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Chapter Text

Ominis Gaunt stood in the crowded entrance hall, the high vaulted ceiling he’d never seen but heard described echoing with the voices of the many students returning for their next or final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The familiar voices that bounced through his ears gave him both a headache and a desperate need to find somewhere quiet; but they were also instilling in him a different kind of anxiety.

Something was wrong and it took him longer than it should have to realise what it was… someone was missing. The person he had told himself he wasn’t looking forward to meeting again… was missing.

He’d told himself he was going to be nicer to the sunny Hufflepuff this year, be less…him. Be less waspish, less sharp with her and impatient with her lack of magical knowledge. He had tried all last year, to curb his temper; sometimes successfully and sometimes not. She was nice, kind, innocent and just plain happy in a way that rubbed his fur all the wrong way. She also didn’t push past his boundaries and temper the way Sebastian and Anne had or avoid him the way other students did.

She backed off; but she would be waiting for him quietly in their next class seated together, he would feel guilty and slip her a lolly she had likely never tasted before as a pseudo apology, help her with her classwork and that would be the end of it. Sebastian had laughed that she was taming him like a cat, one scratched hand at a time. Over the holidays, he had promised himself, he would do less of the hand scratching. 

If Edith Greene had been in the entrance hall, he would have heard her even if she hadn't come close enough for his wand to sense her in the crowd of students. She would have been laughing, squealing or calling out to someone he barely knew. But there was nothing. 

He knew she would have come up to greet him before now though, maybe told him off for not writing to her, shown him some random muggle thing she had gotten her hands on over the summer or worse… some mundane piece of wizardry everyone born in the magical world had owned since they were born.

She wouldn't have ignored him on their first day back and even if she was; no matter how chaotic the voices echoing all around him, he felt he would have heard her by now. Where was she?

He would have asked Sebastian and Anne again if they had seen her but they had left his side to do what they called making the rounds. He could hear them; barely over all the noise but still there, in separate parts of the entrance hall laughing and yelling. They also had many friends that they hadn’t seen over the holidays. The twin’s casual disinterest at not being able to immediately see Edith around had irked him. 

“She’ll turn up.” Anne had replied with the same tone she used when Ominis had misplaced his homework over the holidays.

He’d began to berate her, that Anne had shared classes with Edith and was her friend before she had brushed him off, calling to a different friend she had spotted before walking away. It had left him feeling angry with the pair of them, not that they would care. 

A knot of worry was beginning to form in his chest like lead. Was she sick? Or had something happened to her?

Over the summer he hadn’t written to her. He had tried; his fireplace was full of the ashes of incinerated drafts. The wording had never been quite right, too forced or vague. He had been afraid she wouldn’t reply or that she would. He had so many excuses for not sending them.  He regretted it now.

A student brushed his arm causing him to turn, Lenora Everleigh his wand told him. Though not as a sight, he had no idea what Lenora looked like beyond Anne's description of her; no one could explain how his wand worked. It wasn’t seeing exactly, his wand sent out magical pulses and relayed the information as something in his mind so that he didn’t bump into things anymore.

The muggle-borns found it fascinating and started talking about a Leonardo d Vinci, some muggle inventor. It could also tell one person from another and a kind of individual magical essence if the person was a witch or wizard, he had always found that invaluable.

Lenora was a Hufflepuff girl he didn't speak to unless it was class related or she spoke to him first. She always thought she was smarter than she was but she was not malicious; she was one of Edith’s friends though they weren't close as far as he was aware but they were in the same house. Lenora also more importantly, would have been on the train with her.

"Lenora." He called, his voice rising enough that she should be able to hear him over the chatter. She had heard him; he could feel her stiffen in surprise. 

"Yes?" She replied, confused and wary. Whether it was from his family's horrid reputation or his personal reputation for cutting remarks to people to bump into him without an apology he didn't know, or care. 

