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Chapter Text

I caught myself staring at his desk again. Without him the classes felt empty. Lifeless. Of course there was no way it would ever be the same even if he were here. You’ve made your choice, those were the last words I had uttered to him before he’d disappeared.

I thought perhaps he needed time, but when Sebastian didn’t show up for the house cup announcement at the end of the year I wondered if things were worse than I’d feared. Ominis avoided me and Poppy dodged my question whenever I asked about him.

“Eyes on your textbook, Miss Reeve,” Professor Weasley called, snapping me back to reality. “Magical theory is harder to grasp than you might think.”

Everett Clopton snickered across from me. How he was accepted into extra curricular classes this year was beyond me. Everyone knew he tried to cheat during our O.W.L’s

I was looking forward to finally having a class with professor Fig, but fate had other plans. I wondered if Sebastian would have taken this class with me.

The bell tower echoed through the school marking the hour.

“Alright students, that will be all for today. Please read the rest of the chapter before tomorrow’s lesson,” Professor Weasley announced as students already started gathering their belongings including Ominis.

“Ominis—” I started, but he brushed past me and hurried out of the classroom. We hadn’t spoken at all since the start of term. I couldn’t imagine why unless something had happened over break.

“Don’t worry, Lucie. I’m sure he’ll come around, last year was a lot for us all,” Poppy said smiling at me.

“Miss Reeve,” Professor Weasley called. “Please stay behind for a few moments.”

"I'll save you a seat at lunch," Poppy said before hurrying out of the classroom after the other students. I was happy for her finally opening up to other students and making friends that weren't animals.

I turned my attention towards Professor Weasley who motioned for me to follow into her office. She was currently teaching the class until they could find a replacement for professor Fig, but I couldn’t think of anyone who could replace such a great man.

I collected my books and gingerly walked into her office, fighting the urge to fidget my waist. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but knew I could trust Professor Weasley.

“How are you dear?” she asked, motioning for me to sit opposite her desk. “I trust you enjoyed your break. I know the school can seem rather mute during the holidays without any students.”

“I’m well, Professor. The school was actually rather peaceful and I was able to get a head start on my studies.”

Professor Weasley had allowed me to stay at Hogwarts over the break since the Ministry hadn’t decided what to do about my guardianship yet. I hoped this conversation wouldn’t be about that. I couldn’t bear the thought of being placed with a family I knew nothing about, living with strangers that would come to fear me once they discovered who I actually was.

“Yes, that is what I wanted to talk to you about. Madam Scribner alerted me to how much time you’ve been spending in the library and the types of books you’ve requested.”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with last years events, would it?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, remembering all the titles I’d read over the Summer. I’d gotten my hands on anything relating to ancient magic, even sneaking into the restricted section on occasion the way Sebastian had taught me. I looked down at my hands in my lap wondering what the professor thought of me looking into the very magic I had contained.

“I thought so,” Professor Weasley sighed.

“Professor, I—”

She held up a hand, “No need to explain, Miss Reeve. You went through something none of us could even begin to comprehend. It’s understandable you would try to learn as much as you can about what you experienced.”

I felt a small weight lift off my chest hearing the sincerity behind her words. “Thank you professor.” It wasn’t the entire reason I was looking into ancient magic but I wasn’t about to share that with her just yet.

“That being said,” her tone turned formal, and I braced myself for what she was about to say, “The ministry has agreed to let you continue your studies at Hogwarts with Headmaster Black as your guardian.”

“Headmaster Black?!”

Professor Weasley pursed her lips knowing my shock well. “They have also requested you attend extra private lessons with the new professor of Magical Theory. It’s apparent you can wield ancient magic to a great extent but they have questions about your control over it.”

I was silent. All thoughts and words escape me. I knew the ministry would be interested in my ability, rare as it was, but I had no desire to wield it again. All my research had been so I wouldn’t need to. Beneath Hogwarts, I had almost been consumed by it. All the pain Isidora had accumulated within the repository was enough to crush me, it almost did and it had taken all my will just to contain it. And why in Merlin’s name did they make Headmaster Black my guardian?

I cleared my throat and finally found my voice, “I have no desire to wield ancient magic again so the ministry has nothing to worry about.”

Professor Weasley frowned, “Unfortunately they don’t see it that way. It’s true, knowledge of such magic is limited, but what we do know is that it can manifest involuntarily and independently of intent. Since you already have an innate ability the likelihood of such an event occurring is significantly higher than the average witch or wizard.”

“This is why I decided to take the magical theory class this year, it’s the only extra curricular class I’m taking so I don’t need extra lessons.”

“Ah yes, your classes.” Professor Weasley raised her wand, summoning a scroll from the cabinet behind her. It unfurled and rested on the desk before her. “So far this term, your grades appear to be slipping and your attendance is lacking, Professor Hecat tells me she hasn’t seen you in her class at all.”

I averted my eyes when Professor Weasley glared at me. I could tell she wanted to question me. To explain what happened to that bright fifth-year student destined for greatness. But I couldn’t give voice to the reasons. Only that the thought of wielding magic caused me fear and anxiety that was rooted so deeply that it didn’t matter what type of magic I was asked to demonstrate.

Professor Weasley stood. “If you start attending your classes with the same enthusiasm you show in Magical Theory then I will ignore your recent disengagement.”

Her compromise seemed fair considering the circumstances. I imagined students in a similar position would be given much tougher consequences. “Do I have to attend the extra magical Theory lessons?” I asked hoping she might relent.

“Unfortunately, that request came directly from the Ministry. You must meet with Professor Figg every Tuesday and Thursday after dinner as well as an hour on the weekends.”

My eyes widened and the professor must have seen the shock on my face because she shook her head and explained there was no relation with the late Professor. I nodded my understanding and stood, heading for the door.

“One more thing, Miss Reeve.” I stopped and turned back to look at Professor Weasley. “Do make sure not to misplace your wand. Bad things have happened to witches who have had their wands stolen.”

I took a sharp breath, keenly aware of the empty slot at my waist hidden by my cloak. I should’ve known Professor Weasley would pick up on the absence of my wand. However, I didn’t need to worry about it being stolen with it safely locked away in the Room of Requirement.

I nodded once and shut the door behind me.

Attending classes again. That was something I could do. Professor Weasley didn’t specifically state I needed to participate in classes. That’s what I’d do: show up, keep my head down, and complete whatever was required of me. It should be easy so why did it completely rack my body with nerves?

Chapter Text

I quietly slid onto the bench next to Poppy in the Great Hall.

“We need to look more into those runes,” Poppy was saying. The Spellman’s Syllabary was lying open before her with a loose sheet of paper on top with a rough sketch of various ancient runes. The text was one of the more advanced readings required for the class.

“I recognise these from Arithmancy so we’ll need to cross reference the findings with a numerology chart. William won’t help, but perhaps we can find another student to help us. Whatever happened to William is definitely connected to transfiguration,” Samantha said, completely absorbed in the charts before her. They were covered with the same runic script and ciphers, something I found familiar, not from my classes, but from the trials I passed last year.

The two girls had become close over the summer when Samantha had written to Poppy asking for her knowledge and assistance. It turned out sibling rivalry had gotten the better of Samantha’s brother, William, and he had once again tried to prove his sister wrong and temporarily transformed into a Diricawl. Poppy was ecstatic, William was embarrassed, and Samantha was delighted at again proving her brother wrong. I wondered if she was secretly keeping score given the amount of drama happening between the Dale siblings.

William had thankfully returned to his human form, but much to his dismay, the two girls still spent their time fervently researching the mysterious transformation and I had to admit I was rather curious too.

“Why don’t you just ask one of the teachers?” I chimed in.

Poppy jumped and turned to glare at me. “How long have you been here?”

I shrugged. “Not long, but I can tell you need some help.”

“You’re taking Arithmancy this year, aren’t you Lucie?” Samantha asked. I nodded and smiled when she slid the charts across my way. “Knock yourself out. This stuff is giving me a headache.”

“I agree with you on that,” Poppy said, abandoning the book.

“I suggested asking a teacher, not me.” I pulled the book closer anyway and the answer jumped off the page because it was almost identical to the puzzles I encountered in the trials. “These look like coordinates.”

“What?” Poppy said a bit too close to my ear.

“You are absolutely right, Lucie.” Samantha beamed, eyes lighting up as she examined the charts. “We have to investigate.”

“But how? There hasn’t been any mention of weekend visits to Hogsmeade and we’ll get caught if we try sneaking out,” Poppy pouted.

“We might not even be going to Hogsmeade, Poppy, and lucky for us we have Lucie who learned the art of sneaking from the best in the school.” The twinkle in Samantha’s eye was hard to ignore but the thought of Sebastian tripped me up. I didn’t want to get into any trouble this year but I didn’t get a chance to tell her this when we were interrupted.

“What are you girls planning? Tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with the whole bird thing.” We looked up to see William smirking down at us. He wore a Gryffindor quidditch uniform, as did many seventh years now that Headmaster Black had relented on the return of the sport. “How many times do I need to apologise, Samantha?”

“And how many times do I need to tell you to mind your own business?” Samantha retorted.

“If you want to get in trouble with Professor Weasley then go right ahead, but don’t expect me to bail you out this time.”

“You’re such a jerk sometimes I hope you get pounded in the face by a bludger.”

The Great Hall was quiet now, all eyes on the two siblings. I knew they didn’t get along but this seemed on a whole other level. Noticing everyone staring, William shook his head and walked away.

“I think I liked him better as a Diricawl,” Poppy murmured, staring after William.

“Me too,” Samantha agreed.

“He had such beautiful red feathers,”

Samantha looked at Poppy realising she had begun to daydream. The Hufflepuff was prone to losing herself when it came to magical creatures.

I would have found it amusing too but my gaze was caught on the one student that had not reacted to the sibling spat.

Ominis sat alone, his fingers silently gliding across the braille of a book. His wand on the table. Without it he wouldn’t know I was coming his way and I doubted he would ignore me and risk being labelled ungentlemanly. He’d avoided me for too long and I needed to speak to him.

“You’ll need to speak to him sooner or later,” Samantha said as if reading my thoughts. “Just try to be gentle with your words. Us Ravenclaws can sometimes be too direct.”

Before I lost my nerve I headed straight across the room and sat on the bench next to Ominis. His fingers immediately came to a standstill.

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” I asked, getting straight to the point, something I was telling myself not to do.

He sighed, sightless eyes closing for a brief moment. “Lucie, I just — I’ve lost my family, my best friend has disappeared, and you were always there encouraging him. You manipulated me Lucie, you both did. Can you really blame me for keeping my distance?”

“You’re not just keeping your distance though, you’re flat out avoiding me. I know I made some questionable choices and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was only trying to protect you.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Besides,” I continued softer, “Even if I wasn’t around he would have still gone down that path and I think you know that.” The memory of Sebastian striking down his uncle flashed through my mind but I pushed it away like all the other painful memories.

“You’re right,” Ominis admitted, “I apologise. Sebastian was consumed with the need to save Anne and part of me blames you for not being able to get through to him.”

A silence settled between us, an understanding at last that we were both dealing with the aftermath, the grief, of what had happened. It had been months now but it still all felt fresh.

“Was that ruckus earlier between the Dale siblings about the Diricawl transformation?” Ominis asked.

“You know about that?”

“I’ve heard a thing or two.” A sly smile appeared briefly before silence settled between us again.

“Where did you go for the summer?” I ventured. Ominis had always spent his summer with Sebastian and Anne which made me wonder where he had been. I expected him to stay at Hogwarts rather than return to his family so it surprised me when he left with all the other students.

“I went to Feldcroft though I don’t really know what I was expecting. There was no note obviously and all the villagers thought there had been an accident. I intended to search for Sebastian, perhaps try and find Anne but I realised that would be silly so I decided to stay. Did you know Solomon’s grave is behind the house?”

“I didn’t. I suppose I should go and pay my respects.”

“He tried to kill you, Lucie.”

“A part of me was killed.” The words slipped out before I had a chance to stop them.

“Lucie?” Ominis looked my way, his unseeing eyes saying what words couldn’t. That he could feel me and what I felt. The thought was terrifying and liberating all at once and I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with that or not. The more I stared into his eyes the more uncertain I felt. But oddly safe.

The bell chimed, echoing throughout Hogwarts, signalling the end of lunch. I forced a smile for my own benefit and got to my feet. “I believe we have potions next, perhaps this time you’ll let me do the measurements.” Ominis wasn’t fooled by the lilt in my voice but he smiled anyway.

“It would be rather foolish of me to turn down such a generous offer,” he said, collecting his wand before we both headed towards Potions class.

After everything that had happened I knew our relationship would never be the same. There would always be an emptiness without Sebastian, and I knew it would take time for Ominis to accept me in the same way. Things would be tenuous for a while but at least he was speaking to me. Progress.

