to faint from unspoken anger.

Poppy stayed. She asked what had happened, and I repeated the same story I’d told Imelda. But unlike Reyes, Poppy didn’t quite buy it — though she politely chose not to press me.

“How’s your evening going?” I asked in a low voice, gesturing subtly in Garreth’s direction. “You two look rather happy tonight.”

“It seems that way,” Poppy said with a smile, crossing one leg over the other. Her skin caught the candlelight — and I noticed a deep, narrow pair of puncture marks on her shin, spaced just far enough apart to suggest something large had struck.

“What happened there?” I asked, pointing to her leg.

“Oh, it’s nothing — it’s healing,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Actually, I should thank Sebastian. He gave me a bezoar. Without it, things could’ve been much worse.”

“You were with him?” I asked, puzzled. “And what was the bezoar for?”

“No, not exactly,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It happened a few days ago — after the Charms test. I was spying on a poacher camp near the Phoenix cave, hoping to overhear something that might lead me to… people I know. I was crouched behind a rock when something lunged at me out of nowhere. It sank its fangs into my leg and tried to drag me north, toward the gorge. I honestly thought that was the end — but Highwing fought it off.”

“Merlin, Poppy… I’m so glad you’re all right!” I reached out and gently touched her arm. “What attacked you?”

“I didn’t get a good look — it came from behind,” she said with a shiver. “All I saw were legs. Lots of them. Covered in black fur. And it must’ve been venomous — my own leg went numb in less than a minute. From what I’ve read, it might’ve been…”

“An Acromantula,” I finished in quiet awe.

“Its venom paralyzes victims,” I mused to myself, something clicking into place in my mind. “That’s why it dulls Anne’s curse pain.”

“I wonder how are they even surviving in Scotland,” Poppy pondered aloud. “They’re supposed to be tropical. And I was lucky — that one was small, no bigger than a sheep. If it had been full-grown… even with Highwing, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“And Sebastian’s role in all this?” I asked, unease creeping in again.

“He was collecting potion ingredients near the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” she explained. “I flew in on Highwing, crashed — couldn’t walk. The venom was spreading fast, up the right side of my body. He gave me the bezoar. Honestly, it saved me. He was… very kind. I’m starting to think he’s not so…”

“Poppy,” I interrupted, leaning in. “Did you tell him what happened to you? Or where it happened?”

The look on Poppy’s face told me she already regretted doing that. She gave a small, guilty nod, shrinking into herself like a scolded owl. My heart skipped a beat. Of course — that’s what Sebastian wanted to talk about tomorrow.

I grabbed her shoulders, speaking firmly.
“If he asks you anything else about this, you have to tell me. Promise?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, looking at me with such conviction that I had no reason to doubt her.

“And please… take care of yourself,” I added, my voice low but steady. “Next time, just take me with you.”

“I’m never going back there,” Poppy said with a shudder, glancing down at the scar. The memory was still fresh in her mind. “It wasn’t just some dark creature like those dugbogs. It was sentient. While I was listening in on the poachers, I realised someone from their camp disappears every week. They don’t even know how close the nest is. Honestly, I’m amazed those geniuses haven’t figured out who’s been thinning their ranks.”

“As if they care,” I muttered. “Someone disappears, and they just bring in replacements.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, her voice heavy with doubt. “I just hope the people I’m looking for weren’t in that camp.”

“You’d know by now if they were,” I said quickly, regretting how hollow it sounded the moment it left my mouth.

The bench creaked as Garreth dropped down beside Poppy, looking somewhat exasperated. He handed her a glass of punch and took a long sip from his own.

“It’s hopeless,” he said, draining half the glass in one go. “Why did he even bother showing up if he refuses to talk to her? Gryffindor pride.”

“Or Gryffindor stupidity,” I thought, but kept it to myself. I glanced across the room to see Prewett still pouting, his expression unchanged since the evening began.

Another song ended, and the hall shifted again — students moving to and from the tables, swapping partners, resting tired feet. Imelda floated past us like a queen surveying her court, graceful and composed. She walked straight up to Leander, gave him a condescending smile, and said coolly:
“Prewett, if you sulk any harder, the floor will crack. Let’s dance.”

He blinked as though snapping out of a trance, then quickly schooled his face into a matching sneer.
“All right,” he replied simply.

The three of us watched them disappear into the crowd. Garreth rolled his eyes.

“Wait — you could just say that?” he asked incredulously, throwing up his hands. “Why doesn’t he listen to me like that?”

“Because, unlike Imelda, you’re not his love interest,” I teased, sticking out my tongue.

“Fair point,” he sighed with theatrical defeat.

“I’ll be right back,” Poppy said, heading toward the punch bowl to refill her glass.

Garreth watched her go with a warmth that surprised me. I liked the way he looked at her — not with longing or lust, not the way Sebastian once looked at me at the Three Broomsticks. This was different. Something quiet was beginning to bloom between them, something slow and real. And it made me glad — for Poppy, especially. I knew how hard it had always been for her to let people in.

She was still waiting at the table when I remembered something.

“Garreth,” I said, turning to him, “what are you doing in the Room of Requirement all the time? I haven’t been able to get in for days.”

“I was brewing a big batch of Incendiary Potion,” he whispered, glancing around. “But I’m done now, don’t worry. I won’t be back in there until the holiday break.”

“Why such a big batch?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You could blow up the whole castle with that stuff.”

“It was a commission,” he replied, a little too casually. “I just needed the gold.”

“Who was it for?” I pressed, already suspecting the answer.

“I was asked not to say,” he said, shrinking into the bench under my gaze.

“It was Sallow, wasn’t it?” I said flatly. “When did you give him the potions?”

“This afternoon,” Garreth admitted with a sigh. “But please don’t tell him I told you. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

“You certainly do,” I said automatically. But my mind was already elsewhere.

The night had given me plenty to think about — and none of it comforting. Sebastian, angry and likely feeling betrayed, now knew the rough location of the Acromantula lair. And he had enough explosive potion to level a small village. Would he go there alone, driven by rage and desperation? I wanted to believe he wouldn’t. But what I wanted to believe and what was true were often very different things.

I stood abruptly, drawing my cloak tight around my shoulders.

“I have to go,” I said, and didn’t wait for a reply. I darted from the Great Hall and headed straight for the Undercroft.