"Have you seen or heard from Edith?" Ominis heard himself ask sharply. Rather more sharply than he had intended.

"Why do you want to know?" Lenora asked; that shrill entering her tone as it did when she got defensive. Hufflepuffs had a reputation for being overly protective of their muggle-born housemates. 

"Was she on the train, Lenora?" He demanded his voice sharpening further in irritation. Silently he cursed agreeing to join Sebastian and Anne for the last month of summer. He hadn't been on the train or at the station. 

"I... I don't know. I didn't see her but that doesn't mean she wasn't." Lenora stammered the defensive air knocked out of her. No wonder she never got into Ravenclaw. Wasn't it common sense to make sure your muggle-born friends got on the train?

"Well, go and look!" Ominis snapped. "And you had better keep me informed or I'll tell Andrew Larkin about your love letters and how you follow him through the halls." 

"How do you -" She started; he could hear her foot stamp. 

"- now Lenora!" Why did everyone assume because he was blind and ignored everyone, that he was also deaf? He knew everything that happened in these walls and right now, he would use every dirty secret if he needed to. Something was very wrong and he could feel it. 

The banquet hall doors opened with a loud thunk that vibrated through the stone floor and the windows. Students streamed past them into the hall, exclaiming over the food, the candles; laughing as they paid, Ominis and Lenora, no mind, oblivious and eager to get to the food.

They had been searching for ten minutes with no luck from either of them. Panic was beginning to choke Ominis like smoke. Lenora was in tears now too; which was not helping.

Together they had asked nearly everyone in the hall and no one had seen her; actually no one had even received a letter from her all summer.

The worst part, the part that made him want to jinx people was; no one had questioned it. She was probably busy or didn't have an owl; there had been a multitude of excuses. He had a terrible pit of panic opening in his chest and he needed an adult. 

“No one has seen her Ominis.” Lenora hiccupped. “What do we do now?” 

“I’ll alert the teachers. You keep asking around.” Ominis told Lenora before turning and entering the banquet hall. The teacher would already be in the hall, supervising. 

The teachers table was at the far end of the hall, on a wooden dais he almost stumbled on because someone from the Gryffindor table suddenly elbowed him from behind.

Ominis was disappointed but unsurprised to find Professor Weasley was not at the teachers table as he had hoped. She would have been his first choice but clearly she was with the new first-years.

Briefly he considered Professor Garlick as the head of Hufflepuff but decided Professor Sharp was probably the best one to alert. His wand told him the professor was seated over at the end of the long curved table next to Professor Hecat, his other choice. 

"Excuse me, Professor Sharp?" He began, snagging his attention. 

"What is it Mr Gaunt? Why are you not at your table, the sorting is about to start."  Came the leisurely question ever so slightly slurred with what was no doubt wine, he could hear the Professor sit up a little straighter. 

"Edith Greene from Hufflepuff hasn't arrived at school yet. I am…concerned." Never had Ominis found keeping his tone steady and measured so difficult. 

"And why are you concerned Gaunt? She isn't part of your house."  Professor Hecat cut in before Professor Sharp could reply. Her gravelly voice was both suspicious and amused. 

Anger rose in Ominis like the snake his house and family were famed for. He struggled to crush it down, it wouldn't help. If he lost his temper they may disregard him. Perhaps he should have brought Lenora after all. 

"Lenora and I have asked everyone we could find, but no one has seen her, not on the train or in the hall or had any contact with her over the holidays." He began after taking a deep breath against his racing heart.

“She is muggle-born, Sir; I'm concerned there is a problem and maybe her parents couldn't report it.” He could hear the slight tremble in his voice as his throat began to close and he could feel the wand in his hand shake a little.

Ominis hoped this was enough, if he had to debate it with them he'd probably end up bursting into tears like Lenora had. 