Chapter Text

It was hard not to feel envious of other students finished with classes for the day. Although I had to admit I couldn’t be too jealous since I’d already skipped the majority of my classes this term.

When I climbed to the fourth floor of the astronomy tower and entered class sixtyseven, it looked exactly as I remembered. Astrolabes of different sizes in every corner, loose parchment and tomes scattered on every available surface and an array of exotic devices lining the walls. Professor Fig said each one had a story, but unfortunately he never had a chance to share them with me.

Thinking of him brought a wave of sadness I wasn’t expecting. I halted my step and was about to turn around and leave when the office door opened. An old woman leaning on a cane stood on the landing. She looked truly ancient.

She looked me over, her expression unreadable. Then she seemed to come to a decision. “Come, we have work to do.” Her voice was cold and sharp. She disappeared back into the office. I swallowed the lump in my throat and followed. I had a feeling there wasn’t much this woman would tolerate.

Stepping into the office was like stepping back in time. The desk was in the same place but it had been cleared of its usual clutter. Even so, I could almost see Professor Fig — Face scrunched up in concentration, the twinkle in his eye when a revelation came to him. I hadn’t realised how hard it would be back in this room.

The new Professor Figg had settled in the armchair before the unlit fireplace watching me with that same unreadable expression.

“My name is—”

“I know who you are, Lucie Reeve,” she interrupted. “Be a dear and light a fire for me.”

But I couldn’t and I had a feeling she knew that judging by the way she turned away and poured herself a cup of tea. I noticed there was only one teacup on the tray.

“A witch does not always need her wand to cast an enchantment as I’m sure you already know given the amount of knowledge you have acquired recently. It is indeed harder but not impossible.”

My cheeks warmed. I could only imagine how she gleaned that information. I needed to be careful here.

“Sit, Miss Reeve.” Professor Figg ordered.

I moved to occupy the other armchair but she stopped me with her cane before tapping the floor. It bothered me, but either way there was no getting around these classes.

“Light a fire for me.”

Easier said than done. I sat before the darkened, unlit fireplace. I felt like a child. At least Professor Figg had been nice enough to put some dry logs on the grate beforehand.

I focused on the wood, reciting the incantation in my mind. Immediately the power within me surged to life and bubbled to the surface. It was too forceful though like a dam about to burst into a flood. A gasp in the atmosphere answered the power within me.

“Focus.”

“I am.” I shot back a little too forcefully.

“Then why are you holding back?”

“I’m not.”

“You are!” Professor Figg pounded the ground with her cane. Flames burst to life in the fireplace. “Much better. My joints had begun to stiffen up.”

I pulled my knees to my chest and watched the flames dance. It wasn’t me who had cast the spell. I was holding back. The power that answered my call was far too powerful for a simple fire-making spell. It was too powerful for most spells.

Professor Figg sighed. “Why does it frighten you, child?”

I bit my lip and the fire crackled as if in response while I debated what to say. If I let that power free the damage would be catastrophic. I had seen what that kind of power could lead a person to do. It had happened to Sebastian. It almost happened to me. All that pain stored within the repository beneath Hogwarts had been intoxicating.

Perhaps Professor Figg was right. Perhaps it was time to voice what I had spent so long refusing to accept. “I considered letting go,”

“You’re talking about what happened last year, aren’t you?”

I nodded but it was more to myself. “All that pain concentrated in a single form, it was unimaginable. My hold on it was so tight I could almost hear the screams and for a moment I considered letting go.”

The flames spit and danced, the sound reminding me of the magic that hummed around me and cried in my ears so long ago. It was the sound of a promise.

“So why didn’t you let go?”

“Because it was too much.”

“Is it still too much?”

I nodded.

“What do you think would happen if you did let go?”

I looked up at the Professor, caught off guard by her question. 

I had asked myself that question time after time and always arrived at the same answer. Destruction.

It would be the end of everything. It was almost the end of everything. If Professor Fig hadn’t stepped in and added his strength to mine I just might have given in. I’d have let go and let the magic flow into me. Consuming my body and soul.

But then I remember Sebastian holding that relic surrounded by a horde of inferi. He believed he held hope. He’d heard the sound of a promise too and it drove him mad. It whispered to him the same way ancient magic whispered to me. Power, control, healing. It was everything I wanted and more. The temptation was consuming and I wanted to be lost in it. I was lost in it. Every time it bubbled to the surface it always reached out to tether itself to something beyond me. A force I couldn’t name. It was as though my magic was answering a call and I just needed to let it.

“Glacius!”

My eyes snapped open and I found myself surrounded by a ring of ice outlining where the carpet had burnt. I knew immediately I had tempted fate, let myself get too far. I wondered what would have happened if I’d been holding a wand.

The room was silent but the sound of my heart beating was like a drum in my chest.

The Professor put down her wand. “It seems you can use a non verbal spell to light a fire afterall. Well done.” She continued sipping her tea.

Anger welled inside of me. “Well done?” I stood and glared at Professor Figg. Had she not just witnessed me surrounding myself in a ring of fire. I could have engulfed the entire room in a blink of an eye. She could have been hurt and it would be my fault.

Infuriated, I left the office and stormed through the classroom. My boots echoed as I marched through the empty hall and took the stairs two at a time. I had to leave, get as far away as I could. I still didn’t fully understand what happened and wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out.

I finally stopped once I exited the tower and into the cooler night. I had been too close. I felt too hot almost like I was suffocating despite the cold breeze blowing against me. The strain, the pressure. I couldn’t take it.

I found myself looking up at Ravenclaw Tower but I wasn’t ready to return to the commonroom. Instead, I leaned against the stone and looked at the water below. It was still and peaceful. Maybe down there I could drown the power within me. I just had to let myself fall over the edge and it would finally be over. How easy it would be.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One of the first years mentioned seeing a mermaid swimming past the windows of the slytherin commonroom,” Ominis warned. “Not sure if they’ve realised the difference between mermaids and selkies yet.”

I looked up to see him standing with his wand glowing red before him. A sly smile tugged the corner of his mouth but his unseeing eyes betrayed him. He was troubled.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, sounding as small as I felt.

“I sensed a distressed heartbeat.”

I scoffed. “You sense heartbeats?”

“Sentient wand, remember.” He waved it around nonchalantly like it explained everything. He joined me on the bridge then and I wondered if he could sense the emotions that radiated off me. “Do warn me if you jump though. I’d hate for my last memory of you to be a splash.”

Silence fell between us. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to cheer me up or if he was simply stalling my decision long enough for me to rethink it. He had succeeded in the latter at least.

“Why don’t you carry your wand with you anymore?” His question wasn’t accusing but still stung regardless.

I debated telling him but knew he’d find a way to pry the truth from me eventually. “I’m dangerous, Ominis.”

“I believe that,” Ominis admitted and it took me a moment to register what he said. “I may be blind, Lucie, but I saw everything you did last year. You mastered five years worth of magical knowledge in just one.” He turned to face me. “

“I almost burnt down the Astronomy Tower along with the new Professor of Magical Theory.”

Ominis laughed then, a deep genuine laugh that I only now realised I hadn’t heard in months. “I wish I had witnessed that.” He said, “Are you sure you’re not secretly a slytherin?”

“You may laugh now, but if you knew how close I was—”

“You’re so focused on avoiding what you shouldn’t do that you’ve completely dismissed what you should do. Remember everything you did last year.”

I looked away and screwed my eyes shut as the memories came flooding in. Spells shouted in rage, the cries of pain and anguish. My magic sparked to life and the familiar rush sounded in my ears.

“I can’t,” I cried, shaking my head. The weight of it was overbearing.

Ominis pulled me against his chest then. The steady beat of his heart replaced the sound in my ears and the magic within me died down. His touch grounded me in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Remember the Scriptorium.” He said gently. “You let Sebastian cast an unforgivable on you because I was too much of a coward. You assisted Poppy in bringing down the poachers all to protect magical beasts. You helped Natty learn to forgive herself so she could move on. Most importantly, you saved us all by sealing corrupted ancient magic. So I suppose you’re right, you are dangerous. But you’re also courageous, strong, loyal, and kind.”

A silent tear rolled down my cheek. I’d asked Sebastian to cast Crucio to spare him and Ominis. Poppy and I risked our lives infiltrating poacher camps because we believed in freedom. I was Natty’s guide as she walked the path of vengeance. I pushed back against the temptation of the corrupted ancient magic because somewhere along the way, Hogwarts had become my home and I would do anything to protect it. These were all decisions I would make over and over. It was a realisation that hit me in the chest.

“I’d forgotten,” I whispered, ashamed. The tears kept falling with no sign of slowing.

“That’s okay,” Ominis said, silently stroking my hair. “Come find me whenever you need reminding. I’ll be here.”

Chapter Text

Ominis had provided a reminder and the reassurance that I didn’t realise I needed to hear, but something still felt off. A hollowness I couldn’t put a name to.

Samantha sat on the floor in the middle of our dorm room. Charts, books, and loose sheets of parchment lay scattered around her. The plate of food she’d brought back from dinner for me still sat uneaten on the table next to the unopened letter from Natty.

Her mother had always been protective, but the events of Natty’s encounter with Theophilus Harlow last year was enough for her to question the safety of the students attending Hogwarts. So Natty had returned to Uganda to finish her schooling at Uagadou.

I was sad to see her leave but her frequent letters were always filled with optimism that someday she would return to visit.

Samantha threw her quill down in frustration, breaking my train of thought. “These coordinates,” she said, “Don’t make any sense at all.”

I looked over at the map before her. Something about it was familiar. It wasn’t until I moved closer that I realised why.

All the lines intersected at locations she had been at some time last year. This wasn’t a map of places. It was a map of moments. Some during the Keepers Trials and others with Sebastian. I double checked her translation of the runes and couldn’t find any fault with her work. It didn’t make sense.

“What is it?” Samantha asked, seeing my troubled look.

The last thing I needed was another adventure with my ancient magic at the center of it, but I still wanted to help Samantha. “Where did William first transform?” I asked.

Samantha looked back at the map. “We were staying with our distant relatives over the summer.” she pointed to Brocburrow.

None of the coordinates seemed to intersect there but I had my suspicions. “I think we need to take a trip to the Dale Family Tomb.”

Samantha looked up at me, but her question was interrupted by a knock at the door and Sophronia Franklin poked her head in. The girl was now a fourth year and still obsessed with her trivia.

“There’s a very flustered Hufflepuff outside the common room asking for you Samantha,” she said.

Samantha and I shared the same look and quickly grabbed our cloaks before leaving to see Poppy.

~ . ~

“So who exactly knows about William?” Samantha asked.

“Only Garreth,” Poppy explained, “He was with him when it happened.”

I held the lantern high for us as we trudged down the dirt path towards one of the abandoned huts on the school grounds. Luckily we hadn’t been spotted or run into Peeves on our way out of the castle, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched.

My eyes scanned the shadows as Poppy knocked a rhythm on the door of the darkened hut. It opened almost immediately and Garreth ushered us inside. locking the door behind us. The room was empty save for a table in the center where a cauldron sat.

Samantha stepped close. “Why is my brother in a cauldron?” she asked.

“I couldn’t exactly be seen carrying a Diricawl through the castle,” Garreth said defensively. “Now will you explain why your brother transformed into a bird.”

William squealed indignantly. 

I’d like to know too but I remained silent in the corner. Samantha and Poppy shared a look.

“William first transformed in the summer while we were visiting our relatives in Brocburrow.”

“This has happened before?” Garreth looked like he was about to pass out.

Poppy nodded as Samantha continued, “We don’t know why he transformed or why it’s happened again but Poppy and I think it’s connected to some ancient runes we found etched into some ruins nearby. Lucie helped with translating them and it turns out they’re coordinates.”

“So in other words,” Garreth said, “you have no idea why William is a bird.”

William squealed in agreement.

Samantha ignored him and unrolled the parchment she’d snatched up from the floor of our room before we’d headed here. Poppy’s eyes widened as she took in the map.

“I’d just finished placing all the coordinates when you called for us. Lucie thinks we need to go to Brocburrow.”

They all turned their attention to me. I sighed. “I said we need to go to the dale family Tomb which is just outside of Brocburrow, as for why, I have a hunch it’s involved somehow.”

“Because of last year? You returned the crest though.” Samantha asked.

“What happened last year?” Poppy and Garreth asked in unison.

“William didn’t believe me when I told him our family tomb was cursed. He stepped inside and his feet turned into beets.”

Silence.

Slowly both Poppy and Garreth began laughing. I couldn’t help but giggle too. Poor William began to squawk in disagreement. Then a twig snapped outside and we all grew silent. Poppy blew out the lantern and Samantha stepped closer to the cauldron while Garreth and I looked out the window.

