Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry M, but I really don’t like the sound of this.” Bunty attested with a sense of calm and genuine concern.

“Wait, what? Why!?” I asked, taken aback. “There is so much to discover and protect in this dimension! And a series of events that are built for open-world discovery is most likely full of valuable information that can be put to good use!”

My eyes darted between hers, searching for a clue to her thoughts. I took a breath as I realized I became defensive about this way too fast. I looked down at my lap in a moment of silence. I let my hand pet the mooncalf that had been lingering around my chair. It was almost second nature to stroke the back of its head and down its neck. I tried to focus on my other senses so I don’t get carried away. The smell of wet hay and freshly grown Origanum dictamnus gave the large room wholesome feel and calmed me a little bit. Bunty gently reached over and grabbed my other hand as I looked back up at her.

“I understand your desire to discover. To cope with losing your home.” Bunty acknowledged. “I didn’t mean to shoot down your idea so quickly, there is just one big problem that comes to mind.”

I raised my eyebrows inquisitively, unsure what she was referring to. I was pretty sure I had run the most important pros and cons in my head. The wizarding world is such an amazing dimension with such depth to it. Every single risk that I had thought of seemed completely justified by the good that may come out of it.

“You would start as a fifth year, correct?” She continued “So that would mean the 16 year old students you would go to class with that year would be only about- let’s see, um- 59 years old today. The chances of having been seen by at least one of your future-not-so-future classmates is decently high!”

“I don’t think so, Bunty. I know I’m in this dimension a lot, but I if I am anywhere other than here in Newt’s basement, its not long enough for someone to remember me.” I said back.

“No no, you’re thinking of it backwards. Your plan is to spend a little less than a whole school year amongst these kids. They will recognize you if they see you here in 1933 or later.”

“Ah I do see the issue. Hmm-” I sat and pondered the situation for a second. “Well I haven’t had anyone recognize yet, so that means I either never go or they never see me!”

Bunty sat there with an expression of consideration. As if she was running the different scenarios in her head. Whilst she sat there, the sound of quick footfall came from a ways behind me. I turned in my chair to see Newt coming down the stairs from his apartment. He had a little smile on his face and held a bag of something lumpy. He made eye contact with me and then Bunty. Then he turned a corner out of sight. I snapped back around to see and lovesick look in my confidant’s eyes. I chuckled a bit as she snapped out of it like nothing happened. She looked at me dead in the eyes and no words needed to be spoken. I knew she had the biggest crush on Newt and he, as far as we know, is none the wiser.

“Look,” She said focusing back on the matter at hand. “I just want you to be safe. You know that it doesn't just come from a place of love and concern, but also from experience.” The solemn look in her eyes echoed with the death of her friends.

It’s strange to think Bunty was once like me—traveling dimensions with her companions, protecting the vulnerable. Now, she hides in the shadows, her past companions lost to tragedy. It’s been about a year and a half since Cam (now Bunty) had to go into hiding after Alissa and Ian were killed. I think of them almost every day, I can’t even imagine how much their passing must haunt her. She sighed and looked back up at me with a crooked smile.

“I trust your judgement, but I just want you to understand the possible danger.” She said as she stood up. With a quick flick of her wand her chair vanished. I stood up promptly after and then my chair was gone too. Just then, Newt came around a different corner. He had the same lumpy bag in tow. His face looked freshly dampened. My guess it was either from the new Kappa he’s been taking care of or his overly affectionate Graphorn.

“You probably shouldn't waste your breath lecturing M about possible danger.” Newt acknowledged; his head faced towards the ground as he walked past us. “She will probably get into it anyway.” He stopped and turned to us, same goofy grin on his face.

“I’m not lecturing,” Bunty replied playfully. “Just making sure my opinion is heard before we get a long-winded conversation about how something went wrong.”

“Hey, I try my best to keep things from derailing!” I said, pretending to be offended by my friend’s banter. “Some things simply don’t go as planned!” We all laughed, all knowing that a lot of things I do don’t even make it to the planning stage. Newt set down his cross body bag and it slightly tipped enough to where I could see inside it. I was full of some sort of large exotic looking tree nut that he was probably using as food for one of his many creatures.

“So, what adventure are you plotting this time, Emma J?” Newt queried. He was one of the few people who I will except calling me by my “full” name. It fits him. Since we were no longer sitting down, my body moved of its own volition. I paced slightly, gearing up to explain my plan.

“Have I told you about the video game Hogwarts Legacy that supposedly takes place in this dimension?” I asked.

“It sounds familiar. I at least remember you explaining the concept of a video game and you bringing up that some do take place here.” Newt said slowly. He stuck his hands in his front pants pocket and rocked back and forth slightly. “What do you mean by supposedly?”

“In my dimension, Hogwarts Legacy is not canonical to the Wizarding World Universe.” I explained, realizing I should have done at least a little more research beforehand. “So my guess is that it only exists in dimensions where it has been inserted deliberately. I don’t know if that applies to this specific branch of Wizarding World Multiverse.” Bunty whistled in awe. I gave her a quizzical look, unsure what exactly about that she found fascinating. This is all stuff she had already known for years. She noticed my look after a second or two.

“Sorry. Usually when the concept of a multiverse is being discussed, its referring to the Marvel dimension. I forget that some other dimensions, including this one, also have different branches.” Bunty explained with a glint in her eye. Her and her teammates had really only scratched the surface when it came to understanding the complexities and depth of the infinite dimensions. I find so much joy in continuing the work Alissa, Ian and Cam had done before me.

“Actually, we’ve found that most dimensions are multiverses!” I explained proudly. “Since the concept of time isn’t a - ”

“Uh oh, we better put her back on track before she off rails into researcher mode.” Newt said as I was in mid-sentence. My jaw dropped and I smiled in disbelief of his sarcasm. We all roared in laughter at Newt’s interjection.

“Newt! When did you learn how to sass?!” I exclaimed. Newt tilted his head and darted his eyes at Bunty.

“I suppose my assistant is rubbing off on me.” He chuckled. We continued to laugh and Bunty’s cheeks flushed pink. I took a deep breath to help the giggles subside so we could get back on track.

“Regarding Hogwarts Legacy, that’s probably all I told you Newt. I went through the entire game though in just over a week and don’t remember a whole lot. What I can say is that the main protagonist, a character that the player designs, starts at Hogwarts as a fifth year in 1890 and has a special ability to see and use a sort of ancient magic.”

“So you are saying that you want to insert yourself as this main protagonist and learn more about it.”

“Precisely!” I grinned. Newt and Bunty were privy to a lot of my plans before I pitched them to Charles, Peter, Ben, and Paul. They both know exactly where my mind is heading in a situation like this.

“And as always,” Bunty added “I was just making sure she was taking the necessary precautions. And, for the record, I also played the game. I took me about 3 and ½ months before I finished it, but I remember it well. One thing I just remembered about it is how much they try to persuade the main character to become a Dark Wizard. I’m not saying you’ll fall for it, but a lot of the main quest that are required for you to continually be involved a friendship with Sebastian Sallow.”

“Wait Sebastian Sallow? As in the Dark Wizard?” Newt asked. Bunty nodded and then turned to me. I stopped my pacing. I didn’t know he became a dark wizard. I knew that by the end of the game he had grown a deep hatred for both Goblins and Dark Wizards. I had no clue he went that far. Unfortunately that only intrigued me more. Not only did I want to learn about the ancient magic surrounding the game, but also more about the different characters. That included Sebastian Sallow as well as people with crazy family history such as Phineas Nigellus Black, Matilda and Garreth Weasley, and Ominis Gaunt.

“Listen, that kid was bad news then and is even worse news now. A lot of the quests you are supposed to do in the game require you to at least somewhat indulge his bad behavior his use of the Unforgivable Curses.” Bunty explained to me.

“Sebastian is the least of my worries” I stated unfazed. “And unlike playing a game, I am not required to choose between two vague dialogue choices. And there are plenty of other people to interact with. And…” As I was finishing my sentence, I felt a buzz on my right index finger. The gemstone on my ring had gone from its regular topaz color to a deep sapphire blue.

“Duty calls?” Asked Bunty, fully aware of my ring and its many meanings.

“Yeah, the quad are probably just wondering where I am.” I said, slightly forlorn. I love my powers and the good that I use it for, but my chats with Bunty and Newt have always kept me grounded. I also feel like I owe it to Bunty to spend time with her. Newt and I are the only people who know who she truly is. Everyone, including Charles and Ben, think that she died alongside Alissa and Ian. The quad may all be like brothers to me, but they can’t know. I feel responsible for her having to go into hiding here. Granted, she’s told me many times that she is perfectly fine with the arrangement and has given her so much peace. But I feel for her.

When my teammates Atticus and Caden also died, I have felt this empty hole in my heart that I don’t think will ever go away. Not even heartbreak can be compared to it. I guess that’s what happens when you are cosmically strung together with two other people who are no longer with us.

I started walking away from my two friends. I opened a portal right in front of my and then promptly turned around to see them.

“Good luck and Godspeed!” I declared as I stepped backwards through the cross-dimensional doorway. I could see them on the other side waving back. The portal shimmered like moonlight on slightly disturbed water, the edges crackling faintly with red light. And in one small flash, the portal was closed.

Chapter Text

The world came rushing back as I pulled my head from the swirling depths of the Pensieve. It was like surfacing from deep, still water—my vision blurred for a heartbeat, the silvery tendrils of memory clinging to my senses as though reluctant to let me go. I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room, and the distant echoes of Charles Rookwood’s last words from the memory faded, leaving an eerie silence in their place.

“That’s what you’re seeing? The glow that surrounded them?” Asked my companion, Professor Eleazar Fig. His eyes flashed with curiosity, concern, and confusion as his eyes darted around the room.

“Yes sir” I replied. I had done my homework before entering this part of the Wizarding World timeline. Even though I could say practically anything I wanted as long as it led us down the same paths as Hogwarts Legacy, I decided to try my best to say the same things as were written in the game. No matter how many dimensions I insert myself into, I still am always so surprised at how naturally playing along is.

“Astonishing!” Professor Fig continued in awe. His eyes darted around the room, still trying to comprehend the information we had uncovered in the Pensieve.

“Can I see magic?”

“Traces of an ancient magic, to be precise. The magic that Miriam had always believed existed but could never - ” Professor Fig trailed off. He trailed off, his voice faltering. His face softened, the grief of his wife’s memory seeping into his expression. “Miriam – and perhaps George – died in pursuit of knowledge that has been dormant for centuries. And you, it seems, are the key to understanding why. We wou - ”

He stopped speaking suddenly. I could faintly hear the sound of the voices on the other side of the door.

Ranrok had arrived.

“Someone’s coming” Professor Fig whispered. He widened his stance and lifted his arms slightly so that he might be able to grab his wand quickly if necessary. We both turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps, the air thick with tension. My heart raced as the ornate vault doors groaned and creaked, swinging open with a deliberate slowness that set my nerves on edge. Even though I knew exactly what to expect, I couldn't help but feel my stomach twist.

A group of goblins entered. The one to the left was familiar—the same one who had escorted us down into the depths of Gringotts. He looked uneasy, his gaze darting nervously between me and Professor Fig. The goblin leading the group, however, had a very different demeanor. He exuded authority, his robes immaculate, his presence commanding. And even more noticeable than his evil aura was the metal shoulder-arm attachments he was wearing.

“I was right.” He growled. His voice dripped with hate. This was the first time I had ever seen this particular goblin in person and I already despised him. Professor Fig approached the group with deliberate steps.

“Ranrok.” Fig snarled, obviously sharing my dislike of our adversary.

“Seems my reputation precedes me.” He said slowly, indulging in the fact that wizard-kind feared him. “I was beginning to think no one was ever going to visit Rackham’s vault,” the Ranrok said smoothly. His voice carried an unsettling calm, his words laced with veiled menace.

Professor Fig stepped forward, his tone firm. “Why are you here?” He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the goblin. I followed suit, trying my best to mimic Fig’s strength. Ranrok raised his hand calmly.

“No need for that. Just give me whatever it is you found here, and we can let bygones be bygones.” He said with a smirk, as if we would dare to oppose his offer. Fig furrowed his brow, emotion stirring in him. I know that he would rather die than let all the work that his late wife had done go to waste. But before he could speak, the goblin banker butted in.

“Sir, they had the key to the vault!” He said timidly. Ranrok gave him a side glare.

“Choose your next words wisely” He said scowled, voice dripping with venom. The banker hesitated. Even though I know how this string of events will go, I half expected him to back down. Despite Ranrok’s stature being much smaller than even me, I could feel his power. It emanated off him from every syllable that came out of his mouth to every dart of his beady eyes.

“I – I only meant that the instructions for vault 12 were quite clear.” Slowly building his courage with every word. “Sir, I must insist. I was to grant access only to the one with the key. And you didn’t have -” Ranrok didn’t let him finish. His armor glowed red and with a lift of his arm, levitated the goblin up and slammed him to the ground. Dead. All the while maintaining eye contact with professor Fig.

“I have no tolerance for traitors.” Ranrock said, unfazed at the fact that he just killed one of his own. “Now, where were we?”

“I’m not giving you anything!” Fig declared. He was not about to let what he just witnessed daunt him.

“Mmh, well – perhaps your young friend here will be more helpful.” He said as he gestured to me. I felt a chill run down my spine as Ranrock’s gaze fell on me. His dark, gleaming eyes seemed to pierce right through me. I raised my wand instinctively, my grip tightening as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

Fig didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his wand, he fired a spell toward Ranrock. The goblin’s metal arm glowed with an eerie red light as it absorbed the magic effortlessly. Ranrock raised his other hand, and a blast of raw energy erupted from his palm, striking both Professor Fig and me. The force of the blow sent us flying backward across the cold stone floor, landing with a bone-jarring thud.  Thank goodness it wasn’t my first time getting thrown across a room or that would have hurt a lot more.

Just then, a loud metallic roar echoed through the chamber. As soon as I stood up, I glanced around frantically at the walls. I knew exactly what was to come and I was not going to waste a second. And then I spotted it, a wall that began to shimmer and then turned into a sort of portal looking out into a forest. I had been watching playthroughs of this game on repeat for at least the last month, so I did not need to turn around to see what was happening. But if I was not mistaken, the Pensieve and the floor around it would have liquified and a colossal Pensieve Guardian would have risen up through it. As the chaos ensued, I bent over to help Professor Fig and pull him towards the portal. I did not give him any time to fully take in what was happening.

“I know a way out!” I yelled as I continued to drag him away. I put my hand on the portal wall and Fig did the same. As the ancient magic enveloped us, the cold, damp air of the vault gave way to the crisp, earthy scent of the forest. My heart pounded as I opened my eyes to a canopy of stars peeking through the trees. I could hear the sound of crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves. We both slowly stood up straight and looked around.

“Are you alright?” Professor Fig said as soon as we had taken a moment to catch our breath. He continued to look around, trying to figure out were in the world that portal had taken us.

“Fine, sir.” I tried my best to look as if I hadn’t expected that exact string of events to happen.

“I’ve never seen so powerful a goblin. He seemed wholly unaffected by my magic!”

“Where are we?” I asked as we both peered through the trees surrounding us. Fig’s look of confusion turned to relief.

“I can’t be!” He chuckled. “It seems those who set up the Pensieve, the locket – and the path to both – wanted someone with your ability to end up here.” He paused for a moment, remembering what our original destination was.

“Come,” he said with a small smile, brushing dust off his robes. “We have a Sorting Ceremony to get to.” He carefully but confidently started walking down the slight slope deeper into the forest. I quickly trotted after him, not as coordinated in my stepping.

We spent the next half an hour walking through the forest and a dirt path. Most of the walk we spent in silence, taking in all that had happened. It gave me a lot of time to ponder what my next course of action would be. Primarily what house was I going to be sorted into.

When I last spent chunks of time in this dimension, it was within the same years Harry Potter was attending Hogwarts. In order to learn the most from the time I spent there, I intended on convincing the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor no matter what. To my surprise, the second I put on the hat he addressed me. He said, “hello there my friend” and chuckled. And then out loud he boomed “GRYFFINDOR!!!”

At the time, I was taken aback at how fast he sorted me. I had taken many online test and pondered a significant time about it and could never figure out what house I would hypothetically be in. Most tests I had taken showed an equal amount of each house, which usually meant the default would be Hufflepuff. So I was surprised when the Sorting Hat was so quick with it.

This time around, I truly did not care where I was sorted. Whilst I loved being in Gryffindor House, I mainly enjoyed it before because I because especially close with Fred & George Weasley. They enriched my time there in many unlikely ways.

I focused my thoughts back on the road ahead. I would have to get used to long walks like this. Its easy to skip over these seemingly pointless parts of story when I’m just playing a game. But not this time.

The dirt path stretched endlessly ahead of us, winding along the edge of the dense forest as the moonlight painted silvery streaks on the ground. The air was cool, carrying the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the night breeze. Professor Fig walked a few steps ahead, his posture relaxed but his head turning occasionally, most likely still processing the events in the vault.

We still have not spoken a word to each other since we began walking, the silence broken only by the crunch of our footsteps on the path. Despite my familiarity with this dimension, there was something awe-inspiring about the quiet majesty of the woods at night. Fireflies blinked lazily in the distance, and the occasional hoot of an owl reminded me just how alive the forest was.

Then, as we crested a hill, the trees thinned, and my breath caught. There it was.

Hogwarts Castle stood in the distance, its towering spires piercing the night sky. Golden lights flickered warmly in the windows, reflecting on the surface of the Black Lake below. Even after all my time spent in this world, the sight of the castle still made my chest tighten. It was as though magic itself thrummed in the very stones of the place, calling to anyone who could feel its pull.

Professor Fig came to a stop beside me, his gaze fixed on the castle. He let out a soft chuckle, his voice breaking the silence. “Magnificent, isn’t it? No matter how many times I see it, Hogwarts never fails to remind me why we fight to protect our world.”

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured in awe, my voice barely louder than the breeze.

He smiled faintly. “Come, my friend, we must hurry.”

We continued down the path, the castle growing closer with every step. My mind wandered as we walked, memories of the first time I saw Hogwarts swirling in my thoughts. The feeling was the same now as it had been then—anticipation mixed with the comforting sense of returning home.

The Great Hall loomed ahead, its massive doors glowing faintly under the flickering torchlight. We paused just outside, the hum of conversation and laughter from within reaching my ears. Fig walked up to the door and put his hand on it. He cocked his head to, as if listening to what was happening on the other side of the door.

“Oh good – we haven’t missed the Sorting Ceremony.” He said in relief as he walked a few paces back towards me. He then pulled out his wand as he looked down at my apparel. “I am no expert but,” he flicked and waved his wand at me and my clothes began to change. My tan long coat morphed into a black Hogwarts robe. “ – that seems more appropriate.”

I adjusted the newly transfigured robe, running my hands over the smooth fabric. It felt strange, wearing Hogwarts attire again after a little less than a year away. Professor Fig offered me an encouraging smile, but the weight of what we had just been through still lingered between us.

“Now,” Fig began, his tone soft but firm. “I need to study this locket as soon as I can, but first, I must contact the Ministry. They need to know what happened to George – and be warned of Ranrok.” He hesitated, his expression grave. “For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between you and me.”

I nodded immediately. “Of course, sir.”

His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. Then, with a slight sparkle of excitement returning to his eyes, he asked, “Ready for the Sorting Ceremony?”

Before I could answer, he rubbed his hands together and pushed open one of the heavy doors. The warmth of the Great Hall hit me first, a stark contrast to the cool air outside. The sounds of laughter and conversation grew louder as the vast space came into view. Candles floated above the long tables, their flames steady despite the occasional draft. The enchanted ceiling reflected the night sky, scattered with stars.

Professor Fig took a single step inside, scanning the room. His eyes landed on the head of the hall, where Professor Black stood, his ornate robes perfectly tailored, his expression a mix of irritation and self-importance. Black had just stepped forward, about to announce the end of the Sorting Ceremony, when he spotted Fig.

The headmaster’s expression darkened further, and he marched toward us with an exaggerated strut that somehow managed to look both pompous and impatient. Fig sighed audibly and stepped back behind the door, leaving me exposed.

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Fig muttered under his breath. “Prepare yourself to meet the Headmaster.” I barely had time to register the warning before Professor Black reached us. He stopped abruptly, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in Fig.

“Fig,” he said, drawing out the word as though it were an unpleasant taste. “Nice of you to join us. The Sorting Ceremony is over.”

Fig stepped forward slightly, maintaining his composure despite Black’s cutting tone. “There were… complications.”

“Complications?” Black’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise.

“It seems the goblin problem has–”

“Enough!” Black cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. “Goblins. I’ve no time for rumors, Fig, and I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left.”

Fig tried again, raising a hand to continue, but Black silenced him with a glare so sharp it could have sliced through stone. Turning his attention to me for the first time, his expression softened just enough to convey mild disdain rather than outright hostility.

“If you’re lucky,” Black said, his tone dripping with condescension, “we might still be able to get you sorted this evening.”

He spun on his heel and began striding back toward the staff table without another glance. I started to follow, but Fig caught my arm gently, his expression kind.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, his voice low.

I smiled at Fig, grateful for his reassuring presence. “Thank you,” I said softly before turning and hurrying after Black. My footsteps echoed against the stone floor, growing louder as we entered the vast Great Hall. The hum of chatter and clinking silverware fell silent, replaced by the weight of hundreds of eyes settling on me.

The full attention of the room pressed down on me, and my heart raced. I wanted to reflect on my first encounter with Professor Black or ponder which house I’d be sorted into, but my mind refused to cooperate. Instead, I followed the Headmaster like a puppet, every step stiff and mechanical. The reality of being so late—and so exposed—had my nerves on edge.

As we approached the front of the hall, Professor Black stopped abruptly, turning his sharp gaze toward a red-haired woman standing with the Sorting Hat.

“Professor Weasley!” Black’s voice carried easily over the rows of students. “We have one more to be sorted.”

The few students who had been distracted by their food or conversations now gave me their full attention. The hall grew eerily silent, save for the occasional whisper. My stomach twisted as my anxiety spiked. I hated being late; this level of scrutiny was suffocating.

But then Professor Weasley turned toward me, her kind smile washing away some of my tension. Her warm, motherly demeanor cut through the nerves buzzing under my skin.

“Welcome,” she said gently. “You’re just in time. Have a seat.”

I nodded, returning her smile as I made my way to the stool. Taking a deep breath, I settled myself and braced for the weight of the Sorting Hat on my head.

As soon as the Hat touched me, the world seemed to slow. Its voice filled my mind, deep and raspy, enunciating every word.

“Well, isn’t this an odd case,” it mused. “It seems I’ve already sorted you—but I have no memory of doing so. Curious…”

I exhaled slowly, steadying my thoughts. Indeed, you have, though you won’t remember why, I thought, knowing the Hat would hear.

“Ah, yes,” it replied, its tone contemplative. “I see now. Gryffindor, though not for another hundred years. How peculiar.”

I tensed, worried the Hat might reveal too much, but it chuckled softly. “No need for concern, child. I am the Sorting Hat, not the Snitching Hat.”

Relief washed over me, and I silently thanked the ancient artifact. The Hat paused for a moment, as though sifting through my memories and thoughts.

“Now then, onto the matter at hand… where to put you,” it murmured.

I did my best to quiet my mind, allowing the Hat to deliberate without interference. The silence stretched, and then realization struck me like a lightning bolt. Of course—the reason the Hat had chosen so quickly last time was that it had already sorted me into—

“Better be… GRYFFINDOR!” the Hat bellowed.

The noise of the Great Hall came rushing back, cheers erupting from the direction of the Gryffindor table. My heart swelled as I beamed, turning my head toward my new housemates. Before Professor Weasley removed the Hat, I heard its voice faintly in my mind one last time. “Till we meet again,” it said.

I stood and faced Professor Weasley, who smiled warmly as she waved her wand. My robes shimmered, shifting subtly to display Gryffindor’s scarlet and gold.

“You’ll do well,” she said kindly.

“Thank you,” I replied, still grinning as I turned toward my new housemates.

I hadn’t even reached the Gryffindor table when Professor Black returned to the podium, his voice cutting through the lingering applause.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he began, his tone as clipped as ever. “Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch during last spring’s final, this year’s Quidditch season has been canceled.”

The room erupted in outrage. Students turned to one another, voicing their frustrations in heated whispers. The Slytherin table, in particular, looked ready to riot.

“Enough!” Black snapped, raising his hands for silence. “It’s not as though I’ve banned flying altogether. But don’t tempt me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of disappointment. I already knew there would be no Quidditch this year, but hearing it confirmed still stung. Memories of helping Fred and George practice flashed through my mind. Watching the matches had always been one of my favorite parts of Hogwarts.

As Black droned on about “our academic futures” and other tedious matters, I lingered near the Gryffindor table, waiting for him to finish.

Finally, he dismissed us. “I’m sure you all have plenty to do before classes tomorrow,” he announced, scanning the room imperiously. When no one moved, his voice grew sharper. “I said—I’m sure you all have plenty to do before classes tomorrow!”

The students rose, muttering amongst themselves as they began filing out. I stayed back for a moment, letting the chaos settle before following my new housemates to the common room.

            As I began to follow the rest of my peers, I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I turned around to find Professor Weasley standing there with a smile.

            “Miss Jo McClam, is it?”

I smiled and nodded. I had been trying my best not to speak. In order to fit in with the other 5^th years I had to shapeshift just enough to age myself back to age 16. In doing so it not only changed my features, but my voice as well. It’ll take me a while to get used to my younger self speaking through my mouth. But for the time being I planned on limiting my words until I had grown more accustomed to it.

“Pleased to meet you Miss McClam, I am Professor Weasley. Professor Black has asked that I show you to your common room.” She had an air of both confidence and kindness, a seemingly perfect blend of Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall. I felt at ease with her in an instant.

“Right this way.” I followed her with no problems whatsoever. She was not a tall woman and neither was I. My legs did not have to work double time to keep her pace.

As we began walking through the Great Hall, I could see the last of the students heading out through the doors. A small handful had their necks craned to take a look at Professor Weasley and I. I knew that by now, the rumors of my dragon encounter that preceded mine and Professor Fig’s unplanned trip to Gringotts were spreading like wildfire amongst all the students. I accidentally made eye contact with a group of Slytherin students that were staring a bit too long. Most of them immediately whipped their heads back around the second our eyes met. Amongst the group that kept peering over at us was the one and only Sebastian Sallow. I felt an involuntary shiver shoot down my spine and out to my fingertips. Both from fear and excitement. He eventually turned around and walked through the large double doors. Close behind him trailed his best friend, Ominis Gaunt, another character I would like to know better. His family history is and will continue to be one of the most important in this entire universe.

I turned my attention back to Professor Weasley as I continued to walk by her side. As we began our walk towards the South Tower where the Gryffindor common room was located, she gave me a tour of the castle. She pointed out different displays and architectural details that we passed by. She also made sure to warn me about Peeves the poltergeist. I would have to get used to him. It was also very interesting to see things that were new (or old I suppose) and things that have never changed.

After a while, Professor Weasley and I began chatting and laughing. She was telling me all about her time as a student. Forgetting the password to the Gryffindor common room, playing harmless pranks on Professor Binns, and fighting off a swarm of vampyr mosps in the Greenhouses. This was I side of her I did not see in the game. She seemed a little less formal and much more of a hoot. It was quite refreshing to see things weren’t going to be an exact replication of what I had already experienced through a screen.

Eventually we turned a corner and I could see the portrait of the Fat Lady at the end of the hall. We were at the end of our little tour.

As Professor Weasley and I continued our climb to the South Tower, the air seemed to grow warmer, filled with the familiar scent of wood polish and faintly burning torches. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of portraits moving out of the corner of my eye, their occupants leaning forward to get a better look at me as I passed.

"It’s most uncommon for a student to begin as a fifth year," Professor Weasley remarked, glancing at me with a warm, encouraging smile. "This should be quite an adventure for you, my dear."

I returned her smile, trying to push aside the nerves still buzzing faintly beneath my excitement. "I’m looking forward to it."

And I was—though I couldn’t quite decide if the thrill in my chest was from anticipation or anxiety. This was not going to be a walk in the park, that was for sure. But I have delt with my fair share of danger and tragedy. What’s just a little more?

We reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was humming softly to herself as we approached. She turned her head toward us and raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Password?"

Professor Weasley chuckled, sharing a knowing look with me. "Now, I can assure you, this time I do know the password."

We both laughed softly, and then she leaned in toward me, whispering conspiratorially. "The password is Grata Domum."

I stepped closer to the portrait, the words rolling off my tongue with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "Grata Domum."

The Fat Lady’s painted expression shifted into a broad smile, her rosy cheeks glowing as she dipped her head in approval. "You may enter," she said warmly, her voice carrying a touch of theatrical flair as her portrait swung open to reveal the passageway beyond.

The soft glow of the common room spilled out, casting long, inviting shadows over the corridor. I hesitated for a brief moment, taking in the sight before me, before glancing back at Professor Weasley. She gave me a nod of encouragement, her expression filled with the kind of fondness I imagined she reserved for her own children.

"Now, go on in," she urged gently. "It’s been quite the day for you, and you’ll need your rest. Tomorrow will be even busier—I’ll be back in the morning to collect you for your first class."

"Thank you, Professor Weasley," I said, my voice quieter than I intended but brimming with gratitude.

She smiled again, her gaze softening. "You’re welcome. Sleep well, and welcome home."

Her words lingered in the air as she turned and made her way back down the corridor, her steps echoing softly until they faded completely.

I turned back toward the passage and stepped through, the portrait closing behind me with a muffled thud. Warmth and light wrapped around me like a comforting blanket as I took in the room.

The Gryffindor common room may have changed slightly since the last time I had set foot in it, but the feeling was all the same. A roaring fire in the massive stone hearth painted the walls in flickering gold and crimson hues, and the plush armchairs scattered around the room looked inviting enough to sink into for hours. Intricate tapestries hung from the walls, telling tales of daring and bravery that stretched back through the centuries. The air smelled faintly of burning wood and something sweet—perhaps from a forgotten cauldron cake.

I stepped further in, my fingers brushing against the edge of a nearby chair as I let the reality of the moment sink in. I was here. At Hogwarts. In Gryffindor. My heart swelled with a strange combination of relief, excitement, and the faintest twinge of homesickness.

For the first time since this whirlwind began, I allowed myself to stop and simply breathe. Tomorrow would bring new challenges and adventures, but for now, I could just be.

I made my way toward the staircase that led to the dormitories, my steps light despite the weight of the day. As I climbed, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope building inside me.

When I finally reached the fifth-year dormitory, I pushed open the door to find a cozy room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. My trunk had already been brought up, and the bed nearest the window seemed to call to me.

After changing into my pajamas, I climbed under the covers, the soft fabric wrapping around me like a cocoon. Staring out at the stars twinkling in the inky sky, I smiled to myself.

Grata Domum, I thought, repeating the password in my mind. Welcome home.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I truly felt it.

Chapter Text

The first morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Charms classroom, casting long shadows on the polished stone floor. My heart fluttered as Professor Ronen called on me to demonstrate Accio. I tried to steady my breathing, gripping my wand tightly.

“Accio!” I called, flicking my wand toward the book in Natty’s hand. To my relief, the spell worked seamlessly, and the book shot into my grasp with surprising speed.

“That is not bad!” Natty said, her eyes glinting with approval.

Professor Ronen beamed at me. “You are a swift learner, Miss McClam! I see a lot of potential—but remember, potential is nothing without practice. Keep at it, and you just might rival Miss Onai here!”

I glanced at Natty, who smirked playfully. I returned her look with a small grin of my own. Over the next several minutes, we took turns practicing, whipping the book back and forth between us with Accio. Despite having practices and used the Summoning Charm many times, it was still oddly exhilarating.

After a while, Professor Ronen clapped his hands, signaling the end of the exercise. “Very good, everyone, that’s enough of that. Well, as you all seem to have the basics down, and it is an exceptionally lovely day, I was thinking that we might have ourselves a little excursion—outside for a spot of fresh air. After me!”

The entire class followed him across the flying class lawn. The crisp air and bright sun made the castle grounds even more enchanting.

“I’ve always found that fun goes hand in hand with mastery,” Professor Ronen declared as we walked. “As I’m sure the Quidditch players amongst us would agree. So what better than a bit of sport to put our prowess with the Summoning Charm to the test? Right?”

With a dramatic wave of his wand, several planks of wood soared through the air, assembling themselves into what I recognized instantly as a Summoners Court. The sight sent a wave of familiarity coursing through me, and I felt a flicker of confidence—this was something I knew.

“So, why don’t we have our newest student start us off, huh?” Professor Ronen gestured toward the platform, his eyes twinkling.

My heart skipped a beat as I hesitantly stepped forward, aware of the gazes fixed on me. I had played this many time, both physically and in game. But that didn’t calm my nerves at all. I glanced briefly at the grass near the court, catching sight of Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt sitting among the students. Sebastian leaned back casually on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him, while Ominis sat upright, his expression neutral but somehow still attentive regardless of the fact that he was blind.

I turned my focus back to the court, readying my wand. Drawing on the memory of my many attempts in the game, I aimed carefully and cast. The results were better than I could have hoped for—a perfect 50-50-50. The class clapped politely as I stepped off the platform, relieved and just a little proud.

I found a spot on the grass nearby and sat alone, watching Natty take her turn. Her precise movements and focus were mesmerizing, and she scored an impressive 50-40-50.

I was clapping for her when I felt a small stone hit my back, just below my shoulder. Slowly, I turned around to find Sebastian grinning mischievously. He gestured for me to join him and Ominis, but I shook my head, pointing toward Natty. He shrugged, holding his hands up as if to say, Suit yourself.

Natty sat beside me moments later, her cheeks flushed from the game.

“Good job, Natty!” I said sincerely.

She smiled warmly. “You did pretty well yourself! I must admit, I think I underestimated you.”

Her words caught me off guard but filled me with a quiet sense of pride. “Thanks. I’m trying to keep up.”

“Took me weeks to become proficient with Accio,” she admitted, her tone conspiratorial. “Took me weeks to get anything right when I transferred here. It will get easier, I promise.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said, exhaling. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.” After a brief pause, I added, “Where did you transfer from?”

Natty’s eyes softened as she replied, “I transferred here from Uagadou just before my fourth year. My mother had received an offer to teach Divination here. Before I knew it, we had left Uganda and were halfway around the world at a new school in a new country.”

“Merlin, that must be a lot to adjust to!” I said, leaning closer. “I’ve heard a little about Uagadou. Is it much bigger than Hogwarts?”

A proud smile spread across her face. “Uagadou School of Magic is the largest wizarding school in the world. So, yes, much bigger than Hogwarts. But it never seemed intimidating or overwhelming to me. It always felt like home.”

“That’s kind of how Hogwarts is starting to feel for me,” I admitted softly. “Home.”

Natty’s smile widened. “That is good to hear!”

We spent the next several minutes chatting about Hogwarts, Uagadou, and everything in between. Her easy laughter and warm demeanor made me feel at ease, and I realized just how glad I was to have already made a friend.

Before long, Professor Ronen called for everyone to return to the classroom. I stood and brushed the grass from my robes, feeling a little confused. Hadn’t we skipped something? After we each played a round to practice, we were each supposed to go against another classmate. We had we forgone that? But as I glanced around, I saw the setting sun dipping lower in the sky. Time must’ve slipped away faster than I realized.

As I prepared to follow the others, I heard someone call out to me.

“Oi, McClam!”

I turned to see Sebastian Sallow standing a few paces away, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ominis Gaunt stood just behind him, his expression calm but with a subtle quirk of interest. I expected Ominis’s face to contain less emotion due to his lack of sight, but I guess I was wrong.

“Are you in the habit of ignoring people, or is it just me?” Sebastian said, his tone dripping with playful snark.

I blinked, taken aback by the accusation. “I beg your pardon, ignoring you? I have no clue what you are talking about.”

He raised an eyebrow and gestured dramatically toward the lawn where he and Ominis had been sitting earlier. “Well, for starters, you didn’t want to sit with us during the game.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Oh, I didn’t know my presence meant that much to you, Mr. Sallow.” My voice dripped with mock seriousness, earning a chuckle from Ominis. “But all I was trying to gesture to you was that I planned on sitting next to Natty.”

Sebastian tilted his head, as if considering my excuse. “You see, that’s fine and all,” he said, drawing out the words. “But what about this morning?”

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. “What about this morning?”

Sebastian’s smirk widened. “Ominis and I walked over to introduce ourselves to you at breakfast, but you completely ignored us!”

My jaw dropped as I looked back and forth between him and Ominis, who nodded in quiet agreement. “Wait—what? I think you are confusing me with someone else because I do not remember that.”

“It was most certainly you,” Sebastian countered, clearly enjoying himself. “You were sitting there, staring at your plate like it held the secrets of the universe.”

Realization dawned on me, and I burst out laughing, doubling over slightly. My reaction must’ve been unexpected because both boys looked slightly bewildered.