Of course, it was empty.

Next, I tried the courtyard, the Room of Requirement, even knocked — fruitlessly — on the library doors. Nowhere. Not a single trace of him, or of Ominis. The professors were sequestered in their private wing, warm and oblivious. Most students were still dancing. The castle, usually full of noise and life, felt cold and hollow. As I paused on the landing between floors, chest rising and falling with quick breaths, a sharp wave of panic gripped me. The empty corridors felt like a trap closing in.

I had to find them. I had to see them. Even for a moment.

The decision came suddenly, instinctively. I had everything I needed to get into the Slytherin common room. There would never be a better time.

Turning on my heel, I raced down through the castle, deeper into the dungeons. I passed the exit to the Scriptorium — and just beyond it, I knew, was what I was looking for.

I checked over my shoulder, then stepped forward with confidence and said the password.

The wall slid silently aside.

Ominis hadn’t lied. There were no wards, no traps. Nothing to stop me. Who had ever decided this was forbidden?

I slipped into the low, shadowed corridor, its ceiling so close I could almost brush it with my fingertips. After a few quiet steps, the passage opened into the Slytherin common room. Despite the dim lighting, it had a quiet kind of charm — cozy, almost. The green glow of the lamps reflected gently off the dark stone, casting shifting patterns across the walls. For a moment, I wished I had time to appreciate it properly. There really wouldn’t be another chance like this — the common room was nearly deserted.

Nearly.

Ominis sat alone, hunched in an armchair near the window, already changed out of his formal robes. He looked pale and drawn, his fingers clenched so tightly in his lap they were almost bone-white. Beyond the tall window, there was only darkness — an impenetrable black that made the room feel like it floated in nothingness. The fireplace crackled weakly, casting the only flicker of warmth in the space.

He didn’t notice me until I stepped closer.

“It’s you,” he said, not surprised. He didn’t rise like he usually did, just gestured to the armchair opposite his. “Good timing. They’ll be changing the password next term.”

“How are you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“I don’t have any news,” he murmured. “Sebastian still won’t talk to me. My head is full of questions and not a single answer.”

“Do you know where he is?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

“In the dormitory,” Ominis said, his voice bitter, retreating back into thought.

I exhaled slowly. At least he was still in the castle. Still here. I could feel how much Ominis didn’t want to mention the brooch. It was too delicate — too sharp to touch just yet. He hadn’t even asked for it back. So I didn’t push. I followed his gaze toward the black glass.

“What’s with the window?” I asked, peering into the void. “I can’t see anything.”

“It looks out into the lake,” Ominis said, his voice softening just a little. “I always tell the first-years they might spot a mermaid if they’re patient. It’s entertaining, watching them stare for hours.”

I smiled at that, genuinely.
“I never imagined this side of you,” I said. “Though if you’d told me that, I probably would’ve waited with them.”

He gave a faint, amused sound — almost a chuckle.

“If it weren’t for all this…” He waved vaguely. “You’d have learned all sorts of amusing things about me. And about Sebastian too. But with everything going on… it feels like we’re all caught in a vicious cycle of trying to save each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it: Sebastian wants to save Anne, you want to ‘save’ him, and I…” He paused. “Even though the Sallow twins are incredibly dear to me — and always will be — I keep finding that more and more, above all else, I’m trying to ‘save’ you.”

“Then by your logic,” I said softly, “we’re all spinning in the wrong direction.”

“Exactly,” he said, bowing his head again.

“Speaking of Anne…” I leaned closer, lowering my voice, and told him what I’d found out about the Acromantula nest. “He’ll want to go. Probably tomorrow. You know it.”

“If you’ve got the strength, talk him out of it tonight.” He waved toward the stairwell. “He’d be far happier to see you than me.”

“Which door?” I asked, already rising.

“Third on the right,” Ominis answered, but now his voice had a trace of something else — grief, maybe.

I knocked twice, but no one answered. Cautiously, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Four canopy beds lined the room — standard fare for a Hogwarts dormitory. One stood out immediately: perfectly made, not a wrinkle in sight, and not a single personal item nearby. That had to be Ominis’s. The others were various shades of chaos, and I had a strong suspicion the one resembling a minor explosion belonged to our mutual friend. But there was no one around to confirm it — the room was empty.

That unsettled me.

I checked the wardrobe, looked under the beds, even cast Revelio just to be sure. Nothing. The dormitory was well and truly empty.

I returned to the common room with a tight throat.

“He’s not there,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Ominis stood at once and hurried past me. He returned a moment later, frowning deeply.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “He was there. Just a moment ago. And I would have noticed if he left.”

“You didn’t notice me coming in,” I said gently.

He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “True. I was lost in thought. Let’s go. I don’t want you worrying like this.”

“But already checked everywhere — he’s not in the castle.”

“You must’ve just missed him,” Ominis insisted, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. “He’s probably hiding in the Undercroft. He’s not stupid enough to throw himself into something like that. Not tonight.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure. The truth was, Sebastian had done reckless things before. And this time, he had everything he needed to do something catastrophic.

We stepped out into the corridor together. The dungeons, usually alive with whispers or the soft murmur of distant echoes, felt unnaturally still. In the hush, our footsteps rang out sharply against the stone walls — each one cold, jarring, and far too loud. It was like they were pounding straight into my skull. My nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. If I saw Sebastian right then, I wasn’t sure if I’d scream at him or hug him — or both.

But the Undercroft was empty. Just like before.

I began to pace, my breath coming fast.

“For Merlin’s sake, what is this place?!” I shouted, my voice bouncing off the walls. “What kind of boarding school lets students disappear to who-knows-where half the time?!”

“Finally experiencing what it’s like to be me?” Ominis said dryly. The sarcasm was there, but so was something else — fear. It was sinking into both of us now. Our friend was gone.

I scanned the room. Amid the cluttered desk, a glint of fresh ink on a piece of parchment caught my eye. Sebastian had been here. And not long ago — the ink hadn’t even dried. I crossed the room and picked it up. The note was clearly meant for me.

“I honestly tried to distract myself with reading, but it didn’t help. I know you’ll come looking for me. Don’t worry — I just need some time alone. To clear my head. And to follow a few leads on a possible Acromantula den. I promise — no reckless decisions. I only want to confirm if the rumours are true. We’ll talk in the morning.”