The glass was grimy making it difficult to see anything clearly but the night was still. I caught movement in the shadows. Garreth saw it too. Another twig snapped in the silence as the spy headed towards the castle.

“Oh no they don’t,” he said, before bolting out of the hut and giving chase. I ran out after him.

Whoever had spied us in the hut were fast, but Garreth was faster. He tackled the spy to the ground and I caught up to them.

“Ominis?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question. Hardly seems like the time or place to hold a study session.”

Garreth shook him by the front of the shirt, “Quit being such a smart ass, Gaunt. Tell us what you’re doing here.”

Ominis sighed. “If you must know I was on my way back from running an errand and I happened to overhear you four discussing William’s second transformation into a Diricawl.”

Garreth shook him again unnecessarily.” Why were you running then? Are you that eager to turn us all in for detention?”

“Let him go, Garreth,” I said.

He reluctantly did and Ominis straightened his shirt and jacket. “If you must know,” he said, “I was going to fetch your aunt.”

“Why you—”

Ominis stepped back as I grabbed Garreth.

“Not to turn you in, Garreth.” Ominis continued, “but to help William, who better to ask than the professor of transfiguration.”

“No!” Garreth and I said together.

Ominis flinched and a shadow stretched across his face. The realisation hit me with force. This type of secrecy reminded him of Sebastian. I wouldn’t do that to him again. I wouldn’t repeat Sebastian’s mistake.

He said he would be there if I needed to be reminded that I wasn’t dangerous. A reminder I would need if there was a chance any of this had to do with ancient magic.

“Ominis,” I said, “there’s something you need to know.”

Chapter Text

Ominis listened in silence as Samantha and Poppy recounted what had happened to William and everything they had uncovered so far. Garreth sat by the window, trying to teach William tricks as if he were a pet and not a student. William’s feathers bristled with an annoyance he was unable to voice.

I stood off to the side, watching Ominis and waiting for a reaction that never came.

He had used his wand to conjure the image of the map in his mind, seeing what his eyes could not. I’d hoped he might spot something we’d missed, but when Samantha and Poppy finished speaking, he remained silent.

“Lucie suggested visiting my family tomb,” Samantha said at last. “Just outside of Brocburrow. That’s where William first transformed.”

“It’s logical to assume that place is important somehow.”

“It’s only a hunch,” I added. Guesswork wouldn’t be enough this time, not with William at risk.

“Hunch or not, there may be something we missed,” Poppy said, fiddling nervously with her robes.

“Did you consider,” Garreth said, “that all this might be some kind of treasure hunt?”

“Like a treasure map?” Poppy asked.

Samantha rolled her eyes. “A treasure map that involves transfiguring students into birds? Don’t be daft.”

“Why don’t we start our search fresh tomorrow then?” Poppy suggested, eyes darting between each of us.

“We can meet here before heading to Brocburrow via the Floo network,” Samantha said.

“What about William?” Garreth asked. “He can’t go back to the Gryffindor dorms.”

“He could stay with me,” Poppy offered. “No one would think it strange if I had a bird in my room.”

“This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“Don’t be rude, Garreth,” Samantha snapped, stepping closer to Poppy.

“We can’t risk someone reporting you,” Ominis said calmly. “I’m sorry Poppy, but our best option is to leave him here overnight.”

“But, Ominis—he’s my brother.” Samantha’s voice wavered. “I won’t leave him to freeze in an abandoned hut.”

“I know where he’ll be safe,” I said before I could stop myself.

Everyone turned to look at me. I wish I hadn’t spoken, but then I looked at William. What kind of person would I be if I left him here when he’d be much safer in the vivarium?

They all knew about the Room of Requirement. But none of them knew I’d been using it for over a year.  I could feel the weight of their expectations settling on me.

“It’s fortunate there’s a fireplace here,” I sighed.

~ . ~

We’d travelled to the Room of Requirement via the Floo network. The others stared in open amazed as they took in the space, spreading out instinctively. I smiled as they drifted toward what fascinated them most.

Garreth made a beeline for the potions tables I’d configured a lifetime ago. The cauldrons sat cold and unused, but that didn’t stop him. He’d already begun brewing his own concoction, helping himself to my stores of ingredients.

“I did always wonder how you managed to have such an endless supply of ingredients available,” Ominis remarked, assessing the neat rows of dittany and knotgrass ready for harvest.

“Is that a Venomous Tentacula?” Samantha called peering down into the lower room. “Are you sure this is the best place for William?”

“This is the perfect place,” Poppy said. She’d followed the sounds upstairs and was peering into the coastal vivarium, drawn by the cries of the Diricawls.

Samantha, Ominis, and I joined her. At my nod, we stepped inside.

A soft breeze carried the scent of salt as waves lapped gently at the shore. The vivarium always felt like a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.

The Diricawls emerged at once, chirping and squealing as they crowded Poppy. She laughed as they nuzzled her and attempted to climb into her lap.

Samantha knelt, setting down the cauldron. William peeked over the rim, wide eyed. He looked up at Samantha for a long moment, a wordless conversation between siblings. Something in my chest tightened.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said softly. “It’s better than a cold hut.”

William let out a pitiful whine—and then vanished.

A heartbeat later, he reappeared beside Poppy and the other Diricawls.

“Did he just teleport?” Ominis asked.

“He disappeared the way Diricawls usually do,” I said. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“It’s a strange sensation,” he replied. “I don’t think I like it.”

“You might prefer the other vivariums then.”

“As long as they don’t contain beasts that teleport.”

Samantha watched William as he disappeared and reappeared again, each time a little quicker, a little more confident. I couldn’t help wondering if this transformation would be permanent.

“Do you think he’ll turn back?” she asked quietly, mirroring my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’ll find a way. I promise.”

“I’m not sure you can promise that.”

Neither did I.

~ . ~

Back in the main room, Garreth had abandoned the potions tables and instead settled into an armchair stuffing his face with cauldron cake while Deek poured tea.

“Deek was surprised to see you’d brought friends,” the elf said cheerfully.

“You never told me you had a house-elf, Lucie,” Garreth mumbled through a mouthful of cake.

“I don’t,” I said. “Deek serves Hogwarts.”

“And by extension, the Room of Requirement. It’s Deek’s responsibility.”

“Is that a Treacle Tart?” Samantha called from upstairs.

“And Pumpkin Pasties?” Poppy added, appearing beside her.

I shook my head as they joined Garreth, quickly dismantling the spread of desserts Deek had procured.

“Where’s Ominis?” I asked, noticing only he was absent.

“Deek was telling Mister Ominis about the vivariums,” Deek replied. “He seemed interested in the swamp.”

It took effort to keep the alarm from my face and headed back upstairs.

The swamp vivarium greeted me with ankle-deep murky water and the heavy scent of wet moss. I didn’t see Ominis at first, but his shadow crossed the lamplight beneath the great tree.

I’d expanded this vivarium at the start of the holidays by carving out the hollow of the tree into a room of its own. It was an escape.

I found him seated at my desk, holding my wand.

I felt nothing. No anger. No hurt. Just emptiness.

“When did you stop carrying it?”  he asked gently.

I shrugged.

“Is that why you’ve been skipping classes?”

“Professor Weasley put a stop to that.”

He placed the wand back in the drawer and closed it. The air seemed to settle at once, the tension draining from my shoulders as I sat on a nearby trunk.

“I can see why you chose  this vivarium,” he said. “Did you stay here over the summer?”

“How could you tell?”

“The bed upstairs.”

I laughed.“Ominis Gaunt! Did it not occur to you that snooping around is an invasion of privacy?”

His cheeks flushed by my teasing. I laughed harder, until the sound faded into something softer. 

“I didn’t want to avoid you,” Ominis said eventually. “I just didn’t know how to face you after our last conversation.”

“We had to make a decision.”

“But did we make the right one?”

“Ominis.” I took his hands in mine. “We gave him freedom.”

“Will he ever be free though?”

The calm in his voice cracked something in me. I pulled him into a hug. He stiffened, then relaxed, then returned the embrace.

“He may never forgive himself for Solomon,” I said, “but he’s finished with dark magic.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Rookwood,” I said. “Before he attacked me, he said children should be seen and not heard. That’s what Anne heard right before she was cursed.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. “Does Sebastian know?”

“I told him. He didn’t believe me at first—but it explained too much not to be true.”

“I still don’t see why that would stop him.”

“”Because he realised his blame had been misplaced,” I said desperately. “And that using dark magic to cure Anne would only repeat what cursed her in the first place.”

Ominis was silent. Then he tightened his grip on my hands.

“Dark magic leaves a mark on the caster,” he said quietly. “One Sebastian will never be rid of.”

The words landed with a weight I recognised too well.

I was grateful he was holding my hands, because my knees threatened to give way. The mark he spoke of—the one that lingered, that reshaped you—was etched into me just as deeply. Ancient magic hummed beneath my skin, restless, familiar, unwelcome.

I felt it surge as my eyes burned. Heat bloomed in my palms, up my arms, as if my body remembered something I refused to.

I pulled my hands free.

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sure for what.

The magic pressed closer to the surface, sharp and insistent. Fear followed close behind it.

I didn’t wait for Ominis to speak again. I turned and fled, heart pounding, knowing even as I ran that this was one thing I would never be able to outrun.

Chapter Text

I didn’t know how long I wandered the corridors.

The castle felt different at night—too vast, too quiet, as though it were holding its breath. My footsteps echoed louder than I liked, each one reminding me that I hadn't gone far enough. I never did.

By the time I stopped, my hands were still trembling. I pressed them against the cool stone wall, willing the heat beneath my skin to subside. Ancient magic pulsed faintly in response, like a heartbeat I refused to acknowledge. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Not now. Not here.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

I straightened at once, schooling my breathing, but I knew who it was before he spoke.

“Running usually helps,” Ominis said mildly. “Until it doesn’t.”

I turned. He stood a few paces away, his wand angled toward me, posture calm in the way that always meant he was anything but.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said.

“Neither should you.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “You have a point.”

Silence stretched between us—not awkward, not comfortable. Just heavy.

“William disappeared again,” Ominis said at last.

My stomach dropped. “How long?”

“Longer than before.” A pause. “Samantha is trying not to panic. She’s failing.”

I pushed away from the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me that first?”

“Because I wanted to see if you’d run again.”

I froze.

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it’s honest.”

The words stung because they were true. “And?”

“And if William doesn’t change back soon, this stops being a mystery and starts being an incident. We’ll be forced to alert at least Professor Weasley if not the Headmaster himself.”

An incident meant questions. Records. Ministry involvement.

It meant losing William.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” I said quietly.

Ominis turned fully toward me then. “That’s not true.”

The magic stirred again sharp and insistent. I clenched my fists.

“I’m not—” I stopped myself. “I can’t.”

“I didn’t say you should,” he replied. “Only that you could.”

The difference mattered more than he knew. We stood there, suspended between what I feared and what I owed.

“Lucie,” Ominis said gently, “how many people have to pay the price for you to keep pretending this isn’t part of you?”

I had no answer.

So for the first time since leaving the swamp vivarium, for the first time since that night I saved the school, I didn’t run.

Chapter Text

The others found us before we had even reached the room. Samantha couldn’t wait—the fear in her eyes was palpable. Garreth looked grave and nodded once. It was all the confirmation I needed.

We set off at once.

Brocburrow lay quiet beneath a grey morning sky, the village little more than a scattering of rooftops beyond the hill. The tomb sat just beyond the village boundary, half swallowed by earth and time, its entrance framed by twisting roots and weather-worn stone.

I felt it before I saw it.

The air pressed heavy against my skin, the way it did just before a storm. Ancient magic stirred—not surging, not demanding—but aware. Watching.

“This is it,” Samantha said softly.

“This?” Garreth asked, disappointment clear in his voice. “For a tomb, I was expecting something grander.”

“Grander tombs attract more inferi,” I replied.

“Seriously? Good thing your ancestors weren’t wealthy, Samatha.”

She barely glanced at him. Garreth opened his mouth to say more, but I placed a hand on his arm and shook my head. Now wasn’t the time.

William shifted in the enchanted carrier Poppy held, feathers ruffling as if responding to something we couldn’t hear. The sight tightened my chest.

I knelt beside the stonework framing the entrance, tracing my fingers along a faded carving. I hadn’t paid them much attention on my first visit. That had been a mistake.

“These markings—they’re not decorative,” I said. “They’re wards.”

“Old ones,” Ominis added, kneeling beside me. His wand hovered just above the ground, angled toward the entrance. “Layered. Overlapping.”

“Can you make sense of them?” Samantha asked faintly. Her eyes skimmed the runes, unfocused.

I stepped closer. The moment my foot crossed the threshold, the wards shuddered—not activating, not resisting, but acknowledging. The sensation slid up my spine like a held breath.