“I think I know what happened,” I said between chuckles, straightening up. “I wasn’t ignoring you—I was starving. I didn’t eat a single thing yesterday, and I was so hungry this morning that I probably tuned out everything else at breakfast. Including you two.”

I started laughing again, the absurdity of the situation hitting me all over again.

Sebastian pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “So, you’re telling me that a plate of food outranked me? I’m hurt, McClam. Truly.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” I shot back, grinning.

Ominis finally spoke, his tone light and teasing. “It’s not every day that Sebastian gets ignored. You’ve made quite the impression.”

“Glad to know I’m leaving a mark,” I said dryly, still smiling.

Sebastian shook his head, his smirk firmly in place. “Well, next time, try not to tune us out. Ominis and I are quite fascinating, you know.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” I said, matching his playful tone.

With that, the three of us fell into step with the rest of the class, heading back toward the castle.

______________________________________________________________________________

Professor Ronen stood at the front of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression warm as he addressed the class. “Class is dismissed. Gather your things on the way out.”

The scrapes of chairs and shuffle of footsteps filled the air as everyone began packing up. I carefully tucked my Field Guide and a few meager school supplies into my satchel. Natty waved goodbye as she exited the room, her enthusiasm as infectious as ever. I returned the wave before stepping down from the risers where my desk was.

Just as I reached the door, Professor Ronen called out, “Miss McClam, may I have a quick word?”

I turned back and approached the front of the classroom. “You wanted to speak with me, professor?”

“I did,” he said, his tone as lively as ever. “I trust that your first Charms lesson lived up to your expectations.”

“Well, an outdoor competition wasn’t exactly the lesson I was expecting, sir,” I admitted.

“What’s the charm in the expected?” he quipped with a twinkle in his eye. “You did well, managing to best as gifted a student as Miss Onai.”

“I appreciate the encouragement, Professor. I had a lot of fun!”

“As a teacher, I strive to make sure that my students understand the things that they are doing right. Speaking of which, Professor Weasley has asked that your professors ensure you’re caught up to the fifth-year learning level. I understand that Professor Fig taught you a little before the term began. Have you learned the spell Reparo yet?”

“Yes sir, I am quite proficient.”

Professor Ronen clapped his hands together, a pleased but surprised expression lighting up his face. “Oh, well then that makes my job much easier! I – um – encourage you to continue to practice it, as well as Accio. They are both extremely useful and can be applied in many situations.”

“I will, Professor. Thank you so much.”

He gave a small nod of approval, and I returned the gesture before heading out of the classroom. Man was I glad to have already learned so many spells. I remember a good chunk of me playing Hogwarts Legacy was completing silly side quests so I could return to the professors so they could teach me a spell. Thank goodness I get to skip over that sort of stuff.

The hallway was alive with the chatter of students heading to their next lessons. As I adjusted my satchel, a flash of red hair caught my eye. A tall boy was swatting at a flock of origami cranes fluttering persistently above his head. He turned, his frustrated expression softening as we made eye contact.

I recognized him immediately—Leander Prewett. With a small wave, I made my way over to him.

Pulling out my wand, I aimed it at the cranes. “Arresto Momentum!”

The three closest cranes froze midair, then drifted harmlessly to the ground. The rest of the flock flew away immediately.

Leander, who had instinctively ducked when I raised my wand, straightened and stared at me in mild awe. “Merlin’s pants! When did you learn to do that?”

I shrugged. “Just something I’ve picked up.”

“Just picked up?!” he exclaimed. “That spell is not—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “You know what, never mind. You’re the new fifth year, right?”

“Indeed I am,” I said, holding out a hand. “Jo McClam.”

“Leander Prewett,” he replied, shaking my hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I was wondering—”

I sighed inwardly, already guessing where this was going. Oh, here it comes. The first of many favors from random students.

Leander cleared his throat. “Well, maybe not quite wondering, but I thought it best to inform you of something.”

His tone caught me off guard. “Oh?”

“I saw you chatting with Sebastian Sallow during Summoner’s Court earlier,” he said, his expression turning serious. “I just wanted to warn you—he’s bad news.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Bad news? That’s quite the accusation. Do you mind if we walk and talk? I don’t want to be late to Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Of course,” he said, falling into step beside me as we descended the staircase.

“So,” I pressed, “why do you think Sebastian is bad news?”

“Well,” Leander began, his voice dropping slightly, “for one, he’s a Slytherin. You know what they’re like. Always looking out for themselves, willing to bend the rules for their own gain.”

I resisted the chuckle a bit. Oh if he only knew what that kid would do.

“He’s also far too cocky for his own good,” Leander added. “Thinks he’s more talented than everyone else. And, well… he’s always hanging around Ominis Gaunt.”

“What’s wrong with that? I quite like Ominis.”

“Are you serious? The Gaunts are infamous for being tied to Dark Magic. Everyone knows that family is trouble.”

I considered his words as we reached the bottom of the staircase. While Leander’s concerns would definitely be justified in time, his reasoning seemed more rooted in prejudice than actual evidence.

“Well,” I said as we turned down the next hallway, “thank you for the… insight. I’ll keep it in mind. I see Natty ahead and I promised I would walk with her. See you in class!”

Leander nodded, looking satisfied. “Anytime, Jo.” He continued to walk at his pace while I slowed mine to put some distance between us. I felt bad for lying to him, but I didn’t want to be caught giggling at the wrong time. I’ve always been at retaining my thoughts when someone is too close to the mark

As I walked, my mind lingered on our unexpected conversation. It struck me that this world wasn’t confined to the simple, coded framework of the open-world game I’d played what seems like ages ago. This was real life, where every action, every genuine conversation, and every fleeting moment had the power to shape someone’s path. The subtle details—the unspoken words, the hidden emotions, the choices too small to program into a game—were alive here, rippling through the lives of those around me.

I couldn’t tell myself that I’d be able to do things such as rewriting Sebastian’s fate or preventing the chaos tied to the Repository. But perhaps my presence, my words, and my actions could create ripples of their own. And maybe, just maybe, those ripples would be enough to make a difference.

As I approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I noticed the door was slightly propped open. My stomach twisted. I was late. Fantastic.

I paused just outside, peeking through the crack in the door. Flashes of light illuminated the room, and I heard the telltale crack of spells colliding. Curiosity overtook my nerves, and I nudged the door open, just enough to see what was going on.

Leander Prewett and Sebastian Sallow were in the middle of a duel. Of course they were. I shook my head and chuckled under my breath. Leander really does have it out for him, doesn’t he?

Sliding into the classroom quietly, I scanned for Professor Hecat, my heart pounding in case she’d already spotted me sneaking in. But she was nowhere to be seen. I let out a slow breath, my shoulders relaxing a bit, and stepped further in, heading toward the back of the room.

Ominis Gaunt stood just behind Sebastian, his posture straight and composed, but his expression was hard to read. I sidled up beside him, careful not to make too much noise.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, his tone clipped, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Glad I was missed,” I replied lightly, though his tone made me glance at him twice. There was something about his body language—a subtle stiffness—that felt like a quiet barrier.

Ominis gave a soft chuckle, but it lacked warmth, and his attention quickly shifted back to the duel.

“Stupefy!” Leander shouted, thrusting his wand forward.

“Protego!” Sebastian countered with ease, his shield shimmering as Leander’s spell ricocheted off it.

Sebastian grinned smugly. “Is that all you’ve got? Bombarda!”

The explosive spell shot from Sebastian’s wand, but Leander cast Protego just in time. The spell rebounded upward, colliding with the large dragon skeleton suspended above the classroom. A loud crack echoed as the skull broke free, plummeting directly toward Leander.

Leander ducked with a yelp just as Professor Hecat emerged from her office.

“Levioso!” she commanded, her wand flicking upward. The skull froze mid-air, hovering ominously just above Leander’s head.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” Professor Hecat said, her tone sharp. “I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridean Black skull.”

Leander scrambled away from the skull as Professor Hecat continued to levitate it.

“It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1817. No doubt you’ve heard of it.”

She carefully reattached the skull to the rest of the skeleton with a flick of her wand before turning to face the rest of the class.

“Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took down the largest poacher ring in eastern Wales and lived to boast about it,” she said, stepping into the midst of the students. “Knowledge.”

Sebastian stepped back a few paces to where Ominis and I were standing. I glanced at him briefly, catching the smug grin still lingering on his face.

“To the wise, age matters little,” Professor Hecat continued. “Today we will review a spell that has saved me from death at the hands of Dark wizards more times than I care to remember: Levioso.”

“Levioso?” Leander blurted, his tone incredulous. “A levitation charm?”

Professor Hecat whipped around; her wand pointed directly at him.

“Levioso!”

Leander shot into the air, flailing his arms in panic. His eyes widened in fear as his feet dangled helplessly above the ground.

Sebastian snickered, earning a slight glare from me.

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent,” Professor Hecat said, circling Leander as he floated. “Care to defend yourself, Master Prewett? No?”

Leander shook his head frantically, his face pale.

With a flick of her wand, Professor Hecat dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.

“One thing I’ve learned as an Unspeakable is the value of simplicity, especially in the heat of battle,” she said coolly. “Now, let’s practice what we’ve just learned—starting with something small.”

In a puff of smoke, large feathers appeared on each student’s desk. I took my seat and pulled out my wand, eager to try the spell.

“Levioso,” I said confidently, watching as my feather rose gracefully into the air.

Around the room, other students began to practice. Some succeeded immediately, while others struggled to get the feather to budge.

As I waited for the rest of the class to catch up, Sebastian, who was sitting in front of me, turned in his seat to face me. His grin was as mischievous as ever.

“So, how does it feel to sit alone now, McClam?” he asked, his tone teasing.

I sighed, already exasperated. “Lovely, actually. And please, call me Jo.”

“Ah, and just like that, we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, his grin widening.

I blinked, caught off guard by the flirtatious undertone in his voice. Before I could respond, Ominis, who had also turned slightly toward me, shook his head in mild exasperation and faced forward again.

I rolled my eyes and refocused as Professor Hecat gestured for everyone to stand.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, motioning for us to gather around her. “I think it’s time to try something a little larger.”

With a wave of her wand, a practice dummy appeared in the center of the room. Another flick pushed the long tables aside, leaving ample space for dueling.

Professor Hecat gestured toward me. “Now, your task is to disarm your opponent using Levioso.”

I hesitantly stepped forward, taking a steadying breath before raising my wand.

Lifting my wand, I moved with purpose, my wrist fluid as I cast. “Levioso!”

The dummy rose into the air with flawless precision, floating steadily as though suspended by an invisible thread.

Not stopping, I pivoted, following the motion with a sharp “Stupefy!” My wand cut through the air, and the spell struck the dummy, causing it to spin rapidly in midair before crashing to the floor in a dramatic thud.

The class murmured in approval, and I felt a flush of pride as Professor Hecat clapped her hands together.

“Quite impressive!” Professor Hecat said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s take it up a notch, shall we? I say that the best way to practice is by dueling.”

She scanned the room briefly, her gaze landing on me and Sebastian.

“Since I do not appreciate chatter whilst I am trying to teach other students, why don’t we have you go up against Mr. Sallow? You two already seem to be like bowtruckles on doxy eggs.”

My cheeks flushed, embarrassment creeping up my neck. I turned to Sebastian, who raised his eyebrows, clearly delighted.

Sebastian smirked, the glint of mischief in his eye unmistakable. “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” he said with mock formality, giving a small bow.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching into a smirk of my own. I was going to have fun with this.

Professor Hecat clapped her hands, commanding the attention of the room. “Now, I want a fair duel. No trips up to the Medical Wing today, please.”

We began to walk in opposite directions, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the suddenly hushed room. I pulled my wand from my robes as I walked, each step purposeful. The long, rectangular section of flooring beneath us began to rise, creaking slightly as it lifted us above the heads of our classmates. A stage fit for a duel.

We turned to face each other, the tension in the air electric.

“You may begin,” Professor Hecat declared.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. “Levioso!” he shouted, the spell flying toward me like lightning.

But I was faster. “Protego!” I called, my shield erupting just in time to deflect his spell.

“Trying to get the jump on me?” I asked with a devious grin. Without waiting for his reply, I flicked my wand. “Levioso!”

Sebastian barely had time to react before he was levitating off the ground, his limbs flailing slightly as he glared down at me.

“Hey!” he protested, his indignation earning a round of chuckles from the class.

I couldn’t help myself—I grinned wider, my confidence swelling. While he was still suspended in midair, I fired off a series of basic casts, each one sending him stumbling further toward the edge of the raised platform.

With the flourish of someone who had done this before, I turned my back to Sebastian, facing the class with a little bow. Laughter rippled through the crowd.

But the laughter turned to gasps, and I felt the telltale hum of magic behind me. Without missing a beat, I cast Protego again, deflecting the spell Sebastian had fired at my back.

“Nice try,” I said, whipping around to face him again.

His smirk faltered slightly as I raised my wand once more. “Levioso!”

Sebastian groaned as he levitated into the air again, his frustration clear. With one final spell, I sent him flying backward just enough to push him past the edge of the platform. He landed with a solid thud on the ground below.

The room erupted into cheers and applause, and I couldn’t help the flush of pride that warmed my cheeks.

Professor Hecat, standing just off to the side, murmured to herself in a tone so low that only I caught it: “I wish all of my students were this adept.”

I straightened my robes and stepped Astoriafully off the platform as it lowered back to the classroom floor.

“Now class,” Professor Hecat called, clapping her hands for attention, “we will continue on with our duels. Next, I would like to see Miss Blume and Master Clopton. Remember to anticipate your opponent’s next move.”

She continued to speak as I made my way to one of the long tables that had been pushed against the wall. I decided to sit on the tabletop rather than taking a seat, I pulled out my Field Guide and flipped it open. The pages felt smooth beneath my fingertips, and I let myself relax for the first time since stepping into the classroom.

I had barely started reading when a shadow fell over me. I glanced up to see Leander Prewett standing nearby, looking eager.

“Hey, Leander!” I said, offering a polite smile.

“You were fantastic over there!” he said, his tone enthusiastic and genuine.

I tilted my head, unsure how to respond. “Oh, thank you. I’ve heard Sebastian isn’t the easiest to best, so now a lot more eyes are on me.”

Leander crossed his arms and gave me a knowing look. “‘Isn’t the easiest to best’ is definitely one way to put it. I bet he hit that skull on purpose, dirty cheater.”

I shrugged, biting back the urge to disagree. It wasn’t worth the argument.

“So, I must ask,” Leander continued, leaning in towards me slightly. Maybe a little too close for my comfort. “Although your dueling skills may just prove so, are you really Fig’s protégé?”

I sighed audibly, closing my Field Guide. “No, I am not. Although no matter what I tell you, it will probably not stop the rumors that are most likely circulating.”

As I tucked my Field Guide back into my bag, I added, “I simply met with him several times so that he could catch me up to the proper level that a fifth year should be at.”

Leander raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but his tone remained friendly. “Oh, sure, sure. I understand.”

He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

His attention shifted suddenly, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Here comes trouble,” he muttered under his breath.

I followed his gaze and saw Sebastian and Ominis approaching. Sebastian wore his usual cocky grin, while Ominis’s expression was more guarded.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said as they reached us, his tone dripping with feigned politeness, “are we interrupting something here?”

“No,” Leander said quickly, shooting me a look of exasperation. “Not at all. I was just leaving.”

Leander’s departure was marked by a bitter side-eye in Sebastian’s direction, one that Sebastian returned with an exaggerated smirk.

Sebastian leaned casually against the table, his grin still firmly in place. “You know, you didn’t have to humiliate me in front of the whole class,” he said, his tone light but laced with mock indignation.

I raised an eyebrow at him, my lips twitching into a small smirk. “Humiliate you? I thought you liked a challenge.”

Ominis, standing just to Sebastian’s right, let out a soft chuckle. “Sebastian thrives on being the center of attention—just not when he’s losing.”

Sebastian shot Ominis a sideways glance, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, betraying his amusement. “I wasn’t losing,” he retorted, straightening up. “I was... evaluating her technique.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were being knocked off your feet.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin widening. “I’ll admit, you’re good. Better than I expected.” He paused for a beat, his voice dropping slightly. “Though you could’ve spared me the bow. That was just cruel.”

I shrugged, feigning innocence. “It’s called showmanship, Sallow. You should try it sometime.”

Ominis shook his head, his tone dry. “If Sebastian tried any more ‘showmanship,’ Hecat’s classroom would be in ruins.”

Sebastian laughed, the sound warm but brief. He rubbed the back of his neck, the confidence in his expression faltering just slightly. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that Leander agrees with you. He’s probably spreading all kinds of lovely things about me right now.”

“Leander’s... passionate,” I said diplomatically, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

“Passionate? That’s one way to put it,” Sebastian muttered, his smile turning bitter. “The guy’s been out to get me since first year. If I so much as breathe near him, he acts like I’ve personally insulted his entire family.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re, well, you,” Ominis said pointedly, folding his arms.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—exhaustion, maybe. “Right, because I’m the villain in everyone’s story. Typical.”

There was a heaviness to his words that made me pause. For all his bravado, there was something undeniably weary about the way he said it, like he was carrying a weight no one else could see.

“I don’t think you’re a villain,” I said carefully, my tone neutral but sincere. “But you do have a knack for rubbing people the wrong way.”

Sebastian’s grin returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

“Consider it a public service,” I replied dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face.

Before Sebastian could respond, Professor Hecat clapped her hands sharply, drawing the class’s attention.

“Alright, everyone, excellent work today,” she said, her authoritative tone cutting through the lingering chatter. “But remember, skill comes with practice. I expect all of you to continue honing your spells outside of class.”

As the students began gathering their things, Professor Hecat’s eyes found mine. “Miss McClam.” She then gestured for me to join her up by the front of the classroom.

I nodded, slinging my bag over my shoulder. As I turned to follow her, I caught a glimpse of Sebastian approaching me from behind. As he approached, he leaned in just enough for me to hear him whisper.

“For future reference, please, call me Sebastian.” He said, followed by a knowing wink.

I shook my head with a smile and followed Professor Hecat toward her desk, ready for whatever she had to say.

I adjusted the strap of my bag as I approached Professor Hecat at her desk. She was flipping through a worn textbook with her usual sharp focus. I stopped a few paces away, standing straight.

“You wanted a word, professor?” I asked, trying to keep my tone respectful but casual.

Hecat looked up and nodded, her expression neutral but assessing. “Yes. I put you on the spot, and you rose to the challenge. Points to Gryffindor.”

I smiled faintly, standing a little taller. “Thank you, Professor Hecat. Glad to have the opportunity to practice.”

Her lips curved into the faintest hint of approval. “If what I’ve seen today is any indication, we can expect great things from you. I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of achieving it—and they must achieve it. A classroom duel is one thing, but battling Dark wizards—or, as ever more likely, goblins—is a different kettle of Grindylows entirely.”

I nodded, her words sinking in. “Understood, Professor.”

“Good. So, I’d advise you to keep practicing whenever you can. Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you. Again, well done today.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I said with another nod.

I turned and began walking toward the door, my bag bouncing lightly against my side.

“All right,” Hecat called after me, her voice carrying authority even when casual. “That’s enough spectacle for one day. Class is dismissed!”

As I stepped out into the corridor, my mind still on her words, I was startled by someone calling my name.

“Jo!”

I jumped, my hand twitching toward my wand, and whipped around to see Sebastian grinning at me.

“Merlin’s beard, Sallow,” I muttered, shooting him a glare. “You scared the life out of me.”

He laughed, utterly unrepentant. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you!”

“Likely story,” I said, rolling my eyes as I started walking again.

“Wait!” he called, hurrying to catch up.

I slowed down, giving him a curious look. “What is it?”

“I have something I’d like to ask you.”

His tone was casual, but the spark of mischief in his eyes suggested something more.

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could ask, I glanced around and noticed Ominis wasn’t with him. “Where’s Ominis?”

“He has a free period right now,” Sebastian explained, shrugging. “Since he’s blind, he doesn’t go to classes like Astronomy or Divination. Too visual. Instead, the professors assign him other work to make up the time.”

“That makes sense,” I said with a nod. “Alright, what’s your question?”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his eagerness unmistakable. “I think you might be a perfect fit for an exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

I tilted my head, feigning suspicion. “This seems suspicious—but I’m intrigued. Continue.”

“Excellent! Knew I was right about you,” he said, his enthusiasm spilling over. “If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.”

“Noted. And now I know that the detention hall is probably your favorite place in the castle,” I quipped.

Sebastian chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘favorite,’ but it’s definitely one of my most frequented spots.”

I shook my head, amused. “Where are you headed off to now?” He queried.

“To meet with Professor Weasley. She asked me to come by after class.”

“Oh, how exhilarating,” he said with exaggerated sarcasm.

I gave him a pointed look, crossing my arms.

He backtracked quickly. “No, no! I didn’t mean it like that. She’s wonderful! Honestly, I wish she were Headmaster instead of Black. But—sounds boring.”

“Doubtful,” I said with a chuckle. “I think we’re meeting about my urgent need to go to Hogsmeade to pick up supplies.”

Sebastian’s grin returned. “Alright, I stand corrected. That sounds a bit better than boring.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a small smile.

“Alright,” he said, stepping slightly ahead of me but turning back to walk backward. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere... unsanctioned. We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck or actual skill.”

He gave me a sly wink before spinning on his heel and striding away down the corridor.

As his figure disappeared, I shook my head, adjusting my bag as I headed toward the Transfiguration courtyard. My thoughts began to drift to the task ahead—Hogsmeade.

If this trip is anything like the game, I thought, Professor Weasley will ask me to pick someone to go with me. Natty or Sebastian.

I mulled over the options as I walked, considering the implications of either choice. While Natty was the safer option, Sebastian’s involvement seemed inevitable, whether I wanted it or not. The thought of Ranrock and Rookwood’s plans to target me sent a shiver down my spine, but I resolved to take it all one step at a time.

Before I knew it, I had arrived at the Transfiguration courtyard. I blinked, surprised. Had I been walking that long? I must’ve been so lost in thought that my legs carried me here on their own.

I walked up to the classroom door and pushed it open. Professor Weasley was at her desk, speaking to a house elf. Both turned toward me as I entered.

The house elf gave me a polite bow before raising his fingers and snapping. With a quiet pop, he vanished.

Professor Weasley rose from her chair, greeting me with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are! I trust that your first classes went well.”

“They did, Professor,” I replied with a polite nod, stepping further into the room.

Professor Weasley’s warm expression shifted slightly, a glint of curiosity flashing in her eyes. “I heard as much from Professors Hecat and Ronen. Seems Professor Fig taught you quite a bit during your brief detour near—what was it you said? ‘Some ruins?’” She raised an eyebrow, her tone light but pointed. “I’d wager there’s a good deal more to your travels here than what you’ve told me—isn’t there?”

I hesitated, the weight of her words settling over me. “Have you and Professor Fig not discussed my training?”

Her lips pressed together in a small, wry smile. “He continues to be reticent about the details—mentioning only a few spells. Revelio, was it? And Lumos?”

“That’s correct, Professor,” I said, keeping my tone even.

Professor Weasley exhaled softly, shaking her head. “I see. Like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler.” She gave me a knowing look before continuing, her voice firm yet encouraging. “Regardless, you must continue to build upon what you’ve learned.”

“Of course,” I said quickly, my head dipping in agreement.

Her expression softened as she moved on to the next topic. “Now, regarding your trip to Hogsmeade, which I mentioned earlier. We’ve arranged to replace the supplies lost on your way here—including seeds, potion recipes, and spellcrafts. And Mr. Ollivander will connect you with the perfect wand. You’ve managed your classes on a borrowed wand. But you’ll find the magic you cast with your own wand to be far superior.”

“Wonderful,” I said, unable to suppress the genuine excitement in my voice. “I am so excited!”

Professor Weasley smiled at my enthusiasm. “That is good to hear! I’d like to make your first visit to the village with a classmate. Help you get your bearings.”

I hesitated, weighing my response carefully. “If it’s alright, Professor, I think I would prefer to go alone.”

“Alone? Poppycock, Miss McClam,” she said firmly, though not unkindly. “I have already been made aware that you have become quite close with Natsai Onai, Sebastian Sallow, and Ominis Gaunt. Why don’t you pick Miss Onai or Mr. Sallow?”

I shifted my weight, considering her words before finally conceding. “Hm—fine. I’d like to go with Sebastian.”

Her approval was immediate. “Glad to hear it. Mr. Sallow is a capable young wizard, and he knows the area. He’ll keep you well clear of any of Mr. Rookwood’s undesirables en route.”

“That’s good,” I said with a small laugh, hoping to mask the unease creeping in at the mention of Rookwood. “I am going to get started on the work I have to do in my Field Guide.”

“I was just about to suggest that you do the same,” she replied, her smile returning. “The sooner you complete your work, the sooner you can enjoy a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.”

I nodded, offering her a grateful smile before turning and walking out of the classroom.

The afternoon sun bathed the Transfiguration courtyard in golden light as I stepped outside. Finding a patch of soft grass near the edge of the lawn, I lowered myself down and pulled out my Field Guide. It felt good to finally sit and take a moment to breathe.

As I flipped through the pages, a small slip of paper fluttered out and landed softly in my lap. I picked it up and read the elegant handwriting:

“This will automatically record your findings and day-to-day things. Don’t worry, it’s the only section of this book I cannot see. –Professor Weasley.”

I smiled to myself, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the feature. Turning to the journal section, I was surprised to see that everything that had happened today was already recorded in detail.

“What a handy thing to have,” I murmured, running my fingers over the inked pages.

I glanced up from the book, taking in the scene around me. Students walked across the lawn, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Some sat in small groups, books and parchment spread out before them, while others practiced spells or simply lounged in the warm sunlight.

For a brief moment, I imagined a different group of students walking through the courtyard—Harry, Hermione, and Ron deep in conversation; Fred and George mischievously pawning off prank supplies to a pair of wide-eyed first years; the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring overhead. The thought brought a sudden, unexpected lump to my throat.

I wiped a tear away before it could fall, startled by the wave of emotion. As much as I was beginning to love being back at Hogwarts, I missed my old friends terribly.

My thoughts turned to Charles, Ben, Paul, and Peter—the friends who had been my anchors after the loss of Atticus and Caden. They were my family now, and the ache of their absence weighed heavily on me. I hoped they were safe, protecting the infinite dimensions as we had all vowed to do.

After a moment of quiet reflection, I refocused on my Field Guide. There was still so much to do, and the day was far from over.

Chapter Text

The sound of my shoes clicking against the stone path echoed faintly as I walked in front of the library, the mermaid fountain glimmering in the sunlight that came through the high windows. I could hear the whispers starting up again, low murmurs weaving through the groups of students lounging nearby. Some pointed, others simply stared, and I caught snippets of their chatter.

“Did you hear? She beat Sallow in a duel!”
“No one’s ever done that—”
“Wasn’t even close, apparently!”

I ducked my head and quickened my pace, trying to avoid their gaze. Their words buzzed in my ears, a strange mix of pride and discomfort settling in my chest. I hated the fact that I was receiving attention, though I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at the awe in their voices.

I turned down a staircase, the students’ voices fading as I descended. The cool, polished marble steps led me into a quieter hallway. My mind wandered as I walked, replaying the series of events that had led to this moment. What luck I’d had choosing to study on the Transfiguration Courtyard lawn earlier. If I’d gone anywhere else, I wouldn’t have run into Professor Weasley just outside her classroom—and that little coincidence had saved us both some time.

Her news replayed in my mind: she’d already informed Sebastian Sallow about our trip to Hogsmeade. He was to meet me at the Hogwarts entrance at 3 p.m. sharp. The thought of Sebastian waiting there made me feel both amused and slightly apprehensive. I felt terrible about the path I was leading him down on, but I saw no other option.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I descended another staircase, the faint glow of afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows. At the base of the stairs, I spotted him. Sebastian stood near the entrance, leaning casually against a stone column. His dark eyes flicked up as I appeared, and I saw him straighten slightly.

I hesitated, unwilling to seem too eager about this little outing, and took my time reaching the bottom of the stairs. Sebastian, however, had already noticed me and started walking toward me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah! My new ‘charge.’” He spread his arms theatrically. “Couldn’t stand going alone, could you?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Professor Weasley insisted I choose someone to come with me. So after our previous conversation, I thought, ‘What better person to ask than the one who said this would be boring.’”

Sebastian chuckled, his grin widening. “Are you sure it’s not because I would just make it more fun?”

“I think a little more trouble is more likely,” I quipped, unable to resist a laugh.

He laughed along with me. Oh, if only he knew what kind of trouble I was about to get him into.

“Is this your first foray into the village?” he asked as we started walking toward the castle’s main doors.

“It is,” I lied smoothly. “I haven’t left the castle since I’ve arrived.”

“Well,” he said, straightening his posture a bit, “I shall endeavor to be the very best of guides then. Hogsmeade’s a charming little place. Self-contained, too. We should be able to find you everything that you need. Shall we?”

Sebastian pulled open the enormous wooden door, holding it for me with an exaggerated bow. I chuckled as I stepped through, the cool air of the courtyard brushing my face.

The sight before me gave me pause. The well-pruned hedges of the courtyard framed the sprawling grounds beyond, the towering Quidditch pitch standing proudly in the distance. The mountains rose like protective sentinels around the castle, their rugged beauty softened by the sunlight dancing across their peaks.

I stood for a moment, taking it all in.

When I finally brought my gaze down, it met Sebastian’s. He had walked ahead a few steps but had stopped when he noticed I’d lingered behind. He was already smiling at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He nodded toward the gate ahead, wordlessly gesturing for us to continue.

As we walked, the conversation flowed naturally.

“I know we joked about it,” Sebastian began, “but I am glad that Professor Weasley asked me to join you today.”

“As am I. Thank you, by the way,” I replied.

“Of course!” he said with a grin. “You’re the only one who has ever bested me in a duel. The way I see it, I’d be wise to keep an eye on you. Speaking of Weasley, she seems to have taken quite a shine to you.”

“Has she?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “That’s nice to hear.”

“I’m still surprised that a professor would entrust me with anything, given my detention record,” he added, his tone half-joking.

“Spend a lot of time in detention, do you?”

“Just enough to keep me well-rounded,” he replied with a smirk.

We continued walking in companionable silence for a while, the beauty of the grounds surrounding us. The path eventually began to slope upwards, snaking toward the village.

We walked in silence for a little while, the sound of our footsteps blending with the rustling of leaves and distant bird calls. The crisp air carried the faint scent of pine from the nearby Forbidden Forest, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the view.

“Speaking of detention,” Sebastian broke the silence, his tone amused, “this trip to Hogsmeade might’ve saved me from one.”

“Oh?” I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Glad I could be of service.”

“Madam Scribner, the librarian, was on the hunt for me—as is often the case. Professor Weasley came to retrieve me and was able to convince ol’ Scribner that I had somewhere to be.”

“And what, pray tell, did you do to end up on the librarian’s bad side?”

Sebastian grinned mischievously. “Well, I suspect it’s a matter of differing opinions. She thinks I shouldn’t be allowed in the Restricted Section, and I, on the other hand, am inclined to disagree.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You really are determined to get into trouble, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of it as curiosity. The world is full of secrets, Jo, and Hogwarts has more than its fair share. Someone has to uncover them.”

“Just as long as you don’t drag me into your escapades,” I teased.

“No promises,” he replied with a smirk.

As we walked farther along the path, we came across a patch of tall bushes off to the side. Sebastian paused, pulling out an extra ampoule from his satchel.

“Lacewing flies,” he said, gesturing to the buzzing insects around the bushes. “They’re used in potion-making. Might as well gather some while we’re here.”

I nodded and joined him, carefully plucking the flies and placing them into the small glass vial he handed me. The gentle hum of their wings filled the air as we worked, chatting lightly about potion ingredients and the usefulness of lacewings in particular.

Once we finished, Sebastian placed the ampoules back in his bag, and we continued down the path.

The quiet was broken by a sudden exclamation from Sebastian.

“Merlin’s beard! From the Forbidden Forest! Look!”

I followed his gaze, and my breath caught. Two majestic white Hippogriffs emerged from the shadowy forest, their wings spread wide as they took flight. The sunlight glinted off their glossy feathers as they soared over us, heading toward the castle in the distance.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Sebastian said, his voice filled with awe.

“It’s incredible,” I agreed, my eyes tracking their graceful movements until they disappeared into the horizon.

After a moment, we resumed our walk.

“To the left is the Forbidden Forest,” Sebastian said, gesturing to the dark, dense woods beside the path. “Out of bounds to all students.”

“Hence the name,” I said dryly.

“Precisely,” he replied with a grin. “They think it’s too dangerous. I think they need to have more confidence in our defensive abilities.”

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Of course you do.”

We crested a small hill, and in the distance, I could see the quaint rooftops of Hogsmeade.

“Ah, you can see Hogsmeade just past those ruins up ahead,” Sebastian said, gesturing toward the village.

“It’s so pretty out here,” I remarked, taking in the picturesque view.

“Indeed it is. Where exactly are you from, Jo?”

I hesitated, steeling myself for the story I had rehearsed plenty of times before this. “Um—Somerset, technically.”

“Technically?”

“I lived there until I was about 10 or 11. Then my family moved us to America, and I was there until a little after I turned 15, when I moved back to Somerset to live with my grandmother.”

Sebastian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Oh, so that’s why you started school here so late. Did you go to Ilvermorny then?”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied. “My parents are Muggles, and they didn’t know there was a special school for me. I only received my Hogwarts letter when I moved back to the UK.”

“Wow, that’s wild,” Sebastian said, clearly intrigued. “Makes a lot of sense, though. Have you had much of a chance to explore the castle?”

“A little. It’s positively enormous!”

“It is that” he agreed with a grin. “I’ve been here for five years and barely scratched the surface. Loads to see. Places to discover.”

“Any you’d like to share with the class?” I asked, smirking.

“Perhaps one day,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I can’t go around telling you all my secrets now, can I? You still haven’t told me how you became so good at dueling.”

“Well, I suppose we’re at an impasse then,” I replied, grinning back at him.

The path began to slope upward, and we moved aside to let a carriage drawn by two Thestrals pass us. Their skeletal forms and leathery wings were striking against the lush landscape.

“I’ve always thought Thestrals pulling a carriage a bit grim,” Sebastian said. “Though I suppose most people don’t actually see them at all.”

“But you can see them?” I asked, glancing at him curiously.

“Unfortunately,” he said quickly, as if not wanting to dwell on it. “But you’ve seen quite a bit yourself first-hand too—most notably that dragon attack. Hopefully the rest of your year isn’t as eventful.”

I squirmed inwardly as a brief image of Sebastian’s potential future—his fury, his uncle, and the dark path he might tread—flashed through my mind. Shaking it off, I forced a laugh.

“I hope so too,” I said lightly.

We turned a corner, the dirt path transitioning to cobblestone as the village of Hogsmeade came into view.

“Mr. Moon!” Sebastian called out, pointing ahead to the Hogwarts caretaker, who looked unusually frazzled. “He’s the Hogwarts caretaker. Looks a bit worse for wear.”

As we approached, Mr. Moon turned toward us, his eyes wide and his gait unsteady.

“Hello, Mr. Moon. Have you met our new fifth year?”

“Pleasure!” Mr. Moon hiccupped, waving vaguely in my direction. “Uh, you might want to turn back, Mr. Sallow. Turn and—hic—run.”

“Is everything all right, sir?” Sebastian asked, frowning.

“It looked right at me! Eyes big as saucers!”

“What did, Mr. Moon?”

“A Demiguise!” he exclaimed, shivering. “Ugly and hairy and terrifying! I shall be at the castle, where it is safe. Good luck to both of you!”

With that, he shuffled off toward the castle, his movements erratic.

“Huh,” I muttered, watching him go. “How could someone be afraid of a Demiguise?”

“I don’t know what he’s putting in his pumpkin juice, but obviously he’s had too much of it,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Mr. Moon in such a state. He is quite the character. My sister Anne thinks he’s lovely, but I’d say he could improve a bit as caretaker.”

“Oh, is your sister in Slytherin too?”

“She is—or rather, she was. She’s not well at the moment, but she’ll be better soon and back at Hogwarts.” His voice softened briefly, but before I could respond, he brightened. “Ah, and here it is!”

The cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade stretched out before us, lively and bustling with the chatter of witches and wizards weaving between quaint, timber-framed shops. Warm light spilled out from storefront windows, casting a golden glow onto the street as shopkeepers welcomed customers and owls hooted from their perches. The air was crisp, tinged with the comforting aroma of butterbeer wafting from the Three Broomsticks and the faint sweetness of honey from Honeydukes. I took it all in, my eyes lingering on the cheerful chaos of it all—the children eagerly pressing their faces to the glass of Zonko’s Joke Shop, the witches chatting animatedly over steaming mugs, and the stacks of potion vials glimmering in the apothecary window. Though this wasn’t my first time seeing the village, there was something undeniably magical about it, a charm that never seemed to dull.

Sebastian, standing a few paces ahead, gestured grandly with his arm as if presenting the entire village to me. "Honestly, if one could bottle the magic of this place – I don’t know if it’s the shops or the people, but there’s just something about Hogsmeade. We all flock to it like moths to a flame," he said, his tone bordering on whimsical.