There was no signature, but the handwriting was unmistakably his. It was the longest and most heartfelt letter I’d ever received from Sebastian. He had never cared before whether I worried or not.

“Ominis…” My voice trembled into a rasp. I handed him the letter. He read it with his wand, frowning.

“Looks like I’ve underestimated his impulsiveness,” he said grimly.

“I’m going after him,” I declared, pulling my cloak tighter. I was still in a dress, but there was no time to change.

“Wait,” Ominis placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you think the more people sneak around near that lair, the more likely we’ll be spotted?”

“The ink hasn’t even dried yet,” I argued. “I can still catch him.”

“Another good question,” he said, squinting. “How do you suppose he got there? Or us, if we follow? There are no Floo points nearby, you can’t buy an illegal Portkey in thirty minutes, and Apparating without a license — even outside school grounds — is far too dangerous.”

He ticked the points off on his fingers, trying to appeal to reason. But I knew — Sebastian must’ve taken a broom. That was the only thing that made sense. If I left now, maybe I could still reach him in time.

Ominis noticed the resolve in my voice.

“And here we go again — caught in the same vicious cycle,” he muttered, following me toward the castle doors. “I just hope this ends the way you’re hoping.”

“You’re thinking of flying too?” I asked, uncertain.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You really think I’d let you go alone?” he shot back, firm. “You said yourself — Highwing was directly involved in all this. We’ll fly with her.”

I’d already turned toward the broom shed but froze mid-step. Of course, he was right. No one knew how to find that place better than Highwing. I changed direction and headed toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Ominis followed close behind.

“If I promise to bring him back safe and sound, is there any way I can convince you not to come?” he asked gently.

“Not a chance,” I replied, arms crossed.

“That’s what I thought. Still had to try.”

As we walked, I looked up. The sky was clear and cloudless, just like it had been in the Great Hall. But the moon was nowhere to be seen — better for us, less chance of being spotted. There was hardly any wind. A perfect near-Christmas night. One we could have spent so differently…

I glanced back at the castle. A few couples lingered on the terrace, bathed in warm light from the windows. Long shadows stretched across the ground behind them. They couldn’t see us in the starlight, but I saw them clearly — like figurines in the palm of my hand. We could’ve been one of those couples tonight. I stole a look at Ominis, a trace of sadness in my chest.

But I had no right to feel that way — it had been my choice to go after Sebastian. A strange, painful belief had rooted itself in my mind: that if I didn’t follow him, even once, we’d lose him forever. I never said it aloud. But I knew it.

At the forest’s edge, I called for Highwing. She appeared at once, peering expectantly over my shoulder for a treat. I stroked her beak apologetically, promising her something sweet next time. Ominis secured the saddle with a flick of his wand.

“We need to get to where you helped Poppy,” I whispered to her, unsure how much she understood. “It’s really important.”

With a low grunt, she seemed to accept. She even bent her front legs slightly to let us mount more easily.

I looked down at my dress — completely unsuited for flying — and without hesitation, tore the hem to free my legs. Ominis didn’t comment, only sighed softly at the sound of fabric ripping.

Once I settled in front of him and gripped the reins, my mind drifted to our first flight together. It hadn’t been long ago, yet already felt like a memory from another lifetime. I glanced back at him — he looked calm, focused. He’d likely run through every possible scenario before we even took off. Sensing my gaze, he nodded and wrapped his arms securely around my waist.

We rose silently into the sky. I steered Highwing south, wide around the castle, and she obeyed, her wings cutting swiftly through the night.

Flying in the dark was far more difficult — the farther we got from Hogwarts, the deeper the shadows stretched across the sky. Thick, heavy clouds loomed in from the sea, forcing us to descend to avoid getting wet and frozen. Without the faintly glowing villages below, I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where we were headed. But Highwing didn’t need much guidance — she flew with quiet confidence toward Marunweem Lake, where the cave was rumoured to be home to one of the rarest magical creatures: a Phoenix. That’s why the poachers had pitched a large camp in the nearby woods — desperate to catch the bird and make their fortune.

We soared above high, barren cliffs until the glint of water appeared in the distance. We were close. Highwing banked sharply along the steep drop, and below us stretched a dense forest, broken here and there by clearings. In one of them, a flickering fire revealed a scattering of tents — undoubtedly the camp Poppy had mentioned. The poachers moved openly, making no attempt to conceal their presence. We circled wide, careful not to draw attention. I scanned the sky and the forest floor, searching for a broom or any sign of movement. Doubt began to creep in — had I misunderstood? Had Sebastian really come here?

Then, in a single second, all doubt vanished.

At the base of the cliff, barely half a mile from the camp, a thunderous explosion rocked the air. Whether by accident or intention, Sebastian had clearly used an Incendiary Potion. In the crystalline stillness of the winter night, the sound echoed across the lake. Poachers stirred — shouting, scattering, scrambling toward the disturbance.

“He found them, then…” Ominis murmured grimly in my ear.

“Or they found him,” I replied — but my voice was lost in the wind.

The forest below was so dense, the tree canopies so thick and lush, that landing anywhere near the explosion was impossible. Highwing circled above for several tense minutes before finally descending onto a rocky ledge some distance away. I slid off her back and immediately urged her to leave — to hide from danger and stay closer to the school. With a huff, she snorted and took to the skies again. I knew I was sending away our only reliable way out of those cursed thickets. But I couldn’t risk her safety. She wasn’t just a companion anymore — she’d become a true friend.

I stood on the ledge, staring down into pitch black. No matter how I strained, I couldn’t see more than a few feet. I’d been in the Forbidden Forest at night before, but never had I seen such unnatural darkness. It pulled at me — and terrified me.

Snow began to fall, soft and soundless. I watched, spellbound, as the flakes vanished into the abyss below. I was about to light my wand — without it, we’d lose all bearings — but Ominis gently touched my hand.

“Listen,” he whispered, finger to his lips. “We’re not alone.”

I held my breath. Then I heard it — branches snapping, faint voices in the distance. Poachers were searching the forest.

“That’s not a bad sign,” Ominis said, oddly calm. “Means they still don’t know where the explosion came from — or why.”