Ominis’s head snapped towards me. “Lucie.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “It feels… familiar.”

“Wait!”

We all turned to Garreth. His eyes were wide.

“Our feet won’t turn into beets, will they?”

“Now isn’t the time, Garreth,” Poppy pleaded.

I only saw Samantha move out of the corner of my eye before she was on him, fists grabbing the front of his shirt.

“If you’re so scared to help, then go back,” she cried. “Go play with your potions and moan about the teachers giving you a hard time. Leave this to people who actually know what’s at stake— people who can handle it. No one asked you to come.”

The voice broke, tears spilling freely, but she didn’t let go. She wanted him to see the pain. To understand that this wasn’t a game.

Garreth’s expression softened. He covered her hands with his own.

“William is my friend too,” he said quietly. “But I’ll stay away if that’s what you want.”

Samantha released him and strode past me into the tomb, fury and determination tangled together. “Do whatever you want, Garreth.”

The rest of us followed, minus Garreth. I didn’t need to see his face to know how deeply that had cut. For all his foolishness, he understood what was at risk.

Inside, the tomb narrowed into winding passages and shallow alcoves. Samantha let me take the lead as I traced the same path I’d followed on my previous visit, descending deeper into the earth.

Then my step faltered.

Something wasn’t right.

I tilted my head, not listening but feeling. The sensation was frightening and exhilarating all at once, until it stilled abruptly. 

The ground shifted beneath us.

“Get back—”

The wall beside us surged forward, swallowing us whole and casting us violently into a section of the tomb I didn’t recognise.

“What happened?” Poppy cried, immediately reaching for William’s carrier. 

“Swallowing wall,” I muttered, helping Ominis to his feet. The sudden displacement had jarred his senses; his wand sputtered, its familiar red pulse flickering.

“Is William alright?” Samantha said, already inspecting him through the bars.

“Lucie,” Ominis said quietly. “This is rather embarrassing to admit, but that shift disoriented my senses. I’m not certain where we are.”

“I’m not either.”

His wand steadied, the pulse returning. The sight grounded me, and we moved on, following the only path available.

The passage narrowed, forcing us to squeeze through in places. It was dark, damp, and silent save for our breathing. Questions pressed in from all sides, unanswered.

Why had the wall activated?

Why hide part of the tomb at all?

Eventually the passage opened into a circular chamber. Stone pillars ringed the space, their sigils worn nearly smooth. At the center stood a shallow basin, cracked and empty, its edges darkened as though something powerful had once rested there.

“I sense a trap,” Ominis warned.

“This wasn’t meant to trap anyone,” I murmured. The words came unbidden. “It was meant to hold something.”

“What?” Samantha asked.

I didn’t answer.

I extended my hand. Magic slipped from my fingers without effort, thin glowing lines reaching toward the basin. It flared to life, symbols igniting in response.

The runes burned with a light only I could see. The script was so ancient that only I could understand. It chilled me to the core.

I stepped back, breath shallow. “It’s a containment charm. For magic that doesn’t settle properly.”

Silence followed.

William let out a thin, frightened sound.

“Can it help him?” Poppy whispered.

“Yes.”

The word tasted like fear.

“And?” Ominis asked.

I met his gaze. “It requires a conduit.”

Understanding settled heavily over us.

I carefully lifted William from the carrier. He made no sound, as though he already knew. The chamber felt smaller as I stepped toward the basin.

Every instinct screamed at me to stop—to step back, to let someone else decide—but the ancient magic beneath my skin was steady now.

Waiting.

“Lucie,” Ominis said quietly. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” I replied.

That was the problem.

I set William gently atop the basin and placed my hands on the stone rim. The runes blazed brighter, the wards humming low and strained. I felt the pull immediately—the familiar tug as my magic sought an anchor beyond myself.

Samantha gasped. William’s form blurred, half-feather, half-shape.

“He’s slipping,” Poppy whispered.

I pressed harder.

The cold bit into my palms. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the world folded inward, everything narrowing to a single point.

Me.

Ancient magic rose—not summoned by wand or word, but by intent. It poured through me in slow, deliberate currents, lighting every nerve, every thought. It reached deep, touching the part of me I had tried so hard to deny.

The tether locked into place.

This was the mark Ominis had warned me about.

I focused on William. On Samantha’s shaking hands. On the simple truth that he deserved the chance to choose who he became. To choose who I became.

“Hold,” I whispered—not as a command, but a plea.

The basin erupted with light, runes igniting one by one as the magic flowed through it, reshaping rather than forcing. William cried out, thin and wavering, and the chamber answered. The wards shifted, relented.

Pain flared behind my eyes. I grounded myself in the stone beneath my feet.

Not running. Not this time.

The magic receded slowly, reluctantly, like a tide pulling away from shore.

I staggered. Hands caught me.

The basin dimmed. The chamber fell silent.

William lay still. For one terrifying second, no one breathed. Then his feathers smoothed. His form settled—not fully human, not fully bird, but stable.

Samantha collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

Exhaustion crashed over me. The ancient magic lingered faintly now—quiet, watchful, undeniable. Already I could feel it pressing for release again.

Ominis held me steady, his grip firm and grounding.

“It’s done,” he said softly. Then, quieter still: “This is part of who you are.”

I closed my eyes, breathing through the ache, through the truth I could no longer deny.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s part of me.”

And for the first time, I didn’t wish it away.

Chapter Text

I woke to the sound of water dripping—slow, steady, maddeningly loud.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Stone pressed cold against my back, the air damp and sharp in my lungs. My magic stirred sluggishly, like something roused from uneasy sleep, and pain bloomed behind my eyes when I tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” Ominis said gently.

I obeyed, letting my head fall back. The chamber came into focus in fragments: the pillars, dulled now and quiet; the basin, cracked and dormant once more; Samantha curled on the floor a few feet away, her arms wrapped tightly around William.

He was breathing.

The relief hit me so hard it stole what little air I had left.

“He’s stable,” Ominis continued, as if reading the direction of my thoughts. He sat beside me, his posture carefully relaxed, wand resting loosely in his hand. “Exhausted, but stable considering.”

William’s feathers were gone, his shape no longer shifting at the edges. He was smaller somehow—less magic spilling out of him unchecked—but human. He shifted in Samantha’s arms until he was looking up at her and spoke so only she could hear. When she smiled and nodded, I knew they were going to be okay.

“He’ll need rest,” Poppy added softly from the far side of the chamber. “All of us will.”

I closed my eyes again, nodding faintly. Rest sounded like a luxury I didn’t deserve.

The ache beneath my skin was different from any magical exhaustion I’d felt before. This wasn’t depletion—it was pressure. A low, persistent hum that made it hard to tell where my thoughts ended and the ancient magic began.

It hadn’t left.

“You stayed conscious longer than I expected,” Ominis said after a pause.

“That’s comforting,” I muttered.

A corner of his mouth twitched. “It was meant to be.”

Samantha finally looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale, but there was something steadier in her expression now—something anchored.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “I know you’ll say you didn’t have to. But… thank you.”

I met her gaze. “He’s your family.”

“So are you,” she said, without hesitation.

My throat constricted. The words settled heavier than any magic.

We didn’t linger in the chamber. None of us wanted to test whether the tomb had more secrets left or to bare its teeth at us. With Ominis guiding us as best he could and my senses attuned—uncomfortably so—we found a narrow passage that curved upward, eventually spitting us out near the original entrance.

Garreth was waiting.

He sprang to his feet the moment he saw us, eyes darting over our faces until they landed on Samantha and William. Relief washed over him so visibly it almost hurt to look at.

“You’re all right?” he asked, voice tight.

Samantha hesitated only a second before nodding.

Garreth laughed—soft and broken—and scrubbed at his face. “Good. That’s—good.”

No one spoke of what had been said earlier. Not yet.

William stepped away from his sister to clap Garreth on the back. “Really, Garreth, a cauldron?” he asked, voice still hoarse from the transformation.

Garreth turned bright red and looked away. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn into a bird.”

“Neither did I. I owe you though,” he said before turning to the rest of us, “all of you. Thank you”

“We couldn’t have done it without Lucie,” Poppy added.

I smiled and just shook my head. “It was a group effort.”

“I’m just glad I’m not a bird anymore.” William said triumphantly. “Although that Vivarium of yours was kind of awesome.”

“Do you remember much?” Poppy asked sheepishly.

Their conversation was hushed but excited—Poppy’s curiosity and William’s boastfulness getting the better of them—during the walk back to Brocburrow. The rest of us were more than okay with a comfortable silence.

Garreth kept glancing at Samantha, a longing in his eyes. I thought being forced to stay behind would’ve given him time to figure out what to say to her, but it seems words still eluded him.

“You’re grinning,” Ominis whispered beside me.

“Am I?” I teased, although it felt sluggish and hollow.

When he didn’t respond I glanced at him to find him grinning too, his wand pulsing a little faster than usual.

The village looked the same as it had that morning—peaceful, oblivious—but I couldn’t shake the sense that something fundamental had shifted beneath its foundations.

Inside me, certainly.

Samantha was adamant we stop by her distant relatives house, and by distant relatives she meant her aunt and uncle. By the time we reached the cottage, my steps were unsteady but the others didn’t seem to notice.

The Dale siblings' aunt and uncle were surprised to see us, but welcomed us inside. Poppy insisted on taking William upstairs, Samantha close behind her, murmuring reassurances with every step.

Ominis lingered in the doorway as Garreth disappeared into the kitchen under the pretence of making tea.

“You should rest,” Ominis said.

“I will,” I replied automatically.

His head tilted. “Lucie.”

I sighed. “I know. I’ll properly rest.”

He nodded, satisfied—for now. As he turned to follow the others, his voice dropped.

“The magic responded to you because it recognises you. That isn’t something you caused today.”

I swallowed. “It doesn’t feel like something I can ignore anymore.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “It doesn’t.”

I didn’t go upstairs.

Instead, I sat alone by the front window, watching the light fade from the sky. The hum beneath my skin pulsed in time with my heartbeat, patient and unyielding.

And as if in answer, somewhere deep within the earth, ancient magic was awake—and it knew my name.

Chapter Text

I could hear my name being carried on the wind outside if I listened carefully. But each time it called, my magic pulsed in answer. I didn’t like it. I tried to focus instead on the conversations at hand—William and Poppy whispering in the corner, Garreth enthusiastically explaining his latest potion while Samantha rolled her eyes—but it didn’t help.

The panic crept in anyway, curling tight in my chest, rising in tandem with my magic. The same feeling that had surfaced with Professor Figg. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if my magic exploded here.

“I need to check something,” I murmured to Ominis.

“Do you want me to come?”

“No,” I replied far too quickly, then softened it. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”

I didn’t wait for his response.

The moment I stepped outside, the echo sharpened. Louder. Clearer. It pulled me back toward the tomb like a tide. I must have missed something—some warning, some explanation for the sick feeling lodged deep in my stomach.

I was glad William was human again. Truly. But ever since we returned, the certainty had gnawed at me: I had made a terrible mistake. Something was wrong, and I needed to know what it was.

The tomb entrance stood silent, but the roar in my ears was deafening. Magic burned beneath my skin.

I knelt and examined the wards again. Old. Overlapping. Just as Ominis had said. The stone was colder than before, and the instant my fingers brushed the carving, the world tilted.

Reality slipped sideways.

I was no longer standing at the tomb’s entrance but suspended between one breath and the next. The grey sky dimmed, sound stretching thin and distant, and the wards beneath my skin opened.

Fire.

It roared into existence without warning, heat slamming into me hard enough to steal the air from my lungs. I staggered—but my feet weren’t on stone anymore.

Hogwarts loomed ahead, its towers clawing at a sky split by smoke and ash. Flames licked at the gates, climbing iron and stone alike, fed by magic gone wild. Students ran in broken lines across the grounds, their screams swallowed by the crackle of burning wood and collapsing walls.

The fire wasn’t natural.

It moved with intent. With hunger.

You feel it, don’t you? The voice slid through my thoughts like smoke through a keyhole—low, resonant, neither kind nor cruel. How easily it listens to you.

“I didn’t do this,” I whispered, though the words felt thin even to me.

The flames surged higher in response. The gates groaned, metal warping under the strain.

Not yet, the voice murmured. But you could stop it. Or finish it. Such a small difference.

The scene shattered.

Cold swallowed me whole.

I was falling—no, sinking—into black water that closed over my head without a splash. The Black Lake stretched endlessly around me, dark and heavy, magic pressing in from every direction. My robes dragged at my limbs as I struggled, lungs burning.

Something moved below.

The Giant Squid rose slowly from the depths, its massive form unfurling in the darkness. One vast eye fixed on me, unblinking. Tentacles broke the surface, water cascading from them like rain, the lake itself recoiling as though in fear.