I smiled at his enthusiasm as he turned to face me. "So, how would you like to do this? Weasley told me you have a list of things to get – a wand and some other bits?"

"Yes, dittany seeds, some spellcrafts, and some potion recipes," I replied, holding up the piece of parchment with my list written neatly on it.

"Perfect," he said with a grin. "Can’t wait to see what you do with a new wand. And a short list gives you plenty of time to poke around the village." He paused, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I just have to pop into a shop and find something for my sister. Let’s meet up in the town circle when you’re finished."

I nodded, grateful for his balance of charm and practicality. "Sounds good! Thank you, Sebastian."

"Remember," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "have fun. It’s Hogsmeade."

Sebastian turned to walk further up the street, but after only a few steps, he spun back around to face me, walking backward with the same cocky confidence I was quickly growing accustomed to. He waved casually.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a small smile, and gave a little wave back. Turning my attention to the shops around me, I took a deep breath, savoring the air of promise and possibility that only a place like Hogsmeade could offer.

I lingered where Sebastian had left her, the gentle bustle of Hogsmeade wrapping around her like a warm cloak. I glanced at the shops scattered before her, their colorful signs swaying slightly in the breeze. “Okay,” she muttered to herself, placing her hands on her hips. “I think I should go to… Tomes and Scrolls, J. Pippin’s Potions, and then The Magic Neep. But before all of that, my wand.”

With a decisive nod, I set off. Her boots tapped against the cobblestones as she wove past witches and wizards, their chatter a lively hum in the air. I came to a stop in front of Ollivanders, its window display of elegant wands catching the sunlight. I reached into her side bag and pulled it open. Among my limited belongings, I saw the borrowed wand I’d been using since my arrival, my old wand safely tucked beneath it, and a large metal bracelet glinting faintly in the light.

I frowned. I didn’t need a wand. I already had one—the black walnut wand Ollivander himself had sold me years ago. But for appearances' sake, I had to go through the motions. Hogwarts believed me to be a new student without a wand of my own, and I couldn’t risk raising suspicions.

With a resigned sigh, I pulled out the bracelet. It felt cold and heavy in my hand, a physical reminder of the abilities I had inherited. The bracelets were my way of managing the immense power I carried, each one fine-tuned to help me control a specific ability. I didn’t like wearing them—they felt like chains, even though they were of my own design—but there were moments when they became necessary. Like now.

Snapping the bracelet onto my wrist, I felt its power hum against my skin, vibrating faintly as it synced with my mind. I straightened her robes, smoothed my hair, and stepped into the shop.

The moment I entered, the familiar scent of aged wood and parchment greeted me. A faint rustling noise came from the back of the shop, followed by a muffled exclamation.

“Merlin’s Blooming Beard, not again!”

I tilted her head, my curiosity piqued. I stepped closer to the counter, my eyes scanning the countless wand boxes stacked precariously high on every shelf. As my hand hovered over the brass bell on the counter, it rang itself, the chime echoing through the shop. I jumped slightly, then chuckled to myself. Of course.

“I’ll be right with—”

A man with wispy gray mutton chops and a balding head appeared from behind a towering shelf, his arms laden with a precarious stack of wand boxes. He looked frazzled but cheerful as he caught sight of her.

“Ah! It’s you!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “Um, just a moment, please.”

My heart skipped a beat. Did he recognize me? Panic flashed through my mind, but I quickly rationalized it. No, that’s just how all the Ollivanders are. Relax.

The wandmaker disappeared into the back, leaving me standing awkwardly at the counter. Moments later, he reemerged, brushing off his robes as he approached her. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, I raised my hand.

“Wait there.”

Her voice came out deeper, layered with a resonance that wasn’t her own. The bracelet’s power thrummed against her wrist as Gerbold Ollivander froze in place, his eyes glazing over in a trance.

“You have already sold me a wand,” I commanded, her tone calm but firm.

“I sold you a wand,” Ollivander echoed, his voice hollow.

“It was a perfect match.”

“Perfect match.”

“Black walnut, 10 ½ inches, dragon heartstring core, supple flexibility.”

“Black walnut, 10 ½ inches, dragon heartstring, supple.”

I lowered her hand and quickly unclasped the bracelet, slipping it back into my bag. The power subsided, leaving my skin tingling faintly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Ollivander!” I said, her voice back to its usual tone.

Ollivander blinked rapidly, the trance lifting. “Oh—um—yes, of course! Do come and see me again if I can be of further assistance.”

I smiled politely and exited the shop, the bell above the door jingling softly behind her. As I turned right and headed toward Tomes and Scrolls, a pang of guilt tugged at my chest.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, I thought, though the justification felt hollow. Shaking off the unease, I refocused on the task at hand. There was still much to do, and I couldn’t afford to dwell on my actions for too long.

Sebastian leaned casually against the edge of the fountain, arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk as I approached. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling town square.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Gryffindor,” he said with mock pomp, his grin widening.

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms as I came to a stop in front of him. “Oh, what a gracious compliment! Especially considering you probably don’t like most of my housemates.”

Sebastian laughed, tilting his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a paragon of fairness.”

“Sure,” I replied, not even bothering to filter the sarcasm. “Anyway, I got everything I needed. Did you find what you needed for your sister?”

“I did,” he said, patting his satchel. “So, I suppose the world is our oyster now. Let’s see what else we can get up to.”

I hesitated, gripping my wand tighter without realizing it. The words “What else we can get up to” echoed in my head like an omen. I glanced around the square, as if searching for confirmation of what I knew was coming. And then, like clockwork, the ground trembled beneath our feet.

A low, guttural roar filled the air, and my heart leapt into my throat.

From behind the row of houses on the edge of the town square, a massive troll emerged, its body encased in jagged, glowing red armor. It clutched a crude, oversized club, swinging it wildly as it stomped forward, its crazed eyes scanning the chaos it was causing.

Sebastian straightened, his smirk vanishing in an instant. “What in Merlin’s name—”

The troll let out another earth-shaking roar and turned its attention to the square. I could see a group of witches and wizards nearby already hurling spells at it, trying to drive it away from the buildings.

“Draw it away from the village!” came a commanding voice from the group. I recognized Officer Singer at the forefront, her wand emitting bright, crackling bolts of light as she directed the attack.

The troll roared and turned to chase the group, lumbering after them as they led it away. I exhaled, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

But the relief was short-lived. A deafening crash echoed behind us, and I whipped around just in time to see a second troll barrel through the wall of a nearby shop, rubble flying in all directions.

“Another one?” Sebastian’s voice cracked as he stumbled back a step.

The second troll’s furious gaze locked onto mine almost immediately. It roared, raising its club high, and charged.

I dodged just in time, throwing myself out of the way and colliding with Sebastian, who grabbed my shoulders and pulled me farther from the rampaging beast.

“You have got to get out of here!” he shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

“You’re telling me to leave?” I snapped, my grip tightening on her wand.

“Yes!”

“No!”

The troll swung its massive club at them. Without thinking, I stepped forward, planting myself between the beast and Sebastian, and raised my wand.

“Levioso!” I cried.

The troll’s club froze mid-swing, then recoiled backward, smacking the creature square in the forehead. The impact sent it stumbling, its roar more of surprise than pain. I didn’t waste a second, firing off a rapid series of basic casts that sent it reeling further.

Sebastian stood frozen for a moment, watching in shock as I gracefully dodged the troll’s wild strikes, each movement deliberate and calculated. I turned to him, my expression fierce.

“I am not leaving,” I said firmly, my voice cutting through the chaos.

Sebastian blinked, then his face broke into a crooked grin. “I guess we have to save Hogsmeade, then.”

I smirked back. “Glad you’re finally on board.”

I stepped forward, waving my wand dramatically. “Hey, you big brute! I know you want to squish me!”

The troll roared again, charging at me. From behind, Sebastian began firing Confringo and Expulso spells, each one chipping away at the troll’s armor. I darted to the side at the last moment, my movements fluid as I hurled another spell.

My wand seemed to vibrate in my hand, and I felt a sudden surge of power coursing through me—a raw, electric force I recognized immediately. Ancient Magic.

Spotting a crate nearby, I extended my wand, and with a crackle of energy, the crate shot through the air, slamming into the troll’s head.

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. “What was that?”

I grinned. “A taste of its own medicine.”

The battle continued, Sebastian and I working in tandem to weaken the creature. I slid beneath the troll’s legs, baiting it away from the town center, but the troll was faster than I had anticipated. It spun around, raising its club for a crushing blow.

Thinking quickly, I gripped my wand with both hands. “Accio!” I shouted, latching onto a nearby rooftop pole. The spell yanked me off the ground just in time, and I landed gracefully on the roof, crouching for balance.

Sebastian stared up at me in awe. “Where did you learn that?”

I chuckled. “One of my many secrets.”

The troll looked up at me, confused and furious. Jo could feel the Ancient Magic building inside me again, and with a determined focus, I channeled it into a single, devastating attack. A ball of crackling energy formed between my hands, and with a powerful leap, I launched myself off the roof, hurling the magic directly at the troll.

The impact sent the creature reeling, and as I landed behind it, I stumbled but quickly regained my footing.

“Merlin's majestical Matagot, Jo!” Sebastian exclaimed, running up beside me. “No wonder you beat me in a duel!”

I felt a flicker of warmth at his words but quickly shoved it aside. Side by side, the two of us continued our assault, our spells in perfect sync. Finally, with one last combined strike, the troll let out a final roar and collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Sebastian stood over the fallen creature, catching his breath. “That’s right, you lumbering lout!”

Jo straightened, breathing heavily, and allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. For now, Hogsmeade was safe. A bit damaged, but safe. Sebastian and I looked at each other, not saying anything for a moment, just catching our breath. And then out of the blue, be both started laughing at the absurdity of what had just happened.

The two of us were still laughing when Officer Singer and the other witches and wizards that took care of the first troll rounded the corner. I both straightened up, not wanting to look like we had gone off our rockers.

The group of witches and wizards came to a halt, their eyes widening as they took in the massive, crumpled troll before us. One by one, their gazes lifted to Sebastian and me, still standing amidst the wreckage. I could feel the weight of their stares, but I held my head high, doing my best to look composed, even if my heart was still hammering in my chest.

“Goodness!” Officer Singer finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with disbelief. “A second troll? Did you two take on a fully-grown troll by yourselves?”

I glanced at Sebastian, who gave me a small shrug, clearly leaving this one to me.

“I suppose so,” I said, keeping my tone light. “It was all a bit of a blur, to be honest.”

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Are you kids all right?”

“We are,” I replied. “And we were glad to help.”

Singer let out a low whistle, studying us with a mixture of admiration and concern. “I’d say ‘help’ is a bit of an understatement. Nerve like that? The makings of an Auror, if you ask me.”

Auror? I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the compliment.

Singer turned her attention to the destruction around us. The once-charming town square now looked like a battlefield, with splintered carts, overturned barrels, and chunks of cobblestone littering the ground.

“If you’re unharmed,” she said, her tone becoming brisk and practical, “perhaps the two of you wouldn’t mind helping me put a few things back to where they were.”

“Of course, Officer,” I said quickly, nudging Sebastian with my elbow.

Together, we set to work, wands in hand. “Reparo,” I murmured, watching as a shattered cart mended itself, its wooden pieces flying back into place like puzzle pieces snapping together. Beside me, Sebastian was repairing a shop sign with impressive precision, his expression unusually focused.

As we worked, my thoughts wandered. That strange surge of power—the Ancient Magic—still hummed faintly in my veins, like the remnants of a storm. It had felt so natural, almost instinctive, and yet it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Could I wield it properly, refine it into something I could control? And if I already knew what the Keepers’ memories contained, could I bypass their trials entirely?

I shook my head slightly, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“All finished!” I called, stepping back to admire our handiwork.

Sebastian straightened, brushing the dust off his robes. “I’d say we’ve earned a Butterbeer or two, wouldn’t you? Might help me forget that I was almost pulverized by a troll.”

I let out a small laugh, grateful for the levity. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Perfect.” Sebastian gestured down the cobblestone path. “The Three Broomsticks is just this way.”

As we walked, the atmosphere shifted. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the village. The air grew heavier, carrying the faint scent of rain, and the colorful banners strung between buildings fluttered restlessly in the rising wind.

“Assuming it isn’t utter bedlam in there,” Sebastian said, his voice cutting through the growing quiet, “you might even meet Sirona, the owner. She’s a good one to know.”

The first droplets of rain began to fall, quickly escalating to a steady downpour. We laughed as we dashed closer to the buildings, seeking some cover under the awnings. But as we neared the Three Broomsticks, a movement caught my eye.

A dark figure in a top hat slipped around the corner and down a narrow set of wooden stairs.

My heart skipped a beat. Rookwood.

I slowed my pace, instinct taking over. My grip on my wand tightened as I glanced at Sebastian. His brows furrowed, his expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Without a word, we crept closer, sticking to the shadows.

Peering around the corner, I saw Rookwood approach two figures. One was a wiry, sneering man I recognized as Theophilus Harlow. The other was unmistakable—Ranrok himself.

The goblin’s voice was low and harsh, but it carried over the sound of the rain.

“You said you could get to the child when they came to Hogsmeade. That all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction.”

Rookwood’s response was sharp, his tone laced with frustration. “I just watched a student take down your ‘distraction.’ Who is this child? What are you not telling me?”

Ranrok’s glare darkened, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “All you need to know is that if you cannot get to the child, then you have no value to me.”

The goblin’s gaze suddenly shifted, his piercing eyes narrowing as he looked past Rookwood. My breath caught. He’d spotted us.

“Let’s go,” I whispered urgently, grabbing Sebastian’s arm.

He lingered for a moment too long, his curiosity getting the better of him, but I pulled him away, and we darted back into the rain. We didn’t stop until we were outside the Three Broomsticks, our breaths coming fast.

“Did they see us?” Sebastian asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, though my heart was still pounding.

“What was that goblin doing with Victor Rookwood?” he pressed.

“Ranrok is working with Rookwood?” I echoed.

Sebastian’s face lit up with recognition. “The goblin from the Daily Prophet! I knew I’d seen him somewhere!”

A movement in the distance caught my eye. Rookwood and Harlow were emerging from the alley, their expressions dark and calculating.

“Quickly,” Sebastian said, his voice low. “Let’s get inside the Three Broomsticks.”

Without another word, we slipped through the door, the warmth and chatter of the pub wrapping around us like a shield from the storm outside.

The warm, bustling atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks was a stark contrast to the rainy weather outside. The scent of Butterbeer and roasted nuts filled the air, mingling with the low hum of chatter and the occasional clink of glasses. Sebastian and I stepped farther into the pub, brushing raindrops from our robes as we took in the lively scene.

As we passed a goblin heading toward the exit, my steps faltered. He looked familiar—less menacing than Ranrok but unmistakable. Lodgok. His sharp, intelligent eyes briefly locked with mine, and an unspoken understanding passed between us. I already knew the role he would play in the trials ahead, the tasks he would assist me with… and the tragic fate he would meet because of it. A pang of guilt twisted in my chest, but I forced myself to look away as he disappeared through the door.

“Come on,” Sebastian said, nudging me gently.

We continued toward the bar, finding two open seats near the middle. I slid onto the stool, my fingers tightening briefly around the edge of the counter as I tried to push aside my thoughts.

The hostess turned to greet us, her brown hair swept into a neat bun and her demeanor calm but commanding.

“Now, what can I—oh,” she said, her eyes lighting up when they landed on me. “There’s a face I haven’t seen before.”

“It’s my first time here,” I replied with a small smile.

“Welcome!” Her voice was warm, and with a flick of her wand, two tankards floated down from the shelves behind her. “Butterbeers on me.”

The spigot of a barrel labeled Butterbeer twisted open, filling the mugs as they hovered in the air. Meanwhile, she leaned slightly closer, her expression softening.

“Heard about the attack. I shall be looking in on the other shopkeepers and residents shortly. Glad to see you two escaped injury.”

Her genuine concern made my chest tighten, but I forced a grateful nod. “Thanks to this one,” Sebastian said suddenly, cutting through the moment. He grabbed his tankard and raised it above his head, grinning. “Single-handedly took down a troll!”

“Is that right?” Sirona said, arching a brow as her gaze flicked to me. “Well done.”

I lifted my Butterbeer in acknowledgment. “Thanks for this,” I said sincerely.

“My pleasure.” Sirona exhaled softly, her brow furrowing. “Trolls in Hogsmeade? That’s never happened before. Something is not right. The only brutes we usually have to deal with are—”

The pub’s double doors slammed open with a crash.

Victor Rookwood strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. Theophilus Harlow was right on his heels, his hand hovering near his wand as if daring someone to provoke him.

Sirona’s lips pressed into a thin line. “How timely,” she muttered under her breath before stepping out from behind the bar. She met Rookwood halfway, her posture calm but unyielding.

“Was that Lodgok I saw leaving just now?” Rookwood asked, his tone dripping with mockery. “Your clientele’s not what it used to be, Sirona.”

“Not to worry, Victor,” Sirona replied smoothly. “Once the two of you leave, the caliber of my clientele will greatly improve.”

Harlow bristled, his hand inching closer to his wand, but Sirona didn’t even look at him.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Theophilus,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade.

“Come now,” Rookwood said, waving a hand dismissively. “No need for theatrics. I’m only here for this one, anyway.”

He pointed directly at me.

I froze, the room seeming to tilt slightly. Slowly, I turned in my seat, standing to face him. I straightened my shoulders, doing my best to appear confident and unshaken. But at five feet tall, I knew I wasn’t exactly intimidating.

The scrape of a barstool made me glance sideways. Sebastian was on his feet beside me, his wand already in hand. His expression was a mix of defiance and protectiveness, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt for dragging him into this.

Sirona’s voice cut through the tension. “My friend is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer.”

“I only want a quick word,” Rookwood said, brushing past her as if she weren’t there.

He didn’t get far. All around the pub, wands were drawn. Every witch and wizard in the room stood, a united front against him.

I pulled my wand from my pocket, my grip firm.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Sirona said, her tone icy. “I said my friend is busy.”

Rookwood stopped, his eyes narrowing as he took in the room. After a moment, he smirked and took a step back.

“One would think you’d all had enough bloodshed for one day,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. He turned to Harlow. “Come, Theophilus. The Three Broomsticks isn’t what it used to be. Let’s take our Galleons elsewhere.”

The two turned to leave, but Rookwood paused at the door. His eyes locked onto mine, and his expression darkened.

“Can’t drink Butterbeer forever,” he said softly before disappearing into the rain.

The room was silent for a beat. My shoulders sagged, the tension finally leaving my body. I hadn’t even realized how tightly wound up I’d been.

“Watch your back,” Sirona said quietly, shaking her head as she returned to the bar. “Rookwood and Harlow are worse than any troll you might encounter.”

I nodded, murmuring my thanks.

Sebastian’s hand suddenly gripped my arm, pulling me closer. His expression was intense, his voice low. “Trolls, Ranrok, and Rookwood? What are you not telling me?”

I hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on me. He deserved answers, but I couldn’t risk revealing everything—not yet.

“I promise to tell you everything,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “But it’s perhaps best I do that later.”

Sebastian studied me for a moment before releasing my arm. His usual cocky smirk returned, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it.

“Fine,” he said, his tone lighter. “But you owe me.”

I chuckled softly, lifting my Butterbeer again. “Fair enough.”

As the pub’s warm atmosphere wrapped around us once more, I allowed myself to relax, if only slightly. For now, we were safe—but the storm brewing outside was far from over.

Chapter Text

The morning had been anything but kind. After last night’s events, I felt as though the universe had personally delivered an anvil to my skull. The walk back to Hogwarts with Sebastian in the rain was grueling, but I managed to steer our conversation toward him and his life, avoiding the elephant—or erumpent—in the room: what I wasn’t telling him. He talked about his sister, Anne, and his uncle Solomon, and the weight he carried was impossible to miss. His voice cracked slightly whenever he mentioned Anne, and it stirred something in me, knowing what awaited him down the road.

We talked about lighter things, too—jokes about Hogwarts’ quirks, anecdotes about Peeves’ latest pranks, and even the strange smells wafting out of the Potions classroom. By the time we reached the castle, Sebastian insisted on walking me all the way up to the Gryffindor Common Room. I didn’t argue, but we both slowed our steps, savoring the lingering conversation. It wasn’t until my head hit the pillow that I realized just how late it was. Even then, my mind raced, replaying the chaos of the day. Sleep didn’t come easily.

When morning arrived, it brought a pounding headache and reluctance to face the world. Somehow, I dragged myself out of bed and made it through classes, but not without sneaking in an unintentional nap on the Common Room couch. Leander was to blame—his incessant chatter about some duel he’d lost to a Slytherin left me utterly drained. Eventually, I tuned him out and drifted off, only to be jolted awake when one of Garreth Weasley’s experiments exploded, filling the room with smoke.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and headed to Professor Fig’s classroom, still groggy but determined to get answers about the locket. When I arrived, he was leaning over his desk, studying a map.

“Professor! I’m glad to see you,” I said, my voice bright despite the fatigue.

Professor Fig looked up, relief flashing across his face. “And I you. Thank Merlin you are in one piece. I heard about the attack. Trolls—in Hogsmeade?”

I nodded, stepping closer. “Sir, the trolls were wearing armor. It had that dark glow, like the dragon collar.”

His expression darkened as he straightened, his fingers drumming on the edge of the desk. “Goblin silver. Ranrok used it to control the dragon. But how? And why send trolls to—”

“They were there because of me,” I interrupted, the words heavy in my throat. “I overheard Ranrok talking with Victor Rookwood.”

I recounted everything, from the troll attack to the confrontation with Rookwood and Ranrok’s ominous words. Professor Fig listened intently, his brow furrowed as he absorbed every detail.

“They are after the locket,” I concluded. “You said you discovered something in it.”

“I did,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “I discovered an inscription. When I read it aloud, this map appeared. Clever enchantment.”

Curious, I circled around the desk to stand beside him. My eyes fell on the map, and a glimmer caught my attention.

“It’s a map of Hogwarts, to be sure, but I do not know where it leads,” he said, his tone cautious.

“It leads to the Library,” I said, pointing to the glowing outline of the Library on the map. As I touched it, the light grew brighter. “The Restricted Section, to be precise. And a bit beyond—I see traces of magic there on the map.”

Fig glanced at me, his expression a mixture of knowing and admiration. “I suspected you would see something.”

I smiled back, a sense of camaraderie forming between us. He was a confidant in this journey, someone I trusted. But as much as I appreciated his presence, I couldn’t ignore the knowledge of his fate. Unlike Sebastian or Lodgok, I didn’t feel compelled to try to save Fig from his fate. He would die protecting the Repository, but I knew he’d find peace and be reunited with his wife Miriam in the end.

“Shall we go?” I asked, eager to move forward.

Fig chuckled softly. “I appreciate your enthusiasm—and I am eager to discover what we may find there as well. But if your experience at Gringotts, let alone what happened to Miriam, taught me anything, it’s that the path we are on is terribly dangerous. I’d like you to work with Professor Hecat a bit before we continue.”

“But sir, how dangerous could the Library be? Perhaps we’re only after a book.”

“Perhaps we are only after a book,” he said, his voice steady. “But we should be prepared for anything.”

“I can hold my own, sir, I promise,” I argued. “And with you there, I think we can take whatever is thrown at us.”

“Jo, I must insist.”

I hesitated, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “But sir—”

“We cannot rush this. Once you’ve honed your defensive magic further, come see me. I’ll let Professor Hecat know to expect you.”

Defeated, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I left his office, descending the stairs into his classroom. The weight of his insistence pressed on me. The patience required to relearn magic I already knew was wearing thin. For a fleeting moment, I considered breaking into the Library that night and using my bracelet to alter Professor Hecat’s memory. But even I knew that would be a step too far.

 As I made my way back toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I resolved to simply be patient. Just a day or two more. That’s all it would take.

It had been a quiet moment, or at least as quiet as one could expect at Hogwarts. The wind rolled gently across the grounds, rustling the trees and carrying the faint, distant laughter of students. I stood by the railing, my gaze fixed on the expanse before me, hoping that if I stared long enough, the tangled thoughts in my head would unravel themselves. The day had been relentless, and my mind felt like a cauldron set to boil over.

The creak of the door behind me barely registered. Students were always passing by, coming and going without much notice. It wasn’t until I sensed a presence beside me—close enough to be undeniable—that I turned my head. To my left, leaning casually against the railing, was Ominis Gaunt. His pale complexion was as unreadable as ever, but the slight tilt of his head in my direction spoke volumes.

"Heard you defended Hogsmeade against trolls," he said smoothly, his tone laced with that trademark sharpness. "You know, there is such a thing as trying too hard."

I raised an eyebrow at his cheek, though I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. "Good to see you too, Ominis."

He replied so quickly and so deadpan that it took me a second to process: "Can’t exactly say the same."

The words hit me like a Bludger to the chest. My smirk faltered, replaced by a stunned silence. Did I do something wrong? I opened my mouth to respond but only managed a faint, awkward sound—a half-formed word that withered before it even began.

Ominis’s lips quirked into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "I meant because I cannot see. I’m blind."

I exhaled, tension bleeding out of my shoulders. While his tone didn’t scream humor, it was enough for me to latch onto. "Oh, that makes sense. Sorry, it’s been a long day, and my brain’s been scrambled since this morning."

"Late night?" he asked, his voice still clipped, though there was a flicker of curiosity in it.

"Unfortunately, yes. So... you heard what happened?"

"Indeed I did," he said, his expression tightening just slightly. "I’m glad that Sebastian and you escaped that troll unscathed."

The way he said it—measured, precise—made me wonder how much Sebastian had told him. Did Ominis know about the confrontation with Ranrok? About Rookwood? My mind raced, but I quickly pushed the panic aside. That was a question for Sebastian later. For now, I will try to keep things light.

"Me too," I said. "It could’ve been a lot worse."

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. I hesitated, debating whether to press him further. I wanted to know more about him—the real Ominis. He wasn’t exactly an open book, and I had a feeling that his walls were particularly high when it came to me. Still, I had to try.

"So, Ominis," I began carefully, "tell me a bit abo—"

"I’m going to head back inside," he interrupted, cutting me off with a sharpness that felt deliberate. He turned slightly, his posture rigid. "Sebastian was about to start a duel, that’s why I’m out here and not him. He asked me to tell you that Lucan Brattleby is expecting you. Come inside whenever you’re ready."

Before I could respond, he pivoted on his heel and strode back toward the clock tower courtyard. The door shut behind him with a finality that felt like a slap.

I stood there, staring at the door, my mouth slightly open. "Oh—um—okay," I muttered to myself. "Yeah, he definitely hates me."

The words felt like a weight in my chest. I leaned back against the railing, rubbing my temples in frustration. After a moment, my lips twisted into a wry grin, and I muttered in a deeper voice, mimicking Ominis’s clipped tone.

"'Why yes, Jo, I’m fantastic. You’ve stolen my best and only friend, and my family are all pure-blooded maniacs that hate me. So since you’ve stolen Sebastian from me, I will have no one left! Thank you for asking!'"

The absurdity of my own imitation made my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I let out a deep sigh and straightened my robes. "Get it together," I whispered to myself.

Despite Ominis’s obvious hesitation—or outright dislike—of me, I made a mental note to tread carefully around him. His friendship with Sebastian wasn’t something I wanted to jeopardize. But it wasn’t just that. I had seen the dark path Sebastian was headed down. I had lived it through a screen. I’d watched him unravel under the weight of his obsession to save Anne, consumed by a mix of desperation and unchecked ambition. I’d vicariously stood in the shadows of his choices before, and I knew exactly where it led—to that fateful moment in Feldcroft when he killed his uncle, Solomon, in a fit of anger and anguish.

The image of Solomon crumpling to the ground seared into my memory, as was the shattered look on Sebastian’s face. It had been a crime of passion, an act that spiraled out of control faster than either of us could comprehend. And yet, even then, he had made a choice and had deliberately walked a path that led him there.

Reporting Sebastian, turning him in for what he’d done, felt like the right thing at the time—a moral obligation. But the consequences of that choice had been devastating to witness, even if it wasn’t real life back then.

Anne had been left alone to battle her curse, conflicted by bitterness and love towards her brother. Ominis, though not as outspoken, had grown distant—resentful, even. Sebastian’s choice had fractured the fragile bonds holding their small, broken family together, leaving them to pick up the pieces.

Now, standing here, I resolved to do everything in my power to avoid that future. I didn’t know if it was possible to save Sebastian from himself, to steer him toward a different path, but I had to try. I owed him that much. And even if Solomon’s death was unavoidable—if that dark moment loomed ahead like an immovable shadow—I needed to find another way to ensure that the damage didn’t ripple out and destroy what little family they had left.

This wasn’t just about rewriting the story. It was about giving them a chance—a real one.

With a deep breath, I pushed off the railing and marched toward the door, ready to meet Lucan Brattleby and whatever awaited me next.

The heavy door creaked as I pushed it open, and I stepped through into the open expanse of the clocktower courtyard. The pendulum above swayed rhythmically, slicing the air like a silent metronome, its massive weight making the space feel both grand and ominous. Below, students bustled around, their chatter mingling with the metallic creaks of the swinging pendulum.

My eyes immediately landed on Sebastian, who stood directly beneath the pendulum, talking animatedly with a shorter boy who couldn’t have been older than thirteen. His dark curls bobbed slightly as he nodded along. Lucan Brattleby, if I had to guess.

On the floor near them, a student lay sprawled on their back, breathing heavily and looking thoroughly defeated. No doubt Sebastian’s handiwork. Off to the side, Ominis perched on the steps, his posture stiff as he sat amongst a small group of onlookers.

I stepped cautiously into the courtyard, keeping my movements measured. I wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself—not with so many students around—but my plan was foiled almost immediately. Ominis’s head snapped up the second the door closed behind me, his unseeing eyes scanning the air with precision.

"Sebastian," he called out, his voice carrying. He tilted his head in my direction, an unmistakable gesture.

My stomach sank slightly. I could already feel Sebastian’s eyes on me before I even looked his way. Sure enough, he turned toward me, his expression breaking into a grin. He said something quick to Lucan and then jogged toward me, his robes billowing slightly with each stride.

"Jo! Good to see you!" he greeted me, his smile bright and genuine. "How did you sleep?"

I adjusted the strap of my bag and gave him a small smile in return. "I slept alright. Took a while for my mind to calm down, but what else did I expect?"

"Same here," he admitted, a flicker of exhaustion briefly crossing his features before he masked it with his usual cocky demeanor. "Well, I’m glad you made it. Lucan is just over there."

I followed Sebastian as he led me to the boy I had seen earlier. Lucan Brattleby stood proudly, his wand twirling lazily between his fingers. "Ah, the famous Jo McClam," Lucan said with a grin. "Sebastian’s been talking you up since your dual in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Sebastian, who shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"Welcome to Crossed Wands," Lucan continued. "We do things pretty simply here. Duels are fast-paced, and there’s a bit of strategy to it—taking down shields, combining spells, that sort of thing. For your first round, you’ll be paired with Sebastian here. He’s good, but don’t let it go to his head."

"I wouldn’t dream of it," I said dryly, giving Sebastian a teasing side glance.

Lucan chuckled. "Let’s see if you live up to the hype. You’re up against Astoria and Lawrence. They’re decent, but nothing you two can’t handle. Take your places."

Sebastian and I moved to stand on one side of the dueling area, while our opponents took their positions across from us. Astoria, a confident-looking girl with dark hair, gave us a quick nod of acknowledgment, while Lawrence smirked, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a physical fight.

Lucan stepped aside. "Wands at the ready!" he called, raising his voice to grab the attention of the onlookers.

I gripped my wand tightly, taking a deep breath as the air between us seemed to thrum with energy.

"Three, two, one—begin!"

Lawrence immediately fired off a stunning spell, but Sebastian was faster. "Protego!" he shouted, deflecting it with ease.

"Nice of you to leave me some work," I quipped, flicking my wand toward Astoria.

"Levioso!" I called, lifting her off her feet. She let out a startled yelp as Sebastian launched a barrage of basic casts at Lawrence, who stumbled back under the pressure.

"You call that work?" Sebastian shot back, a smirk on his face.

Astoria landed on her feet with a thud and retaliated quickly, sending a streak of red light my way. I sidestepped just in time and returned fire with a well-aimed "Arresto Momentum!" that forced her to duck.

"Not bad," Sebastian said, his voice teasing. "But you’ll have to step it up if you want to keep up with me."

I rolled my eyes, focusing on Lawrence, who had managed to throw up a shield. "Depulso!" I cast, breaking his Protego and sending him skidding back a few feet.

Astoria and Lawrence regrouped, but it was clear they were struggling to keep up. Sebastian and I moved like we had been dueling together for years, our spells seamlessly covering for one another’s weaknesses.

With one final "Stupefy!" from Sebastian and a well-timed "Expelliarmus!" from me, our opponents’ wands flew from their hands, clattering to the ground. Lucan called the match, and the courtyard erupted into cheers.

"Impressive!" Lucan said as he approached. "Sebastian was right about you. Well done."

"Thanks," I said, trying to catch my breath.

As the crowd began to disperse, Sebastian walked over to me, his expression somewhere between impressed and smug. "Not bad for your first duel," he said.

"Not bad? I think I carried you," I teased, though I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

"Keep telling yourself that," he shot back, but there was no malice in his tone—just the playful banter I was growing accustomed to.

The two of us stepped aside, leaning against a nearby wall as the next duel began. The buzz of the crowd faded slightly, and Sebastian turned to me, his expression softening.

"You’re good, Jo. Better than I expected."

"Thanks," I said, the compliment catching me slightly off guard.

"So," he said, lowering his voice, "what’s this I hear about you and Professor Fig heading to the Restricted Section?"

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. "Who told you that?"

"Word gets around," he said with a shrug, though his sharp eyes told me he wasn’t going to let it drop.

I hesitated, word in fact does not get around that fast. Especially something regarding what we’ve been up to. How did he know? I decided to leave it for now but won’t forget. "Fig wants me to wait," I said finally, keeping my tone neutral. "He’s making me brush up on my defensive magic first."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You, wait? I’m surprised you agreed to that."

I forced a laugh. "What can I say? I’m a model student."

He smirked, but his eyes lingered on me, as if he was trying to read between the lines.

For a moment, neither of us said anything, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. Then Lucan called out for Sebastian, pulling him back to the dueling circle.

As he walked away, I leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ominis sitting stiffly on the edge of a stone step. He looked as though someone had carved him out of marble and left him there to brood. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to give it one more shot. Maybe I’d catch him in a better mood—or at least figure out why he seemed so determined to dislike me.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over and lowered myself next to him. The second I sat down, I could feel him tense even more, his already rigid posture somehow becoming impossibly straighter.

"Don’t worry," I said quietly, keeping my tone light. "I’m leaving in a second."

I thought I saw his shoulders relax the tiniest fraction, though he still radiated discomfort.

"I was just curious," I continued, "how did you know it was me who walked through the door?"

He paused, clearly debating whether or not to acknowledge me. For a second, I thought he might ignore me altogether, but then he spoke.

"You were the only person I couldn’t hear walking in," he said at last, his voice clipped but precise. "I heard the door, but not your footsteps. You walk very quietly—don’t shuffle your feet like most people."

He still didn’t turn to face me, but there was something about the slight pink flush creeping up his neck that made me wonder if he regretted saying anything at all.

"Huh," I said, keeping my tone casual even as I filed his observation away in my mind. "Good to know."

I stood up, brushing off my robes. "Well, even if you don’t, it’s still good to see you, Ominis."

I caught the slightest flicker of surprise on his face, as if he wasn’t used to someone saying something like that to him. I didn’t linger, though—I knew better than to push him. Turning on my heel, I left him there on the bench, still as still could be, and headed toward Professor Hecat’s classroom.

Next up: Incendio. Then, finally, the Restricted Section.

After my duel in Crossed Wands and learning Incendio from Professor Hecat, I had planned to head straight to Professor Fig’s office to get started on our trip to the Library. But my impromptu nap had thrown everything off, leaving me no choice but to wait until the following day.

When I finally entered Fig’s office the next afternoon, he looked up from his desk, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t wish to postpone our trip to the Library any longer,” he said, rubbing his hands together with the kind of excitement I usually reserved for unwrapping birthday presents. “So, shall we proceed?”

I felt a rush of relief and anticipation, but just as I was about to nod, the office door slammed open, and my heart sank like a lead weight.

Professor Black stormed in, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him. He didn’t even glance my way as he barked, “Fig, I have work for you. Come.”

Fig straightened, his face a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Headmaster, I am with a student! And my schedule is—”

“Your schedule will wait, indefinitely, as will your student,” Black interrupted, his tone icy and final. “I would think that after all the trouble you caused me with Osric, you would be eager to make amends. My office. Five minutes!”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and swept out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Fig’s shoulders slumped as he turned back to me. “I’m sorry, Jo, but—”

“Don’t apologize,” I said, forcing a smile despite the frustration bubbling inside me. “He may be a pain in the arse, but he’s still your boss. Go.”