I was struck by how composed he sounded. I’d seen Sebastian face mortal danger before — always with bravado, a joke on his lips, but fear behind his eyes. This was my first time seeing Ominis in such a situation, and I couldn’t understand how he remained so calm. With a flick of his wand, he extinguished all light — even the faint glow it usually gave off.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand. Snowflakes landed in his pale hair and on his shoulders, glittering like tiny stars before melting.

My heart pounded. This had happened before — in a dream. I’d stood on this very ledge, and he had asked me the same question. But that time, there had been no Sebastian. And no Acromantulas.

I nodded and took his hand. Our fingers wove together tightly.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Darkness has never been an obstacle for me.”

The descent wasn’t as steep as I’d feared. Within minutes, I felt the frozen earth beneath my feet. The poachers’ voices grew clearer — sharp bursts of sound drifting through the trees — and now and then I glimpsed flashes of light, flitting like fireflies before vanishing into the dark. Ominis led the way, quiet and careful, his wand held aloft.

“Have you considered what we’ll do when our spider-like friends decide to make an appearance?” he whispered, once the forest had hushed.

“Sebastian said they’re afraid of fire,” I replied grimly. “And since we don't have Weasley’s potions on hand, all we’ve got is our spellwork — and hope.”

“Understood…” Ominis hesitated. “When we find him, though, I can’t promise I won’t throw a few curses his way too.”

“I’ve a feeling I’ll be right there with you,” I said, following his footsteps as quietly as I could.

After what felt like a long, tense quarter-hour, we broke free from the choking undergrowth and reached the base of a massive cliff. Strangely, we hadn’t encountered a single creature. The Acromantulas must have been hiding, unwilling to reveal their nest. A secret snack of poachers now and then probably suited them perfectly. Stirring the pot would only bring conflict.

But more pressing — there was no sign of Sebastian.

Only a mound of shattered boulders, likely the aftermath of the explosion.

“Where is he?” I whispered, my voice thin with panic.

A prickling unease crept over me. We were being watched. I could feel it — though nothing around us moved. I turned in place, scanning the shadows, but saw only cliffs, trees, and scattered stones. Then something in the dirt caught my eye: a wand, half-buried. The Teal Checkerboard handle, the pale wood — unmistakable. It was Sebastian’s.

“This is very bad,” I murmured, voice trembling. I bent to pick it up and tucked it into my cloak. Panic crawled up my spine.

Ominis stepped closer to the cliff and pressed his palm to the rock. His expression stilled, and I realized he was using Legilimency — trying to locate Sebastian’s mind. If Seb was close and conscious, it might just work.

A few seconds passed. Then Ominis flinched and opened his eyes.

“He’s alive. The entrance to the gorge collapsed, but he managed to duck behind a bend. The Acromantulas can’t reach him — for now.”

Relief hit me like a rush of air. My chest loosened. He was alive. Hope flickered — and with it, an idea. The damage was too severe to clear with ordinary spells quickly. It would take some time. But I had something else — something ancient and powerful. I turned to Ominis and quickly shared my plan.

“Sounds promising,” he said, scanning the rock pile with his wand. “Think you can manage it?”

“I do now,” I said, raising my wand. “Be ready.”

“We’ll have to move fast,” he added. “The noise will bring more than just spiders — every poacher in the forest will come running.”

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the stone heap. This wasn’t like before, fumbling through raw power. Now I understood how to summon Ancient Magic — and how to channel its strength with purpose. I cast the Repulsion Charm, layering it, amplifying it until the wand thrummed in my hand. With a shattering boom, the rocks blasted inward, tumbling apart to reveal the narrow gorge beyond.

And there — through the dust and rubble — I saw him. Sebastian’s scratched face peered from a crevice to the left. His eyes locked on mine.

Then he shouted — urgent, desperate.

“Behind you!”

I spun just as a massive Acromantula lunged at my neck, fangs bared. If it had struck, I’d be paralyzed in seconds. I ducked, heart pounding, as it missed by inches. Ominis fired a spell, but it ricocheted off the spider’s gleaming hide like sparks off stone.

I grabbed Ominis’s arm and yanked him toward the gorge. We scrambled through the entrance, squeezing into the same narrow crevice Sebastian had used. It was tight — barely room for the three of us — and the slab of rock above us didn’t feel secure. If one of the larger spiders rammed it, it might not hold.

The Acromantula that had attacked me vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

“One got me too,” Sebastian whispered, half awed, half exhilarated. “Barely dodged the thing. And it knocked my wand out of my hand on purpose. They’re incredibly smart.”

I’d planned to yell at him, maybe even hex him for putting us through this. But the moment I saw his face, all that anger evaporated. I pulled him into a hug and let a few tears come silently. He hesitated, then awkwardly patted my back.

“I didn’t mean for any of this,” he said, voice low. “How did you know I was here?”

“Later,” Ominis said sharply, like a snapped twig. “We need to move — now. Before it’s too late.”

I nodded and handed Sebastian his wand. He took it with care, but held up a hand in warning.

“Look at this first,” he said, tugging me toward the far side of the crevice, where a narrow gap opened deeper into the mountain. Through the slit, I could just make out tall, arching shapes shrouded in webbing. Snowflakes drifted through the air like ash, dusting the strange interior.

At the far end of the tunnel, massive spiders crawled one by one into the dark. At the rear of the procession, looming above the rest, was the largest Acromantula I had ever seen — easily the size of a troll.

“That’s the patriarch,” Sebastian said, eyes gleaming with feverish intent. “We can bring him under control — just like I planned. We didn’t end up here for nothing.”

He raised his wand. I could tell he was casting the Imperius Curse non-verbally. But nothing happened — the Acromantula was too large, too intelligent to be controlled so easily. Sebastian tried again. Still nothing. The spider clicked loudly and turned toward us. It had spotted us.

“What are you waiting for?” Ominis called from near the entrance, confused by our delay. “The Acromantulas are only one of our problems. The poachers will be on us any minute.”

Sebastian turned to me, eyes desperate.

“I’ve never tried combining Ancient Magic with an Unforgivable,” I whispered. “We don’t know what could happen.”

“This is our last chance,” he begged. “Please.”

Ominis had caught part of our exchange. “What are you talking about?” His voice was sharp now. “You’re not seriously considering…”

I looked at Sebastian. Then back at Ominis.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I have to try. For Anne.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the Ancient Magic pulsing within me. It sensed my turmoil and surged forward like an avalanche — but I was stronger now, more in control than ever before. I raised my wand, aimed it at the patriarch, and cast the curse with unwavering certainty.