There was a heavy pregnant pause as the Professors considered his words and all his unspoken implications. "I will look into it, Mr Gaunt. Have a seat at your table with your friends." Professor Sharp replied, all traces of his original jovial tone gone. Thank Salazar. 

By the time Ominis had navigated the pushing, joking students to the Slytherin table and found the space left for him by Sebastian, the Great Hall doors had clanged shut with an unsettling finality that rattled all the goblets.

He really hoped she was safe. 

_____________________

Edith hadn't woken up with a start, consciousness and the fight for it had been a struggle. It was like falling into a lake and every time your head broke the water’s surface, something pulled you back under.

During the battle she gradually became more and more aware of things and for longer. Pain as the first thing she became aware of, it stabbed at her body like broken glass. Each breath bringing on a new wave, the air felt too sharp. She tried to move but her body wouldn’t listen. She was trapped.

Sound was the next victory she won. At first it was just ringing; the strange hum that happened when you stood to close to a bell being rung. Gradually it lessened; there were voices in the hallway, screams, calls for help and crying that brought on a renewed wave of panic. It was frightening.

What fresh hell had she found herself in now? Did she even want to find out? 

Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead, she struggled against the weight. The bright lights burned her eyes like acrid smoke when she eventually managed to open them. Black spots blurred her vision, extra dark against sterile white walls that almost glowed. 

The room spun for a few moments, the sterile walls felt like they were closing in on her, driving the air from her lungs before it slowed to a stop. Her stomach flopped around like a fish. 

Was this a hospital? She wondered. It was a lot cleaner than any she'd ever seen before. How had she gotten here? 

A memory of Professor Sharp standing over her came back in a flash.

She remembered now, she had been locked in her room waiting to be sent away somewhere in the morning, if she had survived the night. She’d heard rumours of a place called Bethlem, whispered by neighbours before she’d gone to Hogwarts.

She'd heard yelling and crashing through the dull throbbing pain of wounds that oozed sapping her strength and causing a fever that invaded her nightmares. Then her locked door had shattered inwards with a crunch like breaking bone, sprinkles of wood had fallen on the bed like snowflakes and freezing her blood with fear. 

Next thing she remembered was Professor Sharp looming over her with a strange expression. When he had gathered her up off the bed, she remembered screaming and then everything going black. 

She was so tired; the waters of unconsciousness were already raising back up to reclaim her. Edith had little choice but to allow it, everything still hurt and she was so very tired. 

______________________

Chapter Text

The second time Edith managed to wake, it was with a start; a strangled half yelp that stuck in her dry throat like gristle; the firm mattress beneath her squeaked in protest.

Her heart was racing and she could feel the sweat on her face, some noise must have escaped her because the next thing a cup was brought to her mouth. She shied away from it before she realised what it was and allowed the liquid to run down her throat. 

“Easy there, sweet girl.” The voice was gentle, like someone talking to a scared animal. “Do you know where you are?” 

“N-.” She tried before just shaking her head as much as she could. It was barely anything but she could see the woman at least. She was a tall kindly looking woman in a white dress almost as white as the walls, her blonde hair swept back one of the more severe styles. 

“You are in St Mungos, dear. It’s a Wizarding hospital.” The nurse went to brush her hair from her face but stopped when Edith flinched.

She hadn’t meant to, she knew the nurse wouldn’t hurt her but then she hadn’t thought her parents would either…

“I’m Alora and I will be taking care of you today.” Her voice was kind and reassuring; it matched how she looked somehow.

“Ni- nice to meet you.” The polite response was automatic but her voice couldn’t keep up and she stumbled over the words.

The tired was coming back again. A few minutes and a handful of words were almost more than she could handle. 

“You should sleep now.” This time Edith couldn’t flinch away from the hand that stroked her head. It was calloused but gentle, she hated it a brief shard of panic stabbed through her but her body was frozen and her mind was already drowning. 