Fig gave me a grateful nod before leaving the office in a rush. As the door closed behind him, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. If Fig couldn’t take me to the Restricted Section, then I’d just have to get there on my own.

I waited thirty seconds before stepping out of the classroom, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. Frustration, impatience, and a touch of guilt churned together, making my steps heavier than usual. Although I tried hard, I probably failed miserably at concealing my feelings.

As I passed through the corridor outside the Magical Theory classroom, I heard a voice behind me.

“What has gotten you so riled up?”

I jumped slightly, my heart skipping a beat before I turned to see Sebastian lounging on a bench against the tapestry-draped wall. He had a box of brightly colored popcorn on the bench beside him, but his sharp eyes were fixed on me.

“Sebastian!” I said, startled. “What are you—”

He stood up, abandoning the popcorn and closing the distance between us in just a few steps.

“I couldn’t help but notice Black storming in and out of Magical Theory classroom, followed by Fig, and then you. What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said quickly, turning away. “I’ll see you around. I have to get to class.”

“Jo,” he called after me, grabbing my hand before I could escape. His grip was firm but not forceful, his dark eyes searching mine.

“You do remember we have almost every single class together, don’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with dry humor. “And we don’t have any more classes today.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his gaze softened, and his tone turned earnest. “Please, Jo. What happened? Tell me about it.”

I hesitated, my chest tightening as the weight of everything threatened to crush me. The truth burned on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t tell him. Not about the Library. Not about the Repository. And definitely not about the horrors that awaited him if I couldn’t stop them.

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

For a moment, we just stood there, his hand still on mine, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us. Then he released me, his expression unreadable, and I turned and walked away.

The walk back to the Gryffindor Common Room felt endless, though my legs carried me there without conscious thought. By the time I reached the Common Room, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the translucent windows.

I pulled off my house robes and tossed them over a chair, leaving me in a skirt and a white button-up blouse. I loosened my tie just enough to breathe and pulled up my hair, which I usually left down, into a bouncy ponytail.

Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection for a moment, willing myself to calm down. You can do this. Just one step at a time.

Satisfied, I slipped out of the Common Room and made my way to the Library Annex. The halls were quiet, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. When I reached the balcony above the Library entrance, I took one last deep breath.

I cast the disillusionment charm and felt the familiar tingle of magic as it cloaked me in invisibility. It was a charm that Fred and George Weasley had “helped me grow accustomed to” when sneaking around Hogwarts. Wow I missed them.

I descended the stairs and stepped into the shadows, ready to face the challenges ahead.

Avoiding the Prefects was almost laughable. In the game, they had been portrayed as unrelenting sentinels, tirelessly patrolling the castle like it was their sole purpose in life to catch students breaking the rules. In reality? They were just sleepy 18-year-olds, barely holding themselves together as they shuffled through their rounds. Even without the Disillusionment Charm, I could have waltzed right past them unnoticed. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances.

As I crept down the stone stairs, past the fountain and toward the Library doors, the flickering torchlight played tricks on my eyes. Shadows danced unpredictably at the edges of my vision, thrown off by the moving lights of Prefects’ wands. Every now and then, a shadow shifted in a way that made my heart lurch, only for me to realize it was just the castle’s eerie ambiance working against me.

But then, just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I thought I heard something—a soft scuffle, like a shoe brushing against stone. I froze, holding my breath as I strained my ears. Nothing.

“It’s just your imagination,” I whispered to myself, though my grip on my wand tightened.

Eventually, I slipped into the Library undetected. The sheer size of the room made me pause, my breath catching as I took it all in. Towering bookshelves stretched endlessly in every direction, their tops vanishing into the darkness above. The warm, golden glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the space, casting soft halos of light across the polished wood floors. Even in the stillness of the night, the Library felt alive, like it was holding its breath, waiting to reveal its secrets.

I allowed myself a brief moment of reflection. Traveling through time and space had given me the privilege of witnessing countless breathtaking sights, each dimension holding its own unique beauty. Despite the sadness I had seen, or maybe because of it, I couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet wonder of places like this.

But there was no time to dwell. I quickly ducked behind the nearest set of bookshelves and crouched in a corner, wedged between the end of a shelf and a small, tucked-away table. Even if someone had been staring directly at me, they wouldn’t have been able to spot me here.

I closed my eyes, steadying my breath as I pressed one hand to the cold stone floor. Focusing, I summoned the energy I needed. When I lifted my hand, a small circular portal shimmered beneath it, glowing with a deep red hue that pulsed softly like a heartbeat. The edges of the portal shimmered with raw power, and I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at how far I’d come in controlling it.

I slipped my hand through the portal and felt around for a moment. When I pulled it back, I was clutching a simple, well-worn key. “Got it,” I thought. The portal closed with a faint whoosh, leaving no trace of its existence.

Still under the protection of my Disillusionment Charm, I straightened and waited, pressing my back against the bookshelf as the Librarian, Mrs. Scribner, strolled past. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, her lips pursed in suspicion, but she continued back to her desk without incident. I exhaled, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

With measured steps, I made my way toward the locked gate that led to the Restricted Section. The key felt solid and reassuring in my hand as I slid it into the lock. The soft click of the mechanism turning was music to my ears.

I pushed the gate open just enough to slip through and began my descent. Only a few more floors to go, and I’d be home free. Just a little sneaking past the ghosts and I’d be at my destination.

I crept down the spiral staircase, each step as quiet as a whisper. Peeking around the corner at the bottom, I braced myself to see one of the ghosts patrolling the area. Nothing. I stood still, forcing my mind to quiet.

A faint thud echoed from somewhere above. My breath hitched as I glanced over my shoulder. It was too deliberate to be the random groan of the castle settling, but there was no one there.

“Get a grip,” I muttered under my breath, trying to shake off the unease.

One of the perks of being a shapeshifter with connections across the multiverse was the ability to learn unique skills without having to outwardly change my appearance. Ben Solo had taught me how to extend my awareness to sense other life forms. I missed his brooding presence, and thinking of him brought a pang of longing, but I quickly refocused. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mind, trying to feel for the faint presence of any ghosts.

Nothing.

And then—

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. A shiver ran down my spine as I became acutely aware of a presence directly behind me. My heart leapt into my throat, and before I could think, my body reacted on pure instinct.

In one fluid motion, I spun around and grabbed the unseen figure by the throat. A sharp, surprised gasp escaped them, and I clamped my other hand over their mouth to muffle any sound and pushed them against the nearest wall.

Both of our Disillusionment Charms shattered in the same instant, revealing the person I had just attacked.

Sebastian.

His wide, startled eyes met mine as he choked out a raspy sound, clutching at my hand around his throat. Horrified, I immediately released him, stumbling back a step.

“What in the world are you doing here?” I hissed, my voice low but sharp, my heart pounding in my chest.

Sebastian straightened, still rubbing his throat where my hand had been moments before. His expression was a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“Me? I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back, his voice low but laced with irritation. “Sneaking around the Library in the dead of night, attacking people? What are you doing, Jo?”

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped, taking a step back. “Why are you here, Sebastian?”

He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, his tone turning sharper. “I could ask the same of you—again. But since you’re so insistent, I’m looking for something to help Anne.”

His words caught me off guard, but only for a moment. My eyes narrowed as my mind raced, pieces clicking into place. “You’ve been following me.”

Sebastian blinked, but his posture didn’t waver. “What? No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have!” I whispered furiously, jabbing a finger at him. “You were outside Professor Fig’s classroom earlier. And you’ve been asking questions, watching me—don’t try to deny it!”

“I wasn’t—” he started, then sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. But can you blame me?”

I clenched my fists, the frustration boiling over. “I can absolutely blame you! This isn’t your problem, Sebastian. You shouldn’t even be here!”

He took a step closer, his dark eyes locking with mine. “You’re right. This isn’t my problem—but it could be yours. And I’m not just here for Anne, alright? I thought you might need help too.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said firmly, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his voice rising just enough to break through the tension of the Library. “Are you, though? Because you’ve been running around like the whole weight of the world is on your shoulders, and don’t think I haven’t noticed how hard you’re trying to keep me out of it.”

“That’s because I am trying to keep you out of it!” I shot back, my voice cracking.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us thick with unspoken words. His frustration melted into something softer, more questioning.

“Why, Jo?” he asked quietly. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”

I hesitated, my throat tightening painfully. “Because this—everything I’m involved in—is bigger than you think, Sebastian. It’s bigger than Anne, or Fig, or—”

“Then tell me,” he interrupted, stepping even closer. “Stop shutting me out. If it’s that big, don’t you think you’ll need someone by your side?”

My chest ached with the weight of his words, and I felt the first sting of tears in my eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Sebastian. You don’t understand how dangerous this is. I’ve seen what’s coming. I’ve seen—” I stopped myself, shaking my head, trying to push the words back down, but they clawed their way out anyway. “I’ve seen people I care about die because of this. I can’t—I won’t let that happen to you too.”

His expression softened, and his brows knit together in something like concern. “Jo...”

“I want to include you,” I confessed, the tears finally spilling over as my voice broke. “You have no idea how much I want to let you in, but I can’t. I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”

Sebastian looked at me for a long moment, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something far more genuine. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my arm, his voice low.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” he said. “I’m already involved. And whether you like it or not, I’m not going to stand by while you face...whatever this is...alone. I care about you, Jo. And I’ll take my chances.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him to go away again, but the words wouldn’t come. I looked up at him, his expression steady, unwavering. The warmth of his hand on my arm grounded me, even as my heart waged war with my mind.

Finally, I took a shaky breath, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ve been told.”

For a moment, the tension between us eased, and I allowed myself to feel the comfort of his presence. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t over. This was just the beginning.

“Fine,” I said, stepping back and squaring my shoulders. “But if you’re coming along, you’re doing exactly what I say. No questions, no arguments.”

Sebastian raised a brow, his smirk returning. “No promises.”

I sighed, already regretting the decision, but a small part of me was grateful not to be alone. For now, that would have to be enough.

As we descended deeper into the Restricted Section, I couldn’t shake the tension coiling in my chest. Every step we took felt like a gamble, the heavy silence pressing in on us like the weight of the books that towered around us.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement. He kept glancing over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes lit with mischief and anticipation.

"This is brilliant," he whispered, his voice barely audible but brimming with enthusiasm.

"Brilliant? More like reckless," I muttered, though I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth twitching upward at his energy.

"Come on, Jo," he teased, shooting me a grin over his shoulder. "You’ve got to admit, sneaking around after curfew is exhilarating. You Gryffindors are supposed to love a good adventure."

"Adventure’s fine," I replied, my voice dry. "Getting caught, not so much."

He chuckled softly, his footsteps light as he moved ahead of me, scanning the shelves like he was searching for some hidden treasure. "Relax. We’re practically ghosts down here. No one’s going to find us."

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, letting him take the lead as we navigated the labyrinthine shelves. His confidence was infectious, even if I wished he’d dial it down a notch.

We pressed on, weaving through the labyrinth of shelves, past books that hummed faintly with magic and others that radiated a dark, foreboding energy. Occasionally, I felt Sebastian’s gaze linger on me, like he was trying to piece together everything I hadn’t told him. I ignored it, focusing instead on the faint traces of magic that seemed to guide me deeper.

"This place is incredible," Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s more than that," I replied, my own voice hushed. "Every book here is a secret waiting to be uncovered. But some secrets aren’t meant to be found."

At that very moment, we passed a book that almost seemed to suck away all the light surrounding it, making it hard to miss. I ignored the book so as to not draw attention to it, but it had already caught Sebastian’s eye.

"How poetic," he teased, though his tone was softer this time, but then he saw the book. “Secrets of the Darkest Arts, I’m impressed.

I could feel my face flush of blood at the thought of the irreparable damage that book would cause starting in just 50 years. She thought about destroying it, preventing the mass genocide Tom Riddle would commit in the future, but that would be just as bad as blurting out Sebastian’s own fate to him right now. Time is a fragile thing and not something to tamper with.

We had just turned a corner when a high-pitched giggle shattered the quiet.

"Who have we here?"

My heart plummeted. Hovering a few feet above us, his translucent form swirling in the dim light, was none other than Peeves.

Sebastian stiffened beside me, his wand already halfway raised. "Peeves," he muttered under his breath, his tone a mix of frustration and resignation.

"Sebastian Sallow and his new little friend," Peeves sang, spinning gleefully in midair. "Out exploring where they shouldn’t be. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty!"

"Peeves, don’t you—"

But before Sebastian could finish, Peeves let out a shrill cackle and shot off toward the exit.

"I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell!" he chanted, his voice echoing through the Library.

Sebastian let out a low curse, his jaw tightening. "Great. That blasted poltergeist is going to ruin everything."

"Maybe not," I said, glancing at him.

He turned to me, his expression already set with determination. "I’ll go after him," he said firmly. "If I can’t stop him, I’ll at least get to the Librarian first and buy us some time."

"Sebastian—"

"No arguments," he cut me off, stepping closer. His voice softened, and for a moment, the intensity in his eyes made it hard to look away. "You’ve got to keep going, Jo. Don’t let Peeves or anyone else derail you. I’ll take care of him."

I hesitated, torn between the urge to keep him close and the weight of knowing he was right. "Be careful," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

A small smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I should be telling you that."

For a moment, we just stood there, the flickering light from a nearby lantern casting shadows across his face. Then, before I could say anything more, he turned and started toward the direction Peeves had gone.

"Sebastian," I called softly, stopping him in his tracks.

He glanced back at me, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

His smile this time was genuine, and he nodded once before disappearing into the shadows.

I stood there for a moment, the silence of the Library wrapping around me like a shroud. Then I straightened my shoulders, gripping my wand tightly, and pressed on. There was no turning back now.

The stone staircase spiraled downward, each step echoing faintly into the silence. The air grew cooler the farther I descended, carrying with it the faint, musty scent of aged stone and forgotten history. I tightened my grip on my wand, my free hand trailing lightly along the rough stone railing. Every creak and crackle of the staircase beneath my boots reminded me of just how old this place was, a relic of Hogwarts buried deep within its labyrinthine walls.

At last, the staircase opened into a larger room. My breath hitched at the sight before me.

The chamber felt ancient, as if time itself had forgotten to tread here. The stone pillars were crumbling, their intricate carvings softened by centuries of wear. Railings lined the edges of the room, their once-pristine edges chipped and worn. Dust floated lazily in the faint light filtering down from above, caught in a halo of eerie stillness.

But none of that held my attention for long.

In the center of the room stood a massive metal arch, its surface unmarred by time or decay. It gleamed faintly, untouched by the wear that claimed everything else in this forgotten space. It stood proud and enigmatic, its presence commanding the room with an almost sentient energy.

I stepped hesitantly into the chamber, my footfall resonating in the stillness. A faint glow lit up beneath my boot, spreading out in soft waves like ripples on water. I froze, watching the light fade, only for it to reappear with my next step.

A strange pull—subtle but insistent—gripped me, urging me closer to the arch. My heartbeat quickened as I obeyed, each step lighting up beneath me in soft, luminous whispers. It wasn’t just a pull; it was a summons, a force both foreign and familiar that seemed to beckon me forward.

The arch began to respond to my approach, its surface glowing faintly until, at last, a shimmering, transparent membrane materialized within its frame. It rippled gently, like the surface of a still pond disturbed by a single drop of water. Through the arch, I glimpsed another staircase winding downward into the Athenaeum.

I stopped just a breath away from the arch, its presence thrumming in the air around me. A faint energy radiated off it, prickling against my skin and making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I gripped my wand tightly, a smirk pulling at the corner of my lips. Down there, past this gateway, there would be no prying eyes, no one to hold me back. I could fight however I wanted, wield magic without restraint.

The thought sent a rush of exhilaration through me, goosebumps spreading across my skin. This was what I craved—the freedom to unleash everything I had.

With a deep breath, I stepped toward the archway. The air shifted around me, the faint hum of magic growing louder in my ears as I crossed the threshold.

And then I disappeared into the depths below, leaving the crumbling chamber—and all hesitation—behind me.

Chapter Text

The week following my late-night escapade in the Library felt like a whirlwind. Each day was packed to the brim with classes, dueling, and navigating the sprawling maze of Hogwarts. The routine might have been exhausting, but it provided a welcome distraction from the turmoil brewing in my mind. I kept my head down, focusing on the tasks at hand and avoiding any conversations that might lead back to that night. Especially with Sebastian.

We shared all of our classes, which made it nearly impossible not to steal glances his way. He didn’t press me about what happened in the Library, but the unspoken tension lingered between us. Sometimes, our eyes would meet—his gaze sharp and questioning, mine resolute but conflicted—and in those moments, it felt like entire conversations passed between us without a word. I couldn’t tell if he was waiting for me to say something or respecting the wall I had so clearly built. Either way, I wasn’t ready to break it down just yet.

I poured much of my energy into dueling at Crossed Wands. Natty had agreed to partner with me for the matches, and we made a formidable team. Her calm precision balanced my fiery determination, and we won both duels handily. Each victory brought cheers from the small crowd of students gathered to watch, but it also drew Sebastian’s attention. I caught him watching from the sidelines, his expression unreadable, and I felt a pang of guilt. Dueling had always been his domain, yet here I was, keeping him at arm's length while doing the very thing he loved most.

Outside of classes and dueling, I found myself roped into helping other students with their odd requests. One second year needed help recovering her lost Gobstones, which had somehow found their way into the rafters of the castle. Another sought assistance finding a lost astrolabe. It felt good to help, to be useful, but the weight of everything I was carrying—Ancient Magic, the Repositories, Ranrok—made it difficult to connect with anyone fully. I was keeping so much of myself hidden, and I hated how isolating it felt.

One afternoon, I stumbled across the Abandoned Herbology Corridor while searching for a Daedalian key. The corridor was overgrown with plants, their vines curling along the walls and floor as if reclaiming the space for themselves. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp stone, and I felt a strange sense of peace standing there, surrounded by nature's quiet persistence. It was moments like these that reminded me why I loved this castle—the way it hid so many secrets, so much beauty, if only you took the time to look for it.

In a little over a week, I had tracked down nearly half the Daedalian keys, which was both rewarding and frustrating in equal measure. Each key felt like a small victory, a momentary distraction from the larger challenges ahead. But even as I busied myself with these smaller tasks, the memory of the Library—and the weight of what I had seen there—never fully left me. I was trying so hard to keep Sebastian at a distance, to keep him safe, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was already failing. Every glance, every unspoken word between us felt like a thread in a web I didn’t know how to untangle.

The warmth of the Gryffindor common room enveloped me as I trudged toward the girls’ dormitory. My body ached from the day’s activities—classes, helping out fellow students, and one too many bouts with the Crossed Wands training dummy. All I wanted was to collapse into bed, but fate, as always, had other plans.

“Jo, wait up!”

I stopped mid-step, turning to see Nellie Oggspire hurrying toward me. She had that determined bounce in her step that suggested she wasn’t just here for idle chit-chat.

“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect,” she said, grinning. “I was just looking for you.”

“You were? How come?”

“Sir Nicholas asked me to fetch you. Said he had a favor to ask that would ‘benefit both parties.’”

I blinked, my brain catching up to the sudden shift in my evening plans. Of course. Nearly Headless Nick. The missing pages. Fig’s warning echoed faintly in my head, but the thought of making progress rekindled my energy.

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “Got it. Thanks, Nellie.”

“Anytime.” She waved cheerily as I pivoted back toward the portrait hole. Sleep would have to wait.

I navigated through the darkened halls of Hogwarts with purpose, my mind racing ahead to Nick’s request. But just as I rounded the corner outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, I slammed straight into someone.

“Woah, sorry!” I stammered, pulling back instinctively.

Sebastian stood there, his hands up as though to steady me. We both stood there for a moment in surprise before he spoke. “Hey, I was wondering if we could talk.”

For a second, all I could do was stare at him, words tangling in my throat. “I… uh… I’d love to, but I promised Nick I’d help him with something.”

“Nick?”

“Nearly Headless Nick,” I clarified, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

Sebastian nodded, his expression unreadable. “Alright.”

He didn’t move, though, and I could tell there was more he wanted to say. I sighed, trying to soften my tone. “Were you just… standing out here hoping I’d pass by?”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Maybe. I was probably going to send you an owl, but I thought this was worth a shot.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. For a moment, things felt almost normal—almost—but then his tone shifted.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he said casually. “Do you have plans?”

“I do, actually,” I replied. “After I help Nick, I’ll be…” I trailed off, realizing I couldn’t exactly tell him what I’d be doing. My mind raced for a way to pivot, but everything felt like a flimsy excuse. “... busy. Just busy.”

Sebastian’s shoulders drooped slightly, the disappointment in his eyes impossible to miss.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I just don’t think you should know. And please, don’t follow me again like last time. This is different.”

“But Jo, you—”

“No,” I cut him off firmly, meeting his gaze. “Stay here. Stay safe. I know that’s not your favorite thing in the world. But for my sake, please?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Jo?”

I looked back at him, my heart squeezing at the soft concern in his tone.

“Just… be safe,” he said.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I forgot everything—the pages, the Library, the weight of my secrets. It was just the two of us. But reality was cruel, and I couldn’t let myself linger. With a small nod, I turned and continued down the hall.

As I rounded another corner, I nearly collided with Ominis. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but he made no effort to acknowledge me. I wasn’t in the mood to spar with him either, so I kept walking.

Behind me, their voices carried through the corridor.

“Did you hear anything?” Sebastian asked, his tone low.

“Nothing, I promise,” Ominis replied, though there was a sharpness to his words. “But I can tell it wasn’t good. It’s not worth it, Sebastian. She is not worth it.”

The sting of his words hit like a hex to the chest. I quickened my pace, blinking away the sudden burn in my eyes. I didn’t have time to dwell on Ominis’s disdain. Nearly Headless Nick was waiting, and I had a mission to complete.

As I approached the Great Hall, the sound of laughter and clinking plates echoed softly in the distance, mixing with the gentle flicker of torchlight on the stone walls. Standing—or rather hovering—by the gleaming House Point Hourglasses was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Nearly Headless Nick himself. His ghostly form shimmered faintly in the dim light, his translucent hand stroking his nearly severed neck as though deep in thought.

I smiled as I spotted him, but that smile faltered as a pang of realization struck me. Shouldn’t Nick recognize me? Even though I hadn’t spent much time with him in the 1990s during my first time at Hogwarts, the fact that he hadn’t noticed anything unusual tugged at my nerves. The thought of running back to the Gryffindor Common Room for my arm band crossed my mind—perhaps it could help alter his memory if needed—but I dismissed the idea. Using it on a ghost was uncharted territory, and besides, if he hadn’t remembered me back then, it was unlikely he would now.

I took a deep breath, forcing my nerves to settle, and continued down the stone staircase toward him.

“Ah, Miss McClam,” Nick greeted warmly, his voice echoing faintly as though carried on a breeze. “I’m glad that Nellie got to you.”

“As am I,” I replied, my smile returning. “From what I’ve heard, you require a favor from me. And in return, you might be able to help me find some missing pages.”

“Indeed!” His spectral face lit up. “How did you know?”

“While rumors spread faster than a Nogtail runs among ghosts, us mortals still manage to catch wind of things rather quickly,” I said with a playful smirk. It wasn’t entirely true—I just didn’t want to waste time having him recount every detail of what I already knew.

Nick chuckled, the faint sound resembling a soft chime. “Ah, perceptive and witty. You’re as sharp as they come, Miss McClam.”

“Thank you! So, my see-through friend,” I continued with a grin, “what can I do for you?”

Nick gestured for me to follow him—or, rather, floated alongside me—as we began to walk. “It’s nothing terribly difficult,” he said airily. “I’d be grateful if you could fetch a small plate of rotten roast beef from the kitchens.”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought, even though I couldn’t actually smell anything yet. “I see. And let me guess, it’s not for you.”

“You are correct, my astute young friend! It is for Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, the illustrious leader of the Headless Hunt.”

“Of course,” I said, my tone dry. “Who else would it be for?”

Nick chuckled again, his ghostly form bobbing lightly in the air. “Once we present the roast beef to Sir Patrick, he’ll direct us to another ghost—Richard Jackdaw.”

Jackdaw. The name clicked instantly. “He’s the one who stole the pages from Peeves, isn’t he?”

Nick clapped his hands together, a soft ripple of light trailing his movement. “Exactly! You’re quite on top of things, Miss McClam. Your bravery must be unmatched to have been sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw.”

I laughed lightly. “Thank you, Sir Nicholas. That means a lot.”

By then, we’d arrived at the painting of the fruit bowl that concealed the entrance to the kitchens. Vibrant colors of pears, grapes, and apples seemed to spill from the frame, almost lifelike in their detail.

“Right, then,” I said, pulling out my wand. I reached up and tickled the pear, which squirmed under my touch and then let out a soft giggle before the painting swung open, revealing a passageway beyond.

“I’ll be back momentarily,” I assured Nick, stepping through the opening.

The warmth and hum of the kitchen enveloped me as I entered. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, roasted meats, and rich spices. House-elves bustled about, their small forms darting between oversized cauldrons and towering shelves of ingredients.

I greeted a few elves with a quick wave and headed to the far back corner of the room where the rubbish pile lay. Among the heaping mounds of discarded food, I spotted the unmistakable sight of a plate of roast beef, its surface gray-green with decay. My stomach turned, but I thanked my lucky stars that my sense of smell had never fully recovered from that awful case of COVID-19 back in 2021.

Quickly snatching the plate, I made my way back through the kitchen, grabbing a pumpkin pasty from a tray as I passed. The house-elves didn’t seem to mind—they were always eager to feed us students.

When I returned to the corridor, Nick was still waiting, his translucent face beaming. “Ah, you’re back! No trouble, I take it?”

“Not at all,” I replied, holding up the plate. “We should get going.”

“Somebody is eager!” Nick exclaimed, his ghostly form spinning excitedly. “Off we shall go!”

With the rancid roast beef in hand and Nick floating cheerily ahead, I steeled myself for what was to come.

The events that followed snatching the rotten roast beef unfolded almost exactly as I expected. Predictable, yes, but not boring. If anything, it was exhilarating. Was I becoming an adrenaline junkie? I wasn’t sure I wanted to dwell on that thought.

Nick and I moved through the evening like shadows, silent save for the faint sound of wind rustling the trees. The quiet didn’t bother me—it gave me time to think.

When we arrived at the graveyard, I was all too happy to toss the rancid slab of meat onto the nearest surface. Predictably, Sir Patrick dismissed Nick’s plea to join the Headless Hunt and sent us on yet another errand: tracking down the ghost of Richard Jackdaw—well, most of his ghost.

Finding his head among a field of pumpkins turned out to be surprisingly entertaining. The game was absurd, and the other ghosts’ reactions to my participation—a mere mortal amidst their nonsense—were absolutely hilarious. By the time I managed to unearth Jackdaw’s head and earn an audience with him, my cheeks ached from laughing.

The conversation that followed was brief. Jackdaw promised to lead me to the site of his untimely demise, where he suspected the pages I sought still lay. We agreed to meet at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at sunset the following evening. Satisfied with the outcome, I returned to the Gryffindor Common Room and promptly fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in weeks.

The next morning, I woke up groggier than usual and realized, with some irritation, that I’d slept in. Breakfast in the Great Hall wasn’t an option anymore. Resigned to my fate, I made my way downstairs, fully expecting to scrounge up something to eat later.

What I didn’t expect was Garreth Weasley, waiting for me in the Common Room with an armful of muffins and pastries.

“Morning, sunshine!” he called, grinning from ear to ear.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sight of him. “Good morning, Garreth. I take it breakfast was so good, you couldn’t leave it behind?”

He shrugged, his smile widening. “Something like that. Natty mentioned you had a late night and slept in, though she didn’t have to—I can tell by the look of you.”

Heat crept up my neck as I instinctively ran my fingers through my messy hair. “Charming, as always,” I muttered, though his teasing tone made it impossible to be annoyed.

Garreth laughed and held out one of the pastries. “I thought you might appreciate breakfast on the go.”

I hesitated, staring at the outstretched pastry. His thoughtfulness was surprising—not out of character for Garreth, but still unexpected. I felt my cheeks flush despite myself.

“Really?” I asked, taking the pastry.

“Really,” he replied.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and scooped the rest of the pastries from his arm, dumping them unceremoniously into my own. Garreth burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in.

“Hey, Garreth?” I said between giggles.

“Hmm?”

“Can you grab something out of my satchel?”

“Sure,” he said easily, crouching down to reach the bag slung across my hips.

“There should be a small green velvet bag in there.”

He rummaged for a moment before pulling it out. “Got it.”

“Perfect. Could you hold it open for me?”

With a bemused expression, Garreth pulled the drawstring bag open. One by one, I carefully placed the pastries inside. His eyebrows shot up when the bag didn’t bulge in the slightest.

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” I explained with a grin. “Very handy for sneaking things around.”

“I really need to get one of these,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “Anyway, I’ve got to grab a few things. See you around!”

“Bye, Garreth!”

“Oh, wait!” he said, spinning back around. “Sebastian Sallow asked me to bring you his regards. Nearly ran him over in the Great Hall, almost lost a Yorkshire pudding. Anyway, see you in class!”

I waved as he jogged up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, a small smile lingering on my face. Garreth Weasley, full of surprises. Grateful for his kindness, I was off to classes.

Herbology and Potions had become my two favorite classes, but even favorites could feel monotonous when you already knew most of the material. At least Potions allowed me to keep my back to my classmates, which made ignoring Sebastian much easier. Herbology, however, wasn’t as forgiving. My potting table was right next to his.

Even when I wasn’t facing him, I could feel him. There had been a time when his presence might’ve been comforting—maybe even welcome. Now, it was just a reminder of everything at stake. If he went down the dark path I’d seen him tread in other timelines, it wouldn’t just be Sebastian who suffered.

Still, the class passed without incident. No awkward encounters, just a few fleeting moments of eye contact that left my chest feeling heavier than it should. As soon as Professor Garlick dismissed us, I bolted for the dormitory, shedding my robe in record time before making a break for the Forbidden Forest.

I had hours before meeting Jackdaw but other plans in mind. At the forest’s edge, I pulled a wrapped parcel from my bag—a stromboli turnover. I unwrapped it, took a few bites until it was half-eaten, then sealed it back up.

The familiar rush hit me almost instantly, spreading through every muscle like a live current.

And then I was gone.

The forest blurred around me as I zipped past trees, leaves crunching beneath my feet in rapid succession. If anyone had seen me, I’d have been nothing more than a streak of motion. Soon, the dense forest began to thin, giving way to a rising mountain. I climbed up just below the tree line, staying shaded to avoid any prying eyes from above.

At a quiet spot, I stopped and sat. The rush from the stromboli started to fade, leaving my limbs pleasantly sore in that post-sprint kind of way. I pulled an ink bottle from my bag, set it on a branch seven feet away with Wingardium Leviosa, and flicked my wand.

The vial shifted, its glass swirling into mechanical parts as it reassembled into a small box with a glowing glass dome. The blue light grew brighter, refracting into fragments that coalesced into a hologram of four familiar faces: Charles Peizer, Ben Solo, Paul Atreides, and Peter Parker.

I couldn’t help but grin and could feel my body relax back closer to its normal state.

“Long time no see, fellas.” I said as I finally let my American accent shine though.

“Emma!” Charles greeted, his voice crackling faintly through the projection.

“M!” Paul added with a small smile.

Ben smirked. “Good to see you’re still in one piece.”

I raised my eyebrows, feigning offense. “What, no faith in me?”

Peter grinned. “How’s Hogwarts? Does it feel good to be back, or are you over it already?”

“Definitely both,” I admitted. “It’s boring relearning all the same things, but—” I shrugged, “this place will always feel like home.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You say that about everywhere you go.”

“Okay, fair,” I laughed. “But Hogwarts is different. There’s a kind of magic here you don’t get in other dimensions.”

“Way to make us jealous, MJ,” Peter teased.

I put on my best mock-serious tone. “Hey, next time one of you wants to spend some time here, just say the word. I will make it work.”

The hologram fell silent.

“That’s what I thought!” I said, and we all burst into laughter.

“Oh, Charles,” I added, “I used that Speed Sprinting Stromboli you made.”

His face lit up with curiosity. “Did it hold up okay in your—what do you call it again?”

“My Time Freezer? Yeah, still tasted fresh.”

Paul leaned in slightly. “Speaking of time, how much damage have you done?”

“Wow,” I said, crossing my arms. “You all really have no faith in me, huh? Not much, I hope. Most of what I’ve tried hasn’t stuck. I think this timeline might have fate’s hand steering it more than most.”

Paul nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Peter tilted his head. “What about the guy you’re worried about? What was his name?”

“Sebastian Sallow,” I said, hesitating before continuing. “He’s supposed to—well, at the end of his storyline, he uses the Killing Curse on his uncle in a fit of rage. So I’m trying to prevent it.”

Charles frowned. “And his uncle is important?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘important.’ His death doesn’t change much, dimensionally speaking, but it ruins the lives of a small handful of people.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Then why bother? If it doesn’t change anything big—”

“Because it matters to them,” I interrupted, maybe a bit too sharply. “Although, one of them hasn’t even met me yet, and the other—” I trailed off, rubbing the back of my neck. “The other hates my guts.”

At this, Ben smirked knowingly. “You can see all the pieces coming together on her face.”

Paul shot him a look. “We trust your judgment, M.”

“Thanks, Paul,” I said softly.

We talked for what felt like hours. Peter updated me on his progress mapping infinite dimensions. Paul shared stories from his latest trip back on Arrakis. Charles and Ben had been helping people lost between dimensions, a noble but exhausting endeavor. It was grounding to hear their voices, to remember the broader purpose of why I was here.

Two weeks down. Many more to go.

When we finally said our goodbyes, I stayed on the mountain a while longer, climbing higher until I broke above the tree line. The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and yellow. For a moment, it felt like everything was still.

Then I unwrapped the rest of my magical stromboli, took a deep breath, and sped off to meet Jackdaw.

When I arrived at the spot Jackdaw had mentioned, the moon was already climbing high, casting eerie beams of light through the gaps in the forest canopy. Despite the speed of my journey, night had fallen fast—too fast. Shadows stretched and deepened, the air growing colder with every passing minute. I wrapped my cloak a little tighter around me as I waited, the sound of distant leaves rustling putting me on edge.

It wasn’t long before I spotted him: a faint, glowing figure floating between the trees. Jackdaw’s spectral form glided toward me with that same mischievous grin I’d come to associate with him.

“Here I am, as good as my word,” he said, his voice light but with a hint of apprehension beneath it.

“We meet again, Richard Jackdaw,” I replied, offering a small smile despite the tension prickling my skin.

He tilted his head, the grin widening. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you. Just like a Gryffindor to brave the Forbidden Forest in pursuit of adventure.”

“Well said,” I said with a chuckle. “Now, where do we go from here?”

“Follow me,” Jackdaw said, gesturing down a barely visible trail. “I’ll lead you as far as I can, but I fear I may remain a tad reluctant to revisit the scene of my demise.” He shuddered dramatically. “Keep your eyes open for a birdbath. When you find it, say ‘intra muros.’ I think it’s Latin. Or Greek? As you can imagine, I never paid much attention in school. Shall we?”

With that, he turned and floated ahead, leading me across a crumbling stone bridge and down a foreboding path deeper into the forest. The further we went, the thicker the fog became, curling around the trees and clinging to the ground like ghostly tendrils. Visibility dwindled, and I had to be careful not to trip over exposed roots or the occasional boulder.

Spiderwebs glistened in the moonlight, stretched across the trees like a warning. I brushed a few aside, trying not to think about the creatures that had spun them.

“Surprising how much of this is—rather unfortunately—coming back to me,” Jackdaw murmured as he hovered just ahead.

I didn’t respond, my focus split between him and the path ahead. A clearing began to take shape through the mist, but before we could reach it, Jackdaw froze midair. I stopped in my tracks, looking back at him. His glowing face betrayed fear, though he tried to sound casual.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his voice uneven. “You know, the closer we get, the more I’m remembering. Probably best I leave you to it from here.”

“Understood,” I said, offering a nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Of course. And please—call me Richard,” he said with a small bow before disappearing into the mist.

I watched him go, his glow fading into the fog, before turning my attention back to the path. Despite the eerie atmosphere, the forest had its own strange beauty. The silvery light of the moon bathed everything in an otherworldly glow, and for a moment, I felt a sense of calm.

Eventually, I reached the birdbath Jackdaw had mentioned. It was overgrown with moss and ivy, but its surface shimmered faintly, as if waiting for me. I pulled out my wand, gripping it tightly, and whispered, “Intra muros.”

The birdbath responded instantly. The stone wall built into the hill began to shift, the carved patterns swirling and glowing as if alive. Slowly, the wall parted, revealing a hidden passage. I couldn’t tear my eyes away—it was mesmerizing, like watching a portal to another world come to life.

The surreal moment was interrupted by a sudden whoosh behind me. I whirled around to see three of Ranrok’s Loyalists apparate into the clearing, their weapons already drawn.