Bathed in a silvery glow from the remaining Ancient Magic inside me, it shot forward — not to subjugate the spider’s will, but to wrap around him in blinding threads of light, like a cocoon. Then, with a deafening blast, it exploded, tearing him into thousands of pieces. The shockwave rippled through the gorge, crashing into the rock that had sheltered us. With a thunderous crack, it split wide open.

Now, nothing stood between us and the swarm.

Leaderless, the Acromantulas scattered into a frenzy. Their formation broke, their purpose dissolved. Some skittered aimlessly, others turned toward us, their shrill chittering rising as they began clawing at the shattered rock, forcing their way through.

“Do you have any Incendiary potions left?” I shouted to Sebastian, panic rising in my throat.

“A couple — but if I throw one here, it’ll bring the whole cliff down on us,” he replied, glancing up at the overhang now looming precariously above.

“If you’re so set on using Dark magic,” Ominis said coldly, his voice like a blade, “then let’s not waste time doing it poorly.”

Without another word, he raised his wand. A torrent of fire erupted from it — nothing like I’d ever seen before. This fire was alive. Sentient. It roared to life with terrifying power, reducing the nearest spiders and their webs to ash in seconds. The blaze surged forward, sweeping down the gorge like a flaming beast, devouring everything in its path.

I turned to Ominis, startled by what I saw reflected in his eyes — not just fury, but sorrow. And disappointment.

He hissed under his breath — not words, not a spell, but something ancient and primal. Parseltongue.

The fire shifted in response, writhing like it understood. Whether it was my imagination or something more, the flames took on a new form — a colossal serpent of fire, striking and coiling with feral intelligence. For a moment, it surged too close, nearly engulfing us — but Ominis reined it in with another sibilant whisper. The blaze hovered, seething, then vanished as abruptly as it had come.

Sebastian stared, dumbfounded. I could only gape in silence. We had stumbled out of the gorge, reaching the edge of a dense forest just as flashes of wandlight pierced the trees and shouts rang out — poachers, and plenty of them.

“I think that’s enough for us today,” Sebastian said grimly. Grabbing both of us, he raised his wand and twisted. The world vanished in a rush of wind and pressure.

When we landed — tumbling across the sandy shore of Marunweem Lake — I barely had time to catch my breath. Apparating three people at once was reckless, but compared to everything else, it felt like a minor event.

We got up, brushing sand from our cloaks, breathless. I caught Sebastian eyeing the ripped seam in my dress — and he was already opening his mouth.

“Don’t even think about it,” I snapped before he could speak. “Can you explain what possessed you to go in there? What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t plan to get caught!” Sebastian shot back. “They ambushed me.”

“As if you didn’t know who you were dealing with,” I said bitterly. “We nearly died.”

“Shame we didn’t get the venom,” he muttered, lowering his gaze. “Still… thanks for coming. Was it Poppy who tipped you off?”

I nodded. Ominis stood apart, arms crossed, his face closed off again, unwilling to join in.

“What was that?” Sebastian asked, peeking warily at him from behind my shoulder.

“A curse that kills every third person who tries to use it,” Ominis replied flatly, voice tight with loathing. “Fiendfyre. That enough to get me into your little Dark Arts fan club?”

“I didn’t know you could even do that,” Sebastian said, brushing off the sarcasm.

“There’s a lot I didn’t know about you two either,” Ominis replied, coldly distant. His hand tightened around his wand. “Let’s go home.”

“My broom’s still in the forest,” Sebastian muttered, gesturing vaguely at the hills. “But there’s a fireplace nearby on the east shore…”

“Wonderful,” Ominis said dryly, pulling a pouch of Floo Powder from his cloak.

“Always prepared,” Sebastian quipped with a weak smile. “Classic Ominis.”

“No one was prepared for this cursed night,” Ominis snapped. “Let’s just go.”

“But there’s only enough powder for one,” Sebastian said, peering into the pouch.

“And guess who’s flying back to Hogwarts, fetching more, and coming back for the rest of us?” Ominis asked, his tone deceptively calm — his words, anything but.

“I’ll do it,” Sebastian said quickly, sensing better than to argue.

We walked in silence. If Sebastian’s brush with death had somehow jolted him back to life, it had drained the last of Ominis’s. He walked ahead of us, solitary and intent, while Sebastian and I exchanged uneasy glances behind him.

When we reached the fireplace, Sebastian didn’t wait — he vanished into the flames without a word. I stayed behind with Ominis. No matter how I shifted, he always managed to keep his back to me. I didn’t dare speak. He was angry — at Sebastian, at me — and he had every right to be.

Minutes passed. Then finally, without turning around, he spoke.

“You know… back at the ball, I really meant to tell you I loved you.”

I froze, instinctively stepping back. My heart thundered in my ears. I started to say something, but Ominis silenced me with a raised hand. I obeyed.

“But then I realized — I don’t know you at all,” he went on, his voice distant. “I thought your presence had changed both him and me for the better. But really, you just helped Sebastian pull us both deeper into the dark. I see it clearly now: it was always about him. Never about Anne. Never about you and me. And I can’t change that.”

“Ominis…” I tried to protest, barely above a whisper. He didn’t let me.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, bitterness threading his voice. “I’ll deal with my feelings. I always do. It’s not the first time I’ve lost someone I care about.”

Tears burned in my eyes, and I wiped them away with the back of my sleeve. I wanted to say something — anything — to make him understand. To tell him he was wrong, that he mattered more than he could possibly imagine. But before I could find the words, the green fire flared, and Sebastian returned.

Ominis snatched the pouch from his hand, tossed a handful into the flames, and vanished without a backward glance.

I stood there, vision blurred by tears, feeling the empty space he left behind more acutely than ever. Sebastian, for once perceptive, studied my face but said nothing. He handed me the pouch. One by one, we silently made our way back to Hogwarts.

When we stepped from the fireplace, Ominis still was there. He took a step forward, hand outstretched.

“Give me the brooch, please,” he said.

I gently unpinned it from the inside of my cloak pocket and placed it in Ominis’s waiting hand. His fingers closed tightly around it, and he was just about to leave when Sebastian suddenly exclaimed:

“Wait! Did you already open it?”