It wasn’t attacking.

It was waiting.

They all do, the voice said gently. They sense what you are.

A tentacle brushed my ankle.

Another wrapped around my wrist—not tight, not violent. Just firm enough to remind me how small I was. The lake pulled me deeper, darker, the light above shrinking to a pale, unreachable disc.

Panic clawed at my chest.

“Help!” I tried to shout, but water filled my mouth and throat. My magic surged instinctively—wild, desperate—and the lake answered. The water warmed, thrummed, bent around me as if eager to obey.

There, the voice breathed, satisfaction curling through every syllable. You don’t even have to ask.

The Squid’s eye glowed faintly, reflecting power that wasn’t its own.

I was dragged lower, pressure crushing in from all sides—

“Lucie.”

The voice cut through the water like a blade.

Sebastian.

The lake vanished.

I stood on the stone steps overlooking the grounds, dry and shaking, the fire still raging at the gates. Sebastian stood a few feet away. His wand hung uselessly at his side—its core split, smoking faintly, as though it had already been pushed past its limit. His face was pale, his eyes sharp with something ugly.

Behind him, students lay scattered across the grass. Not dead—worse. Burned. Stunned. Broken.

He looked at me like he didn’t recognize me.

“It’s all your fault.”

The words struck harder than when he’d used the Cruciatus Curse in the scriptorium. The curse he’d aimed at me.

“I tried—” My voice broke. “I was trying to help.”

“You always say that.” He laughed, short and hollow. “You touch things you don’t understand. You let it use you. And this—” He gestured at the burning gates, the fallen bodies. “This is what happens.”

The fire flared, roaring in agreement.

He’s right, the other voice whispered, closer now, wrapping around my thoughts like a cloak. Fault is such a fragile thing, Lucie. But Guilt? Guilt can be… reshaped.

Sebastian’s gaze hardened. “You could have stopped it,” he said. “You hesitated. And that was enough.”

I reached for him. “Sebastian, please—”

His face blurred, dissolving into smoke and shadow.

He will always fear what you become, the voice whispered. And fear turns to blame so easily.

The lake surged back, dragging me under again—faster this time, relentless. The Squid’s tentacles closed around me completely.

Inevitably.

Give in, the voice urged softly, almost tender. You don’t have to drown. You don’t have to burn. Stop fighting what you are.

The pressure eased.

The water parted.

Power pooled at my core—vast, waiting, familiar as my own heartbeat.

All I had to do was let go.

“Lucie!”

The vision tore apart like wet parchment.

I gasped, the world snapping back into focus. Grey sky. Bare tree branches swaying in the wind. I lay on my back, heart hammering, skin buzzing, fingers aching where they’d touched the stone.

“Lucie?” Ominis’s voice pulled me back fully.

“I’m okay,” I said, but my voice betrayed me.

“No, you’re not. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

He helped me to a fallen log nearby. I leaned heavily against him—my legs felt like jelly.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

I stared down at my hands. How could I explain something I barely understood myself?

I glanced toward the tomb entrance. The wards lay quiet once more.

Watching. Waiting.

Somewhere deep within me, the echo of that voice lingered—patient, assured, terrifyingly certain that one day, I would answer.

My body shuddered beneath the weight of it. Was it a warning? A premonition of my fate or a consequence?

I didn’t know which was worse.

“Lucie,” Ominis said softly, taking my hands. “Please. Talk to me.”

“I—I saw something. A vision.”

“A vision of what?”

“Chaos. Destruction. Death.” My voice cracked. “And it was all my fault.”

I hadn’t realised I was crying until I looked up at him through blurry eyes. The concern in his expression undid me completely. The sobs came hard and fast, wracking my body. Ominis didn’t hesitate—he held me and let me fall apart.

“I’m scared, Ominis.”

It was the first time I’d said it out loud.

He held me tighter. Grounded. Unmoving.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed my cheek. “Look at you. Your face is all red.”

I laughed weakly and swatted his hand away. “How would you know that?”

“I don’t,” he said solemnly. “But my robe is soaked with your snot, so I made a calculated guess.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I am. Don’t tell the first-years though.”

I smiled and when he reached up to brush my cheek again, I let him.

When I first met Ominis, I never would have imagined crying on his shoulder, or laughing because of him. He’d known Sebastian far longer than I had. They were practically family, but now that family was fractured beyond repair. We’d both been betrayed, both grieving what we’d lost and yet he still found a way to steady me.

The guilt lingered.

“You’re sad again,” he said gently. “What’s on your mind?”

“That clairvoyance of yours is annoying.”

“It’s not clairvoyance. It’s noticing when someone I care about is carrying too much. So tell me—what’s on your mind?”

“Sebastian,” I whispered.

Ominis stiffened. His hand dropped and the absence of his touch was jarring.

“Was he in your vision?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

I nodded.

He exhaled slowly, as though forcing something back down. I expected anger—but instead I saw conflict. The same shadow that had crossed his face when Garreth and I argued against telling Professor Weasley about William.

Another secret.

“Ominis,” I said quietly. “Why were you returning so late the other night?”

He lowered his head.

Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “He’s back, Lucie. Sebastian is back.”

Chapter Text

The words didn’t feel real at first. They settled between us, too still. Too carefully placed.

For a moment I thought I’d misheard him. That if I stayed still, they might rearrange themselves into something else. Anything but this.

“Back,” I repeated quietly. “As in Hogwarts?”

Ominis didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his face pulling taut as though he were bracing for impact. That silence told me more than his words ever could.

“Yes,” he said at last.

The wind threaded through the bare branches overhead, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and old stone. Somewhere near the cottage, voices drifted on the air—laughter, familiar and warm. Our friends, blissfully unaware that the ground beneath me had just shifted.

Something in my chest broke.

My magic stirred, restless. Not flaring, but listening. It was unsettling. I pushed myself to stand despite the lingering tremor in my limbs. My magic stilled.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

Ominis didn’t look up.

My pulse thundered in my ears. “You’ve spoken to him.”

“Yes.”

The word landed heavy between us.

“What did he want?”

“To talk.” Ominis exhaled slowly. “He’s broken, Lucie.”

I turned then, really looked at him. He seemed older somehow—worn not by sleepless nights, but by knowledge carried alone. The kind that hollowed you out from the inside.

“Something’s happened,” I said.

His mouth thinned. “Sebastian spent the summer with Anne. At their childhood home.” A pause. Deliberate. Careful. “She’s dead.”

The world tilted.

“I knew it would happen,” he continued quietly. “But knowing isn’t the same as it being real.”

His hand found mine then, tentative at first—like he was asking rather than claiming. I let my fingers curl into his. His grip steadied, warm and grounding, anchoring me to the present.

“He asked about you,” Ominis said.

My throat tightened, “What did you tell him?”

“That if he came anywhere near you with dark magic again, I’d hex him blind,” Ominis said flatly.

Despite everything a weak huff of laughter escaped me. It faded just as quickly.

“You still haven’t forgiven him?”

“No.” Ominis’s thumb brushed slowly over my knuckles, the motion unconscious. Intimate. “He manipulated you. Used you. He hurt you.” His voice dropped. “I can still hear your screams in my nightmares.”

The Scriptorium.

I squeezed his hand, firmer now. “You should have told me.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I wanted to. Merlin knows I wanted to.” His shoulders sagged, just slightly. “But I was angry. And afraid. It wasn’t until the term started that I realised how much you’d been spiraling. I needed time to decide whether the truth would help… or break you.”

“And what did you decide?”

His thumb stilled, then pressed more deliberately against my skin—grounding, certain. “That you deserve the truth. Even when it’s ugly.”

I swallowed. He was close enough now that I could feel the warmth of him, steady and unwavering. Ominis, who had always stood beside me even when he hated what I’d become.

A distant bell tolled from the castle, marking the hour.

The sound lingered longer than it should have, stretching thin across the grounds before finally dissolving into silence. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath until it was gone.

“So he’s coming back,” I said. “Back to Hogwarts. Back to—” I stopped myself. Us.

Ominis didn’t correct me. His grip tightened, just slightly. Protective. Possessive.

“Yes.”

The castle loomed in the distance, all spires and shadow—unchanged, indifferent. It always looked like it was waiting for something.

For someone.

“I don’t know how to feel,” I admitted. “Part of me wants to run, part of me wants to forgive. And another part wants answers I know I’ll hate.”

“That’s normal,” Ominis said. “For you.”

I snorted quietly. “Charming.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “You never stopped caring. You just buried it under guilt and rage and…” A pause. “…survival.”

The word struck too close. I closed my eyes, and for a heartbeat I was back underground—stone pressing in, Sebastian’s voice sharp with certainty and a promise. I won’t forget this.

My magic stirred again. Uneasy. It didn’t lash out though. It remembered.

“He’s different now,” I said slowly. “Isn’t he?”

Ominis hesitated. “Yes.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, warding off a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. “Broken people don’t always come back quieter though,” I said. “Sometimes they come back sharper.”

Ominis stepped closer. I felt him before he spoke—the warmth of him, the careful restraint in every movement.

“Which is why I won’t let him hurt you again.”

I looked up at him. He was close now. Close enough that I could feel his breath when he spoke, close enough that my magic hummed softly between us, drawn to the space we were not quite closing.

“You can’t fight all my battles,” I said gently.

“I know,” he replied. “But I can stand in front of you when it matters.”

Something unspoken gathered in the air. Heavy. Fragile.

“Ominis,” I started, and stopped—because I didn’t know which truth I was about to confess.

His hand rose, not quite touching my cheek, hovering there as if he were giving me the chance to pull away. I didn’t.

“If seeing him changes you,” he said quietly, “I need you to know—” His voice faltered. Just barely. “You won’t face it alone.”

Our foreheads nearly touched. I could count the space between us in heartbeats. One more step. One breath. It would have been easy.

Too easy.

In the direction of the cottage, laughter spilled into the afternoon, bright and careless. Someone called my name.

Neither of us moved.

Ominis lowered his hand. The absence of it ached more than the touch would have.

“We should head back,” he said softly.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Neither of us moved.

Ominis’s mouth curved—not into a smile, but something gentler. Sadder. “Lucie, I—”

The bell began its second toll, interrupting him.

And I had a horrible feeling it was probably for the best, despite the longing clutching at my chest.

Chapter Text

The afternoon doesn’t end when Lucie walks back toward the cottage. It stretches.

Ominis waits until the sound of her steps fade, until the laughter swallows her up and his magic recedes back into place like nothing had happened. Only then does he let his hand curl into a fist.

He struggles to keep his breathing even. Counts it. One—two—three.

He hates how clearly he still feels her standing there.

Her magic had brushed against his, tentative at first, then unmistakably familiar. It had always responded to him like that. Even when she’d been furious. Even when she’d been breaking.

Especially then.

He wasn’t sure if she even knew it did that. His chest tightens at the thought.

He turns away from the sounds of the cottage and walks—fast, controlled—until the gravel path gives way to grass and the sounds of other people disappear. The earth slopes downward. Quiet. Open. Safe enough to fall apart in.

Only then does he stop and presses his palm flat against the trunk of a tree, grounding himself in the rough bark.

The realisation hits harder than expected. He had almost touched her face.

It wasn’t strategic. It wasn’t protective.

It was want.

His jaw tightens. “Idiot,” he mutters to himself.

He exhales shakily and tips his head back, letting the cold air bite. He should be relieved the moment passed. He should be grateful the interruption saved them from something complicated and fragile and dangerous.

Instead, his magic coils tight in his chest, restless and furious at being denied.

Because if he had kissed her—

He would not have stopped.

That truth settles, heavy and undeniable.

He would have told her everything. How every nightmare still ends with her screaming. How the thought of Sebastian’s return made something violent and possessive rise in him that he barely recognised. How loving her has never felt like a choice.

He drags a hand through his hair, his breath uneven again.

“She deserves better,” he says aloud. Says it like a spell. Like a promise.

And she did deserve better. 

He had let his oldest friend hurt her the same way he was forced to hurt others. The way he had been hurt by his family. He stood back and let it happen, too much of a coward to spare her from the pain.

But the thought of anyone else standing close to her—close enough for her magic to soften, to listen—makes his control fracture, just a hairline crack.

Ominis presses his knuckles to his mouth and forces himself still.

Tomorrow, he will be calm again. Measured. Careful.

But tonight, alone in the dark, he allows himself one quiet, dangerous truth: If Sebastian Sallow touches her there will be nothing left of Ominis Gaunt’s restraint.

Chapter Text

It was nearly evening by the time we returned to Hogwarts, but Samantha and I collapsed the moment we reached our dormitory, events of the past twenty-four hours finally catching up with us.

I wasn’t sure how long I slept before Samantha shook me awake.

“What is it?” I mumbled.

“Professor Weasley wants to see you.”