“Bit far from home, aren’t you?” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

The leader stepped forward, his armor glinting in the faint light. “Ranrok knew you’d eventually lead us to whatever you’re hiding. Now, hand it over!”

I tightened my grip on my wand and smiled wryly. “Glad I could be of assistance. Unfortunately for you, this is a one-way trip.”

Before they could react, I unleashed a flurry of spells. They moved quickly, dodging and weaving with unnerving speed, but I was faster. Their armor, while formidable, wasn’t nearly as powerful as Ranrok’s own, and my curses tore through it with ease.

I didn’t want to kill them—I never wanted to kill anyone—but their loyalty to Ranrok had sealed their fate long before this moment. When the dust settled, their lifeless forms lay crumpled on the ground, and I pocketed the galleons they left behind.

Turning back to the passage, I placed my hand on the glowing spiral that marked its entrance. The second I touched it, a rush of magic pulled me forward. It felt like being yanked through a portkey, disorienting but oddly exhilarating.

When I landed, I found myself in a massive cavern. The ceiling stretched high above me, almost cathedral-like, and the air was damp and heavy with the scent of earth and stone. I took a deep breath, my wand at the ready, and turned to glance back at the entrance.

For some reason, I half-expected Sebastian to have followed me. The thought lingered for a moment before I pushed it aside.

Shaking off the feeling, I turned back toward the path ahead.

I had no problem navigating the winding trail deeper into the cavern. My boots scuffed softly against the rocky path as the light from my wand illuminated the way. Yet my curiosity gnawed at me—where was the light in this cave coming from? It wasn’t as bright as day, but close enough that I didn’t need my wand for most of the journey. It gave the space an otherworldly glow, as if the sun had decided to pay this hidden world a visit.

The deeper I went, the more the cave revealed its secrets. Alcoves and nooks dotted the walls, many of them holding piles of galleons and other trinkets. I bent down, scooping up a handful of coins and thanking Merlin for my enchanted drawstring bag. It felt like carrying a miniature vault—no weight at all despite the treasure I added.

Still, I wasn’t here for riches. I didn’t care much for the treasure chests rumored to be hidden in this massive cavern. If I passed one, I’d peek inside, but my goal was simple: reach the end. My fingers tightened around my wand as I remembered playing through this part of the game. It had taken me hours to get to the final chamber, partly because I kept dying. I’d foolishly forgotten to bring enough Wiggenweld potions that first time, and the spiders had been relentless.

But this wasn’t a game anymore. I had enough potions to fill a small apothecary and years of spellwork on my side. Plus, I was much better at fighting in person than with a controller.

After weaving through the twisting paths, I finally reached a massive metal gate blocking my way forward. A simple puzzle glinted in the torchlight—runes etched into a stone pedestal. I smiled, my confidence steady as I solved it in under thirty seconds.

The gate creaked open, revealing the part I’d been dreading. Spiders.

I felt the color drain from my face, my hands suddenly clammy. Memories rushed back, unbidden, of Shelob’s Lair in the Lord of the Rings dimension. I’d barely escaped that nightmare with my life, and since then, anything with more than eight legs and bigger than my hand made my stomach churn.

“Well,” I muttered, gripping my wand tighter, “no better time than now to get over this fear.”

I stepped forward, forcing my feet to keep moving. Almost immediately, the first wave descended—skittering legs echoing through the chamber. My wand flicked upward, a quick Incendio lighting the nearest spider ablaze. The horde didn’t stop, though. They poured from the shadows, and I fired spell after spell, picking them off one by one.

The smaller ones were manageable, but the bigger ones made me falter. Memories of sticky webs and venom-tipped fangs flashed in my mind. My breath hitched, but I shook it off. There was no room for panic. I darted between the massive arachnids, confusing them with my sudden movements. A well-aimed Expulso sent one of them flying into the cave wall, and I finished it with an Ancient Magic bolt.

“Farewell, monster,” I whispered under my breath as the last of them crumbled. My hands shook as I exhaled, relief washing over me.

The spiders hadn’t been this plentiful when Jackdaw passed through here. “Where is his body, anyway?”

My eyes scanned the cavern, eventually landing on a large stone mound and another sealed doorway above it. A second puzzle awaited me, but I solved it quickly, adrenaline fueling my focus.

As the doorway opened, the chamber transformed. Debris and rubble lifted from the ground, forming a glowing bridge bathed in torchlight. I crossed cautiously, wand still drawn, and stepped into a massive room.

There, in the center of the chamber, lay a decayed skeleton with swords planted in the ground at its neck.

“We meet again, Richard Jackdaw,” I said softly, bending down to retrieve the yellowed pages tucked into his rotting jacket. The moment my fingers touched them, the room trembled.

I froze, glancing up just as seven Pensieve Sentries materialized around me, their glowing forms reflecting menace.

“Oh boy,” I muttered, spinning my wand into a defensive stance.

The first two came at me fast, but I was faster. My spells tore through them, and they crumbled into nothingness. The next two proved more persistent. Their strikes forced me to stay on the move, firing spells whenever I found an opening. When they finally fell, I turned to face the last three.

The final sentries were massive. Their eerie glow intensified as they lumbered toward me. I fired an Ancient Magic bolt at the nearest one, watching it disintegrate instantly. But the remaining two weren’t so easily defeated.

Their size made them slower to pivot, so I used their lack of mobility to my advantage, dodging their blows and firing from behind. Still, they were resilient, their strength wearing down my patience.

“Just die already!” I shouted, channeling my frustration into an Ancient Magic surge. Energy crackled from my fingertips, obliterating the sentries. As the dust settled, I stared at my hands, stunned by the raw power I’d unleashed.

“Well, that was unexpected,” I said, shaking off the moment as I approached the back of the chamber.

A swirling metal structure stood before me, frozen in time. As I neared, it began to melt, pooling into the floor and forming a gateway. The air shimmered, revealing a room beyond the glowing membrane.

I stepped through cautiously, entering a long stone corridor that opened into a grand chamber. A short bridge led to the other side, but as soon as I stepped forward, the door behind me slammed shut.

Water poured in from above, flooding the room. My breath quickened as panic clawed at my chest. “Did this happen in the game?” I cursing my past self for not memorizing every event.

But as the water rose, an air bubble enveloped me, keeping me dry. I sighed in relief, my steps steady again as I crossed the bridge and headed towards the door on the other side. Just beyond it was yet another set of stairs.

As I climbed the stairs, the air around me seemed to shift, growing cooler and tingling with an almost electric energy. I stepped into a vast chamber, and my breath caught in my throat.

The room was majestic—grand in a way that felt both ancient and otherworldly. The intricate architectural design reminded me of the Gringotts vault, with towering columns carved with swirling runes and a high, arched ceiling that seemed to stretch infinitely upward. The flickering light from enchanted sconces cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the space feel alive.

In the center of the room lay a massive black circle embedded in the floor. It shimmered like the surface of deep, still water, reflecting faint glimmers of light as if hiding secrets beneath its surface. Drawn to it, I stepped onto the circle, feeling a faint hum underfoot.

I tilted my head back, taking in the enormity of the chamber before focusing on the far wall. Four massive portraits loomed above me, their frames ornate and gilded, but their canvases empty. My curiosity grew as I approached, the silence amplifying the sound of my footsteps.

Then, as if summoned by my presence, one of the portraits flickered to life. A figure stepped into the frame, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Can it be?” the man said, his voice rich with curiosity and wonder.

I blinked, recognizing him instantly. “I recognize you from the Pensieves. You’re Professor Rackham.”

“I am indeed,” he said with a small smile, his piercing eyes studying me intently. “I must confess that I am surprised to see someone so young standing before me.”

I met his gaze, feeling a flicker of pride. “I’m the same age as you and Isadora Morganach were when you started at Hogwarts.”

Rackham’s expression softened into one of approval. “You’ve paid attention. And, might I presume, you share our—ability?”

“To see traces of Ancient Magic?” I nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”

A bright smile broke across his face, his relief palpable. “Remarkable. It is a rare gift, one that few truly understand. You have already proven yourself capable, but there is much for you to learn.”

He began to speak about the uniqueness of Ancient Magic, his words both fascinating and cryptic. I listened intently, hanging on every sentence, though I quickly realized he was answering very few of my questions. The excitement in his tone was matched only by his careful restraint, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Finally, he gestured to a pedestal that had risen from the floor beside the black circle. “We have much to discuss, but first—a map found in a certain book led you here. Place the book on the pedestal.”

I frowned, suddenly feeling a pang of regret. “I don’t have the book with me, sir.”

Rackham’s expression faltered, though his voice remained calm. “Hmm. That is unfortunate. I’m afraid we must pause our conversation until you return with the book.”

“Very well,” I said, nodding.

“Good.” He straightened, his form still radiating calm authority. “We shall speak again once the book is in place.”

With a final glance, I turned and began walking back toward the entrance. Except… it wasn’t there anymore. In its place were two curved staircases leading upward to a single, grand door.

Excitement buzzed through my fingertips as I climbed the steps. I had done it. I had found the Map Room. All that was left now was to wait for Professor Fig to return from the Ministry.

Beyond the door, I found myself navigating a maze of stone corridors and staircases. The air grew warmer as I ascended, and before long, I realized I had returned to Hogwarts. The castle’s familiar halls greeted me like an old friend, their mysteries and secrets woven into every stone.

But the realization of how late it must have been quickly struck me. Drawing my wand, I cast the Disillusionment Charm and moved as quietly as possible through the dimly lit corridors. My heart pounded every time I passed a shadow, but I made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room without incident.

Slipping through the entrance, I tiptoed up the stairs to the dormitory, careful not to wake anyone. I was just setting my bag down when a sharp whisper broke the silence.

“Jo, is that you?”

I froze, then turned toward the sound. “Yes, Cressida. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh no, you’re fine,” she whispered back, her voice tinged with concern. “I just wanted to make sure it was you and that you got back alright.”

A little pout formed on my lips, even though I knew she couldn’t see it. Her thoughtfulness caught me off guard.

I let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you!”

“Good. Sleep well!”

“Will do,” I whispered, smiling as I slipped into bed.

As I lay there, the events of the day replayed in my mind. The Map Room, Professor Rackham, the swirling mysteries of Ancient Magic—it all felt so surreal. But what lingered most was the unexpected warmth in Cressida’s words, a reminder that in this strange, shifting world, there were people who cared.

With that thought, I let the weight of exhaustion pull me under, a quiet contentment settling over me as I drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

The sight of letters strewn at the foot of Gwaihir’s perch always brought me a peculiar sense of excitement. Having grown up in the 2000s, where emails and texts dominated, receiving letters—even in a world of magic—still felt like opening tiny parcels of mystery. After breakfast in the Great Hall, I stopped by the Common Room to grab a few things and noticed four letters scattered on the floor beneath Gwaihir’s watchful, intelligent eyes.

“Hard at work this morning, are we?” I teased as I crouched to scoop them up, smoothing the crumpled edges. Gwaihir hooted softly, his head tilting in that knowing way of his. I reached up, running my fingers gently over his tawny feathers, feeling his warmth beneath my touch.

Four letters. That was more than usual.

The first two, from Professors Sharp and Garlick, were nothing unexpected—extra assignments, essays, practice outside of class. I skimmed them, hardly taking in the words before setting them aside on my bed. They could wait.

The third, however, was from Professor Fig.

"Jo, I have returned from my trip to the Ministry. There is much to discuss. I hope to see you soon."

A relieved breath slipped past my lips. Fig was back. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed having him around until now.

But then, my eyes landed on the next letter, and my stomach twisted.

Sebastian.

"I’ve not forgotten about our library venture. I understand your hesitancy, but if you’re keen for some illicit spell practice, meet me outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I know a discreet place near there. Please meet me there on Sunday at 8 p.m. – Sebastian."

I read it again. Then a third time.

A strange mix of excitement and dread curled in my chest. There was no denying the pull I felt toward him, the way my heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing him again. But this? Spell practice. It was another step down the path I was trying to steer him away from.

I sank onto my bed, letters still clutched in my hand. Why was I so desperate to keep him from making the same choices he did in the other timeline? Why was I so determined to stop something that might be inevitable?

It wasn’t just about Sebastian. It never had been.

I thought of Anne. A girl I hadn’t even met, but whose suffering I already felt bound to. Of Ominis, whose life had been upended by the choices his best friend would make. Of Solomon, who had been reduced to nothing more than an obstacle for Sebastian to remove.

And then I thought of Ben’s words.

"Why do you care?"

I still didn’t have an answer.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts away. No point in unraveling this now. It was too tangled a web.

Instead, I turned my focus to something I could control.

Last night, as I had left the Map Chamber, an idea had struck me like lightning.

The trials. They were a waste of time.

I already knew what each Pensieve memory contained—what they were meant to teach me. If I played my cards right, maybe I wouldn’t have to go through them at all.

I would tell Percival Rackham that I was a Seer, that I could glimpse into the future. I would convince him that I already knew everything the trials were meant to reveal, and that it would be far more beneficial for me to spend my time studying Ancient Magic itself, rather than proving I was worthy of it.

It was a gamble, but if I pulled it off… it would change everything.

Tucking the letters into my side bag, I stood, shaking off the last remnants of uncertainty.

I needed to see Fig.

I moved through the castle quickly, though I forced myself not to outright run. It wasn’t just eagerness that spurred me forward—it was purpose.

The air in the corridors was thick with the scent of parchment and candle wax, and the early morning light filtered through stained glass windows, painting shifting colors onto the ancient stone walls. As I passed through the long corridors, I caught sight of a few familiar faces—students I had helped in the past weeks. A second-year Ravenclaw waved shyly in thanks as she walked by, likely still grateful for my assistance in retrieving her lost Gobstones. A Hufflepuff boy nodded at me, the same one I had helped find a secret room in the castle.

I barely had time to acknowledge them before I reached Professor Fig’s classroom.

Without hesitation, I knocked and stepped inside.

Fig was pacing, deep in thought, but when he saw me, his face brightened. “I was hoping to see you today.”

“Professor, you’re back!” I said, unable to hide my excitement.

“Finally,” he said with a weary chuckle. “Minister Spavin talks more than he listens. Ranted on and on about rogue dragons. Wouldn’t listen to a word about goblins. Speaking of which—”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Listen, Professor. So much happened while you were away. Nearly Headless Nick asked me to get some rotten roast beef from the kitchens—”

Fig blinked. “Rotten roast beef?”

“Yes. I thought it was odd too. But then we took it to Sir Podmore of the Headless Hunt and—”

“The Headless Hunt?” He looked both intrigued and bewildered. “That must have been interesting—”

“It was!” I rushed on, words tumbling out. “And then I had to find Richard Jackdaw’s head in the pumpkins so he’d tell me how he died.”

“Richard Jackdaw?”

I realized I was babbling. Fig stood there, smiling kindly, his full attention on me. It was… comforting.

I slowed down, choosing my words more carefully. “Anyway, he told me about a secret cavern. I went there, and right next to his skeleton were the missing pages.”

Fig’s eyes widened. “You found the pages?”

“I did. And because Jackdaw had followed the map they contained, when I found the pages, I found the location on the map. Believe it or not, it’s a room below Hogwarts.”

Fig gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised? Shall we?”

This was it.

This was the moment.

I had debated telling him everything—about my plan to lie to Rackham, to skip the trials, to bend fate itself in my favor.

But the words never came.

Instead, I simply nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that. Oh, and we’ll need to bring the book.

Fig looked pleasantly surprised but wasted no time in gathering his things. Together, we left his office and made our way through the castle, descending deeper into its hidden depths.

The torches flickered as we passed, the air growing cooler, the stone corridors narrowing. The castle had a way of making you feel small when it wanted to, of reminding you that no matter how much magic you wielded, it would always have its own secrets, its own will.

And today, I was going to test just how much I could bend that will to my own.

The grand set of double doors groaned open, revealing the vast, dimly lit chamber beyond. I stepped through behind Professor Fig, and the sheer scale of the room took my breath away.

Massive stone pillars stretched upward, their carvings worn smooth with age, and intricate archways loomed overhead, giving the chamber a cathedral-like presence. A sense of quiet reverence settled over me, as though I had stepped into something sacred, something untouched by time.

“To think it was beneath us all this time,” Fig murmured, his voice filled with awe.

I followed his gaze to the massive, dark circle in the floor below. It was deep black, like the surface of still water on a moonless night, and yet, faint traces of magic swirled beneath it like currents in the deep sea. Fig clutched the book tightly as he approached the central pedestal. I instinctively trailed behind him, my eyes darting between the four empty portraits towering over us from the far wall.

Then, the pedestal began to glow.

Threads of magic unraveled from its base, slithering upward in shimmering arcs before twisting around the book like living ribbons of light. The moment Fig placed the book down, the enchantment surged, illuminating the chamber with pulses of golden energy. The glow traveled outward, cascading down the pedestal and onto the dark circle below.

And then—

Light exploded outward.

Stars—tiny pinpricks of brilliance—burst into existence, scattering across the map like fireflies in the night. I let out a small gasp, momentarily overwhelmed by the beauty of it. The magic shimmered and pulsed, shifting in mesmerizing patterns as the stars moved, rearranging themselves.

Fig was already descending the stairs, stepping into the sea of stars with unbridled wonder. Every step sent ripples across the glowing field, distorting the light as though he were walking on the surface of a great cosmic lake. His expression was one of pure, childlike fascination, and I found myself smiling as I followed, though I kept my pace slower, watching him take it all in.

He suddenly halted, lifting a foot as though he had stepped on something tangible. The swirling stars beneath him rippled again, forming the outlines of mountains, rivers, and villages.

“A map,” Fig breathed. He pointed excitedly. “There’s Hogsmeade. And over here, the Forbidden Forest. And of course, Hogwarts. It’s magnificent.”

His voice held the same kind of wonder I had felt the first time I laid eyes on something truly extraordinary, and I found myself watching my friend instead of the map.

Then, his gaze drifted upward toward the empty portraits, and his enthusiasm faltered. He let out a breath, his expression sobering.

“If only you were here to see this,” he murmured, almost to himself.

My chest tightened. I didn’t need to ask who he was speaking to. I knew the weight of loss all too well—the sting of missing someone who should have been by your side for a moment like this. For a split second, the face of someone I had lost flickered through my mind, the memory striking sharper than expected. I blinked hard, forcing it away. That felt like a lifetime ago.

A sudden movement in one of the portraits made me straighten.

A figure stepped into the frame—a man in rich robes with a wise, knowing gaze.

“Hello, Professor Rackham,” I said, pulling myself back into the present. “We’ve placed the book on the pedestal, as you asked. And this is my… mentor, Professor Fig.”

Rackham regarded Fig with polite curiosity. “How do you do, Professor Fig? And you, my young friend, see now why you needed to return with the book?”

I nodded. “I do. I also see why you refer to this room as the ‘Map Chamber.’”

Rackham studied me for a long moment, his sharp eyes measuring, evaluating. “That you have come this far tells me that you possess extraordinary magical ability—the potential and power of which will unlock, should you prove yourself worthy.”

There was a weight behind his words that made me tense. I already knew what was coming.

“The location of each of four trials will, in time, appear on the map,” Rackham continued. “Trials that will test you and give you access to invaluable knowledge. Trials that you must complete on your own.”

I forced myself not to react, but inwardly, frustration bubbled. Just as I suspected—he wasn’t going to give me the knowledge outright. He wanted me to earn it, step by step, piece by piece. If I was going to convince him otherwise, it wouldn’t be easy.

“Do you recall the Pensieve memory you viewed in my vault at Gringotts?” Rackham asked.

I nodded. “I do. You and your friend Charles spoke of the Portkey and of trials you’d created for one who could see traces of Ancient Magic.”

“Precisely. Charles is another of the Keepers—a designation we gave ourselves centuries ago—in light of the knowledge that we have been bound to keep hidden. Until perhaps now.”

He studied me carefully before continuing. “You will need patience to complete these trials. They have much to teach you. It will take time.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of time,” Fig interjected, his voice firm.

Rackham’s brow furrowed. “We have waited this long, Professor Fig. Surely a few more—”

“Respectfully, sir,” Fig cut in, “while I do not know the secret you keep, I do know that our young friend here has seen traces of a powerful Dark Magic being wielded by goblinkind. And we encountered an uncommonly powerful goblin wielding such magic as we prepared to leave your vault at Gringotts. We may already be too late.”

A shadow passed over Rackham’s face. “This is grave news indeed.” He turned to me fully. “Young friend—what is your name?”

“Jo McClam, sir.”

He nodded. “Jo, do you trust Professor Fig?”

“With my life.”

Rackham’s expression softened slightly. “Then, in the light of your considerable skill and all you have already accomplished, we shall begin. You will find the location of the first trial marked on the map below you. Whilst Professor Fig may assist you in locating the trials, they may be completed only by one with our ability.”

Fig turned to me. “Shall we have a look?”

Together, we turned back to the shimmering starscape at our feet, scanning for the marker. There—just northwest of Hogwarts, a tower glowed faintly, its outline forming against the map’s surface.

Fig nodded. “I know that tower. It’s not far. You may have seen it yourself.”

I tilted my head slightly. “It looks familiar. Perhaps your ‘young friend’ is more well-traveled than you might think.”

Fig gave me an amused glance before returning his attention to the map. “As your ‘mentor,’ the least I can do is go ahead of you and make sure it is safe. I will check it out and then send you an owl. If it is safe enough, we should plan on going back to the tower after classes end this week.”

I gave a firm nod. “Sounds good to me.”

“Wonderful,” Fig said with a small smile. “Be careful, and do not tell anyone where you’re going.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. “Will do, sir.” I hesitated, glancing back at Rackham’s portrait. “I think I’d like to have a word with Professor Rackham about some personal concerns. I’ll see you later, Professor.”

Fig gave me an approving nod before turning to leave. As soon as the heavy doors shut behind him, I turned back to Rackham.

“May I have a word, Professor?”

He studied me for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “You may. However, I may not have a lot of answers to give. They may come in time as you learn more about the power you possess.”

I exhaled and squared my shoulders. This was it. Time to see if I could change the course of events—on my terms.

As the heavy doors of the Map Chamber closed behind Professor Fig, I took a slow breath, steadying myself. Now came the hard part.

I turned back to Rackham, who watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Expectation? Curiosity? Suspicion? I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I had to tread carefully. If I didn’t phrase this just right, if I misstep even once, I risked losing my only opportunity to alter the course of what was to come.

“You wish to speak further,” Rackham stated. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, stepping forward. “I do.”

The glow from the enchanted map cast shifting patterns across the floor, painting the chamber in a soft, ethereal light. The magic here was ancient, powerful, and yet… limited. The Keepers had built it as a safeguard, but even the most carefully constructed walls had cracks. And I needed to find one.

Rackham studied me, waiting.

I took a breath. “Is it my understanding that you are a Seer?”

His head tilted slightly, as if intrigued by the direction I was taking. “Yes, I am.”

Perfect.

“So am I.”

For the briefest moment, I saw something flicker across his face—mild surprise, perhaps, but not disbelief.

“There are many things that I have been able to see regarding the power we wield and the information gained through the trials,” I continued carefully. “I do not wish to alarm you or impose upon your meticulously planned path made for one with my ability to follow, so allow me to lead with this: What Isidora Morganach did was wrong. And I will not follow in her footsteps.”

Rackham’s expression darkened at the mention of Isidora, his posture stiffening ever so slightly.

I pressed on. “I know what each trial entails. I know what information is contained within each Pensieve memory. And I have come to the conclusion on my own accord that the way she used her power is dangerous. But that is only part of what I have foreseen.”

Rackham remained silent, watching me closely.

I clenched my fists. “I also know that people I care about will die helping me along this path of understanding. And while I may be willing to make whatever sacrifice is necessary to protect this power and use it for good, I wish to spare their lives. For their sake as well as the people they love and care for.”

His sharp gaze didn’t waver, but there was something in his eyes—something almost like sympathy.

“So after careful pondering,” I continued, my voice quieter now, “I have decided to approach you with a proposition: allow me to skip the trials.” The words hung in the air, heavy and unwavering.

“This will save us time and prevent the goblin extremists from gaining the upper hand,” I went on. “And it will save lives—including the life of my mentor, Professor Fig.”

I let the plea settle.

Please.

Rackham stroked his beard, his gaze unreadable. Then he spoke.

“I can tell that this proposition comes from a place of sincere desire to prevent chaos and death,” he said, his voice slow and measured. “I will not allow it.”

My stomach twisted.

Rackham sighed, shaking his head. “I also, to be frank, do not believe you.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Professor, I promise—”

“Enough.”

His tone was firm, not angry, but the weight of his authority pressed down on me like an iron wall.

“As a Seer myself,” he said, watching me carefully, “I know that prophecies and insights are never that specific. Not for me, nor for any other Seer I have known.”

A pause.

“I can sense your altruistic intentions,” he admitted, “and I do not think you seek to skip the trials for a selfish reason. But now I am curious as to how, exactly, you have received this information.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I had been caught.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, my mind scrambling for a response, but nothing came. My gaze flickered to the floor, my silence giving me away.

Rackham waited. Slowly, quietly, I spoke.

“Did I mention that Bragbor kept journals of how he made each Repository?”

Rackham’s brow furrowed. “Bragbor what?” His voice sharpened. “Is that how you received this information?”

I hesitated. “No.”

“Then enlighten me,” he said, his voice growing colder, “or I will not allow you to walk this path at all.”

Panic clawed at my chest.

My plan had seemed sound—tell Rackham I was a Seer, convince him that skipping the trials was in everyone’s best interest, and move forward without delay. But he wasn’t buying it. And worse, he was now demanding the truth.

My mind raced, trying to fabricate a lie that would be convincing enough to satisfy him. But what could I possibly say that he wouldn’t see straight through?

I swallowed hard. I had no way out of this.

Slowly, I exhaled in defeat as I reached into my bag. My fingers found the smooth surface of the device I had been dreading to use. A last resort. But it seemed I had no choice.

I pulled it out—a sleek black ring, about the circumference of a baseball, its mechanical surface humming faintly with hidden energy.

Rackham’s eyes narrowed as I tossed it toward his portrait.

Before it could hit the ground, the ring hovered, floating into place above the portrait. A soft, vibrating hum filled the chamber as the device activated, casting a cone of light around both of us.

Rackham tensed as the glow settled over him.

“What on earth is that?” he asked warily.

“A Cone of Silence,” I replied, my voice flat. “It prevents anyone or anything outside the bubble from hearing us. And it is not actually from Earth.”

Rackham’s expression flickered with concern.

I crossed my arms. “And as much as I would love to trust such a hidden and well-built room like this, I’m taking no chances.”

His wariness didn’t fade, but he inclined his head slightly, urging me to continue.

I inhaled deeply.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m not a Seer. And the power I wield to see and manipulate Ancient Magic isn’t the only power I possess.”

Rackham’s eyes darkened.

“I can travel through time and space.”

He said nothing, but I could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers curled into his robes.

I pressed on. “Before coming to Hogwarts this year, I spent an accumulative two years at Hogwarts… approximately a hundred years from now. I come from a version of Earth that contains no apparent magic,” I continued. “But we had books. Books we thought were fictional. And in our world, they were. They told stories of many different worlds, including this one.”

I lifted my hand, conjuring an orb of light between my fingers. With a flick, the light twisted into the shape of a globe—my home.

“Eventually,” I said, voice quiet, “magic crept into my world. I was one of three who could sense it.”

Bright white tendrils of light spread across the globe. Then, slowly, the light darkened, twisting, suffocating the surface in a creeping purple shadow.

“And then… something happened.”

The darkened globe cracked and crumbled in my palm. Rackham inhaled sharply.

I forced my voice to stay steady. “I fled my world as it collapsed behind me. And to this day, I don’t know if anyone survived.”

I let the silence hang between us, feeling the weight of my words. When I finally looked back at Rackham, his gaze was unreadable.

“You have seen so much, my young friend,” he murmured. “I believe you.”

I exhaled, my shoulders sagging with the sheer relief of those three words.

But then—

“I knew a girl once,” he added, almost thoughtfully. “She spoke of traveling between worlds, just as you do.”

I blinked in surprise. “Was her name Alissa?”

His eyes brightened. “Indeed it was.”

I let out a small laugh. “I knew Alissa.”

But I said nothing more. Some things were better left unsaid. A picture of Alissa’s lifeless body lying on a forest floor flashed through my head. I shuddered slightly but tried my very best not to make it visible.

Professor Rackham hummed thoughtfully, his gaze distant, as if he were piecing together some great puzzle in his mind. The light from the enchanted map flickered, casting shifting shadows across his aged features.

“You are unlike anyone I have encountered before,” he mused. “Not in ability, but in spirit. You have the knowledge of an elder and the resolve of a warrior, yet you carry the sorrow of someone who has seen too much.”

I swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong.

“There is much I would like to ask you,” he continued. “And much I would like to teach you. But, as I said before, knowledge must be earned. I believe you, Jo McClam, but belief does not change the fact that power, when given too freely, leads to corruption. Even with the best of intentions.”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to remain calm. “I understand that, Professor. But you have to see that this is bigger than just me. The trials will take time—time we don’t have. If Ranrok succeeds in finding the repositories before I do, if more people die because I was stuck running through challenges you already know the answers to—”

“I do not know the answers,” Rackham interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “That is precisely why the trials exist. They do not only teach knowledge, they shape the one who wields it. Ancient Magic is not something that can be given—it must be grown into, understood, accepted.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “But I already know—”

“You know pieces,” he corrected. “You claim to have foreseen what is to come, but I ask you this: has knowing the future ever truly changed it?”

I faltered.

Images flashed in my mind—Sebastian’s stubborn determination, Solomon’s inevitable fate, as well as the lifeless forms of people I had tried to save in other dimensions. I remembered the times I had tried to alter the course of events with great success. But I also remembered all the times I had failed.

Rackham’s expression softened at my silence. “Even with knowledge, destiny has a way of righting itself. You cannot skip the trials, Jo. No matter what you believe you know, you are not yet ready for what lies at the end of this path.”

I let out a slow, measured breath. There it was. His final word on the matter. No bargaining, no exceptions.

For the first time in a long time, I felt utterly powerless.

I straightened, masking my disappointment behind a practiced nod. “Understood.”

He studied me for a moment longer before giving a slow nod in return. “I know you do not agree, but I ask that you trust me, as I am trusting you.”

The weight of his gaze pressed against me like an unspoken challenge. After a long pause, I relented. “I do.”

“Good.” His voice softened. “And Jo… the burden you carry is heavy, but you are not alone. Even the most powerful of us need help sometimes.”

I hesitated, absorbing his words. He meant well, I knew that. But at the end of the day, he didn’t truly understand what I carried.

No one did. I stepped back, dispelling the Cone of Silence with a flick of my fingers. The device whirred, its glow fading before it collapsed back into its compact form, floating gently into my open palm.

“I should go,” I said quietly. “Professor Fig will be expecting an update.”

Rackham inclined his head. “Be careful, Jo McClam. And do not lose yourself in trying to change what cannot be changed.”

I gave a small, forced smile before turning on my heel, heading toward the doors. As I ascended the stairs, I could feel his eyes on my back, as if still weighing my every move.

But my mind wasn’t on him anymore. It was on the path ahead and what I had to do next.

And for the first time since arriving in this world, I wasn’t sure if I could win.

I lingered in my dorm much longer than I had intended. After returning from the Map Room, I had gone straight to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, burying myself in schoolwork for hours before heading to the Great Hall for lunch. I didn’t leave until dinner, spending the time in between chatting with students and halfheartedly studying. Anything to keep myself busy. Anything to avoid thinking too much about tonight.

But now, standing in front of my mirror as I fastened my emerald earrings, there was no avoiding it. My fingers grazed the embroidery on my blouse—the delicate vines and flowers adding a touch of warmth to the crisp white fabric. Paired with my fitted waistcoat, long skirt, and lace-up boots, I felt comfortable but put-together. I had never been one for frills, but this felt like a balance. Sensible.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the ridiculous thought lingering in my mind. Why does it feel like I’m getting ready for something more than just a meeting?

I scoffed at myself, shaking my head as I grabbed my coat and bag. It’s just Sebastian.

The walk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower stretched longer than I remembered, my feet moving on instinct as my mind drifted. Memories surfaced unbidden—the library, the way Scribner’s voice had cut through the air like a whip, the way Sebastian had stood there, unwavering, as he took the blame.

"There was nobody else. I came alone."

Even now, the weight of those words sent an uneasy warmth through me. I had wanted to step forward, to stop Scribner from tearing into him, but I had hesitated. And he had protected me anyway.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought down, forcing my mind to refocus. You’re not here to get close to him. You’re here to make sure he doesn’t destroy himself.

As I climbed the stairs and rounded the corner, I spotted him before he saw me. He leaned casually against the stone wall beneath the flickering glow of a sconce, arms crossed, watching the hallway like he’d been waiting there for hours. The moment his eyes found mine, he straightened, smirking.

“Jo,” he said, his voice smoother than it had any right to be. “Took you long enough.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, stopping a few steps away. “I wasn’t aware this was an urgent matter.”

“Everything I do is urgent,” he said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

I crossed my arms, forcing myself to stay guarded. “What do you want, Sebastian?”

His smirk faltered just a little, but only for a second. “I have something to show you,” he said, then, tilting his head, “but I was actually hoping we could talk first.”

My jaw tightened. “About?”

His brows knit together. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

I huffed. “That’s not—”

“It is,” he cut in. “Since the Library, since—Merlin, I don’t know. It’s like one minute we’re fine, and the next, you’re acting like I’ve contracted dragon pox.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Is it?” He took a step closer, forcing me to meet his gaze. “If you didn’t want me involved, you could’ve just said so instead of running circles around me.”

I clenched my fists at my sides. “I never asked you to follow me that night, Sebastian. You made that choice.”

His expression darkened, but not with anger—something else, something closer to hurt. “And I’d make it again,” he said firmly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I tend to be rather persistent.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that.”

Silence stretched between us, the air thick with things unsaid.

Then, with a sigh, I finally caved. “Listen… I do appreciate what you did in the Library. Taking the fall for me, not turning me in.” I hesitated, forcing my voice to steady. “That was… really decent of you.”

Sebastian tilted his head, studying me. “Did that physically hurt to admit?”

I rolled my eyes, and just like that, the tension broke.

“There she is,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a small, amused grin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled before taking a step back. “Well, now that we’re friends again—”

“Debatable.”

“—there’s something I want to show you.” He gestured to me to follow. “Not even the professors know about this place.”

I gave him a wary look, but curiosity won out in the end. With a shake of my head, I fell into step beside him.

This was dangerous—being here, with him, letting my guard down even the slightest bit. And yet, I didn’t stop walking.

Sebastian led me behind a pillar, his steps quick and deliberate, as though eager to share something he’d been holding onto for a long time. In the corner, half-hidden in the shadows, stood a large, wooden cabinet. It was an ornate and intricate piece, covered in celestial dials and shifting mechanisms that looked as though they measured time through the movement of the stars themselves.

He pulled out his wand, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Watch this.”

With a flick, the dials spun wildly before aligning all at once, a faint chime echoing through the stone walls. The front of the cabinet unlatched and swung open, revealing a passageway. A chill curled around my spine—not from fear, but from the weight of knowing exactly where this led.

The Undercroft.

Sebastian stepped in first, disappearing into the dimly lit corridor. I hesitated, just for a moment, before following him down the short passageway. The air was warmer here, the flickering candlelight casting long, stretching shadows against the stone walls. The space was larger than I thought it would be—vaulted ceilings, arched supports, and aged sconces that gave off just enough light to make it feel more mysterious than foreboding.

I exhaled slowly. Regardless of having already known this room existed, I couldn’t deny the thrill of standing here now, as if I were discovering something forbidden for the first time. My fingers ghosted over an old wooden bench as I wandered deeper into the chamber. Sebastian did the same, trailing his hand along the stone wall before finally turning to me.

"How did you find this place?" I asked, feigning curiosity, though I already knew the answer.

His expression softened as he walked further in, glancing around with the kind of familiarity that only came from years of memories woven into these walls.

"Ominis showed me. He named it the Undercroft." His voice held a strange mix of fondness and restraint, like he was holding something back. "We used to play Gobstones here all the time—with my sister Anne."

His lips barely curved into a smile before it faltered. He lowered his gaze, his fingers curling slightly at his sides.

"She loved that infernal game. What I wouldn’t give to lose to her again."

I stilled. He wasn’t looking at me, but for once, he wasn’t trying to hide what he felt, either. The weight of his words settled between us, heavy and unspoken.

I swallowed, my chest tightening slightly. It was strange, seeing this side of him—the boy beneath the arrogance, beneath the reckless bravado.

"I should tell you," he said after a beat, pulling himself back into the present. "I swore to Ominis I would safeguard this place. He never confides in anyone—but he’s trusted me since the day we met. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that."

There it was again—the secrecy. The expectation. The quiet plea to keep something from Ominis, to put trust in him alone.

I forced a small smile. “My lips are sealed, I promise.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

His shoulders eased slightly at my words, though his gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer.

"How exactly did Ominis find this place?"