__________________

The third time Edith woke up, it was to the unwelcome sensation of someone playing with her hair. She ripped herself away in blind panic, wounds tearing open as pain flared through her. The floor seemed to rise up to meet her as she nearly fell off the creaky hospital bed.

New hands from the other side steadied her, and the scent of dittany leaves and smoke filled her nose. 

“Calm down, no one is attacking you. It’s just Professor Weasley.” The husky tone of Professor Sharp was reassuring; the hands on her shoulders however, were not.

The blood that ran down her back tickled, leaving a cold rivulet that made her shiver. The air was cold too; it carried a sterile smell that burned the back of her throat.

“I’m sorry, Edith. I didn’t think that would wake you.” The hands in her hair had really been Professor Weasley’s, she looked guilty. 

“Please don’t touch me.” She replied, feeling bad for making Professor Weasley feel bad. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. You are in a hospital and still healing, however I can promise I will not play with your hair unless you are awake, but it will still need brushing eventually.” That made sense, she supposed.

A noise drew her eye to Professor Sharp who was now digging in his coat jacket; he pulled free a small lime green vial with barely a mouthful inside.

“Is that going to be safe, Aesop?” Professor Weasley asked, seeing what he was holding. 

“Yes Matilda, this is exactly what the Nurse would give her if we called her in. We’ll just let them know about it when we leave.” Professor Sharp shrugged. “It won’t completely fix your wounds, they’re too severe but it will stop the bleeding and put the healing back to what it was at.”  

“I’m afraid they’re going to scar, dear.” Professor Weasley started comfortingly as Edith took the vial. “But once the wounds are healed and the scars are pink there is a potion that will get rid of them.” 

The potion smelt the way Professor Sharp smelt, of dittany and smoke. The taste left a lot to be desired though, it tasted like green pond slime mixed with dirt and the barest hint of mint.

“Can I keep my scars?” Edith asked already guessing what the answer would be. 

“I can’t see why you would want to but yes, if you want your scars you can keep them for as long as you like. The potion will work for non-magical scarring no matter when it’s taken.” Professor Weasley explained confusion and concern written all over her face.

Wasn’t magic supposed to be magical? Edith glanced down at her thin bandaged arms; she understood now why she had seen some wizards or witches with scars before despite magic.  She’d always wanted to ask but hadn’t known how to without offending. It couldn’t fix everything.

“Why can’t magic fix it all in one go?” She asked. Wondering what the limits were, her wounds weren’t magical in nature, so why not?

“Over healing a child is just as dangerous as not healing them at all. Your infection is deep and you had a lot of other injuries. The healers have had to prioritise, starting with your infections and punctured lung. Your body just isn’t matured enough to survive a full healing.” Professor Sharp explained running his fingers through his hair.

“Merlin’s beard but it’s a miracle you survived at all. Another day or so and you would have been completely beyond even our best healers.” Professor Weasley added with something like a choked sob. She fished out an ugly tartan handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. 

“Why… how did you find me so fast?” Edith asked as the thought occurred to her.

She hadn’t thought anyone would realize until term started, but she also hadn't had any concept of time in that house, at least not since the notice for the new term schedule had arrived.

That had been the last straw for her parents and their attempts to purge what they called the Devils influence. After that, time lost its shape; the days bled together until she could no longer tell one from the next… so maybe that was how they'd found her. She had expected to die in that room; welcomed it, almost.

“Mr Ominis Gaunt and Miss Lenora Everleigh realised you hadn’t arrived at school and searched for you. When they couldn’t find anyone who had seen you on the train, Mr Gaunt came and reported it to me.” Professor Sharp’s face suggested he thought Ominis had started the search and Lenora had just been roped into it.

Was it ungrateful to Lenora to agree that Ominis had likely played more of a part in saving her than her Hufflepuff housemate? It was; she wasn’t sure she would have noticed a missing student in the start of year confusion.

Ominis however, noticed everything with that wand of his… and it had saved her. Tears slid down her cheeks, for the first time since she had begun to wake; it had been a long time since she’d had the strength to cry.