I sat up too quickly. “Did she say what about?”

Samantha shook her head, the worry in her eyes unmistakable.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “There’s no way she could know about what happened with William.”

“You don’t know what William’s like,” Samantha said. “He can’t keep a secret. Not even if his life depended on it.”

“Then why don’t you go ask Garreth if he’s heard anything in the Gryffindor common room?”

“Ask Garreth?” Samantha’s cheeks flushed instantly.

“Yes—unless you’re still mad at him.”

“No,” she said quickly. “We spoke earlier. At the cottage.”

“I saw,” I replied, unable to resist a teasing smile.

Her face went even redder. “Fine.”

“Quickly now,” I said. “While you’re still feeling brave.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, storming out.

My smile faded the moment she was gone.

Professor Weasley may not know about last night, but she knew Hogwarts students.

He’s back, Lucie. Sebastian is back.

I still couldn’t quite believe it myself. After all this time, after everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face him. Especially now that Anne—

I angrily brushed away the tears threatening to fall.

Attending classes again was one thing. Attending them with Sebastian Sallow was another matter entirely.

I splashed water on my face, changed into fresh clothes, and headed for Professor Weasley’s office.

~ . ~

The door was closed when I arrived.

That should have been my first warning.

I knocked once and didn’t wait for an answer—habit more than confidence—and stepped inside.

The room smelled faintly of ink and old parchment.

And Sebastian Sallow.

He stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back like a student awaiting judgment. Thinner than I remembered. Too still. As though movement itself cost him something. He turned at the sound of the door—

And our eyes met.

Nothing shattered.
Nothing burned.

There was no rush of magic. No vision clawing its way to the surface.

Just the sudden, disorienting awareness of everything I wasn’t thinking about him.

Because my mind—traitorous and exhausted—flashed instead to Ominis’s hand hovering near my cheek. To the warmth of his breath. To the almost-kiss that still lingered on my skin like a ghost.

The contrast felt like missing a step on a staircase.

“Miss Reeve,” Professor Weasley said briskly, as though this were perfectly ordinary. “Do come in. Close the door, please.”

My fingers obeyed, though my thoughts lagged behind.

Sebastian looked… tired. Not the sharp-edged exhaustion I remembered, not the manic intensity that had once driven him forward at any cost. This was heavier. Settled. Grief with nowhere left to go.

She’s dead, Ominis had said. And Sebastian had been with her.

Sebastian’s gaze flicked over me—quick, careful. Measuring.

He didn’t smile.

Neither did I.

“Due to personal reasons, Mister Sallow has missed a considerable portion of the term,” Professor Weasley said.

“So have I,” I replied, folding my arms and grounding myself in the familiar pressure.

Her brows lifted, but she didn’t argue.

“Which brings me to my point,” she continued. “I’ve decided the most efficient solution is peer tutoring.”

Sebastian stiffened.

I laughed—short and incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Professor Weasley said calmly. “Miss Reeve—Lucie, your knowledge and grasp of theoretical magic remains exceptional despite your absences. Sebastian requires structure. Guidance. Someone who understands both the curriculum and… him.”

My magic stirred, uneasy. Not reaching. Not listening.

Almost eager.

Sebastian spoke cautiously. “Professor, I don’t think—”

“You think too much,” she interrupted gently. “Both of you do.”

She turned back to me. “You will meet three evenings a week starting tomorrow. You will help him catch up. In return, he will assist you in re-establishing control and consistency in your spellwork.”

My pulse thudded.

Control.

Sebastian’s gaze snapped to me then—sharp with concern, and something more dangerous beneath it. Recognition. Familiarity.

I hated how easily he found it.

“I don’t need his help,” I said flatly. “That’s what Professor Figg’s lessons are for.”

“You need grounding,” Professor Weasley corrected. “Or you’ll end up setting the entire castle ablaze.”

I remembered my vision. The flames. The voice.

“And Sebastian needs purpose.” Professor Weasley continued, oblivious to my turmoil.

Purpose.

The word echoed unpleasantly in the room.

Sebastian looked down at his hands. For a fleeting second, the mask slipped—and I saw it. The hollow where his sister should have been. The absence that had once driven him to drag us all into darkness.

“She’s gone,” he said quietly. “Anne is dead.”

I already knew. But hearing it from him made the words land heavy and final all the same.

The voice from my vision echoed in my mind. He will always fear what you become, and fear turns to blame so easily.

I clenched my teeth. Hard.

Professor Weasley’s expression softened.

Mine didn’t move. I wouldn’t let it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It was true but the words still sounded hollow.

Sebastian nodded once. “So am I.”

Silence pressed in around us.

“Tomorrow evening,” Professor Weasley said at last. “The Library. Madame Scribner has been informed. There will be no access to the Restricted Section.”

Of course not.

“These are your books and timetable for the year.” Sebastian picked up the stack of books from her desk. “I’ve taken the liberty of creating a copy for you, Lucie.”

I scanned the timetable, “Professor, there must be some mistake. These are all my classes.”

“Like I said, the most efficient solution.”

She dismissed us with a wave, already turning back to her parchments.

Sebastian and I stepped into the corridor and lingered by the door, neither of us moving.

“I didn’t know they’d assign you,” he said finally.

“Neither did I.”

A pause.

His mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “Figures.”

We walked away together. Not quite side by side. Careful not to touch.

And yet—

With every step, my magic eased. Just a fraction. Not warming. Not opening.

Recognising.

Excited by the possibilities Sebastian had once shown me. By how far my magic could go.

I thought of Ominis—how my magic had stilled with him. Softened. Listened.

This was different.

This was memory.

And it frightened me far more than my vision had.

Chapter Text

I didn’t expect Professor Figg to send for me on a Sunday morning.

And I certainly didn’t expect to be sitting on a stool in the centre of the classroom while she traced a chalk circle around me with her wand—slow, precise—as though I were something to be contained. Or sacrificed.

I felt ridiculous.

Worse than that, I felt caged. Like a wild thing she expected to lunge.

Professor Figg settled back into her armchair, her cane resting against one knee, a fresh tray of tea beside her. She said nothing at first. Just watched me with an intensity that crawled under my skin.

“Something’s happened since our last lesson,” she said eventually. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Nothing worth repeating,” I replied, though I looked away all the same.

“I hear the Sallow boy is back,” she continued mildly. “And that Professor Weasley has assigned you to tutor him.” A pause. “A waste, if you ask me.”

“It’s a good thing no one did,” I snapped. “Sebastian is a talented wizard.”

“Talented or not,” Figg said, lifting her teacup, “misfortune follows him rather faithfully.”

I bristled. “Misfortune?”

She sipped. “His parents. His uncle. And now, I hear, his sister.” Her tone was conversational. Casual. “All dead.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Venom bled into my voice before I could stop it. I stood abruptly, ready to leave.

“Ah-ah.”

Her cane tapped once against the floor.

My gaze dropped to the chalk circle.

A laugh escaped me—sharp, disbelieving. “Do you really think a line on the floor will stop me?”

Figg raised an eyebrow and placed her teacup aside with deliberate care.

I stepped forward.

The invisible force met me instantly—not violent, not painful, but unyielding. Enough to send me stumbling back onto the stool.

For a heartbeat, I was confused.

Then anger flooded in.

Not wild. Not manic.

Cold.

I paced the inside of the circle, magic humming beneath my skin, vibrating like a live wire. My eyes never left her.

“There are many so-called prodigies,” Figg continued, unbothered. “But Sallow is not among them. Gaunt, now—there’s real talent.” A faint smile. “Of course, he’ll never reach his full potential. Not with his eyesight. A shame, really.”

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed the stool and hurled it at her, a scream tearing from my throat.

The stool rebounded violently, clattering back into the circle.

My breath came hard and fast.

Figg didn’t flinch.

Her expression remained placid. Evaluative.

“Of course,” she went on, her eyes gleaming now, “neither of them compares to you. All that power at your fingertips. Quite literally.” Her gaze flicked pointedly to my empty hands. “You don’t even bother carrying a wand anymore.”

“I choose not to,” I hissed. “There’s a difference.”

“Ah yes,” she said lightly. “Because you’re afraid.”

The word struck like a slap.

The hum beneath my skin swelled, growing louder, sharper.

“I never should have told you that.”

“But you did,” Figg replied. “Have you told the Gaunt boy yet?” She tilted her head. “Or was it the Sallow boy you confided in? I hear you three had a talent for trouble last year.”

“You don’t know anything!” I turned away, clamping my hands over my ears as if I could shut her out.

The magic roared now, pressing for release.

“I think something happened between you,” Figg said calmly. “Someone got hurt. A lover’s quarrel, perhaps. Or a spell gone terribly wrong.”

Memories surged without permission—

Ominis withdrawing into silence.
Sebastian’s voice, urgent, insistent.
My fear.
His wand raised.

“Ah, so it was a spell. Which one,” Figg pressed softly, “made you afraid of your own magic?”

My vision blurred.

Sebastian’s voice, I won’t forget this.

“Which spell?”

His eyes before he cast the Unforgivable.

“Which spell?”

The word tore out of me.

“Crucio.”

Magic exploded from my body in a violent surge. The windows shattered inward in a rain of glass. Desks overturned. The chalk circle disintegrated.

And then there was nothing.

I collapsed to my knees, hollowed out, trembling.

“It was Crucio,” I repeated weakly.

Professor Figg stood, perfectly still amid the destruction. Unshaken. Unimpressed.

Then she took one smooth step toward me.

“Who cast it?” she asked. “Was it you?”

I shook my head, sobs breaking free. I couldn’t speak. I wouldn’t.

“Who cast it?” she repeated, sharper now.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head again.

Figg studied me for a long moment.

“Very well,” she said at last, stepping back. “We’ll leave it there.”

I didn’t wait for Professor Figg to dismiss me properly.

The moment her attention drifted away from me, I staggered to my feet and fled the room, my boots crunching over broken glass, my ears ringing with the echo of my own scream.

The corridor swallowed me whole.

My breath came too fast, too shallow. Each inhale scraped like I was pulling air through water. My hands shook violently at my sides, magic still misfiring beneath my skin in painful pulses.

Get out.

I didn’t know where I was going. Only that the castle felt too close, the walls pressing in, memories bleeding through stone and torchlight.

Students passed me—voices, footsteps, laughter—but none of it reached me. I shoved through doors, down staircases, out into the cold autumn air without ever slowing.

The grounds opened up.

And then I was at the lake.

The Black Lake lay unnaturally still, its dark surface reflecting the grey sky like a sheet of glass. The sight of it stopped me dead.

My vision surged forward without warning.

Water closing over my head.
Cold.
Silence.

And a voice—soft, coaxing, intimate.

All you have to do is let go.

I staggered forward.

My chest burned. My fingers fumbled uselessly at my robes as the panic clawed higher until I thought I might tear myself apart from the inside.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t—”

The jetty creaked beneath my weight as I sank down at the edge, my knees buckling. Tears blurred my vision. I dragged off my shoes with shaking hands, barely registering the wet wood biting into my palms.

Just breathe, the voice urged. Just rest.

I dipped my feet into the water.

The cold was immediate, sharp, biting.

And then relief.

My breathing slowed almost instantly. The ache in my chest eased. The magic quieted, sinking low and gentle, like a tide retreating.

I sagged forward, bracing myself on my hands.

“That’s better,” I murmured, dizzy with the sudden calm. “That’s… better.”

The voice and my magic hummed approvingly.

See?

Something brushed my ankle.

I froze.

It wasn’t water.
It wasn’t a ripple.

It curled.

My breath caught as understanding slammed into me with sickening clarity.

“No,” I whispered.

The lake moved.

A thick, slick tentacle surged up from the depths, coiling around my leg with terrifying strength. I screamed as it yanked, my body pitching forward, icy water swallowing my scream whole.

The vision snapped into place.

This was it.

This was how it happened.

I thrashed, lungs burning, panic shredding the fragile calm the voice had gifted me. The tentacle tightened, dragging me under, darkness closing in—

Hands grabbed my arms.

Violent, desperate.

I was hauled upward, coughing, choking as air slammed back into my lungs. I collapsed hard onto the shore, retching water onto the grass as the lake surged angrily behind me.

“Lucie!”

Sebastian.

He was soaked, breathing just as hard, his wand clenched white-knuckled in his hand. The tentacle vanished beneath the surface as quickly as it had come, the water settling into deceptive stillness.

I rolled onto my side, shaking uncontrollably.

Of all people.

“You,” I rasped. “Of course it had to be you.”

Sebastian let out a shaky laugh, half hysterical, half relieved. “Nice to see you too.”

I shoved weakly at his shoulder. “I didn’t need saving.”

“You were being dragged into the Black Lake by something with more arms than sense,” he said. “I’m going to disagree.”

We lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky, damp grass clinging to my robes, my heart still trying to tear its way out of my chest.

“I saw you leave the castle,” Sebastian said quietly. “You didn’t look… okay.”

I swallowed. My throat burned.

“I hate that it was you,” I admitted.

He turned his head slightly. “Yeah. I figured.”

Silence stretched between us—not awkward. Just heavy.

“I’m scared of magic,” I said suddenly, not sure why I was telling Sebastian of all people.

The words felt fragile, like glass.

Sebastian didn’t interrupt.

“That’s why I’ve missed my classes,” I continued. “Why I stopped carrying my wand. Every time I used it, it felt like something inside me was waiting to break loose. It still is.” My voice trembled. “I don’t trust myself.”

I waited for him to argue.

He didn’t.

“That makes sense,” he said simply.

I frowned, turning to look at him. “That’s it?”

Sebastian shrugged, eyes on the sky. “You went through something awful. Anyone who says they’d walk away unscarred is lying.”

The normalcy of his acceptance unsettled me more than Figg’s cruelty ever had.

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes and no.”

“You’re not afraid of me?” I asked quietly.

Sebastian finally looked at me then. “I could never be afraid of you.”

The certainty in his voice stole my breath.

But the echo of the voice. He will always fear what you become, and fear turns to blame so easily.

He sat up, water dripping from his sleeves. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Something that might help. But”—his gaze flicked pointedly to my empty hands—“you’re going to need your wand if it’s going to work.”

The word sent a shiver through me.

My wand.

“No.”

I stared out at the lake again, its surface smooth and innocent, as though it hadn’t just tried to claim me.

As though it hadn’t promised.

“But—”

“I said no.” I pushed myself to my feet, ready to storm away.

Sebastian smirked faintly. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

I turned to him in disbelief.

“Haven’t changed?” I repeated, “You’ve been gone for months, Sebastian. Everything has changed. You left, then Ominis. Anne died and you didn’t even bother to send an owl.”

“Believe me, Lucie,” he sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know how to word it. Ominis said he’d tell you what happened, but I still wanted to tell you myself.”

The words bit more than the cold of the lake. “Ominis was there?”

Sebastian nodded. “After Anne died, he stopped me from falling apart completely. Sorry if I made it awkward in Professor Weasley’s office by blurting it out.”

I’d stopped listening. Ominis had been there—with Sebastian, with Anne—and hadn’t told me. The betrayal stung deeply and Sebastian didn’t even notice. He had never noticed, not really.

Had everything just been pretend?

I just shook my head and turned to leave. The roar of magic loud in my ears.

“Lucie?” Sebastian followed.

He slowed when he reached me, as if afraid I might bolt again. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to spring all of that on you. About Anne. Or Ominis.”

I didn’t answer.

The cold still clung to my skin, but it wasn’t the lake that made me shiver. My magic stirred uneasily beneath my ribs, restless now that the immediate danger had passed—like it was disappointed I was still breathing.

Sebastian shifted his weight. “You almost died,” he said softly. “I thought… maybe that mattered more than old grudges.”

My fingers curled at my sides as a low hum vibrated through me, subtle but insistent. The grass near my boots darkened with frost before I realised what I was doing.

“Old grudges,” I repeated, my voice distant.

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.”

I turned back toward the lake. Its surface was smooth again—perfectly still, like nothing beneath it had ever reached for me.

It tried to keep you, the Voice murmured. I kept you.

My magic warmed at the thought, a slow, soothing pulse that made my shoulders sag despite myself.

“You said Ominis was there,” I said. “With Anne.”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t tell me.”

Sebastian hesitated. Just for a heartbeat.

My magic reacted instantly, flaring sharp and cold beneath my skin. I sucked in a breath as the air around us tightened, the pressure building like an incoming storm.

“He thought it would hurt you,” Sebastian said carefully. “He was trying to protect you.”

A hollow laugh slipped from my throat. It sounded wrong. Thin. “He doesn’t get to decide that.”

The pressure eased—rewarding. My magic settled, almost pleased.

Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, he didn’t argue.

“I trusted him,” I said. The words felt weightless as they left me, as if they’d already been hollowed out. “I thought he trusted me too.”

The silence stretched. My magic filled it, humming softly, attentive.

Sebastian glanced at my hands. “You’re—” He stopped himself. “Your magic’s acting strange.”

“It always has,” I said.

Not like this, the Voice whispered, approving.

“You should go,” I added. I didn’t look at him.

“Lucie—”

“I can’t,” I interrupted. A spike of magic lashed outward without intent, snapping a reed near the water clean in two. “Not right now. I don’t know how to be around you. Or him. Or—” I gestured vaguely, as if the world itself were the problem. “Any of this.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Then… I’ll see you in class. If you want.”

I didn’t answer.

He lingered for a moment, like he wanted to say something else—something braver—but eventually turned away. His footsteps faded across the grass.

The moment he was gone, the tension drained from my body.

I sagged down onto the damp grass, wrapping my arms around myself. My magic loosened, coiling inward, but this time it didn’t hum with pleasure. It felt restless. Uncertain. As though it were waiting for instruction.

You’re safer alone, the voice murmured.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“No,” I whispered. The word came out hoarse, barely more than breath—but it was mine.

The voice faltered. Just slightly.

My magic stirred, not in agreement, not in defiance either—just… listening. To me.

If Ominis could keep something like that from me—
If Sebastian could leave and return as though nothing had changed—

Then maybe I had never truly belonged with them at all.

The thought settled in my chest.

It didn’t hurt the way I expected it to.

But it didn’t soothe me either.

The lake lapped quietly against the shore, patient. Waiting. I didn’t look at it.

Instead, I pressed my palms into the grass and focused on the cold seeping through my clothes, the ache in my limbs, the steady rhythm of my breathing. Real things. Anchors.

The voice tried again—softer now, cautious. You don’t need them.

“I might,” I said aloud. My voice trembled, but it held. “And that doesn’t make me weak.”

The magic beneath my skin shifted. Not louder. Not quieter.

Obedient.

And finally the world felt solid again—not safe, not kind, but real. And that was enough.

I stayed there until the shaking stopped.

Chapter Text

Sebastian doesn’t stop walking until the lake is out of sight.

Even then, he can still feel it — the wrongness clinging to his skin, like damp that won’t dry. He drags a hand through his hair, water still dripping down the back of his collar, and lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Brilliant,” he mutters. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Lucie’s face keeps replaying behind his eyes. The way she stood at the edge of the lake, pale and shaking, magic snapping at the edges of her control like it didn’t quite recognise her anymore. The frost blooming in the grass beneath her boots. The way her voice went flat when she said she trusted Ominis.

That part hits harder than it should.

He slows as the trees close in, chest tightening.

She almost died — again — and somehow that isn’t what scares him most.

It’s what comes after.

Sebastian knows that calm. He’s felt it before, chased it, let it tell him everything was fine while it hollowed him out from the inside. The kind that feels like relief and costs you everything you don’t realise you’re giving away.

He saw it in her by the lake, just for a heartbeat.

And then she pulled back.

From it.

From him.

“She’s stronger than she thinks,” he says under his breath, as if the trees might argue. “Smarter, too.”

But strength doesn’t mean safety. He knows that better than anyone.

Sebastian turns back toward the castle, jaw tightening.

This time, he doesn’t head inside right away.

Instead, he slows his pace, keeps to the edges of the path, eyes lifting toward the grounds where he saw Lucie disappear earlier. Watching windows. Watching shadows.

Not stalking.

Not interfering.

Just paying attention.

Because whatever is happening to her, whatever she isn’t saying, it isn’t over.

And he refuses to be the last one to notice again.

Chapter Text

The undercroft, where torches burned low and the castle’s magic hummed soft and steady like a sleeping animal. Ominis leaned against the wall, his wand hanging loosely from his hand, his head slightly bowed as if listening to the stone itself. He felt calm. Centered. Like someone who believed the world was exactly where he’d left it.

He hears her footsteps echo across the stone and knows something is wrong before she says his name. The castle tells him first—the way the air tightens, the way the magic in the stones shifts pitch, like a breath held too long.

“Lucie.”

She doesn’t answer the way she usually does. No exhale. No warmth in her voice. Just her footsteps—measured, too careful, like she’s holding herself together with discipline instead of trust.

He straightens instinctively.

“I was hoping to see you” he says, because that’s true, because saying anything else feels dangerous.

“Don’t.”

One word. Final. Controlled.

His chest tightens.

He angles his head, listening past her voice to everything underneath it—the strain in her breathing, the way her magic hums sharp and contained, not wild but restrained. That’s worse. That means she doesn’t feel safe.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

She steps closer.

Too close for someone who feels like this.

“You told me you were in Feldcroft this summer,” she says.

The words land cleanly. Precisely. No accusation. No raised voice.

He doesn’t answer.

Because the lie has been living in his chest for months, and now it has teeth.

“But really,” she continues. “You were with Anne and Sebastian.”

Her magic tightens, cold as iron drawn from water.

“You let me believe I was the only one you trusted.”

That—that is the wound he didn’t want to hear named.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he murmurs, immediately hating how weak it sounds.

“No,” she says. “You just just avoided me altogether.”

Silence stretches. The torches flicker. The castle listens.

“Ominis,” she says, closer now. “Were you there?”

He exhales.

“When she died, were you there?”

Her breath stutters. He hears it. Hates himself for knowing her that well.

He bows his head.

“I was holding her hand.”

The sound she makes is small. Broken. It cuts deeper than any shout could have.

“When did it happen?”

“Two nights before term started.”

Her magic flares, sharp and instinctive. He braces, not because he’s afraid she’ll hurt him, but because he knows how much effort it’s taking her not to.

“You let me grieve alone,” she whispers. “Without even knowing it had already happened.”

“I didn’t,” he says too fast. “I was with you every day after—”

“After,” she snaps. “After you’d already lived through it with them.”

The truth presses in on him, merciless.

“You ignored me all that time,” she continues. “You let me talk about how scared I was. How I hoped we had made the right choice for Sebastian. And you never once thought I deserved to know you were there when it ended.”

Her voice fractures.

He reaches for her—then stops. He doesn’t get to take comfort now.

“I wanted to tell you,” he says, raw. “Every day I saw you, I wanted to tell you.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Because you trusted me.
Because you leaned into me.
Because if I lost that—

“Because you felt safe with me,” he says quietly.

Her breath catches. He hears it like a spell miscast.

“And I was terrified,” he continues, forcing the words out, “that the moment I told you, would be a moment you hurt. And I couldn’t do that.”

She laughs, hollow. “I’m hurt anyway.”

“I know.”

He lets the silence sit. Lets it punish him.

“You were my anchor,” she says. “When my magic scared me. When things got loud in my head. I thought you could be the one person I leaned on because you were honest with me. At least I thought you were.”

Every word feels earned.

“I was,” he says. “I am. About everything that mattered.”

“This mattered.”

“Yes,” he says, voice breaking. “That’s why I was afraid.”

Honesty doesn’t save him. He knows that. It just stops the bleeding from becoming a lie too.

“I was starting to care about you,” she whispers.

The admission hurts more than her anger.

“I was too,” he says. “I still do.”

He lifts a hand, hovering near her wrist—not touching. Asking without asking.

“If you tell me to leave you alone, I will,” he says. “But please don’t think what we had wasn’t real to me.”

She leans forward.

For one terrible, beautiful heartbeat, he thinks she might close the distance.

Then she pulls back.

He doesn’t follow. He doesn’t reach. He nods once, because he deserves this restraint.

“I need time,” she says.

“I know.”

“I don’t hate you,” she adds. “But you hurt me.”

“I’ll carry that,” he says. “However long you need.”

She walks away from him. The loss is immediate. Physical.

At the exit, she pauses. “You should have trusted me.”

“I wanted to,” he answers. “That was the problem.”

She leaves.

The Undercroft feels empty in a way he hasn’t known since Anne’s voice went quiet forever. Since their laughter filled evenings were no more than distant memories.

And Ominis Gaunt stands very still, realising that the safest thing he’s ever been to someone is the very thing he may have destroyed.

Chapter Text

I wake before dawn, and for one fragile moment I can’t remember why my chest feels tight or why my magic sits so low and heavy beneath my ribs, like it hasn’t decided what it wants from me yet. Then last night catches up all at once, and I want to roll over and shut the world out again.

Monday. A fresh start. The thought is automatic. Muscle memory. A mantra I’ve believed my whole life. But right now it feels like a façade, a hollow lie meant to keep me moving.

I sigh and swing my legs out of bed, feet meeting cold stone, and breathe in slowly. The familiar smells of the dormitory ground me: old parchment, wool blankets, the faint trace of last night’s extinguished candles. Real things. Manageable things.

I dress carefully. Methodically. As if order might stop last night’s conversation with Ominis from replaying in my mind.