Ominis turned, one eyebrow arched.
“Open what?”

“Oh… right. You can’t read the inscription,” Sebastian bit his lip, clearly debating whether to say more. “The message on the brooch suggests there’s something inside.”

For a fleeting second, Ominis’s cold composure cracked, revealing genuine horror. But just as quickly, he recovered.

“I’ve never noticed a second clasp or hidden lock,” he said, handing the ornament to Sebastian. “But feel free to check.”

Sebastian took the brooch again and read aloud the inscription — a phrase that, though meant for none of us, changed all our lives in an instant:

“Fosgail, nuair a dh’fhàsas solas a’ chridhe agad fann,” he said, the foreign words unexpectedly soft, almost reverent. “Which I can loosely translate as: ‘Open it, when the light within thy heart begins to wane’.”

We stood in silence as he ran his fingers along the brooch’s edge, revealing a hairline seam so fine it was nearly invisible. Even by touch, it couldn’t be felt. Whispering an unlocking charm, he tapped it with his wand — and the brooch split open like a locket.

Inside, coiled delicately and glowing faintly silver, was a single, thread-like strand. For a moment I thought it might be Ancient Magic — but I’d seen this before. It was a memory.

The sight stunned me. My tears stopped altogether. Sebastian seemed to recognize it too, his expression darkening with understanding. He explained what it was to Ominis, who stood frozen in shock.

“Incredible that you managed to keep it hidden all these years,” Sebastian said quietly. “Do you want to discover what it reveals?”

“Now?” Ominis asked, uncertain. “Every time I think this day can’t get any stranger…”

“I can watch it alone,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “There’s a Pensieve in the Undercroft. In case anyone’s forgotten.”

“No.” Ominis shook his head firmly. “I’m not missing this.”

“Then… I suppose I’ll see you both tomorrow?” I asked tentatively, feeling like an intruder in the middle of a mystery that wasn’t mine.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sebastian said at once, echoing a line I’d heard earlier that evening. “We’ve come this far together. We’ll learn the truth together.”

It was already well past midnight, so we each quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm — getting caught by a professor now would’ve been an inconvenient and rather silly end to the night. Sebastian clutched the brooch like it was a priceless treasure. Ominis walked beside him, slightly unsteady, as though caught between a nightmare and waking.

On this quiet, pre-Christmas night, the castle finally offered us a calming moment of peace. The ball had long since ended, and the corridors were empty. Thankfully, no prefects or professors were patrolling. We slipped into the Undercroft unnoticed, and Sebastian wasted no time — he raised his wand and transferred the memory into the Pensieve.

It began to swirl, the image blooming across the surface like a strange, enchanted garden — at my height, it looked almost like it had come to life.

“Well then,” he said. “Shall we?”

Each of us, standing on our side of the basin, leaned into the swirling silver ether. I felt that recognisable plunge into the void — but soon enough, solid ground rose beneath my feet, and the world around us took shape, forming a familiar landscape. I had been here before, though only on a cold winter night. Now, it was a bright summer day.

From above, the lake shimmered under the soft glow of the setting sun. Swallows and swifts danced through the sky, diving after insects. There was no thestral nest yet — only a lush, open field, thick with juicy grass and towering purple thistles. The air was heavy with the warm, heady scent of early summer.

At first, I didn’t notice the two figures in the tall grass, seated near the very edge of the cliff. But as soon as I saw them, I recognised them instantly. Albert Sallow — tall, dark-haired, with the same magnetic glint in his eye as in that old newspaper portrait — was lounging on the ground, legs dangling over the drop, gaze fixed wholly on his companion. The breathtaking view around him seemed to hold no interest. And watching her, I could understand why.

Ominis’s mother was the picture of quiet elegance — graceful and luminously beautiful in a way that seemed untouched by time. Her long, heavy blonde hair was woven into a thick braid that rested over one shoulder, and her face, softened by a serene, faraway expression, carried the kind of calm that comes from knowing both sorrow and peace. Everything about her — the delicate curve of her hands, the effortless poise in her posture, the understated refinement of her robes — spoke of noble blood and old-world gentility.

Her skin was porcelain-pale, almost translucent, as though the sun had been a rare visitor in her life. But rather than diminishing her presence, the frailty it suggested only made her seem more precious, more in need of shielding from the cruelties of the world. And the more I looked at her — at both of them — the more it struck me how heartbreakingly young they were. Barely out of their twenties. Still on the cusp of the lives they hadn’t yet lived.

In her lap, she held a small, peculiar bouquet of wildflowers — vivid and mismatched, yet tenderly arranged. At its heart were thistles, bold and unexpected among softer blooms. She traced their petals with reverent fingers, careful not to catch on the thorns, as though even the prickliest things deserved gentleness.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she said, her voice unexpectedly low and velvety, tinged with a distinct foreign accent. It was instantly clear — Ominis’s mother hadn’t grown up in the United Kingdom.

“I originally picked those flowers for you,” Albert gestured toward the bouquet resting in her lap, “but then I realised it would be better to bring you here myself.”

Listening to him speak, I still couldn’t get used to the uncanny resemblance to Sebastian. The tone, the cadence, even the way he shaped his words — everything was startlingly similar. Only Albert’s voice was a shade deeper, a little more grounded with age.

“The bouquet is lovely too,” she said modestly. “I’ll keep it to remember this day.”

She turned her face slightly, looking out toward the horizon with a trace of shyness. Her eyes were a soft sky-blue — the very shade I imagined Ominis’s would have been, had he been born with sight.

“If only you knew how much I love you,” Albert said suddenly, without warning or preamble.

I glanced back at Ominis and Sebastian. They were motionless, as if spellbound. Sebastian stared hungrily at his father’s face, while Ominis seemed desperate to catch every word his mother said.

“And what do you love most about me?” she asked playfully, still watching the point where the sky met the hills.

“Probably how stubbornly you refused to admit your feelings,” he laughed. “And you?”

“That you stubbornly refused to take no for an answer,” she replied, smiling.

“But seriously,” Albert grew quieter, more reflective, “you were — and still are — the only person who’s ever truly known me. You’re my life. I never believed in fate or destiny, but… from the very first day, I knew you’d be mine.”

“You mean that lecture? The one where you stole my sketchbook?”