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "Someone in his family knew about it. The Gaunts are full of secrets." There was something almost disdainful in the way he said it. "I’ve never heard anyone else speak of it, and I’ve certainly never seen anyone else here."

He hesitated, as if deciding whether to say more, then added, "Again, mention this to no one. Especially Ominis. He has no love lost for his family or their secrets, but this place is special to him."

I nodded, but the unease didn’t quite leave me. I didn’t like keeping things from Ominis, no matter how much he despised me. But this—this was a secret I was willing to keep. For now.

Sebastian’s lips quirked. "Anyway, the Undercroft has been the perfect place to sneak off to—away from prying eyes—and even practice otherwise forbidden spells."

My stomach twisted.

I knew this moment was coming, but I still wasn’t ready for it.

"Really?" I asked, carefully keeping my voice neutral. "Like what?"

He smirked, clearly relishing the anticipation. "The Blasting Curse."

Relief flooded me so fast I almost laughed. Not an Unforgivable Curse.

"Professors say it’s not an appropriate spell to teach students."

I arched a brow. "So, in other words, it’s your favorite spell to use."

"You know me well." His grin widened. "I am admittedly partial to more fiery forms of magic, but you should learn it. I can teach it to you safely in the Undercroft."

He took a step closer, then—too close.

My breath hitched slightly as his hands came up to my shoulders, adjusting me into position without hesitation. His touch was fleeting, light, but it left a ghost of warmth in its wake. My heart stuttered before I forced myself to focus.

It’s just a spell. That’s all.

Sebastian stepped back, pulling out his wand. "Mimic my wand movement. The incantation is Confringo."

I watched as he whipped his wand in a sharp Z-shape, his movements fluid, confident. I mirrored him, my hand steady.

"Good," he said, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Now try it."

I squared my shoulders, lifting my wand. "Confringo!"

A blast of fire erupted from my wand, colliding against the far wall with a loud, resounding crack. The warmth of the spell hummed against my fingertips, the energy thrumming in my bones.

I glanced down at my wand, a slow smile curling on my lips. That was—

"Impressive."

Sebastian’s voice broke through my thoughts, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. I turned toward him, expecting some snide remark, but his gaze was fixed on me—appraising, unreadable.

"Didn’t think you had that in you," he teased.

I smirked. "Please. You underestimate me."

"Clearly." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "The first time Ominis and I practiced Confringo, we singed our eyebrows off."

A laugh bubbled from my throat before I could stop it. "I would’ve paid to see that!"

"I swore we’d never live it down." He shook his head, grinning. "To this day, there’s something about that spell that’s addictive."

I rolled my shoulders, still feeling the embers of magic lingering beneath my skin. "I can see why. I understand why the Professors don’t want students throwing fireballs in the halls, but…" I exhaled, glancing back at the scorch marks. "That was fun."

Sebastian’s smirk softened into something else—something that made my pulse jump slightly before I quickly looked away.

This was dangerous.

Not just the magic. Not just the secrecy.

Him.Top of Form

I shook off the lingering heat in my fingertips, forcing my mind elsewhere. Dangerous. That’s what this was. And it had nothing to do with the fire still crackling along the walls.

Turning away from Sebastian, I let my eyes wander the Undercroft, trailing my fingers absently along the grooves in the stone as I walked.

“So,” I said, voice deliberately light. “Tell me more about Anne.”

I flicked a glance over my shoulder just in time to catch the way his expression shifted—something easing in his posture, though whether it was out of comfort or sorrow, I couldn’t tell.

Sebastian exhaled, leaning against one of the wide stone pillars. “She’s my other half.” His voice was quiet. “Being down here isn’t the same without her… but, what am I kidding? Nothing is.”

I watched him carefully, his fingers curling slightly as he spoke.

Anne. The name alone carried so much weight in his voice, in the way he held himself. His devotion to his sister was something raw, something untamed. Something dangerous. I had no doubt he would burn the world to the ground if it meant saving her.

“I visit as much as I can,” he continued. “But even then—I still miss her. I miss the real Anne. The one who’d be getting into trouble right alongside me and Ominis.”

A small, wistful smile ghosted across his lips before it flickered away. He shook his head, then glanced at me, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you remind me of her.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Really? How so?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe your sense of adventure. The difference is… you try to hide yours behind a façade of seriousness.”

I froze for half a second before forcing a small scoff. “That so?”

But the moment had already passed.

Sebastian studied me for a moment longer, then exhaled, sliding down the pillar until he was sitting on the floor, with one knee drawn up to his chest. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter.

I hesitated, then followed suit, sinking down against the opposite pillar, facing him from a safe enough distance.

I sighed in defeat. “I suppose I have been a bit cagey.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Maybe just a little.”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “I suppose this is the part where I divulge my deepest, darkest secrets, huh?”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. “It’s like you read my mind.”

This. This was familiar. The playful back-and-forth, the teasing edge to his words—it was easy. Too easy.

I leaned back against the stone, eyes drifting toward the arched ceiling. “Not even sure where I’d start.”

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Maybe with the fact that Victor Rookwood didn’t ‘mistake’ you for someone else at all in Hogsmeade.”

My stomach twisted, but I masked it with an amused huff. “How did you know?”

His smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I pay attention.”

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the pillar, debating how much to say. Then, finally:

“I’ll tell you what I can.”

Sebastian sat up a little straighter.

“Rookwood and Ranrok are after something they think I took from a vault in Gringotts.”

His brows shot up. “Gringotts?”

"Yes. Fig and I wound up there after the dragon attack.” I hesitated. "There was a Portkey—”

His gaze sharpened. “A Portkey to Gringotts?”

“It’s… a bit convoluted.”

Sebastian gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m listening.”

I opened my mouth, then stopped.

This was the moment—the one where I had to decide exactly how much of myself I was willing to give away.

Sebastian was watching me now, waiting, his expression patient but expectant. He didn’t push, didn’t pry, but I could see it in his face—he wanted to know.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Look, I made a promise to Fig that not a soul would know, and—”

I cut myself off, locking eyes with Sebastian.

Neither of us spoke.

For a long moment, it was just silence—the kind that stretched and dared one of us to break it.

Then, finally, I sighed. “Fine, I—”

“Jo, stop.”

I blinked, startled by the interruption. “What?”

Sebastian shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I stared at him, unsure how to respond. That was… unexpected.

“But I thought—”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “It’s not that I don’t want to know. I do. But I don’t want you breaking a promise just because you feel obligated to tell me something.”

My lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

That was—that was not what I thought he was going to say.

I searched his face, looking for any sign of dishonesty, but there was none. Just the same reckless, frustrating, infuriating boy I had known since the start of the term.

Only now, he felt… different.

Slowly, I smiled.

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh, then stood in one smooth motion. He stepped toward me, offering a hand.

I hesitated for half a second before reaching up, letting him pull me to my feet.

It was a mistake.

I realized that the second I was standing—too close, his hand still wrapped around mine, warmth seeping through my fingers.

His grip lingered, thumb brushing absentmindedly against my knuckles before he finally—finally—released me.

I swallowed. “We—um—we should head back. Don’t want to get caught sneaking around after curfew.”

Sebastian smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “You’re right.”

But he didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Then, just when the silence started to feel too much, he tilted his head. “One more thing before we go.”

I raised a brow. “Should I be concerned?”

He chuckled. “Not this time.”

A pause. Then, a little more carefully: “When I next head to Feldcroft, you should come along. Meet Anne.”

My breath hitched slightly, but I masked it with an easy nod. “Just let me know when.”

Something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe. “Perfect.”

He lingered for a second longer before finally stepping back. “You go on ahead. I think I’ll stay here a bit.”

I studied him for a moment but didn’t press. If he needed space, I wasn’t going to question it.

With a small nod, I turned toward the passage, climbing the steps back toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower.

I had barely stepped through the cabinet’s entrance when a voice froze me in place.

“Hello, Sebastian. Wait… You there, I can hear you!”

My heart plummeted.

Ominis.

Chapter Text

I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears. Think, Jo, think.

Ominis was blind. If I acted quickly, I could conjure a portal and slip away before he got too close. He’d never know. I just had to hope no one else was watching.

My hand twitched—but no, too risky. The castle had eyes everywhere. If someone happened to catch a glimpse of a shimmering rift appearing out of nowhere, I’d have a much bigger problem on my hands.

I had barely abandoned the thought before his voice cut through the silence.

“Jo McClam.”

Each syllable was laced with resentment, his tone sharp enough to slice through stone.

I turned slowly, schooling my expression into something neutral. "Hello, Ominis."

His frown deepened. “Did you just come from the Undercroft?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t wait for an answer.

“How did you get in there?”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping into my well-practiced act.

"That room is called ‘the Undercroft?’ Ah. Well, I was exploring and suddenly found myself in a strange passageway—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

His voice was quiet but cut through me like ice.

“No one stumbles upon that room.”

I clenched my jaw, but before I could try a different approach, he took a step closer, tilting his head as though listening for the slightest tremor in my breath.

“Sebastian told you, didn’t he?”

There was no point denying it now. I glanced away, guilt twisting in my stomach—not because I had found the Undercroft, but because I knew this would only drive a deeper wedge between them.

His next words, however, sent a chill down my spine.

"You breathe a word about this place to anyone, and not even your precious Professor Fig will be able to help you."

My eyes snapped back to him in shock, but he wasn’t finished.

"My father is friends with the Headmaster. I’m not afraid to exploit that connection if I need to."

I narrowed my gaze, quickly recovering from the momentary surprise. He’s bluffing.

Ominis despised his family. From everything I knew, he was practically estranged from them, and I highly doubted he’d contact his lunatic father just to take down a fellow student.

Still, the weight behind his words was enough to make me tread carefully. The last thing I wanted was to make an enemy of him.

"You needn’t threaten me," I said, keeping my voice measured. "I’m not going to say anything about your Undercroft."

His scowl didn’t waver.

I exhaled, deciding to take a gamble. "And Sebastian is a good friend. You shouldn’t immediately assume the worst of him."

The second the words left my mouth, I knew I had overstepped.

Ominis’ expression darkened in an instant, his jaw tightening.

"I don’t need you to tell me about my oldest friend, thank you very much!"

I took an instinctive step back, lifting my hands slightly in a silent peace offering.

"Ominis, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

His voice was clipped, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He took a steady breath, as if reigning himself in. “Sebastian gets himself into enough trouble. He doesn’t need your help.”

I swallowed hard, the sting of his words sharper than I’d expected.

I had known from the start that Ominis disliked me. But this—this was more than just dislike.

He blamed me.

He couldn’t see me, but I knew if he could, I’d find nothing but anger in his piercing gaze.

Without another word, he turned sharply and strode past me toward the entrance to the Undercroft.

"Sebastian is going to get an earful about this," he muttered before disappearing into the passage.

I stood there, frozen in place, my stomach twisting with embarrassment and regret.

This was not how I wanted things to go.

I sighed, pressing my lips together before turning toward the stairs.

I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t the last I’d heard of it.

That entire week, I could feel Ominis’s hatred like a physical weight in the air.

He wasn’t loud about it—not like Sebastian would’ve been if our roles were reversed. No, Ominis’s fury was the quiet, seething kind. The kind that lingered, pressing down on you like a storm waiting to break.

Like Sebastian, I shared most of my classes with him. Unfortunately, unlike Sebastian, he made no effort to hide his distaste for my existence. When Sebastian and I talked, Ominis stayed far away. I even noticed that he and Sebastian spoke less than usual.

That thought sent an uncomfortable pang through me.

I still felt guilty. So I did what I did best—I avoided the problem.

Flying had become my escape. The moment my feet left the ground, so did my worries. My mind quieted, my thoughts focused only on the wind rushing past me, the distant hum of the castle fading behind me as I soared over the Highlands.

I had no idea why the staff at Hogwarts were so much more lenient about students leaving the grounds in this era. Back in the 1990s, sneaking around this much would’ve landed me in serious trouble. Maybe they just had bigger problems back then.

Or maybe… maybe I was just better at not getting caught.

I discovered quickly that there were more little towns—hamlets, as they called them—near Hogwarts than I ever remembered. Each one was brimming with people who needed small tasks done, and I was more than happy to oblige.

It was a distraction. An excuse to stay far away from the castle.

By Friday, I’d already completed a dozen errands for strangers, and I still wasn’t eager to return.

I had just finished helping a sweet old woman with a puzzle she had found when I decided to take a detour along the coast. The sunset was stretching the sky into swathes of gold and pink, and the salty breeze carried the distant crash of waves against rock.

I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a moment as I let my arms rise into the air, the broom steady beneath me. The wind whipped at my hair, and for a brief moment, I felt weightless.

Then something caught my eye.

A massive cave was carved into the cliffside, its darkened mouth yawning toward the sea. I doubled back, curiosity piqued.

Landing carefully at the entrance, I swung my leg over my broom and took a step inside. The stone beneath my boots was smooth, damp from the tide’s reach, but not enough to flood the cave.

It was beautiful.

The space wasn’t enormous, but it stretched high above me, making it feel almost cathedral-like. The waves lapped softly at the entrance, echoing faintly through the cavern.

I grinned, testing the acoustics.

“Woah.”

My voice bounced back at me, crisp and clear. I laughed.

“Cool cave!”

The words rang out, amplified and layered, as though the walls themselves were singing them back to me.

An idea sparked.

I took a deep breath, letting the words flow out as naturally as the tide.

“Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…”

The moment the notes left my lips, the cave carried them, shaping them into something hauntingly beautiful. The echoes didn’t just repeat—they harmonized, folding over each other like layers of an orchestra.

I closed my eyes, savoring it.

Almost no one knew I could sing.

Not Charles. Not Ben. Not Paul or Peter. Not even the people I considered family. It was mine. A secret I held onto tightly, not because I was ashamed—but because I wanted something in my life that wasn’t up for scrutiny.

Only two people had ever caught me before: Bunty and Newt. But that had been an accident, the result of getting too lost in my own head while cleaning up after a particularly destructive Occamy incident.

This cave… this would be my sanctuary.

I could already imagine enchanting instruments to accompany me, something I had been learning in Charms class. The thought made me smile as I skipped back to my broom, energy buzzing beneath my skin.

As I took off into the evening sky, my mind whirled with possibilities.

By the time I landed on the Flying Lawn, the stars had begun to blink into existence, the castle glowing warmly against the darkening sky.

I passed two students cleaning up after a game of Summoner’s Court, offering them a small wave before discreetly sliding my broom into my pouch. It fit just barely.

The castle was alive with its usual evening bustle as I made my way through the Library Annex, the hum of voices and the soft rustle of pages filling the air.

I barely noticed Sebastian at first.

He was leaning against the railing overlooking the annex, his head slightly bowed, arms loosely draped over the railing. He wasn’t watching the students below—just lost in thought.

We noticed each other at the same time, and both of us smiled without thinking.

“What have you been up to all day?” Sebastian asked, pushing off the railing slightly as I slowed my steps beside him.

I didn’t lean against the railing. I wasn’t planning to stay long. At least, that’s what I told myself.

“Nothing important. You?”

He huffed, shaking his head. "Had to write twenty inches on the founding of the Triwizard Tournament for Binns’s class."

I pulled a sympathetic face. "Sounds exhilarating."

He smirked. “Oh, absolutely. Riveting, really.”

I let out a soft laugh, then tilted my head toward the stairs. “I’m heading to my dorm. See you around, Sebastian.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

I glanced back, one brow raising.

"Got nothing better to do?"

"Not particularly."

I weighed my options. I could brush him off, keep the careful distance I had worked so hard to maintain. Or…

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “Fine. Better than letting you stir up trouble out of boredom.”

Sebastian placed a hand over his heart. “What in Merlin’s name do you mean?”

We both laughed as we started walking, our strides falling into an easy rhythm. The silence between us was comfortable, not awkward or forced. Just… easy.

After a moment, Sebastian spoke again.

"So—a little red-haired Gryffindor birdy told me you’ve been zipping around on your broom from Uagadou and back."

I snorted. "And which one? Garreth or Leander?"

“Hm – I do suppose that applies to Leander too, doesn’t it?”

I grinned. "I have been flying around a little, why do you mention it?"

He hummed, shrugging. "Just making sure you’re not doing something reckless without me."

I rolled my eyes. "I can assure you, Sebastian, I am being perfectly safe."

…Well. Mostly.

Sebastian gave me a skeptical glance. "When I spoke to Garreth about it, he seemed mildly concerned. And that’s saying something, considering we’re talking about Garreth."

I blinked. "I didn’t know you two were close."

He shrugged. "I could say the same about you two."

I didn’t miss the slight tension in his voice. Was that… jealousy?

An idea flickered in my mind. I smirked. Time to play hard to get.

"I always tell Garreth or Natty when I go flying. Just in case. Though, I usually tell Garreth since I see him more often."

I said it casually, but I knew exactly what I was doing.

Sebastian stiffened, just barely.

"Makes sense."

I bit back a grin. Gotcha.

The silence stretched a beat too long, so I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

"We haven’t really had a chance to talk about it, but… what exactly did you tell Ominis on Sunday? He was furious and made sure I knew it."

Sebastian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “He was not happy.”

That was an understatement.

“He lectured me for a long while,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But I suppose I deserved it.”

After a beat, he frowned slightly, as if realizing how that sounded.

“Not that I regret showing you!” He hurried to clarify, hands gesturing in front of him. “I just—”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” I glanced at him, offering a small, knowing smile. “I really am grateful you showed me the Undercroft… and that we had a moment to talk. But, if I’m being honest, I do mostly regret going down there with you.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, and I could see the question in his eyes before he even asked it.

I looked away before he could search my face too closely.

Because the truth was, I regretted it for more than one reason.

It wasn’t just because of Ominis. It was because of me.

Because for one split second, when we were standing too close, when his hand had lingered just a moment longer than it needed to, I had felt something I wasn’t ready to feel. Something that made my heart pound a little too hard and my breath catch in a way I didn't want to acknowledge.

So I pushed it down, buried it deep where it couldn't trip me up.

Sebastian let out a breath, his expression easing into something more relaxed. “You needn’t worry about Ominis and me. We’ve had worse disagreements. We’ll be fine.”

I nodded, but I still wasn’t sure I believed him. Ominis seemed genuinely angry, and Sebastian had a habit of dismissing things that were actually quite serious. But I let it drop, not wanting to poke at something that might unravel.

Instead, I shifted gears. “Did you tell him anything I told you?”

Sebastian smirked. “Don’t worry, all of your nasty dark secrets are safe with me.”

He threw in a wink for good measure, and despite myself, I laughed.

We kept talking as we walked, our footsteps echoing lightly through the stone corridors.

At one point, we passed Leander Prewett, who shot us both a particularly nasty look. He looked as if he had swallowed a lemon whole. I nearly burst out laughing.

He probably thought I was some kind of traitor, getting along with Sebastian. As if I cared what Leander Prewett thought.

Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed utterly unfazed, not even sparing Leander a glance as we continued down the hall.

The conversation flowed easily, lighthearted, as if the tension in the Undercroft had never happened. But I still felt it.

That warm, lingering feeling in my chest.

I hated it. I hated that I didn’t hate it.

We reached the South Tower, where we had to part ways.

Sebastian gave me an easy grin. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I should be telling you that.”

He let out a soft chuckle before turning away, disappearing down the corridor.

And just like that, the warmth in my chest turned into something else.

Something closer to longing.

I clenched my jaw, shaking it off as I turned for the Gryffindor common room.

By the time I reached my dormitory, my thoughts were still a mess.

I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face into my pillow, my cheeks burning.

I stayed there for a minute or two, trying to will away the feeling.

Then I heard it—a faint, familiar caw.

Lifting my head slightly, I glanced toward the foot of my bed.

Gwaihir was perched on the footboard, a letter clasped delicately in his beak.

I sighed, sitting up and holding out my hand. “Alright, alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Gwaihir dropped the letter into my palm, then fluttered off to his perch, ruffling his feathers.

I turned the letter over, checking the sender.

Professor Fig.

That got my attention.

Tearing it open, I quickly scanned the note.

I have gone to the tower and I think we should be alright to continue. There are goblins everywhere, but nothing we can’t handle. Meet me there at noon tomorrow. – Professor Fig

A familiar thrill ran through me—the pull of adventure, of something bigger than the day-to-day drudgery of school.

But it was quickly followed by something else.

Something much heavier.

I knew what was coming. I had played this game before. I had seen what lay ahead.

And I wasn’t about to take any chances.

With one last glance around the empty dormitory, I drew my wand.

"Incendio."

The letter burst into flames, curling into ash in my palm.

I let it scatter, the embers flickering out before they even hit the floor.

No one else needed to see it.

No one else needed to know.

            Professor Fig and I crouched behind the large boulder, the midday sun casting sharp, angular shadows across the ruins of the tower ahead. The structure loomed over us, its once-grand architecture now a skeletal relic of what it had been. Time had gnawed at its edges, and yet, despite its decay, it remained formidable.

Fig’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the scene. “Around a dozen I can see,” he murmured, “but there could be more.”

I peered over the rock, counting at least seven goblins stationed near the base of the tower, their sharp armor glinting in the sunlight. A few more patrolled the area, weapons in hand.

“Can’t we just Apparate into the tower?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Fig gave a small shake of his head. “We could, but we have no idea what’s inside. Apparating into an unknown space—especially one that goblins are guarding—is dangerous. More importantly, though, I’d like to know why they’re here.” His gaze flickered back to the encampment. “They’ve set up camp in the courtyard. I suggest we investigate before making any move.”

I bit my tongue. I knew exactly why they were here. I knew what they were looking for. But I couldn’t tell him that—not yet.

With a nod, I followed his lead as we both cast the Disillusionment Charm and slipped from behind the boulder, moving soundlessly toward the entrance.

The tower loomed above us, its jagged silhouette standing stark against the bright sky. It had likely been magnificent once—built with purpose, magic woven into its very foundation—but now, it was cracked and crumbling, like a memory on the verge of fading.

We approached the archway leading into the courtyard. A single goblin stood guard, his beady eyes scanning the area lazily. I reached out, pressing a hand against Fig’s shoulder to stop him. Understanding my intent, he hung back while I crept forward, my wand already in hand.

I was close enough to hear the goblin’s steady breathing when I whispered, “Petrificus Totalus.”

He stiffened instantly, his body locking up as if encased in stone. He teetered, about to fall backward into the courtyard where the others would surely notice. Before that could happen, I flicked my wand.

“Depulso.”

The goblin shot backward in silence, careening out of sight.

“Confringo.”

Fig cast the spell before the goblin even hit the ground, a precise explosion of fire silencing him before he could make a sound.

I winced. Killing was something I had tried to avoid for as long as I could, but circumstances had forced my hand more times than I cared to admit. She had accepted long ago that death was inevitable in this dimension—perhaps even necessary. But that didn’t make it any easier.

We stepped cautiously into the courtyard, keeping low behind the rubble of a broken wall. I counted at least seven goblins immediately, but I knew there had to be more lurking around.

Fig turned to me. “How should we go about the rest of this? Try to sneak past or go in wands blazing?”

I weighed the options quickly. “As much as I’d love to avoid a battle, I want to investigate their camp thoroughly. We can’t do that with them breathing down our necks.”

Fig nodded.

“On my mark,” I whispered. “Three… two… one… go!”

We dropped our Disillusionment Charms and struck first.

“Depulso!” Fig cast, sending a goblin flying backward into the stone wall.

“Levioso!” His weapon wrenched from his grip, leaving him defenseless before Fig sent him crashing to the ground with “Descendo!”

I flicked my wand toward another approaching goblin. “Expelliarmus!” His axe clattered to the ground, and before he could react, I struck again. “Confringo!”

A blast of fire sent him stumbling back, but not before another goblin lunged at me, sword drawn. I ducked just in time, his blade slicing through the air where my head had been moments before. I flicked my wand upward. “Glacius!”

Ice crawled up his arms, freezing him mid-swing.

Fig sent a blast of magic at another goblin trying to retreat, flames engulfing his armor.

The battle lasted only moments, spells crackling through the air like fireworks. Soon, the only sound left was the distant howl of the wind through the tower’s broken stone.

The last goblin lay sprawled on the ground, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Fig raised his wand, about to deliver the final blow—but he hesitated.

Instead, he pointed his wand at the goblin. “What is your purpose here?”

The goblin choked, his body trembling. Then, to my surprise, the choking turned into laughter. Wheezing, he lifted his gaze to Fig, eyes burning with defiance.

“Pitch yourself off the top of your precious school, Galdwretch.”

Fig stiffened. I could see the disgust flicker across his features, but there was something else, too—sadness.

I stepped forward, an idea already forming. Pulling out my wand, I muttered into my bag, “Accio Veritaserum.”

A small vial shot into my hand.

I knelt beside the goblin and cast “Arresto Momentum,” slowing the inevitable just a little longer. Tilting the vial over his mouth, I let a few drops fall in.

It took only moments for the potion to take effect. His eyes glazed, his body still weakened but compliant.

“Why are you and the rest of Ranrok’s Loyalists here?” I asked.

His lips twitched. “To find the key to goblinkind finally taking its rightful place.”

A chill ran down my spine. “What key? Be more specific.”

His gaze flicked up to mine. He gave a small, sinister smirk—then, just like that, he was gone.

I exhaled, pressing my lips together as I forced back the emotions threatening to surface. Death wasn’t new to me, and I had long since accepted that it was part of the game I was playing in this world. But watching it happen, watching life flicker out of someone’s eyes, would never sit right with me.

I glanced at Fig. He looked just as troubled.

“We should keep moving,” he said at last.

As we made our way toward the tower’s entrance, stepping over the remains of our battle, the weight of what had just happened pressed down on me. The goblin’s final words still echoed in my head, but I pushed them aside, focusing instead on the grand structure ahead.

“Professor,” I murmured, glancing at Fig. “What exactly is a Galdwretch?”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s a slur—one goblins use for wizards. A particularly foul one.” His brows furrowed slightly. “I have never had a goblin refer to me as one before.”

I studied his expression, watching as the weight of the insult settled over him. But, true to his nature, he shook it off, refocusing on the task ahead.

He cast me a sideways glance and smirked. “Though I must say, your quick thinking with the Veritaserum was... something to behold.”

I raised a brow. “Something to behold?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Highly effective. But next time, perhaps a little warning before you start force-feeding goblins truth serum?” His voice held the dry humor I had grown used to, but beneath it was something else—genuine respect.

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “Noted, Professor.”

He chuckled under his breath before lifting his wand. “Alohomora.”

The lock clicked, and the massive door groaned open.

I smirked. “Nice one, Professor.”

“Why, thank you.”

Stepping inside, my gaze was immediately drawn to the towering statue that dominated the center of the room. The wizard it depicted stood tall and imposing, draped in a long, flowing cloak, a book cradled in one arm while the other clutched a staff. A turban wrapped around his head gave him an air of ancient wisdom, though the cracks and wear on the statue showed the passage of time had not been kind.

Beyond the statue, the tower stretched upward, stone pillars crumbling from centuries of neglect. A narrow spiral staircase wound its way around the edges of the chamber, disappearing into the shadows above. I tipped my head back, following the path upward. It was precarious, portions of the original stone steps missing, replaced with makeshift wooden planks hastily nailed into place.

Fig sighed beside me. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to go.”

With a nod, I started up the steps, careful to test each wooden plank before fully trusting my weight to it. The climb was long, dust clinging to the air and making it harder to breathe the further we ascended. By the time we reached the top, the chamber had narrowed, leading to a single ornate frame propped against the wall.

As I approached, the empty canvas rippled, and suddenly, Percival Rackham stepped into view. His gaze met mine with a knowing expression.

“Welcome to San Bakar’s tower,” he said.

I straightened. “Hello, Professor. Did you say San Bakar’s tower?”

Rackham nodded. “I did. Professor Bakar is a Keeper you have yet to encounter. I am glad to see that I was correct in presuming we would meet again—soon after our last encounter.” He studied me closely before adding, “Though I surmise, based on a commotion I heard, that you did not have an easy time getting to me.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at Fig. “We did not, Professor. We encountered goblins outside the tower.”

Rackham’s expression darkened. “That goblins were aware of my vault is disquieting enough. But if they have also made a connection to this tower, then the threat may be greater than I thought.” He folded his hands in front of him. “All the more reason for us to move forward.”

He gestured slightly, and I could almost feel the magic stir in the space around us.

“Downstairs, near the entry, a reservoir of ancient magic—like those you’ve seen before—has been unlocked. Command it to access a doorway. I’m afraid I can’t say more.” His gaze flicked toward Fig. “As Professor Fig cannot join you, he and I will, in time, see you in the Map Chamber. Remember what you see.”

I gave a firm nod before turning to Fig.

He was frowning, deep in thought. “We’re going to need to understand how Ranrok’s Loyalists knew about a tower that once belonged to a Keeper.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But first…”

Fig sighed, rubbing his temple. “A ‘reservoir of ancient magic,’ I believe?”

I smirked. “Yes, sir.”

His usual weariness returned, but his tone was fond. “Then I shall leave matters in your increasingly capable hands. That said, be careful.”

“I will, sir. I’ll see you back in the Map Chamber.”

Fig gave me one last, knowing nod before disappearing with a sharp crack. The moment he was gone, the weight of being alone settled over me again. I turned back to Rackham.

"See you on the other side, Professor Rackham."

His eyes held something close to pride. “Good luck, my friend.”

I took a deep breath and turned on my heel, descending the worn, uneven steps of the tower. Each footfall echoed softly, the air around me growing heavier with anticipation. By the time I reached the statue at the base, the weight of the Trial pressed against my chest like an unseen force.

Then, without warning—

A pull.

Not physical, not magical in the traditional sense—something deeper. Something older.

The floor beneath me flared to life, intricate patterns of glowing runes illuminating with each step as if guiding me forward. I didn’t fight it. I let it lead. My wand was already in hand, the hum of Ancient Magic coursing through my fingertips, surging up into the core of the wood.

Ahead, the far wall shimmered.

A doorway was there—not yet seen but waiting.

I raised my wand, feeling the surge of energy coil, tighten, then release—

A wave of raw magic burst from me, colliding with the stone. The wall rippled, ancient runes sparking to life, their symbols shifting like ink in water. Stone groaned, rearranging itself, bending to the command of the magic that had called it forth.

A doorway appeared.

My grip on my wand tightened as I stepped forward, crossing the threshold into a long, silent corridor of smooth, cold stone. The air was different here—charged, alive.

At the corridor’s end, a massive set of double doors loomed before me.

I raised my wand.

"Depulso!"

The doors flew open.

And then—

The chamber pulsed.

Ancient Magic surged around me, thick and electric, humming beneath the surface of reality. It didn’t just fill the space—it pressed into me, curling around my ribs, sinking into my bones.

It was as if the Trial itself had been waiting. Watching. Aware.

The stone walls stretched high into shadow, their smooth, ancient surfaces lined with swirling carvings that pulsed to life at my presence. The symbols glowed with a cool, silvery light, casting faint, shifting patterns on the floor like ripples on water. With every step forward, the glow deepened, reacting to me—to what I was.

Dust hung in the air, illuminated in the flickering golden glow of torches that ignited one by one as I passed. The smell of old parchment and something older—magic itself, perhaps—curled in my nose.

I exhaled, steadying myself.

I know what’s coming.

This wasn’t the first time I had walked these halls. I had seen this trial before. Had memorized its layout, knew its enemies, understood its puzzles from a distant, detached perspective.

Back when it had only been a game.

But this?

This was real.

A faint, melodic chime echoed ahead, soft and beckoning. Then—movement.

Floating platforms shimmered into existence, hovering just beyond my reach. They shifted subtly, drifting in the air as if teasing me—there, but not quite there. I recognized the puzzle immediately, my mind already working through the solution.

My fingers tightened around my wand. "Accio."

Magic thrummed through the air. The floating platforms jerked, then snapped into place one by one, the energy surrounding them flickering with each shift.

The moment my feet landed on the last platform, the chamber rumbled.

I barely had time to brace before the first Pensieve Sentinels emerged.

They bloomed from the floor like specters, their silvered bodies rising from swirling pools of light. Hollow, faceless, shifting like reflections on rippling glass.

Then, they moved.

Two at first. Then four.

Then six.

I barely had time to raise my wand before they lunged.

"Expelliarmus!" My wand flicked—one’s weapon clattered to the ground, but another was already closing in.

A blade whistled past my ear. I twisted, narrowly avoiding it, then countered with a sharp Depulso. The force hit two of them squarely in the chest, sending them skidding backward like marionettes on invisible strings.

I wasn’t just fighting—I was dancing.

My body moved on instinct, shifting, dodging, anticipating. The Sentinels were fast, but I was faster.

Confringo! The spell left my wand in a streak of fire, colliding with the last Sentinel. It shattered into shards of glowing light, dissolving into nothingness.

Silence.

I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders.

Not too bad.

Then—

The floor trembled.

A pulse of energy rolled through the chamber, and the temperature seemed to drop.

I knew what that meant.

The air shimmered with magic again, but this time, what emerged wasn’t just another Sentinel. They were bigger now.

Pensieve Protectors.

Massive, towering figures of enchanted stone, lined with glowing runes of Ancient Magic. Unlike the Sentinels, these weren’t just fast—they were powerful.

I barely had a second to react.

"Protego!"

A resounding crack rang through the chamber as I barely deflected a devastating blow. Sparks rained from the impact, my feet skidding back against the stone floor.

The Protectors didn’t just hit hard—they hit with a force that rippled through the air, each strike sending waves of Ancient Magic into the surrounding space.

I sucked in a breath.

I can’t overpower them. Not like the Sentinels.

They were stronger. More attuned to the magic in this place—Ancient Magic.

Magic I hadn’t yet mastered.

I adjusted my stance, gripping my wand tighter.

Dodge. Counter. Dodge again.

I watched their movements, waiting—calculating. My usual approach wouldn’t work. If I couldn’t match their raw power, I had to be smarter.

One of them lunged. I pivoted, barely missing the strike. Another whirled, blade slicing downward—I ducked, feeling the rush of air as it missed my head by inches.

"Flipendo!" I countered, using their own momentum against them. The Protector stumbled, giving me an opening.

I seized it.

I cast Depulso, slamming it into the chamber wall. Cracks spiderwebbed across its body before it collapsed into light.

One down.

The next came at me, its speed unnatural for its size. I raised my wand, but it was too fast.

The strike landed and pain exploded through my ribs.

I staggered, vision swimming.

It wasn’t just a physical hit—it was as if the Ancient Magic itself had latched onto me, burning through my core.

I gasped, stumbling back. My limbs felt heavy. Sluggish.

The Protector loomed over me.

I had seconds.

Fine.

My grip tightened my wand and I put all of my focus onto the wand itself. I felt the light weight of my wand disappear and in my hand there was something different.

A pulse of pure magic curled in my palm, shifting, twisting—then solidifying into something tangible.

A ball of light.

I called it my armory.

The Protector struck—

I clenched my fist. The light twisted, reshaped.

A brilliant white blade ignited in my grip.

A lightsaber.

I turned just in time, the plasma blade meeting enchanted steel. Sparks erupted from the impact, the chamber ringing with the clash.

The Protector hesitated.

I didn’t.

I twisted my wrist, slicing clean through its arm. It stumbled back, the severed limb dissolving before it hit the ground.

I took advantage of the opening. With a flick of my free hand, a portal flickered into existence behind me. I stepped backward into it and reappeared behind the Protector.

"You want to see what I can do?" My voice was a whisper.

I let go of the blade—it dissolved back into light.

The ball reformed—shifted—

Hand blaster.

Three precise shots. Three direct hits.

The Protector collapsed into dust.

Silence settled over the chamber. I stood there, breathing heavily, my fingers trembling. It felt like I hadn’t fought like that in years. What a relief to get it out.

A terrifying thought settled in my chest:

How far am I willing to go to survive these trials?

After the adrenaline wore off, the pain in my ribs almost made me puke on the spot. After a moment I took a deep breath and drank a few Wiggenweld potions. They would heal me up for the time being, but I had probably broken a few ribs. At least I could deal with the pain.

The next chamber was smaller, the walls pressing in slightly compared to the vast space I had just left behind. Cool, blue light filtered from above, casting elongated shadows along the shifting stone floor. The air was thick with the hum of unseen magic, a subtle vibration that settled into my bones.

At first glance, the room seemed simple. But as I stepped forward, the ground beneath me shifted, blocks sliding against each other with a smooth, mechanical grace.

Another puzzle.

I narrowed my eyes, watching as platforms hovered midair, their surfaces glowing faintly before flickering out of existence. Some moved on their own, floating lazily in and out of reach. Others blinked in and out of reality, appearing solid one moment and dissolving into mist the next.

I sighed.

"Of course."

I raised my wand.

"Accio."

The first platform jerked into place, the ancient runes carved into its edges flaring bright silver.

I leapt onto it instantly, but the moment my feet landed, I felt the pull of magic already unraveling beneath me. The platform was temporary. A few seconds—at most—before it slipped away.

I had to move quickly.

"Accio!"

Another platform lurched toward me, barely within reach. I jumped, heart pounding as my boots skidded against the smooth surface.

The next jump.