“You should lie back down and get some more sleep.” Professor Weasley urged handing her a clean handkerchief pulled from another sleeve. “You have a lot more healing to do and need more rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Edith asked the tears in her voice as she lay back down as gently as she could. The sheets had already grown ice cold.

The bed creaked with the movement, the white metal head frame shaking slightly. She had so many more questions. What was she going to do now? Would she be able to return to school? Where would she even go? What was going to happen to those people?

“That depends, dear. We can visit you in the evenings after class.” Oh of course, how could she have forgotten? Of course they had classes to teach. “I think Professor Garlick will be visiting you tomorrow.”

That was going to be exhausting, Edith thought unkindly as her eyes grew heavy. Professor Garlick was lovely but she could be very overly affectionate… she had used to love it but now it sounded draining. 

__________________________

The following weeks since the start of term had been surreal to Ominis. Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry was exactly the same as it had been the previous year.

Ghosts still flew out of the walls and through students, causing them to squeal, the suits of armour in some of the hallways still got into fights and scattered their pieces across the floor. Peeves was still a menace that haunted the boys’ toilet and threw things.

Outwardly everything was the same, but a tension brewed just beneath the surface, waiting to break free and ripple outward like waves across a lake. It spilled most noticeably into the Hufflepuffs, the second-year students above all. Normally jovial and good-natured, they were now gloomy and sullen… quiet in a way that spelled trouble.

Arthur Plummly, of all people, got detention for punching a third-year Gryffindor who had dared to ask why they were moping after a mudblood. He struck him squarely in the nose, smashing it flat, much to the horror of those who witnessed it. Ominis decided to take his own revenge, sending the Gryffindor tumbling down the very steep staircase on the way back from the hospital wing. Two other students had to carry the howling idiot back up, this time to have his legs healed by the muggle-born Nurse Blainey. Ominis hoped the boy appreciated the irony: a mudblood he so despised was healing him… not once, but twice. The ripple of tension didn’t stop with the Hufflepuffs… it spilled into the teachers, who began deducting points for things they would have let slide before.

Sometimes a student was unable to find a particular teacher for hours, only for them to reappear, with what Ominis judged to be a sour mood. One unfortunate student had discovered Professor Garlick weeping amongst her mandrakes, and was promptly docked ten points for her impertinence.

More than once, it reached the ears of the students that Professor Weasley, stern, matronly, and wielding a tongue sharper than any blade, had been heard shouting at Professor Black in his office. Her words were muffled by what must have been a noise-dampening charm, so no one could say precisely how Professor Black had provoked her wrath, though it was widely agreed that he had probably deserved it.

Students insisted that the decorative ceiling of the Trophy Room had rained stone dust upon the lush carpet, and several trophies had tumbled to the floor, requiring immediate repair. Ministry officials made frequent visits as well, striding down the ornate hallways with grave expressions and heaps of paperwork in hand.

The ghosts, while they still startled the students were also quieter, not that many students noticed. They were also the largest source of information in the castle for gossip to any student quiet enough to be able to listen in and lucky enough to find them. 

Ominis had followed an echoing whisper down a flight of steps to the secret wall that led to the story about lycanthropes. Sebastian had explained the tapestries in detail to him, and together they had discovered that lumos had changed the story.

His wand told him there was another student at the base of the stairs, crouched in the corner of the corridor. It was Poppy. Faster and quieter than he had expected, she moved instantly upon noticing him, like a silent ghost herself, and clamped her small hand over his mouth. He had missed the beginning of the ghostly conversation, but if he and Poppy stayed quiet, they would catch the rest—at least until someone else came down.