“I needed a reason to talk to you where no one could overhear,” he grinned. “Who’d have guessed it would take nearly a year to get our first date?” He shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Where does such exact memory come from?” she asked with mock reproach, giving him a sideways look as she took his hand.

“I still have the parchment where you scribbled the address of that ridiculous muggle pub,” Albert said, running a gentle hand through her hair. “Yes, I’m sentimental.”

She laughed — a tender, genuine sound — but her eyes held a quiet tension. I noticed Professor Sallow was frowning slightly, staring at something on her neck. I followed his gaze — and saw faint, bluish marks just above her collarbone. Finger marks.

“I won’t let him hurt you again…” Albert said, taking both her hands in his. “We have to go. We have to disappear. I’ve begged you a thousand times.”

“And I’ve told you a thousand times — I can’t abandon my son,” she shook her head slowly. “Besides, we have a shared purpose…”

“I promise you — if there’s a cure, I’ll find it. Your money won’t be wasted.”

She nodded, though her expression darkened with worry. Choosing her words carefully, she warned:

“Please… be careful. My husband’s friends won’t stop trying to bring you into their fold. They’re always drawn to the scent of profit.”

He sighed, weariness creeping into his features.

“Too bad the Ministry doesn’t think my work smells like profit. But after everything that’s happened, I don't care anymore.”

He pulled her gently into his arms, as though cradling her in a fortress of his own making. She set the bouquet aside on the grass and leaned into him, surrendering to his embrace.

“You have to look after the children,” she said softly, her voice muffled against his chest. He tilted his head, his chin brushing her hair.

“And her…”

“She’s made it perfectly clear she wants nothing to do with me,” he replied, his voice hardening. “Honestly, the feeling’s mutual now. Maybe once I’m gone, her wealthy English father will finally speak to her again — just like he always wanted.”

“You can’t say that…” Ominis’s mother murmured, shaken.

“I love my children. And I believe one day, they’ll understand me. But right now… I have almost nothing left. No family, no career, no name worth speaking of. The only thing that gives me a reason to wake up in the morning is my love for you. I know it isn’t enough, but…”

“It’s all I’ve ever needed,” she interrupted, eyes shining. “My heart will always belong to you.”

“Truly?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Then nothing else matters.”

“Tha gaol agam ort,” she said softly, each word pronounced with care. No translation was needed. The meaning was clear.

“Beautiful pronunciation,” Albert smiled. “You’re the only person who ever tried to learn the language. Just for me. How could I ever let go of a treasure like that?”

They sank back into the tall grass, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Their lips met. I turned quickly to Ominis and Sebastian and gently tugged them away from the memory. Wherever it ended, the rest clearly wasn’t meant for other eyes — or ears.

We surfaced from the Pensieve so abruptly that we might have collapsed, had the walls not held us upright. Sebastian stumbled back and stood motionless, staring blankly at the central panel of the triptych. I had never seen him like that before. Ominis, meanwhile, looked as though something inside him had shattered. His face twisted in silent torment, and he kept shaking his head, over and over, as if trying to unhear what he’d just heard.

“I’ll find you later,” was all he said before bolting out of the Undercroft like a shot. It was clear — he hadn’t expected the memory to cut so deep.

I watched him go, unable to speak. When I turned to Sebastian, he still hadn’t moved. He stood like a statue, not blinking, barely breathing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, the words sounding pitifully small.

He shrugged. Sebastian Sallow, speechless — that alone was enough to unnerve me. A long silence stretched out between us before he finally spoke, slowly and quietly.

“I knew they got married because of an unplanned pregnancy. And I always suspected she loved him more than he loved her. But I had no idea they were this… unhappy. When I saw that engraving at the ball, I was furious at my father. But now…” He trailed off, his voice raw. “Now I realise how foolish it is to wait around, hoping someone will love you back. That’s how you end up — just an unwanted, sad chapter in someone else’s beautiful story.”

“Love is blind,” I murmured, taken aback by the heaviness of his reflection.

“Isn’t it just,” he said bitterly, locking eyes with me. Then he added softly, “Go after him.”

“What?” I blinked, unsure I’d heard him right.

“Catch up to him,” Sebastian said more firmly. “He’s too thick to realize you love him too. Tell him. Finally.”

“How did you...”

“Go!” he insisted, with the slightest hint of a smile. “He needs you now.”

Without another word, I turned and sprinted out of the Undercroft, Disillusionment Charm already in place. Several minutes had passed, and Ominis was nowhere in sight — but I didn’t need to search. I already knew exactly where he’d be.

I climbed, higher and higher, up the winding staircases of the near-empty castle. I raced past the Room of Requirement and up to the open platform of the Astronomy Tower.

I hadn’t seen him yet, but I could already smell the familiar trace of his perfume. He was here.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I found him — curled up on the cold stone floor, knees drawn to his chest. He was leaning against the very bench where we once sat together, speaking of touching the stars.

I lowered myself beside him, mirroring his posture. I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. I knew he would break the silence when he was ready.

And I wasn’t wrong.

“It happened in the middle of November,” Ominis began quietly. “We were home alone — just my mother and me. My father and siblings had gone away for a week, and those were the happiest days we ever had together. I’d play the piano for her in the drawing room, and she’d read me bedtime stories. Sometimes she’d disappear for most of the day, but she always came back in the evening. Always. At exactly nine o’clock, she’d come to wish me goodnight. But that evening… she didn’t.”

He flinched, and tears welled in his eyes. I didn’t yet understand where the story was going, but I stayed quiet, listening. I didn’t dare reach for his hand, so I just let my shoulder rest lightly against his — so he’d know I was there.

“I ran downstairs to the living room,” he continued, voice beginning to crack, “but on the way I heard voices coming from the library. I crept up to the door and listened. There was a man speaking — someone I didn’t recognize. And my mother. She was begging him to leave before I found them. I didn’t know much about love — I was only eight — but I could tell they were lovers. I panicked. I was selfish and afraid she might leave me. So I went back to bed and pretended I hadn’t heard anything.”

He paused, wiping the tears from his face. “But two days later, when my father came home… I told him everything.”

Now the tears came freely. He didn’t try to stop them.

“We were always puzzled by how Sebastian’s parents and my mother died within days of each other. Odd sort of coincidence, isn’t it?” He pressed his fingers to his temples and began to rock slightly.