Then another.

The magic pulsed around me, and my frustration grew with every step.

"Why am I doing this?"

I muttered it under my breath, barely audible over the hum of shifting stone.

Rackham knew I had already seen the memories. He knew that I understood what lay ahead. So why make me go through this?

A new platform appeared.

I reached for it, but the spell flickered, and the platform wavered midair, barely holding.

"Is this about knowledge?" I muttered, adjusting my stance before making another jump.

No. That couldn’t be it.

The magic reacted to me, responding in a way that made the room feel like more than just a test. It felt like a trial of will. Of discipline.

I landed on the next ledge, stepping forward as the final platform locked into place.

Discipline.

The word settled heavily in my mind.

Maybe this wasn’t about what I knew—but about whether I could wield that knowledge without letting it consume me.

A chill ran through me.

Was that what Rackham was truly testing?

I didn’t like the answer.

I pushed forward.

The last room was empty. For a moment, I thought it was over.

No more puzzles. No more Sentinels or Protectors. Just me, standing in the silence, the weight of the Trial pressing against my skin like an unseen force.

I took a breath. Too soon.

The air rippled.

A deep, resonant hum filled the chamber, like a storm gathering on the horizon. Ancient runes flared to life along the stone walls, pulsing in time with the heartbeat of the Trial itself.

Then it appeared.

A massive Pensieve Guardian, towering at least four times my height, its form shifting like liquid metal infused with raw, unrestrained Ancient Magic. Its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto me as if it could see beyond flesh—beyond magic—into something deeper.

It didn’t hesitate.

The Guardian struck.

A colossal shockwave erupted from its raised arm, shattering the stone floor beneath me. Cracks split outward like jagged veins, the force of the attack sending debris flying.

I barely leapt aside in time, the concussive force blasting against my back as I rolled into a crouch. My wand trembled in my grip. My pulse thundered in my ears.

This is different.

The Sentinels, the Protectors—I had handled them. But this? This was something else entirely.

I raised my wand, sending a blazing bolt of Confringo at its chest. The spell collided—but instead of crumbling like the others, the Guardian simply absorbed the energy. Its form pulsed once.

Then it swung again.

I barely twisted away as another shockwave thundered toward me. The ground splintered apart, sending me stumbling.

Spells aren’t working. Dodging isn’t enough.

I needed to think.

The Guardian charged, Ancient Magic radiating off its form in waves.

I clenched my jaw, focusing.

When its arm came crashing down, I didn’t dodge.

Instead I opened a portal.

The shimmering tear in reality flared to life before me, swallowing the massive strike just inches from my body—then spitting it back out against the opposite wall.

The impact shook the entire chamber.

I grinned. “Let’s see how you like it.”

Circular portals flickered around the battlefield, phasing in and out of reality. I moved between them seamlessly, my body vanishing and reappearing before the Guardian could fully register what was happening.

One moment I was in front of it. The next, I was behind.

It swung wildly, missing every time.

Its own power, the very thing that made it unstoppable, was now its greatest weakness.

Another attack came—a blast of Ancient Magic, aimed directly at me. I caught it.

The energy burned against my fingertips, thrumming with an intensity that sent fire through my veins. I gritted my teeth, forced control over it—redirected the blast through another portal.

The Guardian staggered as its own attack slammed into its side.

Now!

With a final surge of power, I twisted through another portal, appearing directly above it.

I raised my wand—no.

My hand.

A sphere of crackling magic flared to life in my palm, shifting—twisting—morphing into a solid form. The smooth, polished handle of my lightsaber settled against my fingers.

I ignited it.

The silver-white blade hissed to life, cutting through the darkness.

The Guardian turned its hollow gaze upward.

Too late.

I brought the blade down, slashing through the Ancient Magic at its core.

The chamber shook. The Guardian let out a deep, reverberating groan before its form fractured—splintered apart—then crumbled into dust.

The silence that followed was deafening.

My chest heaved. My limbs ached. I could still feel the energy humming beneath my skin, the aftermath of magic I had barely contained.

I staggered.

My lightsaber flickered—then faded back into the formless ball of magic, turning back into my wand as if nothing had ever happened.

I let out a slow, shaking breath.

It was over.

But something had changed.

I turned toward the center of the room.

The Pensieve waited.

I already knew what I would see.

Still—something felt different.

I stepped forward, the residual dust from the Guardian’s remains swirling at my feet. As I peered into the swirling liquid within the Pensieve, a realization settled in my chest like a stone.

This wasn’t about knowledge.

This was about learning to carry its weight.

Chapter Text

The weeks after the Trial passed in a blur of changing leaves, quiet evenings, and stolen moments of peace in between the chaos that was Hogwarts. The warm hues of late summer slowly melted into the crisp embrace of autumn, and I found myself settling into the rhythm of school life—though, with my own twists.

Sebastian and I had fallen into an easy routine. Between classes, studying, and the occasional mischief, we spent a great deal of time together. Sometimes in the Undercroft, but more often in the Great Hall, the Library, or even just wandering the castle, finding hidden nooks to sit and talk. He flirted here and there, but I made sure to keep things friendly. There were lines I wasn’t ready to cross—not when I was still figuring out how much I could trust him.

Ominis, however, still avoided me like the plague. We inevitably crossed paths during class or when Sebastian forced us into the same space, but while he no longer radiated outright hostility, he was still less than friendly. He remained curt, keeping conversation to necessity, and if Sebastian ever left us alone together, he was quick to find an excuse to leave.

One thing I couldn’t avoid, however, was the injury I’d sustained in the Trial. That last battle had been brutal, and the hit I took to the ribs left a deep, aching pain that refused to fade. I wasn’t about to go to the Hospital Wing—no way was I explaining what had happened—so I took matters into my own hands.

A well-placed bribe and a favor owed got me the help of an advanced seventh-year who agreed to cast Brackium Emendo on me. It worked well enough, though I could still feel the ghost of the pain if I twisted too sharply.

Sebastian, of course, noticed.

It wasn’t immediate—at first, I was good at hiding it. But after he caught me wincing one too many times when I stretched, the interrogation began.

“You’re hurt,” he stated one evening, arms crossed as he leaned against a bookshelf in the Library.

“I’m fine,” I replied, flipping through the pages of my textbook without looking up.

“Jo.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “What happened?”

“Nothing worth worrying about.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you just happened to break a rib in your sleep, did you?”

I sighed, closing my book and rubbing my temple. “I didn’t break anything. And it’s already healed.”

He was still staring at me, seeing through my lie.

I hesitated. “I had… a bit of a rough landing the other day.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got it sorted.”

“With what, exactly?”

I hesitated a fraction too long. His eyes widened slightly.

“You didn’t go to the Hospital Wing,” he guessed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Who healed you?”

“Does it matter?” I shot back, but it was a weak defense.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re unbelievable.”

I smirked. “So I’ve been told.”

Sebastian shook his head, muttering something under his breath before leveling me with a serious look. “Just… if something like this happens again, you tell me. No more keeping secrets.”

I bit my lip, nodding slowly. “Fine.”

It was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep, but for now, it was enough to ease his concern.

Outside of school, I made time for the people who mattered most. On select weekends, I returned home—not to Somerset, where I claimed my grandmother lived, but to Charles’s family home: The Peizer estate. That was where Ben, Paul, Peter, and his little sister Rose resided. It was my real home, the only place where I didn’t have to pretend. There, I pored over books, learning everything I could about this world, preparing myself for whatever came next.

At Hogwarts, my free time was spent in more lively pursuits. Summoner’s Court had become a regular pastime, and surprisingly, Leander Prewett had become a frequent opponent. Our rivalry—if it could be called that—had mellowed into something friendlier, though he still played as though he had something to prove.

Evenings, when I wasn’t buried in books or dodging Sebastian’s relentless curiosity, I was at the beach cave I had found. I had decided to name it Siren’s Cove. The acoustics of the cave made my voice sound richer, fuller, and it was the only place I allowed myself the indulgence of singing freely. It became a sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself for a little while. I had even begun bringing in instruments I had enchanted to accompany me. I only had a few, but I was planning on growing it even more over time.

And then there was Garreth. He was trouble, plain and simple, and I liked that about him. In part, I spent more time with him just to get under Sebastian’s skin—his barely concealed irritation was too amusing—but the truth was, Garreth reminded me of Fred and George Weasley, and I missed them more than I cared to admit. Especially Fred.

The days passed like that, filled with moments of warmth, of laughter, of healing—both physically and emotionally. But always, in the back of my mind, I knew that things wouldn’t stay this way forever. Change was coming.

And soon, I’d be going to Feldcroft.

The flickering candlelight of the Undercroft cast long shadows across the stone walls, the air filled with the quiet scratch of quills against parchment. Sebastian sat across from me, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled something into his notes, though I could tell from the smirk playing at the edge of his lips that his mind wasn’t entirely on our study session.

“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “We should go somewhere.”

I glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “We’re already somewhere, Sebastian.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean somewhere outside of Hogwarts. You and I—Feldcroft. You said you’d come meet Anne.”

I blinked at him. He was still looking down at his parchment, but the casual air in his voice didn’t quite match the way his grip had tightened around his quill.

“You’re officially inviting me, then?” I asked, leaning forward slightly.

He scoffed. “Of course. What, did you think I’d just kidnap you and drag you there?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll leave in a few days. You can’t back out now.”

I tilted my head, considering, but the truth was, I had already made up my mind the moment he brought it up. “Alright,” I said. “Feldcroft it is.”

The Library was always alive with a quiet kind of energy—the rustle of parchment, the faint scratch of quills, the occasional muffled whisper between students who thought themselves clever enough to go unnoticed. Lantern light flickered along the towering bookshelves, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floor. The air smelled of ink, parchment, and the faintest trace of dust, though the elves must have kept it in meticulous order.

I had come here with the sole purpose of finding something—anything—that would help me prepare for our upcoming Herbology test. I had made a habit of spending more time here lately, especially since my return from Rackham’s Trial. There was something comforting about being surrounded by endless knowledge, even if it meant suffering through the occasional glare from Scribner.

What I hadn’t expected, however, was Ominis.

He stood a few feet away, fingers gliding lightly over the spines of books as he searched. His posture was rigid, his expression impassive, but I had been around him enough to notice the slight tension in his jaw, the way his lips pressed together just a little too tightly.

He knew I was here.

And, judging by the way he was doing his absolute best to ignore me, he was hoping I’d take the hint and walk away.

Not a chance.

I cleared my throat, plucking a random book from the shelf before turning to face him. “Ominis.”

His fingers paused on a book before he exhaled sharply, tilting his head slightly in my direction. “Jo.”

The way he said my name—clipped, yet resigned—told me he had already accepted that I wasn’t going to leave him alone.

I smiled, deciding to play nice. “Studying for the test?”

“Obviously.” His fingers resumed their slow movement across the book spines, but the stiffness in his shoulders remained.

I smirked. “Are you always this chatty, or is it just with me?”

His lips twitched—barely, but I caught it.

Then, as if realizing he had shown too much, he straightened. “Did you need something?”

I hesitated. I could have left it there, let him be, but something about the way he bristled around me—like he wasn’t quite sure if he should push me away or pull me in—made me want to try.

“I wanted to apologize,” I said, tucking my book under my arm. “For the Undercroft. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

Ominis was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded. “I appreciate that.”

I blinked. “You do?”

“I do,” he said simply, though his expression softened just a fraction.

Encouraged, I pressed on. “Can I ask you something?”

“You will regardless.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Fair enough.” I hesitated before continuing, my fingers tightening slightly around the book in my hands. “Am I… intruding? On you and Sebastian?”

Ominis didn’t answer immediately, but his brow furrowed slightly, and his lips parted, as if weighing his words carefully.

“I mean,” I continued, “he’s your best friend. And I—well, I do see him as a friend, too. But I don’t want to step on your toes, Ominis. Your friendship came first.”

For the first time, his composure cracked—just slightly. His lips parted, but no words came out, and he shut his mouth again, brow furrowing further.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s… been an adjustment,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral.

“But,” he continued, voice barely above a murmur, “if I’m honest, having you around has been… comforting, in a way.”

I tilted my head. “Comforting?”

He nodded once, still not quite facing me. “Since Anne left, it’s been just me and Sebastian. And while I don’t mind, I think it’s been harder on him than he lets on. You… give him something else to focus on.” He let out a slow breath. “Which, in turn, gives me some peace.”

My heart twisted at that.

“I just hope,” he added, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “that you don’t get him into too much trouble.”

I grinned. “No promises.”

Ominis sighed, shaking his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “I’m also glad you’re feeling better.”

I blinked. “You—”

“Sebastian told me you were hurt,” he interrupted. “He wouldn’t say how, but I knew it was serious.” He hesitated, his brows drawing together slightly. “I am glad that you recovered.”

Something in my chest tightened. “Thank you, Ominis,” I murmured, genuinely touched.

But before I could say anything more, he stiffened, almost as if realizing something all at once. His jaw tensed, and his hand, which had been resting lightly against a book spine, curled into a loose fist.

Then, without another word, he turned sharply on his heel.

I watched him go, frowning slightly.

I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but one thing was certain—Ominis Gaunt was looking at me differently now.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

The moment I set foot into the Gryffindor common room, a deep sigh escaped my lips. The test was finally behind me, and with it, the last of my responsibilities for the weekend. A weight lifted off my shoulders as I strode across the room, weaving between armchairs occupied by students engaged in quiet conversations and last-minute studying. The warm glow of the fireplace flickered against the red and gold tapestries, casting long, swaying shadows along the walls. The familiar scent of parchment, firewood, and the faintest trace of butterbeer from someone’s late-night indulgence wrapped around me like a comforting embrace.

Tomorrow was the trip to Feldcroft.

Sebastian had suggested we travel together via Floo Powder, but I declined, opting instead for a cross-country flight. It wasn’t just the promise of open skies that called to me—I needed the time alone to think. Feldcroft wasn’t far, only a twenty-minute flight, but those precious moments above the treetops would give me space to process everything that was about to happen.

I climbed the spiral steps to my dormitory, shutting the door behind me before making my way to my trunk. My fingers instinctively reached for my small enchanted pouch, slipping it open and mentally checking its contents. Potions—Wiggenweld, Maxima, and a few invisibility draughts. My wand polish. A small bag of coins, just in case. At the very bottom, my metal armbands glinted faintly in the low candlelight.

Just in case.

I hesitated before slipping them into my bag. I had a feeling I wouldn’t need them, but experience had taught me that it was always better to be prepared.

As I packed, my mind drifted toward what lay ahead. Meeting Anne and Solomon. The inevitable clash between Sebastian and his uncle. Taking a walk up to the old estate—Isadora’s home. The attack. Would everything happen as I remembered? Most likely. And then, the conversation.

This was when I was supposed to tell Sebastian about my ability to wield Ancient Magic. I had put it off for weeks, fearing what it might mean, but now… now it felt like the right time.

Tomorrow, I’d tell him.

Once I was satisfied that I had everything I needed, I made my way back downstairs. Garreth, Natty, Leander, and Cressida were gathered near the fireplace, engaged in an animated discussion that quickly dissolved into laughter when I joined them. Hours passed in easy conversation, the warmth of friendship settling in my chest. By the time I finally dragged myself up to bed, exhaustion weighed down my limbs, but my mind was still spinning with anticipation.

The next morning, I woke up before the sun had fully risen. A long, hot shower did wonders to wake me up, the steam curling around me as I let the water soothe my nerves. By the time I was dressed and packed, the castle was still wrapped in the quiet lull of early morning.

With my broom in hand, I stepped outside, inhaling the crisp autumn air. The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and gold, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

I didn’t need to leave this early, but there was somewhere I wanted to go first.

Siren’s Cove.

I kicked off from the ground, the rush of wind whipping against my face as Hogwarts shrank beneath me. The journey was short, just twenty minutes of open air, of nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat and the steady whoosh of my broom cutting through the sky.

The cove was waiting for me, just as I had left it.

Landing softly at its entrance, I took a deep breath, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The cave’s acoustics wrapped around me like a familiar embrace, amplifying every note, every breath. I closed my eyes and sang.

For an hour, I let the music wash over me, let it carry away the tension in my chest.

By the time I stepped back onto my broom, the nerves had settled. I was ready.

Feldcroft awaited.

            The coastline blurred beneath me as I soared over the cliffs, the salty breeze whipping through my hair. I dipped low, skimming the treetops before angling toward the small hamlet in the distance. Feldcroft. I had passed by it plenty of times, but this was my first time actually visiting, and as I drew closer, I couldn’t help but admire how charming it was.

The cottages, built of sturdy wood and stone, nestled together like a close-knit family. Merchant booths stood scattered around the town center, selling everything from fresh produce to trinkets. Gardens, vibrant with rudbeckias and dahlias, framed the walkways, their golden and crimson petals nodding gently in the wind. A quaint well stood at the heart of the village, its weathered stones whispering of years gone by.

Just beyond the hamlet, a tall wooden watchtower stood on the outskirts, keeping quiet vigil over the town. As I neared, my eyes landed on a familiar silhouette leaning against the railing at its peak. Even from a distance, I recognized Sebastian’s relaxed posture, arms folded loosely, one foot propped against the railing as he watched the village below.

I tipped my broom downward, descending smoothly toward the tower. My boots landed with a soft thud against the wooden platform.

Sebastian turned, grinning. “You made it!”

“Of course I did.” I stepped forward, peering over the railing. “Are you up here just to enjoy the view?”

His smile faltered slightly as he gestured toward the castle looming over the hamlet. Rookwood Castle. “I like keeping an eye on things. Feldcroft isn’t what it used to be. No one has felt safe here since Ranrok’s Loyalists took a particular interest in that place.”

I followed his gaze, noting the imposing fortress in the distance. “Oh, so you’re the hero of Feldcroft, then?” I deepened my voice dramatically, striking a pose. “By day, he is Sebastian Sallow. But by night, he is The Swallow: Savior of Feldcroft.”

I placed my hands on my hips, gazing off into the horizon as if I were in some grand play. I had no idea if he’d understand the reference, but the ridiculousness of it was enough.

Sebastian barked out a laugh, doubling over slightly as he leaned against the railing for support. I joined in, wiping a tear from my eye.

“The Swallow, really?” he managed between chuckles.

“Absolutely. You could be like Robin Hood!”

Sebastian’s brows raised. “Robin who?”

I gasped in mock offense, my eyes lighting up. “Sebastian! Do I get to introduce you to Robin Hood?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at my excitement. “By all means, educate me.”

I took a dramatic breath before diving in. “He’s the main character in a Muggle book called The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. He’s a skilled archer and outlaw who, along with his band of Merry Men, robs from the rich and gives to the poor in defiance of the corrupt Sheriff of Nottingham. He’s a cunning trickster, always outwitting those in power while staying loyal to his friends and his code of honor.”

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds like my kind of man. Maybe I should read this book.” His lips quirked into a smirk. “Though, it sounds to me like you’re trying to flatter me, McClam, comparing me to this legendary rogue.”

I tilted my head, feigning indifference. “Maybe I am.”

I turned away, leaning against the railing, looking out over the village. I felt the heat of his gaze linger on me, and I smirked inwardly.

I heard the creak of his boots against the wooden planks as he approached. The warmth of his hand brushed lightly against my back as he passed, an almost absentminded touch, but it sent an unexpected jolt through me. My breath hitched, and my face flushed before I could stop it. I turned slightly, willing myself to remain composed, but I refused to meet his gaze just yet.

When I finally dared to glance at him, I expected to see his usual smirk, some teasing remark hanging at the edge of his lips. But instead, his expression had shifted—his posture less carefree, shoulders heavier than before. He looked out over the hamlet, a weight in his gaze that I couldn’t quite place.

I nudged him playfully, breaking him from his thoughts. He blinked, then smirked and nudged me back, the quiet laughter between us laced with something unspoken.

Then his expression darkened once more, gaze shifting to the distant castle.

“Damn goblins,” he muttered.

I gasped theatrically. “Profanity, Sallow!”

He huffed a soft laugh but shook his head. “Anne was cursed by one of them. Possibly with a wand, no less. My uncle Solomon is a former Auror, and yet he refuses to look into it.”

I frowned. I already knew the story—knew exactly how this would unfold if things played out as they had in the game. But things were not the same. A lot of what I had already experienced had taught me that so many things were different than the simple video game I had played.

“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “That must be… incredibly frustrating.”

Sebastian exhaled through his nose. “Anne has mostly given up hope, just like Solomon. But not completely. Just enough to keep me searching. If I’m going to cure her, I need to understand what happened to her.”

I remained silent, my chest tightening. I had spent hours upon hours researching a cure, but every road led to a dead end. There was no cure for Anne’s curse. At least, none existed in this world.

But I couldn’t tell him that.

Sebastian forced a smile. “Anne was the most mischievous of the three of us—which is saying something, knowing me and Ominis.” His gaze softened. “I’m hoping this surprise visit will lift her spirits. Bring back the Anne I used to know.”

I stiffened. “Wait. They don’t know we’re coming?”

Sebastian turned to me, clearly sensing my apprehension. “Relax. They’re used to me popping in unannounced. And trust me, Anne is going to love you.”

I inhaled deeply, nodding despite the nervous flutter in my stomach.

He held my gaze for a moment longer before gesturing toward the stairs. “Come on. Let’s not keep my dear sister waiting.”

I followed him down, tucking my broom into my pouch as we went. His presence beside me was steady, sure.

            As Sebastian and I walked through the small hamlet, I noticed how still everything was. Besides the handful of vendors tending their booths in the town center, there was hardly anyone out and about. The few villagers who were outside cast wary glances toward the outskirts, as if expecting something—or someone—dangerous to appear.

Sebastian noticed my lingering glances and let out a quiet sigh.

“Feldcroft used to be a lot livelier,” he murmured, his voice carrying a weight of nostalgia. “Ever since Ranrok’s lot started skulking about, people stay out of sight.”

I nodded, eyes flicking toward Rookwood Castle in the distance. Even from here, I could sense its imposing presence, the dark silhouette looming over the hamlet like a watchful predator.

We walked further through the village, passing weathered stone cottages nestled among gardens of golden rudbeckias and deep purple dahlias. Everything here had a rustic charm—the thatched roofs, the cobblestone paths worn smooth from years of footsteps, the quaint wooden fences lining the walkways. It was peaceful, or at least it had been once.

Sebastian finally came to a stop in front of one of the cottages, its warm brick walls partially hidden behind climbing ivy. Several large pots sat outside, brimming with sunflowers and lady’s glove, their petals swaying gently in the breeze.

“Here we are,” he said, glancing at me with barely restrained excitement. “My sister should just be inside.”

Sebastian stepped forward, pushing the door open without hesitation. I followed quietly behind, shutting it gently behind me.

The cottage smelled of herbs and fresh-baked bread, the kind of homely scent that immediately put you at ease. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow across the wooden floors. At the center of the room, a young woman sat at a small table, her back turned to us as she focused on something in front of her.

Sebastian grinned mischievously and crept toward her, holding his hands up like a hunter stalking his prey. In one swift motion, he jabbed his fingers into her side.

“Aha!”

Anne jumped with a startled yelp before whipping around. “Sebastian!”

Her shock melted into laughter as she sprang up and threw her arms around him.

“Where did you—”

The words barely made it past her lips before she started laughing again, gripping his arms tightly as if afraid he’d disappear if she let go.

Sebastian beamed, holding onto his twin just as tightly. The way his entire demeanor softened in her presence made my heart ache. This wasn’t just a reunion—it was something more. A tether being reconnected, a bond reaffirmed.

I lingered near the doorway, hesitant to interrupt. Watching them, it was easy to see how much they meant to each other. It wasn’t as if they had been apart that long, yet the joy on their faces suggested otherwise.

Then Anne’s gaze flickered past Sebastian and landed on me.

She gasped dramatically. “Sebastian! You didn’t tell me you were going to be bringing someone!”

Before he could react, she smacked his arm.

“Ow!”

I bit back a chuckle as I finally stepped forward, taking in Anne properly. She had Sebastian’s sharp features, the same dark eyes, the same warm freckles—but her skin was pale, far too pale, almost sickly. The sight made my stomach twist. I had read about Anne’s illness, I had seen it play out before—but standing here, seeing her in person, it felt… different. Real.

Still, she held herself with confidence, her grin mischievous as she turned to me. I extended my hand.

“Hello, I’m Jo McClam. I’m one of Sebastian’s classmates.”

Anne took my hand in a firm shake. “Oh, so you’re Jo! Sebastian tells me you started as a fifth-year, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That I am. It’s been… an adjustment, for sure.”

Anne scoffed. “No need to be modest. Sebastian said you absolutely thrashed him in a duel on your first day.”

I glanced at Sebastian just in time to catch his cheeks darkening.

Anne smirked, elbowing him playfully. “Between you and me,” she leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a stage whisper, “he needs the competition since I’m not there to humble him anymore.”

I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of us burst into giggles, leaving Sebastian grumbling under his breath.

Then heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase. A moment later, a tall man appeared, his expression unreadable. He had the same strong features as Sebastian and Anne, but his face was lined with years of experience, his posture rigid with the sort of discipline that never truly left former Aurors.

Solomon Sallow.

“Ah,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Hello, Sebastian. Welcome home.”

Sebastian’s easy demeanor stiffened slightly. “Uncle Solomon.”

Solomon’s sharp gaze flicked to me. “I see you’ve brought someone.” He studied me for a beat before nodding. “You must be the McClam girl Sebastian keeps talking about.”

Keeps talking about?

My ears burned.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I said, shaking his offered hand.

Sebastian, standing beside me, had gone oddly still. I risked a glance at him and was met with a rare sight—his face was tinged with just the faintest trace of red.

Anne, of course, noticed immediately. Her smirk was positively wicked.

Solomon seemed oblivious to the tension he had just caused, turning and making his way toward another room. “I’ll leave you three to it.”

Once he was out of earshot, Anne turned to Sebastian with a knowing grin. “Keeps talking about her, huh?”

Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start.”

I crossed my arms, raising a brow. “Yeah, Sebastian. Keeps talking about me, does he?”

He turned toward me, eyes narrowing slightly as if debating whether to retaliate.

He didn’t.

Instead, he smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anne laughed. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I grinned, letting the warmth of the moment settle in.

Despite everything—despite the weight of what I knew was coming—this? This felt good. Like I belonged.

For now, that was enough.

Sebastian reached into his coat pocket, fingers curling around something as he pulled it free. It was small, round, and a striking shade of pinkish purple.

A Shrivelfig.

“Oh, Anne,” he said, stepping closer. “I brought you this.”

I had noticed the bulk in his coat earlier but hadn’t thought much of it. Now I understood. He had carried it all this way—not for himself, but for her.

Anne’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”

She reached out, eager to take it, but before her fingers could close around the fruit, a hand shot out and snatched it away.

The air in the room shifted.

I turned sharply—where had he come from?

Sebastian whipped around, eyes blazing. “Hey!”

Solomon stood between them, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look furious, not quite. Frustrated, yes. But beneath the furrowed brows and tight jaw, there was something else—something heavier.

Resignation.

“We’ve been over this, boy.” Solomon’s voice was rough, weathered by years of grief. “Shrivelfigs cannot reverse the curse. Nothing can.”

Anne shrank at her uncle’s sharp tone, her hopeful expression falling into something smaller.

I watched as Sebastian clenched his fists at his sides, his whole body stiff with barely restrained anger. But Solomon wasn’t done. He lifted his wand, tapping the fruit lightly.

It withered instantly, curling in on itself before dissolving into nothing but dust.

Sebastian inhaled sharply, the sound sharp and bitter in the heavy silence. I could see the war raging inside him—argue, fight, prove him wrong. But no words came.

Solomon turned, preparing to leave, when Sebastian finally broke.

“But we haven’t tried everything!” His voice was raw.

Solomon froze mid-step before slowly turning back. His dark eyes burned into his nephew.

“There is no cure,” he said, enunciating every word like they were nails in a coffin. “When will you accept that?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t hesitate.

“Never,” he said. “I can never accept it.”

The room had become suffocating.

Anne let out a small gasp. Her whole body flinched, her hands trembling as they clutched at her middle. Then, suddenly, she folded into herself, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

I was at her side in an instant, one hand bracing her back as she shuddered. Her face twisted in pain, her breathing coming in short, broken gasps.

Sebastian took a step forward, panic flashing across his face, but Solomon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Now look what you’ve done.”

He brushed past Sebastian, dropping to his knees beside Anne. He whispered reassurances, his hands gentle as they rubbed slow circles along her shoulders.

I backed away, heart hammering.

Solomon had taken over, tending to her with the steady care of someone who had done this far too many times.

Sebastian lingered for only a moment before he turned sharply and stormed out the door.

I hesitated, torn between following him and staying with Anne, but Solomon didn’t spare me another glance. His attention was wholly on his niece.

I slipped out after Sebastian.

The air outside was crisp, the scent of damp earth lingering from an earlier rain.

Sebastian was pacing, hands in his hair, his entire frame coiled like a spring about to snap. The lines of his face were tight, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to despair.

At the sound of the door closing behind me, he looked up. For a moment, we just stared at each other.

Then, his shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before. He glanced away. “If you don’t mind… I just need a moment alone.”

He walked off before I could say anything, disappearing toward the fields beyond the cottage.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. My heart was still pounding from what had just unfolded, and I knew Sebastian needed time to cool down before I tried talking to him again.

Instead, I turned toward the side of the house, where I spotted Solomon kneeling in the garden, tending to a patch of flowers.

I hesitated before approaching.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sallow?”

He looked up, his gaze tired but not unkind. “Oh. Yes. Sebastian’s friend.” He let out a short sigh, brushing dirt from his hands. “I apologize on behalf of my nephew. He doesn’t know when to stop.”

I forced a small smile. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Solomon huffed, shaking his head as he returned to his plants.

I took a slow breath, choosing my next words carefully. “I truly am sorry. I understand that you’ve tried everything from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s to no avail.”

His hands stilled. He straightened, studying me more intently now.

“We have.”

For the first time, I saw the full weight of his exhaustion.

“My nephew thinks he knows better than the healers,” Solomon continued, voice low. “I don’t know how you and that Gaunt boy put up with his endless talk of finding a cure.”

I swallowed. “Ominis and I try our best to keep him distracted with other things. But Sebastian is determined to help his sister. If there is a cure, he will find it.”

The words felt hollow even as I said them.

Solomon’s face darkened. “Your faith in him is misplaced.”

I didn’t flinch.

“I assume you know the circumstances in which Anne was cursed?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Good.” Solomon exhaled, looking past me toward the distant hills. “Then you should know that giving her hope is cruel. The only thing to do now is keep Anne comfortable and stay out of the Loyalists’ way.”

I clenched my fists.

I had seen too many worlds, too many futures where hope was the only thing that kept people alive. I refused to believe that ambition and determination were wrong.

But I also knew the truth.

Anne couldn’t be cured.

And Sebastian’s quest would only lead to more pain.

So I bit my tongue.

“I understand what you’re saying, sir.”

Solomon’s expression didn’t shift. “And do your best to remember it. Sebastian writes about you frequently.”

My breath caught.

“He listens to you.” Solomon studied me closely. “Maybe you’ll be able to get through to him. And I know what’s best for Anne and Sebastian. They are my stubborn brother’s children.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Especially Sebastian.”

I nodded. “I’ll… try to talk to him.”

With that, I stepped back, letting him return to his garden.

Torn.

I understood both points of view, and yet, neither felt right.

I just wished there was a third option.

After I want back inside and comforted Anne, I went to check on Sebastian.

Sebastian was still in the field when I finally went to check on him.

He was sitting in the grass now, idly twirling a long blade of it between his fingers. His expression was unreadable, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the stem.

I approached cautiously, the tall grass rustling softly underfoot.

The weight of what had just transpired still clung to the air between us.

Sebastian stood up abruptly, brushing dirt from his hands. His movements were tense, deliberate, like he was trying to physically shake off the weight of the last hour. His jaw was set, shoulders squared, but beneath the anger still simmering in his dark eyes, I caught something else—exhaustion.

I took a slow step forward, careful with my words.

“How are you doing?”

His lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled sharply. “I’m okay,” he muttered, though I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. “I apologize for my uncle. You just got a first-hand glance at what I’m dealing with.”

I nodded, folding my arms. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting him to be that angry.”

Sebastian let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “He’s always angry. He’s been that way since my parents died. After Anne was hurt, he only got worse.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “It’s as though he blames me somehow—always calling me ‘my father’s son.’ As if that’s an insult.”

His voice had grown sharper, laced with frustration.

“I’m the one trying to help her,” he went on. “He’s simply given up.”

I didn’t respond immediately. My thoughts warred between wanting to give him hope and knowing that there was no cure for Anne—at least, not one that would lead to anything good. I wanted to believe that some miracle existed, that there was another way, but I also knew the cost of chasing ghosts.

Instead of voicing my thoughts, I settled on something neutral.

“He seems devoid of hope,” I said carefully. “Both Anne and your uncle seem genuinely convinced that nothing more can be done for her.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened. “I refuse to believe that.” He stepped past me, pacing slightly, his voice rising with each word. “Anne’s pain is more than physical. It has changed her entirely.”

His hands lifted as he spoke, gesturing wildly, frustration seeping into every movement.

“I miss my sister, and I am going to get her back. I don’t care—”

“Hey.” I reached forward and placed my hands over his clenched fists, stilling him mid-motion. “Stop for a moment.”

Sebastian froze.

His breath caught, his fingers twitching slightly beneath mine. His brown eyes widened—caught somewhere between surprise and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I kept my touch light, letting my thumb brush over his, grounding him. I wasn’t ready to initiate anything overtly intimate, but I could feel his pulse beneath my fingertips, fast but steady.

I inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly in an attempt to settle the storm brewing in him.

“I just want you to know,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “that as your friend, I want to stand by you and help however I can. But I can’t do that if you’re caught up in being angry at your uncle.”

I made sure to put slight emphasis on the word friend, though the moment it left my lips, I wondered if that’s truly what either of us wanted.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered, studying me.

“There’s no point in being angry at someone else’s opinion that you can’t change,” I continued. “Do you understand?”

A few moments passed—just the sound of the wind rustling through the tall grass around us. I held his gaze, waiting. Finally, his fingers relaxed beneath mine, and he nodded.

“Good.” I hesitated before adding, “I’ve had too many of my friends and family get lost in their own rage over something they can’t control. I’m not about to lose you the same way.”

The second the words left my mouth, my cheeks burned.

Sebastian’s brows lifted slightly, and for the first time since leaving the cottage, his lips quirked upward in the ghost of a smirk.

Realizing I had said far more than I intended, I quickly withdrew my hands from his.

The air between us had shifted, charged with something unspoken.

Desperate to move past whatever that was, I cleared my throat and glanced toward the distant hills.

“Do you—uh—want to go for a walk?” I asked, awkwardly adjusting the strap of my bag. “Your uncle probably doesn’t want us back at the house anytime soon.”

Sebastian exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his smirk turning more familiar—mischievous, teasing.

“You mean to tell me,” he drawled, “that you actually want to spend more time with me?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m reconsidering already.”

He let out a soft chuckle before stepping beside me. “Come on, McClam. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

I huffed but fell into step with him as we left the quiet hamlet behind, heading up the winding path toward the hills.

Chapter Text

The rolling green hills slowly gave way to rougher terrain, the grass thinning out as scattered boulders and jagged rock formations became more prominent. The well-worn stone path beneath our feet wound through the landscape, climbing steadily upward. The air here was heavier, the silence less serene and more… expectant.

Sebastian suddenly halted, one foot slightly raised before planting it back down with deliberate caution. His entire posture shifted—tense, wary.

“We need to be more careful in this area,” he murmured, scanning the terrain ahead. “It’s crawling with Ranrok’s Loyalists. They’ve been digging for something up at an abandoned estate just up the hill.”

I already knew exactly where we were headed—Isidora Morganach’s old home. The thought sent a chill down my spine. This was where everything would change for Sebastian, where his obsession with a cure would truly take root. I wanted to be careful about what I said, about what I encouraged, but avoiding this place wasn’t an option.

I crossed my arms, feigning casual confidence. “Oh? And when has that ever stopped you?”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, lips twitching as if he was considering a rebuttal. But after a beat, he just sighed.

“I know for a fact you can hold your own if we run into trouble, but still, I… I just—” He trailed off before shaking his head. “Oh, whatever. Come on.”

I followed, watching as he kept his head on a swivel, his eyes sharp. He looked at home in this kind of setting—calculated, prepared. We reached a small stone bridge, arching over a creek, and as we crossed, Sebastian pointed toward the plateau ahead.

“Up there—on that plateau—is where they cursed Anne.”

His voice was quieter than before, laced with something unreadable. I turned my gaze to the spot, taking in the broken remnants of a stone foundation, the eerie stillness that seemed to linger around it.

We pressed on, climbing higher until faint voices made us both freeze in place.

“How much longer are we expected to dig through this rubble? There’s nothing left here but a dead witch’s garbage.”

“Ranrok knows what he’s doing. It’s an honor to be a part of it. Only good wizard is a dead wizard in my book.”