“—changes at the Ministry! I heard one of the officials saying there’s going to be new laws for this. Terrible amount of paperwork!” The tone was pompous, self-absorbed. Ominis could tell the ghost was close; the voices seemed to drift only a short way around the corner. Nearly Headless Nick, ever the gossip, floated nearby with another ghost, thrilled by the tidbit. This was exactly the kind of information Nick thrived on… and evidently, it was worth listening to for anyone interested in what was really happening. Ominis needed to know too… any clue about what had happened to her.

 “Shh - be quiet.” She hissed her tone low, almost inaudible. “Listen if you want to but don't ruin it.” Ominis nodded, and her hand let go of his mouth, pulling him against the wall. He'd never experienced her interest in a conversation that wasn't about magical creatures but judging by her the tensing of her small frame; she would probably feed him to a Hippogriff if he made a noise and scared the ghosts away. 

“Well - of course! A child nearly died due to her muggle parents' superstitions. And that was the good option! It's like the witch burnings all over again," The fretful voice belonged to the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw.  “I heard they're being sent to Azkaban, the Minister has pulled some strings due to the backlash and mistrust in the muggle judicial system.”

Just what had those monsters done to her to put them in a Wizarding prison? Ominis wondered grimly - he felt his head swim and a sharp noise piercing his ears. It went away as quickly as it came; thankfully, because there was more he needed to hear while he could.

“An example does need to be set; we can't have muggle parents thinking they can harm their magical children.” Nick replied haughtily. “You know what else I heard?” he seemed to pause for dramatic effect. “Professor Black has unilaterally decided that Professor Sharp is going to be her guardian, though it's to be a secret within these walls. We shall have to tell the others so they don't spread it around where the students can hear.”

Ominis could have sworn he heard Poppy mutter, “Idiots” softly. 

“No! Oh, how inappropriate! He's not even married! The scandal! Her reputation could be ruined. What was Professor Black thinking?” Rowena gasped in horror. “No wonder Professor Weasley has been in a terrible mood.”

Anyone would be able to tell that Professor Black was thinking of getting rid of the problem as quickly as possible. He also would have doubled down if the mistake was pointed out to him, or worse; worried that Professor Weasley would have less time to do his work if she had guardianship of a child.

“I heard she threw an entire marble bust at Headmaster Black. I can hardly imagine it though between you and me; such a polite lady.” Whispered Nick, in a theatrical tone. Ominis thought it was a shame she obviously hadn't been trying to hit him. “I also witnessed her telling Professor Sharp that his guardianship is shared with her no matter what the paperwork says. She gave him a rather long list of things he must contact her for.”

“I'm not surprised. How horrible, a girl that age –” Rowena began before there was a loud crash and a curse from the stairwell behind them.

“Helga - curse that flat-footed idiot! They're gone, I'm leaving,” Poppy cursed angrily as the ghosts went silent; they had probably floated off quickly, fearing eavesdroppers.

The idiot in question was a first-year, crouched on the steps at the top of the landing, picking up his textbooks as Ominis and Poppy left the passageway and began climbing the stairs.

Poppy muttered -“idiot”- just loud enough for the flustered boy to hear, passing by without offering any assistance.

“Do be more careful,” Ominis couldn’t help but admonish the first-year as he paused mid-step to quickly pick up one of the books from the cold stone before continuing his climb.

“Sorry,” the boy replied, embarrassed, as Ominis handed him the book.

He had so much to think about, and how he was going to approach this. Was there anyone in the castle that would tolerate his inquiries when he wasn’t even a member of her own house? When his family had a, decidedly, anti-muggle reputation?

Chapter Text

Edith had been sitting on the stool by her bed having her hair detangled by a not-so-gentle nurse, when Professors Weasley and Sharp marched. 

Thank Helga Hufflepuff; this torment can end, thought Edith, eager for anything else to be happening. This was worse than sponge bed baths and wound cleaning. 

It was the first time she had ever seen Professor Sharp look sheepish but the spots of anger on Professor Weasley cheeks everyone had seen before; though they were usually reserved for her nephew, Garreth Weasley. 