The pained expression on his face.
How I wanted him to grab me, to keep me from leaving.
To hold me so I could feel safe and furious at the same time.
To kiss him.

I splash my face with water, but it doesn’t wipe the red from my cheeks and by the time I leave the common room, my thoughts are a tangled mess.

The corridor is quiet, the castle still stretching awake around me. Sunlight spills through tall windows, pale and forgiving, catching dust motes midair like they’ve been suspended just for my benefit.

I straighten my shoulders. New week. New rules.

No lake.
No Figg.
No Sebastian.
And—I hesitate. No Ominis.

The thought lands wrong. Not sharp. Not burning. Heavy.

My magic reacts immediately—not flaring, not soothing, but tightening, like a hand closing slowly around something fragile. It doesn’t hum. It doesn’t whisper. It waits.

I exhale through my nose and keep walking. The first consequence of the day finds me at the bottom of the stairs.

I hear the faint pulse of his wand before I hear his voice. The sound is soft. Familiar. Once comforting. My stomach drops anyway.

I don’t look toward him. I don’t have to. My body knows exactly where Ominis Gaunt is in the space around me—how close, how still, how carefully he’s standing, as if he’s already learned a new distance he isn’t allowed to cross.

“Lucie,” he says. Not warm. Not cold. Careful.

His face is composed, but his voice is tight with restraint, hesitation—bracing for whatever I give him. Whatever I might say.

“I—” He stops himself, swallows, and tries again. “I wanted to say good morning.”

The normalcy of it almost breaks me.

My magic stirs—not in warning, not in hunger—but in recognition. It shifts, unsettled, like it’s searching for the version of him it trusted yesterday.

“Good morning,” I reply, but the words feel thin. Incomplete.

Silence stretches between us. Not hostile. Worse. Unresolved.

I became acutely aware of everything I didn’t say yesterday. Everything he didn’t fix. Everything still sitting raw between us, like a wound covered but not healed.

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he nods once—as if that’s all he’ll allow himself.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says.

I hesitate. Just for a heartbeat.

“Yes,” I say. “See you at breakfast.”

He steps aside to let me pass. The space he leaves is precise. Respectful. It hurts more than closeness ever could have.

As I walk away, I feel it fully—the truth I’d hoped to outrun by sleeping, by planning, by calling Monday a beginning.

Fresh starts don’t erase consequences.
They just make you carry them in daylight.

I needed air.

~ . ~

Outside, I turn away from the lake. The hills are quiet in the early morning.

Not the sharp, watchful quiet of the lake, but something softer and alive in small ways. Grass damp with dew. The faint rustle of something moving low to the ground. Earth that feels solid beneath my boots instead of eager.

I follow the curve of the path without thinking too hard about where it leads. That’s when I hear a soft chuffing sound.

I stop. Then carefully peer over the rise.

“—easy now,” a familiar voice murmurs. “I know. I know. I’ve got it.”

Poppy is crouched in the grass a few yards away, her sleeves rolled up, her short hair half-plaited and half-forgotten, cradling what looks like a bundle of silver-blue fur in her arms. A Mooncalf blinks up at her, enormous eyes luminous in the dawn light.

My breath catches despite myself. “Poppy?” I whisper.

She looks up—and immediately grins.

“Lucie! Oh, good, you’re up early.” She gestures me over with one careful hand. “Come see. They nested closer to the path than usual.”

I approach slowly, lowering myself into the grass beside her.

There are three Mooncalves in the hollow beyond her—two curled together, one wobbling on uncertain legs. The air hums with gentle magic, soft and content, nothing like the sharp pressure I’ve been carrying since yesterday.

“They’re beautiful,” I say quietly.

“I know,” Poppy beams. “This one’s the runt. Keeps wandering off.” She scratches gently under its chin, and it melts bonelessly against her. “William says it’s probably just curious.”

My eyebrows lift. “William, huh?”

She laughs, a little pink creeping into her cheeks. “He’s been helping me check on them. He’s very good at not startling them. And at carrying feed without spilling it everywhere.”

“That’s a rare talent,” I say solemnly.

She nudges my shoulder with hers. “You should talk. You’ve been impossible to pin down lately aside from your help with William and everything.”

The words aren’t accusing. Just observant.

“I know,” I admit. “I’m sorry. This term’s been… different than I expected.”

Poppy hums thoughtfully. “I thought so. You’ve had that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re trying very hard not to ask for help.”

I snort quietly. “Rude.”

“Accurate,” she counters cheerfully.

We sit in companionable silence for a moment, watching the Mooncalves shuffle and resettle.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed this,” I say eventually. “Just… being here. With you.”

Poppy smiles, softer now. “Me too. We used to do this all the time.”

“Before everything got complicated,” I say.

She glances at me, eyes kind but sharp. “You don’t have to tell me everything.”

I swallow. “I know.”

“But,” she adds gently, “you don’t have to tell me anything either.”

My magic doesn’t tighten.
The Voice doesn’t stir.

“I’ve been having a hard time trusting myself,” I say. “And other people. Not because they’ve done something terrible—but because things changed.”

Poppy nods as if that makes perfect sense.

“Change is frightening,” she says. “Even when it’s good. Especially when it’s tangled up with people you care about.”

I glance at her. “Is that what’s happening with you and William?”

She laughs, ducking her head. “Maybe. It’s nice, though. Gentle. He doesn’t ask for more than I can give.”

Something in my chest loosens at that.

“I’m glad,” I say honestly. “You deserve that.”

And she did. When I’d first met Poppy, she had been the outlier, preferring the companionship of beasts over people. That hadn’t changed, but she had opened up. Now she was opening her heart too.

“You know,” she ventured. “What you did at the tomb was amazing. It’s one thing to read about ancient magic but to actually see it in person was otherworldly.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her ancient magic shouldn’t act that wild. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had released something in the tomb, something that has been following me around since. How could I when William was back to normal and helping Poppy care for creatures.

Her gaze flicks skyward suddenly.

“Lucie, look.”

I follow her line of sight just in time to see it.

A dragon, vast and dark against the paling sky, wings cutting slow, powerful arcs through the clouds. It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t dive.

It simply passes.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

“That never gets old,” Poppy murmurs.

“No,” I agree. “It really doesn’t.”

The dragon disappears beyond the hills, and the world feels smaller again—but not diminished.

Just… manageable.

“Do you think that’s the mother dragon we saved?”

“Impossible to know. But it’s comforting to think she’s still around.”

Poppy carefully settles the Mooncalf back with the others and brushes grass from her skirts. “We should head back. Breakfast will be ending soon.”

I nod, rising beside her.

“Poppy?” I say as we start back toward the castle.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

She smiles at me like she knows exactly what I mean. “Anytime.”

It’s getting colder now and an icy wind picks up, but it doesn’t whisper my name.

“So,” I venture. “You and William.”

“Don’t start,” Poppy groans, but I can see the smile.

We walk together in the growing light, the castle waiting ahead of us—the morning finally feeling familiar. A fresh start.

Chapter Text

By the time Poppy and I get back, the castle is alive. Straight away, we notice something is different. Heavier.

Whispers follow us through the corridors like a second shadow. I can hear my name broken into pieces, stitched back together with speculation and fear. A Ravenclaw goes quiet mid-sentence when she passes. A Hufflepuff stares a beat too long before looking away. Even Gryffindors — bold, reckless Gryffindors — give us space.

“Is it just me or is everyone staring at us?” Poppy asks nervously.

“They’re staring at me,” I respond, but I can’t figure out why.

Then it rushes over my skin rather than hits me.

A new enchantment hums faintly beneath the castle wards, subtle but unmistakable to anyone sensitive to magic. I feel it heavier the moment we step into the Reception Hall — a pressure like invisible fingers brushing the edges of my power, measuring. Recording.

Monitoring.

My skin prickles.

I stop in the corridor.

“Lucie?”

“You go ahead.” I force my voice to sound light, relaxed. “I just need a moment.”

Poppy smiles and nods, but I can see the worry etched in her gaze. She goes on ahead anyway.

My magic presses beneath my skin. The voice stirs at the edges of my thoughts, curious.

Are they afraid? They are afraid.

It replays in my mind. Screaming. Glass shattering. Curses that were called Unforgivable for a reason.

A snap and clink sound beside me. I turn to look and glass breaks. Sapphires fall from the Ravenclaw House Point Hourglass. I blink.

Others around me gasp and quickly continue into the Great Hall. They all whisper under their breath as they pass like they know.

Lucie Reeve lost control.
Lucie Reeve is unstable.
Lucie Reeve shouldn’t be allowed to wield magic.

It’s like I can’t catch my breath and the walls are closing in. My magic presses painfully.

“You’re not hurt, are you Miss Reeve?” Professor Weasley asks. Her voice breaks the confusion in my mind and I quickly shake my head.

She immediately softens, “Thank goodness, hurry along then.”

She waves me away and diverts other students away from the hazard. I overhear a pair of students talking about the cracks in the glass, how they’ve been there for months and it was only a matter of time. That meant it wasn’t me.

Everything is always someone's fault.

But the glass hadn’t shattered because of me.

The thought comes slowly, like easing weight off an injured limb. Careful. Testing.

The hourglass stands there, cracked and continuing to leak sapphires onto the stone floor, but my magic—still restless beneath my skin—hasn’t surged again. No answering hum. No backlash. Just the low, unsettled thrum it’s had since yesterday.

Coincidence, then.

The Voice stirs, displeased. It tries to insist otherwise, tries to stitch fear to cause, but the argument feels thin now. I breathe in. The pressure in my chest eases by a fraction.

Not everything is you, I think. The words feel radical. Necessary. True.

I straighten and make myself move.

The doors to the Great Hall swing open, and noise rushes out to meet me—cutlery, conversation, laughter threaded with something sharper underneath. Awareness. Speculation.

Eyes flick up as I enter.

I spot Poppy immediately at the Ravenclaw table, wedged between William and Samantha, with Garreth across from them already halfway through what looks like his second helping. Relief loosens something in my shoulders.

I slide onto the bench beside Garreth.

“There you are,” Samantha murmurs. “I was about to come looking for you.”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically, then amend it, quieter, “I think.”

She gives me a look that says she hears the difference, but lets it pass.

Conversation resumes in fits and starts, the way it always does when people are pretending nothing is wrong.

“And then it just—glided,” Poppy is saying, eyes bright as she gestures with her spoon. “Right over the hills. Its wingspan must have been enormous.”

William grins. “Imagine if dragons could be tamed. Can you picture it? One loyal dragon, just—” he makes an explosive gesture, “—following you around.”

Samantha snorts. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because no witch or wizard has ever tamed a dragon,” she says, matter-of-fact. “They’re not beasts. They’re ancient. Intelligent. Their scales are imbued with magic older than most spells we use today.”

William opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Still,” he says stubbornly, “if anyone could—”

Samantha’s gaze flicks to me.

“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “if dragons could be tamed, it would only be by someone with ancient magic.”

Garreth laughs. “See? There you go, Lucie. Dragon trainer extraordinaire."

A few months ago, that might have made me smile.

Now it lands oddly—half compliment, half burden.

I manage a noncommittal hum, pushing eggs around my plate more than eating them. The Voice is quiet, watchful. It doesn’t purr at the idea. It doesn’t reach for it.

Good.

I realise then that the whispers haven’t stopped.

They’ve shifted.

I catch fragments drifting across the hall.

“—he’s back—”
“—Sallow—”
“—after everything—”
“—heard his sister—”
"—dead—”

My stomach tightens.

I follow the line of attention without meaning to, past the long tables, past the clusters of students leaning together like they’re watching a spectacle.

Sebastian sits alone at the Slytherin table.

No Ominis beside him.

The sight hits harder than I expect. Not because of Sebastian—though seeing him there, isolated and defiant, stirs something complicated—but because it mirrors another image too closely. Ominis, only days earlier that felt like a lifetime. The careful distance. The empty space.

Sebastian stares down at his plate like daring anyone to comment.

I felt it then. The pull. The instinct to go to him, to fill the space, to ask are you alright? even as another part of me insists I should still be angry.

I am angry.

I think.

For a fleeting, dangerous second, I can’t remember why.

The Voice murmurs, observing.

I clamp down on the feeling and look away.

Poppy is watching me now, subtle but attentive.

“We should probably head to class,” I say, louder than necessary. “Before we’re late.”

Garreth groans. “Already? I’ve barely eaten.”

“You’ve eaten enough for three people,” Samantha says dryly, standing anyway.

William gathers his things, Poppy following suit. As we rise, I feel the eyes again—the weight of attention, of stories being written without my consent.

But this time, I won't stop. I don’t let the whispers root me in place.

I walk with my friends toward the doors, the noise of the hall falling behind us, and for now that feels like enough.