In that moment, I understood exactly why Sebastian had sent me after him so urgently. Even if he didn’t know the whole story, he must have known the dates. How he interpreted them was another matter.

“I’ve always known I killed her,” Ominis whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I never believed I could atone for what I did. But what I learned today is… my stupidity cost two more lives.”

“Don’t say that!” I burst out. “It wasn’t your fault… She made that decision herself.”

“I remember that day far too clearly to believe that,” Ominis interrupted, shaking his head. “My father mocked her at the dinner table. Said she’d never see that man again. That she’d learn to respect her husband and remember her place.” His voice dropped lower. “What I didn’t realize then was that the man she loved had just been found dead the day before. I never knew it was Albert Sallow.”

The whole picture hit me like a blast of icy water.

“You think your father could have…?”

“I have no proof,” Ominis said, his eyes closed, forehead resting on his knees. “But yes. Now I believe he was involved in the deaths of Sebastian’s parents. And the person who handed him the idea on a silver platter… was me.”

“Please, stop blaming yourself,” I said, more gently now. “You didn’t even know who the man was. How could your father have known?”

“Did Sebastian show you Solomon’s letter?” he asked, still not lifting his head. “If he knew, then the rumours must have been out there. The wizarding world isn’t exactly vast.”

“Then we need to focus on proving it,” I said with new resolve. “We’ll gather evidence. We’ll bring your father to justice and send him to Azkaban if that’s where he belongs. And the first thing we’ll do is talk to Solomon.”

“We?” Ominis finally lifted his head and turned to face me.

I leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of my breath, and whispered with quiet conviction:

“You don’t have to say anything now. But unless you ask me to go… I won’t. Maybe you don’t know me all that well yet — but I know you. Enough to mean this.”

I paused, just for a moment.

“I love you, Ominis Gaunt,” I said, simply. “Not for who I want you to be, or who you were. Just… as you are. And if you’re willing, I’d like the chance to show you who I am too. So you can decide for yourself if that’s something you want.”

“But… what about Sebastian?”

“I already told you — right here, in this very place,” I glanced around the Astronomy Tower, “you are mistaken. And by the way… he’s the one who sent me after you.”

His eyes widened at that. But I wasn’t finished.

“And you were wrong about something else, too. You said I made the two of you better — but it wasn’t me. It was you. We would’ve died today, like a pair of reckless fools, if not for you.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Ominis whispered. “But…”

The pause stretched out unbearably. I couldn’t take it — I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly.

“I swear,” I murmured, lips brushing his skin, “I won’t ever hide anything from you again. Can you forgive me?”

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping. “From someone who’ll never hear it.”

“Whatever the truth is,” I said firmly, “we’ll get through it. And we’ll make the ones truly responsible pay.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment and pulled me closer, clutching me like a lifeline — like he could hide behind me from all the ghosts still chasing him. I stroked his shoulders, his neck, his cheeks — slowly, gently, like tracing a spell. Our breath curled in thick white clouds in the cold night air, but I wasn’t going to let go. Not unless he made me. Even if I froze to the bone.

“You’re right,” he said after a while, calmer now. “If I can do anything, it’s to deal with my father. But… for now, let’s keep this between us.”

I nodded and leaned in until our foreheads touched. I could feel Ominis’s unsteady breath against my ear as I brushed a soft kiss to his cheek — barely an inch from his lips. He slowly closed his eyes, but this time, it was different. As if something in him had finally eased. His long, slender fingers traced a gentle line down the side of my neck, hesitating as they reached my shoulders.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he said suddenly, pulling back just a little. I blinked in surprise, heat rising in my cheeks.

“Is this really the best time?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My upbringing doesn’t exactly allow me to kiss a girl I hardly know,” he replied, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, clearly enjoying how flustered I’d become.

“Then here’s your first fact,” I said, smiling as I drew him close again. “This girl has no manners whatsoever.”

I kissed him — gently, with all the quiet tenderness that had gathered in me over the past few weeks. Whatever the next day might bring didn’t matter. For a moment, it was just the two of us, and the countless stars above — stars he couldn’t see, but which I knew he could feel with his fingertips. And in that stillness, we belonged to each other. Just as we always should have.

We only broke apart when Amit, clutching a new lens for the telescope, stepped out onto the platform. He gasped loudly at the sight of us, and scurried back down the stairs. We both laughed.

I called after him, “We’re leaving! The comet’s all yours!”

He didn’t answer, though he seemed pleased enough — apart from the part where he pointedly avoided looking me in the eye, his gaze fixed instead on my thoroughly ruined dress.

“I completely forgot about that ‘cosmic wonder,’” I said sheepishly as Ominis and I descended the tower. “He talked about it to everyone at the ball.”

“You do realize that by tomorrow, anyone still at Hogwarts will know about us?” Ominis asked, holding the door open for me.

“I hope so,” I said. “Let the rumours finally be true.”

He reached out and gently ran his fingers through my hair — something he’d never done before.
“Let’s check on Sebastian,” he said softly. “We shouldn’t leave him alone for too long.”

We crossed the threshold of the Undercroft again — for what felt like the hundredth time that day — and found Sebastian exactly where I’d left him. He stood by the wall, deep in thought, his eyes fixed on a stack of papers spread across the desk. At the very top lay Slytherin’s spellbook, open.

“Finally,” he said, glancing at the clock. “Since it’s nearly morning… shall we get back to what I actually called you here for before the ball?”

“Haven’t we already worn that topic out?” I asked, uneasy.

“I wasn’t just talking about the Acromantulas,” Sebastian replied, shaking his head. “That chapter’s probably closed — for now. But I found something else in the book.”

He gestured toward the desk, where a drawing of a strange artefact caught my eye. It was shaped like a pyramid, flanked by figures I couldn’t quite make out from where I stood.

“And what is it?” Ominis asked softly, trying to sound encouraging.

“An ancient relic,” Sebastian said, his voice low with excitement. “Supposedly one that can reverse curses. It could be another way to heal my sister. Are you in?”

“Of course — we’re with you,” I said warmly.

“Whatever lies ahead,” Ominis agreed.

Quietly, I slipped my hand beneath the long sleeve of the cloak and found his fingers. I gave them a firm, steady squeeze, and to my relief, he squeezed back almost immediately.

There were still questions, still fears — but in the warmth of his touch, I found peace. And nothing else mattered.