“What's wrong, Professors?” She asked nervously. Had she done something wrong? 

“Professor Black is a pompous fool, incapable of distinguishing ceremony from genuine responsibility.” Professor Weasley snarled causing Edith to flinch. 

“Matilda.” Professor Sharp growled in warning. He’d obviously seen her flinch. He was always the first to notice when something upset her, even if she tried to hide it. 

“I'm sorry dear. Don't mind me.” Professor Weasley looked regretful and embarrassed. She glanced behind Edith, obviously catching the nurse's gaze. “I'll finish that, we need a word in private.” 

“So I haven't done anything wrong?” She asked as Professor Weasley settled in behind her with the brush. She was much gentler than the nurse had been but it still felt disgusting… like oil slipping between her toes. She tried her best not to react to it, her shivers always made Professors Weasley and Garlick sad.  

“No, of course not.” Professor Weasley replied quickly. “We just have something to tell-” 

“The ministry has decided to send your parents and their co-conspirator to Azkaban.” Professor Sharp cut in bluntly. 

“Aesop! How dare you phrase it in such a way to a child!” Professor Weasley admonished sharply. Her brush pulled at a knot in Edith’s hair.

The shock of the statement meant Edith barely felt the pull and for once didn’t flinch. “But isn't that a wizard prison?” It was bad wasn't it? Worse than where they'd wanted to send her. She expected it to make her feel something, sad maybe… they were her parents, but all she felt was relief. She’d never have to see them again, they couldn’t hurt her anymore.

“Yes, though they won't be able to appreciate the full horror of the place.” Professor Sharp continued ignoring Professor Weasley. His voice was so cold it made her freeze. Something in his eyes was not… nice. He looked every inch the head of Slytherin and it was frightening. “It was felt that a muggle prison would be insufficient given their crimes.” 

“So what is going to happen to me? Where will I go?” Her voice was small as she pushed down her fear. Professor Sharp couldn’t be scary… he had saved her. Her parents were the ones who should be afraid, not her. The question had been burning at her for weeks and now she had a chance to ask. She had been half afraid she would be sent back to them; half afraid she'd go to an orphanage. 

Professor Sharp sighed heavily, the icy coldness leaving him, he looked like her Professor again as he rubbed the long scar on his face. Behind her Professor Weasley muttered a curse she couldn't quite hear. So it was bad. 

Edith felt tears well up; maybe it would have been better to not be saved. Even her magic didn't work right anymore… it leaked. She was so broken that special healers came to see her every day. Who would want her?

“Shh, don't cry. It's been decided that the safest option for you is for Professor Sharp to be your guardian.” Professor Weasley hurried to explain her hand lightly touching Edith on the shoulder. She couldn't quite mask the disapproval in her voice. 

“Professor Sharp?” Edith asked, startled. He wasn't even married… 

“Yes.” Professor Sharp looked like it was the worst idea he'd ever heard, his eyes pinched at the corners. “We were unable to convince Professor Black that a lady, like Professor Weasley, would be more appropriate.” 

“That's because he's a stubborn unthinking fool,” growled Professor Weasley. “So I have decided that Professor Sharp will share your guardianship with me. Unofficially.” There was no room for argument with her tone… not that she had been going to. 

Edith felt like someone had stunned her. Her hands fidgeted with her robes, was it really this simple. A moment ago it had felt like no one wanted her and now she had two people who were willing to care for her. Professor Sharp might not like the idea but he was agreeing to it. Professor Weasley would do it because she was kind, because Edith needed it. Professor Sharp was different; if he really didn’t want to, not even Professor Black could make him.  

“You’re really going to take me in?” She whispered, peering up at him. He had saved her once and now he was doing it again. But what if she was too broken? Professor Weasley would keep her, she knew that but it would hurt if the man who saved her regretted it… if she disappointed him.

“Yes, and I expect you to keep your grades up when you return to school.” Professor Sharp confirmed; there was the wisp of a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth… Was he trying to make a joke? Was that something he did, she couldn’t remember.

“Aesop!” Professor Weasley reprimanded him. Edith thought she didn't mind if he was serious or joking. She could do that… make him not regret taking her in. At least, she hoped she could. 

___________________

Ominis couldn’t put his finger on it but something within the walls had changed. Well… everything had already changed, but this time it had shifted towards him. 

He was sitting in the Undercroft with Sebastian and Anne, trying desperately to focus on his homework. It was hard; his mind was full of questions, and he’d been unable to find any more answers. The ghosts were now silent and there had been no more news articles beyond the first one from weeks ago… the one he kept tucked in his bag.

Was it a good sign or a bad one? 

“What's wrong, Ominis?” Sebastian asked, finally looking up from his game of Chess with Anne. He must be winning. “You're not still worried about that Hufflepuff, are you?” 

“There's no news Sebastian.” He gritted. This was a sore spot between them now. It was like the more he cared, the less they didn't. 

“No news is good news, as they say,” Sebastian pointed out. It was his go to phrase, delivered in that tone that made Ominis's blood boil… the one that said he was being unreasonable. 

“Seb is right,’ Anne added, trying to be the voice of reason. “If something had really happened to her, it would be in the papers.” 

It had been in papers, the third page if he wanted to be exact… over two weeks ago… but there was no point in starting that fight again. Ominis took a slow steadying breath.  

Maybe he should tell them about what he'd overheard. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to. He did. The weight of the secret kept him awake at night; his only comfort was that Poppy also shared it… just as silently. Ominis just didn't think it would change anything. They would say that ghost gossip wasn't reliable or worse… they wouldn't care at all. And Sebastian had begun to develop a habit of not keeping secrets he didn’t consider important... or perhaps Ominis was only just noticing.

Last year it felt like he had Sebastian's confidence… his trust. That Ominis had known things he shouldn't because Sebastian trusted him. Now he had someone else's secrets, it felt wrong somehow. 

“Or it could be the Ministry hiding it. They do that in case you both have forgotten,” Ominis pointed out before changing the topic. “And while I am concerned about Edith that wasn’t what I was thinking about.” He hoped Sebastian noticed the hint that he should be too, everyone should, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. 

“So then what’s the problem?” Ominis had to force himself not to roll his eyes; hopefully Sebastian never became the Slytherin Seeker. They would be doomed. 

“The teachers. It’s like they treat me differently.” The whole thing confused him and he didn’t know how to put it into words. 

He could feel Sebastian look at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“How do you mean? I haven’t noticed anything.” Anne asked, sounding genuinely confused. That was strange; he had hoped Anne at least might have noticed. 

“I got ten points from Professor Garlick for handing a book to her, Anne.” He voiced, like it was obvious. “That woman is always so off with the fairies she’s never thought not to seat me next to the Tentacula I cannot see.” 

“Yeah, now that you mention it, that was weird.” Sebastian replied. 

“But she’s always been rather odd.” Anne added gently, finishing his thought. They didn’t understand. 

“Professor Hecat actually told me to step back because she was moving the desks for combat lessons.” Ominis reminded them trying to make them see the pattern he did. 

“She was just being considerate.” 

The thought of Professor Hecat being considerate nearly made him laugh. This was the woman who moved desks into him and left him scrambling to get out of the way. Maybe they had never noticed because Defence Against the Dark Arts had been with Hufflepuff last year. Edith had always been the person who pulled him out of the way. 

He could have pointed out Potions too… that Professor Sharp had been nearly kind when Ominis burnt his potion. 

It used to just be ‘too much dittany, Mr Gaunt’ ‘The instructions said three splashes and one handful’ like he could accurately tell what a splash was… but what was the point? 

It wasn’t their fault; they were busy with their own classwork. 

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