Goblins

I met Sebastian’s gaze, silently asking the question: Attack or sneak past?

His eyes glinted mischievously, and before I could decipher what that meant, he smirked—then, to my utter shock, started laughing under his breath.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

His grin widened. “I didn’t know you were such a bloodthirsty person, Jo.”

I scoffed, whispering, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve got this look in your eye—like you’re already plotting how to take them all down.” His smirk turned downright devilish. “No mercy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I fully intend to take all of them down. But that doesn’t make me bloodthirsty.”

“Sure,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from the single word.

I elbowed him lightly, making him chuckle.

“It’s cute,” he added offhandedly.

My breath faltered slightly. Cute? I had no idea how to process that. Part of me wanted to ignore it entirely, but my traitorous mouth was faster than my brain.

“Cute?” I echoed, forcing an unimpressed tone. “Not going to lie, Sallow, that’s a bit sadistic—being attracted to me and my supposed bloodlust.”

The moment the words left my mouth, my own boldness shocked me. I felt my eyebrows shoot up, my heart hammering just a little faster. Did I just flirt back?

Sebastian’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and then—just as I wished for the ground to swallow me whole—he huffed a laugh under his breath.

I quickly turned away, pretending to assess the enemy camp. Anything to mask the warmth creeping up my neck.

“There are about six goblins in plain sight,” I whispered, composing myself. “I’d wager there are at least two more we can’t see yet. If we—”

I turned back to look at him and found him just… staring at me. That same goofy grin tugging at his lips.

I blinked. “What?”

Sebastian shook his head, his grin never fading. “Nothing.”

And then he raised his wand and vanished with the Disillusionment Charm.

I sighed, but a smirk crept onto my face despite myself. With a flick of my wand, I followed suit, my body disappearing into the shimmering air.

“Look who’s bloodthirsty now,” I whispered.

“Shh,” Sebastian whispered back, his voice laced with amusement.

We crept closer, barely making a sound against the dirt and stone. I moved toward one goblin while he veered toward another, waiting for the perfect moment.

With synchronized precision, we both raised our wands.

“Petrificus Totalus.”

The goblins froze in place before toppling over like statues. The second they hit the ground, Sebastian and I broke our charms and leapt into the fray, spells flying.

The battle had begun.

The moment the first two goblins hit the ground, the others turned in alarm. A bellowed curse rang through the camp before the air erupted in flashes of blue and red as spells flew in every direction.

I ducked behind a large crate, barely dodging a crossbow bolt that whistled past my head. A ranger goblin, perched atop a broken cart, was already loading another shot.

"Watch the ranger!" I called to Sebastian, flicking my wand. "Glacius!"

A surge of frost blasted forward, catching the goblin in mid-reload. Ice crawled up his arms, locking him in place. Without hesitation, I slashed my wand downward.

"Diffindo!"

A razor-thin arc of magic sliced through the ice and the goblin beneath it. He shattered into a frozen heap, his crossbow clattering uselessly to the ground.

Sebastian, meanwhile, had already taken down another goblin with a ruthless string of attacks. His wand whipped through the air—Levioso sent his opponent floating helplessly, followed by a sharp downward jab.

"Descendo!"

The goblin slammed into the ground with a sickening crack, its enchanted helmet barely softening the blow. Sebastian finished the job with a Confringo, reducing the body to ash.

I caught the glint of a blade out of the corner of my eye. One of the remaining goblins had gotten too close, jagged axe raised high.

"Sebastian, down!"

He didn’t hesitate. He dropped to a knee just as I raised my hand, channeling something deep within me. The familiar electric pulse of Ancient Magic coursed through my veins, crackling to the surface of my skin. With a flick of my wrist, a burst of raw energy sent the goblin hurtling backward, his body smashing against a boulder before going limp.

Sebastian looked up at me, breathless. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

I grinned. "Smart man."

The last of the first wave fell, but the air was still thick with tension. From the shadows of the ruins, three more goblins emerged—larger, clad in dark iron armor that pulsed with crimson runes. Their weapons glowed ominously, pulsing with the same eerie light.

"Reinforcements," Sebastian muttered. "Lovely."

The first of the three, a towering brute with a sword, lunged at me. I barely managed to throw up Protego in time, my shield sparking as the enchanted blade clashed against it.

"Could use some help here!"

Sebastian was already on the move. "On it!"

With a flick of his wand, the goblin lifted into the air—Levioso. Before he could recover, Sebastian yanked him downward. "Descendo!"

The armored goblin crashed to the ground, and I took the opportunity. I raised my hand once more, channeling my Ancient Magic. This time, a concentrated sphere of blue energy crackled to life in my palm. I hurled it forward.

The moment it made contact, the goblin erupted into glowing embers, his armor collapsing in a pile of smoldering scrap.

The second goblin swung at Sebastian, his dual axes whirling with unnatural speed. He barely dodged the first strike, but the second clipped his shoulder, sending him stumbling.

I didn’t think—I reacted.

I lunged forward, yanking Sebastian back just as the goblin’s blade sliced through the space where he had just been standing. With a swift Stupefy to the back of the head, I sent the goblin staggering, and Sebastian wasted no time in finishing the job, blasting him apart with a well-aimed Confringo.

The final goblin, a shaman draped in enchanted robes, snarled something in Gobbledegook and slammed his staff into the ground. A shockwave of magic pulsed outward, forcing Sebastian and me back.

"Alright, that’s just cheating," I muttered, bracing myself.

The goblin raised his staff again, preparing for another attack, but I was faster.

"Glacius!"

The frost spread up his arms, locking him in place.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. "Diffindo!"

The cutting curse slashed through the goblin’s chest, his form flickering before finally collapsing.

The battlefield fell silent, only the crackling of dying embers remaining.

Sebastian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I confess," he said, breathless but grinning, "that was a bit more than I’d bargained for."

I smirked, tucking my wand away. "I’ll try not to say, ‘I told you so.’"

Together, we turned towards the ruins, stepping over the wreckage as we made our way to the abandoned estate.

Sebastian led the way, his pace slowing as we neared the charred remains of the estate. The ground beneath our feet turned from loose dirt to uneven stone, broken and cracked from years of neglect. The air here felt heavier, thick with memories of fire and destruction.

Sebastian came to a stop. His gaze swept over the ruins, but he wasn’t really seeing the present—he was back in that night, reliving it.

“This is where it happened.” His voice was quiet, but there was an underlying tension, like a wire pulled too tight. “We smelled smoke in the middle of the night. When we looked outside, flames were shooting from the estate. Before my uncle and I could stop her, Anne rushed out—racing towards the fire, worried someone’d be hurt. She came face to face with a horde of goblins, frantically trying to stamp out the flames.”

Sebastian clenched his fists. His jaw was set, but the flicker of sadness in his eyes betrayed the fury he was barely holding back.

“Then, an icy voice drifted out from somewhere in the smoke. ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ A blinding blast followed. They didn’t even give her a chance to run.”

The words sent a chill down my spine. I could almost hear the cruel voice myself, hanging in the smoke, laced with finality. I had seen Anne’s condition, but hearing the story firsthand made it more real.

“They were trying to hide something,” I said, my voice firm despite the unease curling in her stomach.

Sebastian nodded. “My thoughts exactly. It may be grasping at Billywigs, but I know there must be something here that could lead me to whoever cursed Anne.” His gaze darkened. “I’ve been up here a handful of times, but I haven’t found anything substantial. The goblins chased me off every time.”

I smirked. “Well, nice and convenient that there are no goblins this time. Let’s look around.”

Without waiting for his response, I strode forward toward the estate, feeling his presence right behind me. I knew exactly where to look, but I couldn’t make it obvious. So, I went through the motions—examining broken mining tools, overturned crates, abandoned campfires. Sebastian did the same, frustration evident in every sharp movement.

Eventually, I drifted toward the well beside the estate. The stone was worn smooth by time, and the faintest hint of magic still lingered in the air around it. I turned toward the plateau’s edge, the view stretching far over the valley below. From here, I could see all of Feldcroft—the cluster of houses, the watchtower, the distant glint of the creek winding through the fields.

I felt him approach before he spoke.

Sebastian stood beside me, silent, gazing out over his home.

I really should have been focusing on the task at hand. I should have been searching for clues, keeping Sebastian from digging too deep. But instead, all I could think about was how much I wanted to change things for him. To stop what was coming.

I had been here before. Not in this exact place, but in this position many times—standing at the precipice of someone else’s tragedy, knowing it was beyond my power to fix it. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t change the past. I couldn’t change fate.

A lump formed in my throat.

I blinked, startled, as something warm and wet slipped down my cheek.

I wiped at it hastily, but it was too late.

Sebastian turned, his entire body shifting toward me, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. “Woah, woah—are you okay?”

Before I could brush him off, his hands were on my shoulders, turning me toward him. He bent slightly to meet my gaze, brows furrowed in concern. “Jo, what’s wrong?”

I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek as my thoughts raced.

What was I supposed to say? That I knew how this would end? That I was trying to stop him from becoming a murderer, but didn’t know if I could? That I was terrified for him?

Sebastian’s hands gripped my shoulders a little tighter. “Please, talk to me.”

I took a shaky breath. “I promise I will tell you. But you’re going to need to give me a moment.”

Sebastian searched my face before nodding. He let go, stepping back just enough to give me space.

I turned back toward the well, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

“I’ve seen all this before,” I said quietly. “This house, the well, the view.”

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean? When?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I motioned for him to follow as I led him inside the ruins of the house.

The walls still stood, blackened and crumbling, but the roof had long since collapsed, leaving the ruined estate open to the elements. Sunlight streamed through the gaps, casting broken beams of light over scorched stone and fractured wood. There was no warmth in it—only the eerie stillness of a place frozen in time, haunted by what had been lost.

My boots crunched softly against the ashen floor as she stepped forward. A painting leaned against the far wall, the once-grand frame splintered at the edges, its subject’s face burned away. The damage wasn’t accidental—it was intentional, a deliberate erasure of history.

Isadora Morganach.

My stomach twisted. This was it. No turning back.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Sebastian.”

He turned, his brown eyes locking onto mine. Even with the golden afternoon light filtering through the wreckage, there was a darkness behind them—a weight that he carried, one that I knew too well.

I swallowed hard. Every part of me was screaming not to do this, not to bring him into something that could tear him apart. But it was already too late, wasn’t it? He had already wormed his way past the walls I’d so carefully built, already seen too much, already fought by my side like he belonged there.

And maybe—just maybe—he did.

“What I’m about to tell you is serious,” I said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So this, right now, is your last chance to back out. I’ve already seen people die because of this, and I don’t want you to be the next victim.”

Sebastian straightened, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Jo—”

I cut him off, my voice cracking. “Please.” My breath hitched involuntarily, and I clenched my fists at my sides to keep them from shaking. “Go back to Hogwarts. Stay away from me.”

My throat felt tight, like I could barely force the words out. “Fate can be cruel and twisted, and you deserve so much more than where this may lead you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I even realized I was crying. I hated that—hated that I was letting him see me like this, vulnerable and raw, but I couldn’t stop it.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. His hand lifted, soft fingers brushing against my cheek, catching the tear before it could fall further. His touch was surprisingly gentle, lingering just long enough to make my heart stutter.

I expected him to let go. To step back. To smirk and brush off the moment like he so often did.

He didn’t.

Instead, he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me in a firm, unwavering embrace.

It wasn’t hesitant or brief. It was solid. Grounding. Like he had already made up his mind.

I stood frozen at first, my mind racing. It had been a long time since I had been held like this—not out of obligation, not out of pity, but because someone wanted to. Because someone needed to.

Slowly, I allowed myself to melt into him, resting my forehead against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath the layers of his coat, and the realization struck me like a hammer to the ribs—he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not leaving you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. It was firm, resolute, but there was something softer beneath it, something that made my breath catch in my throat. “You don’t deserve to be left high and dry, doomed to walk whatever path you must walk without someone with you.”

My grip on his coat tightened.

I should have argued. I should have told him again to go back, that he didn’t understand what he was getting himself into.

But I didn’t.

Because, for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t alone.

And I didn’t want to be.

We held onto each other for just a moment longer before finally pulling away. The cool air rushed between us, but Sebastian lingered close, his hands still resting lightly on my arms. He studied my face, his brows furrowed slightly, before he reached up and wiped away the last traces of my tears.

I let out a soft laugh, the tension between us breaking just slightly.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you’re trying to scare me away,” he teased.

His words were light, but his tone was kind—genuine. The warmth in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

I shook my head, smiling. “That wasn’t the goal, believe it or not.”

We chuckled, the heaviness of the moment lifting just enough to breathe.

Sebastian tilted his head. “Now, you said you’ve seen this place before. When?”

I exhaled, shifting my weight slightly. “That day in the library—after you ran off after Peeves—I found what I was looking for: a book and a Pensieve. The memory inside showed a group of Hogwarts professors visiting Feldcroft, saving it from a drought. Specifically, it showed this house and a little girl who lived here—Isadora Morganach.”

Sebastian listened intently, his expression sharpening with curiosity.

“Years later, she came to Hogwarts as a fifth-year, just like I did,” I continued. “Another memory showed her speaking with the same professors who had once saved Feldcroft, only this time, she wasn’t just a child watching from afar—she was a student, learning from them. Those professors, along with Isadora herself, called themselves The Keepers.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his thoughts clearly working through the information.

I went on. “That Pensieve wasn’t the only one they left behind, and the memories they’ve shown me… they tell a much bigger story.”

He crossed his arms. “’The Keepers’? Like in Quidditch?”

I snorted. “No, not like Quidditch.”

His smirk was brief, and then his curiosity overtook him again. “And—wait—why were you searching for a Pensieve in the library? I’m trying to follow, but I feel like I’m missing a chapter here.”

I sighed. “I realize it’s a lot to take in. I don’t fully understand everything yet myself. But the Keepers… they’re protecting something—something tied to the vault at Gringotts.”

Sebastian took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Let me get this straight. You have Ranrok and Rookwood after you because of something you found at Gringotts—where you ended up via a Portkey. And now you’ve been witnessing memories left behind by ‘Keepers.’ Oh, and this house belonged to a former Hogwarts student—who was one of these non-Quidditch Keepers.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were pulling my leg.”

I smirked. “Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg, Sallow.”

His expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Before he could say more, I turned toward the ruins, placing my hands on my hips. “There has to be more to this place than some crumbling walls.”

Sebastian let out a small chuckle before stepping forward. “This wall looks suspicious. Like it was built after the fire.”

He walked past me, and as he did, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur.

“You have that determined glint in your eye again.”

I felt the heat rush to my face, my thoughts derailing completely.

Before I could even process a response, he moved ahead, crouching near the stonework. He ran his fingers along the surface, examining it carefully.

“These stones don’t have any char marks,” he muttered. “I’d bet anything they were piled here after the fire. I bet if we—”

“Bombarda!”

The blast of fire hit the wall dead center, sending rubble flying. When the dust settled, an opening stood where the stones had been.

Sebastian, still crouched, turned his head slowly to look at me, his hands still braced against his knees.

I grinned, lowering my wand.

“Show off,” he muttered.

“Slowpoke.”

“I was getting there,” he said, standing and dusting himself off before stepping through the hole.

As soon as he was through, he reached back, offering his hand to help me through. His palm was warm as I took it, stepping over the fallen debris and into the chamber beyond.

We both turned toward the only thing of interest in the room—a wooden staircase, leading down into darkness.

Sebastian let out an exaggerated gasp. “Look, Jo. I found a staircase.”

I rolled my eyes, ruffling his hair as I passed. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. Good job using your eyes.”

He scoffed, shaking out his hair. “So rude.”

I descended into the basement, casting Lumos as I stepped into the gloom. The air was thick with dust, the scent of burnt wood and mildew lingering even after all these years. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, along with scraps of charred books and parchment.

A glint of silver caught my eye. I carefully stepped over the debris, reaching down to pick up a tattered journal. I flipped through a few pages, my light casting a glow over the delicate script. Isadora’s words practically bled from the parchment—her obsession with curing pain, her growing frustration with the Keepers, and her unwavering belief in the power she wielded.

Sebastian was on the other side of the room, his wand illuminating the ruined space, casting long shadows over the broken furniture and scattered debris. His gaze was sharp, focused, scanning the remnants of Isadora’s life hoping he might pull answers on how to help Anne from the ashes.

I turned, my own light flickering against the far wall. And then—I saw it.

A shimmer in the stone.

Not a wall—an opening. An enchanted passage, just like the ones I’d seen before.

I stepped forward, heart pounding slightly. “You’re not going to believe this, but I can see the Undercroft”

Sebastian turned, brushing dust from his sleeves. His expression was expectant but teasing. “What, a daydream? Because that happens to me, too.”

I shot him a look, unimpressed. “No. I know it sounds strange, but—”

“Jo,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms. “At this point, nothing you say sounds strange to me anymore.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “Fair enough. I can see the Undercroft through this stone wall – as though it is a window. This has happened to me before.”

Sebastian frowned, stepping closer. The usual amusement in his features flickered into curiosity. “I’m listening.”

I hesitated for only a moment before inhaling deeply. This was it. Another layer of truth exposed.

“I have a rare ability to see traces of ancient magic,” I explained. “It allows me to sense things others can’t. Sometimes… it reveals pathways, like this one.”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened slightly, his thoughts clearly running ahead of him. “I don’t know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. Wait, what does that even mean?”

Not wanting to give too much away, I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t even understand the full scope of it, but the Keepers have said that it’s a powerful magic that should only be wielded by a select few.”

“Including you?” Sebastian said, obviously beginning to be more intrigued by this power.

“Eh, kind of. I can’t completely control it.” For once I wasn’t lying. Controlling ancient magic was not as simple as I had originally assumed. “That is what those blast of energy I sometime do when fighting are.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Oh that’s what that is! I always wondered, but I figured it was just a complex spell you had learned from Fig or something.”

I laughed at his sudden excitement. “Fig and I think Ranrok has found a way to harness the same power. That’s why this is all so dangerous. He’s already seen what I can do, and he’s desperate for more.”

Sebastian’s excitement quickly disappeared, his grip tightening on his wand. The playfulness from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier, something protective.

“Is that why you were hurt a few weeks ago?” His voice was quiet now, edged with something rare—worry. “Because of Ranrok and his Loyalists?”

I hesitated. My first instinct was to lie, to brush it off, to keep him from worrying.

But lying wasn’t an option anymore.

“No,” I admitted, voice softer. “But it was tied to the Keepers—and my ability.” I swallowed, glancing away for a moment before looking back at him. “I’m sorry I lied about that. I was badly hurt. Broke several ribs. Someone healed me, but…” I exhaled. “It most likely won’t be the last time I will get hurt like that. But I’m tough, so don’t worry about it.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. His brows furrowed, frustration and concern warring across his face. He looked like he wanted to argue, to demand answers, but after a slow inhale, he seemed to settle.

I cleared my throat, pushing forward. “Anyway… one of the things my ability allows me to do is travel through these ‘windows’ I see.”

Sebastian raised a brow, his mood shifting back. His face still held onto some of the worry, but he hid it well. Mostly

“So we can get straight to the Undercroft from here?” A slow smirk pulled at his lips. “Ominis will be floored.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “We can. But no one else can know about this. Not even Ominis.”

Sebastian considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Understood.” His grin widened just slightly, the tension between us thinning. “Well then—secret ancient magic passageway, here we come. I’m tempted to hold my breath.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled as I stepped toward the wall, then hesitated, pulling my hand back.

“I’ve only used a couple of these,” I admitted, glancing at Sebastian. “And only ever with Fig. You’re going to have to—um—hold my hand. I don’t want to get pulled through and leave you stranded here.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d leave him behind, but I wasn’t willing to take the chance. And, if I was being honest with myself, maybe—just maybe—I didn’t mind having an excuse to hold his hand.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply extended his hand toward mine, his fingers lacing between mine without hesitation.

I froze for just a fraction of a second. I had expected him to just take my hand, not to interlock our fingers. The warmth of his palm against mine sent a shock through my system, but I willed myself to ignore it. Focus.

“Ready?” I asked, voice steadier than I felt.

He nodded.

I turned back to the wall and placed my free hand against the glowing stone. Magic thrummed beneath my fingertips, and with a flash of light, the world around us shifted.

In an instant, we were back in the Undercroft. The cold, musty air of the hidden chamber rushed over us, a stark contrast to the outside world. Sebastian and I turned our heads wildly, ensuring we were exactly where we were supposed to be.

He grinned. “You keep becoming more remarkable by the second.”

I smirked, masking the warmth in my chest. “I’ve always been this remarkable. You’re only just now seeing it.”

Sebastian chuckled. “No, you’re only just now letting me see it. Took long enough to put your guard down.”

I opened my mouth to respond—only to suddenly realize we were still holding hands. I debated for half a second whether to let go naturally, to play it off, when movement caught my eye.

My head snapped toward the far wall, fingers instinctively tightening around Sebastian’s.

“What is that?” he asked, following my gaze.

The stone bricks opposite us began shifting, shuffling amongst one another until a shallow alcove formed. In the center, a closed wooden triptych sat embedded in the wall, as if it had been waiting to be discovered.

Sebastian and I exchanged a glance before I pulled away, quickly striding toward it. My fingers pried the wooden panels open, revealing an unfinished triptych—its left wing depicting a landscape while the other two remained empty, save for a single scrap of parchment with runes scrawled across it.

Sebastian, now beside me, frowned. “Why would someone hide a triptych here in the Undercroft?”

I knew exactly why.

This had been left behind for me—for someone who could see ancient magic. It was meant to guide whoever found it to more answers about Isadora Morganach and her research.

I should have been more careful. I should have remembered this would appear after we traveled through that passageway. Maybe I could have prevented Sebastian from ever seeing it.

But I stopped myself.

He was in this with me, whether for better or worse.

I reached out and carefully plucked the parchment from the triptych’s center panel, turning it over in my hands.

Sebastian leaned in slightly. “Anything helpful in the note?”

“A rune symbol,” I murmured. “I’ve seen similar symbols used by the Keepers.”

Sebastian’s eyes flickered with something sharp, something bordering on desperate. “I’ve been thinking—a ‘Keeper’ lived in that house, and Ranrok’s lot have been searching there. You said goblins may be wielding some form of ancient magic. Do you think Anne was cursed by ancient magic?”

I turned the parchment between my fingers before pocketing it. “I don’t think so. I didn’t see any traces of it around your sister.”

Sebastian exhaled, but he wasn’t deterred. “Hmm. Very well. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t ancient magic. There’s still so much we don’t know about it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I hesitated, then nodded. “True. Perhaps this triptych will lead us to answers.”

Sebastian’s expression shifted from frustration to determination. “Then we’ll have to unravel what this all means. But for now, I need to see Ominis.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry,” he added quickly, catching my look. “I won’t tell him anything. But did I mention that, apparently, Salazar Slytherin had a secret scriptorium hidden here in Hogwarts?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Hm, you did not. And let me guess—you want to convince Ominis to show you how to get into it.”

Sebastian grinned. “It’s like you read my mind.” A pause. “Wait. Can you do that?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, your thoughts are safe.”

He exhaled dramatically, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. “That’s a relief. I had no idea our visit to see Anne would unfold into all this. My head’s an utter mess.” He ran a hand through his hair before meeting my gaze again, his expression more genuine. “But I’m glad you told me everything you did.”

I let out a breath. “It was good to get it all off my chest. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I meant it lightheartedly, but it didn’t feel light to me.

I had warned him. And he willingly accepted.

Maybe there was still time to prevent some of what was coming. Maybe not.

Sebastian stretched, looking over at the triptych again. Then, voice lower, more certain, he said, “For the first time in a while, I have genuine hope that I can cure Anne.”

I tilted my head. “What are you talking about? You’ve always had hope.”

“This is different.” He exhaled. “It’s with a direction. I felt like I was drowning—trying everything I could to help her, only to get nowhere. But now I can finally feel my feet on solid ground.”

I watched him carefully. “And knowing you, now that your feet are on the ground, no one’s going to be able to stop you from running.”

Sebastian’s lips twitched into a small, lopsided smile. “You got that right. And it’s all because of you.”

Before I could process what was happening, he stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss just above my hairline.

Soft. Barely there. But it set my nerves on fire.

I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

It was so brief, so effortless, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then, just like that, he pulled away, completely oblivious to the way my heart was hammering against my ribs.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, shooting me one last look before striding toward the exit.

And then he was gone.

I stood there, staring after him, pulse roaring in my ears.

What just happened?

Chapter Text

Sebastian hadn’t left my mind for days.

It wasn’t just the way he had held my hand so naturally, lacing their fingers together like it was the most casual thing in the world. It wasn’t even the way his lips had brushed against my forehead, leaving me too stunned to react as he disappeared from the Undercroft. Those were distractions, fleeting moments that threatened to cloud my judgment if I wasn’t careful.

No, what haunted me was the way he had spoken. The fire in his voice when he said, We can save Anne! The sheer determination in his eyes, as if he had already made up his mind that nothing—no one—would stand in his way.

I cared about him. That was an undeniable truth now. I cared in a way I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before, because it complicated everything. Because caring meant I wanted to believe in him, to support him, to see him happy. And yet, that same care made me afraid. Because I knew where this path would lead if I didn’t stop him.

Sebastian was grasping at the threads of something just out of reach, something that wasn’t meant to be pulled. And if I let him unravel it all, he would destroy himself.

I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. There had to be a way to stop him before he got too far, before this obsession consumed him completely.

The book.

The spellbook that was hidden in the Scriptorium. The very thing that would set him on the path to the catacomb and the relic that would be his undoing. I knew the timeline—knew that soon, Sebastian would convince Ominis to help him break into Salazar Slytherin’s hidden chamber. He would find that book, he would find the relic, and he would let it twist him into something unrecognizable.

Unless I stopped it before it ever began.

I clenched my jaw. That was it. I would get to the Scriptorium before him. Before Ominis. Before anyone. I would find the book and destroy it.

Even if it meant lying to Sebastian. Even if it meant he would never forgive me.

A chill ran through me, but I ignored it. I had made my decision.

And tonight, at the Halloween Feast, I would sit across from him in the Great Hall and pretend nothing had changed.

I strode down the corridor, my boots tapping softly against the stone floor as I made my way toward the Great Hall. The scent of warm pumpkin spice and roasting meats drifted through the castle, a promise of the feast to come. The flickering torches lining the walls cast playful shadows, making the cobblestone passageway feel alive.

Despite the festive air, my mind was still tangled in thoughts of Sebastian. Even now, after days of trying to push it aside, my decision weighed heavy on my chest. Destroying the book was the only way. It had to be.

I was so lost in thought that I nearly missed the voice calling my name.

"Hey, Jo, wait up!"

I turned just in time to see a blur of brunette hair bounding up the stairs from the kitchen corridor.

"Poppy!"

We met in the middle, arms flying up instinctively before we collided in a twirling embrace, laughing as we spun. When we finally pulled away, breathless and grinning, we locked arms in an exaggerated, overly dignified manner, adopting deeper, more dramatic voices as we continued toward the Great Hall.

"Tell me, darling, how is Gerald?" I inquired, feigning the voice of a high-society noblewoman.

Poppy sighed wistfully. "Oh, Gerald is fantastic, thank you for asking."

"Is the little Puffskein still learning to keep his tongue to himself?"

"Like you had to ask."

We burst into laughter again, the sound bouncing off the walls. A pair of students passed us, giving us bemused looks. We exchanged glances and simply shrugged before continuing on, unbothered.

“I wish you were in Hufflepuff,” Poppy said as we reached the grand double doors. “Then you could sit with me.”

I gave her a fond smile. “I would if I could. I’d sit by you any day.”

We parted ways with a friendly wave, Poppy heading toward the Hufflepuff table while I scanned the Gryffindor section for a familiar face. It didn’t take long—Natty waved me over the moment she saw me. I slid into the seat across from her, landing right next to Garreth.

Before I could so much as say hello, Garreth tousled my hair like an annoying older brother. I yelped, shoving him playfully as the three of us erupted into laughter. As I combed my fingers through my now-disheveled hair, Garreth leaned forward, grinning.

"Are you two ready for Sharp’s test on Friday?"

Natty groaned. "As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. I’ve only brewed Veritaserum a handful of times, but if I do it again before the test, I know I’ll just overthink it."

I hummed in agreement, tapping my fingers against the table. "I’m less worried about brewing it than I am about someone slipping it into my drink. It’s both colorless and odorless—I wouldn’t know until it’s too late."

Garreth gasped, smacking a hand against the table. "Ah, it’s just been confirmed, folks—the new student has a dark past so horrendous that she fears getting slipped a truth serum at any moment!"

I shot him a deadpan look. "That is not what I meant, and you know it!"

Natty giggled, shaking her head. "I must admit, Jo, that did sound rather suspicious."

I groaned. "All I’m saying is, with that many students attempting to brew Veritaserum at once, the chances of someone slipping it into another person’s goblet are a bit higher than usual. I just don’t want it to be my goblet."

Garreth leaned back, smirking. "Whatever you say, McClam."

"Oh, shove off!" I gave him another playful push.

Except this time, Garreth pushed back—harder than he meant to.

The bench wobbled beneath me, and before I could react, I was tipping backward. My breath caught—my arms flailed—

Then, suddenly, I wasn’t falling.

Garreth’s arms shot out, one hand catching my wrist while the other pressed firmly against my back, keeping me from hitting the stone floor. My face was mere centimeters from his, my eyes wide as I processed what had just happened.

Someone wolf-whistled from down the table.

A chorus of laughter erupted around us, followed by a cheeky, "Get her, Weasley!" from one of the nearby students.

I felt the heat rush to my face so fast I thought I might combust. Garreth quickly pulled me upright, clearing his throat.

"Uh—sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

I looked away, still flushed. "No harm done…"

I pretended to busy myself with straightening my robes, but when I glanced up, my stomach dropped.

Through a gap of heads at the Ravenclaw table, my eyes met Sebastian’s.

He had seen everything.

He quickly looked away, but not before I caught the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers had curled just slightly into fists against the table.

I swallowed. A few students were still snickering around us, but I forced myself to ignore them, forcing a smile as Natty spoke.

"Some people here are so nosey," she muttered.

"Amen to that," I agreed, just as—

"Ahem."

The entire hall fell silent.

Professor Black had stepped up to the lectern, clearing his throat dramatically.

Garreth groaned under his breath. "Oh, here we go."

As the Headmaster droned on about the importance of studies, house pride, and whatever else he deemed necessary to lecture us about, I slowly tuned him out.

My gaze drifted back across the hall, finding Sebastian once more. He caught my eye, raising a brow as if to say, What is with this guy?

I stifled a laugh, but he wasn’t done.

His expression softened. He tilted his head slightly, mouthing, Are you okay? before making a small, exaggerated falling motion with his hands.

I rolled my eyes but smiled, nodding as I mouthed back, Yes, I’m fine.

Satisfied, he gave a small smirk before finally looking away.

I turned back to Black, trying to refocus, but I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my chest.

The second Black finished his insufferable speech, mountains of food materialized across the long tables. The Great Hall glowed with candlelight, the floating jack-o'-lanterns above casting flickering shadows along the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the dark, cloudy sky outside.

I reached for the ladle sticking out of a large soup bowl, inhaling the warm, spiced aroma before pouring myself a hearty serving of mulligatawny. The golden broth swirled with chunks of vegetables and bits of chicken, steam curling into the cool air. Without much thought, I grabbed a roll and let it drop onto the surface of my soup, watching it bob before settling.

Across from me, Natty had opted for a single meat pie, carefully slicing into the flaky crust. Beside me, however, Garreth was piling his plate with anything and everything within reach—roast potatoes, a leg of lamb, roasted squash, treacle tart. I half-expected him to start stacking plates on top of each other.

Natty and I exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

Garreth, mouth already full of bread, only arched a brow at us, looking thoroughly unrepentant. It was times like this that reminded me Ron Weasley with that sheer, shameless love of food. I always saw the twins in him, but I loved the little moments when the rest of Weasleys I knew peeked out through him.

The three of us spent the meal talking about anything and everything from classwork, upcoming tests, and the latest castle gossip. At one point, Natty mentioned the holiday and how strange All Hallows' Eve felt to her, given that it wasn’t celebrated where she was from. But, she admitted, any excuse for a feast with friends was a welcome one.

I tried to stay present, to focus on the warmth of the meal, the comfort of my friends, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

I knew without looking who it was.

Sebastian.

Every time I stole a glance, he was either watching me or talking in hushed tones with Ominis. His plate remained mostly untouched, his fork idly tracing patterns in his mashed potatoes. He hardly ate a thing.

And then, in the middle of dessert, he and Ominis stood up.

I followed them with my eyes as they made their way toward the exit. Sebastian was speaking animatedly, hands moving as he talked, while Ominis simply shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I frowned. Whatever they were discussing, Ominis didn’t seem thrilled.

A short while later, Black dismissed us to our dorms, and I was among the first to rise. As I made my way toward the doors, Garreth fell into step beside me, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Come on, Jo, it can’t be that dangerous,” he said, his voice dripping with persuasion. “I know you’re sneaky!”

I scoffed. “I don’t like this idea, Garreth. It’s one thing to ask me to sneak into the Honeydukes cellar a few times. Even you asking me to get a unicorn hair gets a pass. But dragon dung is a whole other thing.”

Garreth waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not like it’s an actual body part! It should be easy to snag. And we all know there’s a Hebridean Black living in the mountains north of Hogsmeade. I bet my wand that you could get in, grab what I need, and be back within the hour.”

I shot him a dry look as he held open the first set of doors for me.

“Ha. You have far too much faith in me. Maybe two hours, if I’m lucky.”

Garreth grinned. “This isn’t sounding like a no.”

He held open the second set of doors, his face brimming with hope.

I sighed dramatically, as if I were really struggling with the decision. “Hmm… I don’t know…”

I let my voice trail off as my eyes flickered across the entrance hall, my steps slowing.

At the far end of the room, standing near the house point hourglasses, were Sebastian and Ominis.

From the second I entered the room, Sebastian’s eyes locked onto me.

I knew the moment our eyes met that he was listening.

His jaw clenched.

Ominis, standing with his back to us, sighed sharply. “Son of a Bludger, Sebastian. Don’t.”

Sebastian ignored him and continued to stare at me.

Garreth, still caught up in his idea, took his chance to strike. “How about this—if you get me about a kilogram of dung, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, and butterbeers are on me.”

I grinned. “You’ve got a deal, Weasley.”

“YES!” Garreth fist-pumped in triumph as we continued walking, arms brushing slightly as we headed through the corridor.

Behind us, I could barely make out Ominis muttering something else—probably another plea for Sebastian to leave it alone.

Then I heard it.

Quick footsteps.

“Jo!”

Garreth and I turned in unison.

“Oh, hi, Sebastian.” I arched a brow, feigning ignorance. “Do you need something?”

Sebastian didn’t even look at Garreth as he responded, his tone deceptively casual. “Yes, actually. Mind if I borrow her?”

Garreth glanced between us before shrugging. “See you back in the common room!”

Before Garreth could even turn around, Sebastian grabbed my hand and towed me toward Ominis, who was still standing near the house point hourglasses with one hand pressed against his forehead, already exasperated.

I wasn’t oblivious to what Sebastian was doing. And while I did care for the loyal and reckless Slytherin boy, interrupting me and Garreth like that was not okay. He had no claim over me.

By the time he finally stopped, I pulled my hand back—not roughly, but definitely not gently.

I crossed my arms. “This better be good, Sallow.”

Sebastian barely reacted to my irritation. “We just need you to settle something.”

Ominis sighed, his expression a perfect picture of suffering. “Respectfully, we don’t.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “I just want her opinion.”

Ominis let out a defeated breath before turning to me. “Fine.” He tilted his head slightly. “What are your opinions on the Dark Arts? Are they something to avoid… or something to learn more about?”

Ah. So they were having that conversation.

I knew where this was going. Maybe, just maybe, I could nip Sebastian’s interest in the Scriptorium in the bud before it got too out of hand. But deep down, I already knew the answer.

I leveled Sebastian with a look. “Please tell me this is a joke. If you’re in any way considering using Dark Magic, stop it right now.”

His jaw tightened. “Anything to help Anne is worth the risk.”

Ominis let out a sigh, his patience gone. “I can’t agree, and I’ll not say a word more. I’m sorry.”

He turned on his heel, his robes sweeping behind him as he made to leave. But before disappearing, he gave me a small nod—a silent acknowledgment that he appreciated my stance.

Sebastian scoffed. “He’s being ridiculous.” Then he turned back to me, his expression intense. “I told you that Salazar Slytherin had a secret scriptorium here in Hogwarts, right?”

I nodded, wary of where he was going with this. “Right.”

“I’ve been trying to convince Ominis to show me where it is, but he swears it was used for the Dark Arts. He won’t have anything to do with it. I reminded him that Anne needs a cure. This scriptorium could hold the answers we need.”

I exhaled sharply. “Ominis is right. Meddling in the Dark Arts is dangerous.”

Sebastian huffed. “There’s more to Dark Magic than people realize. The Gaunts know this better than most.”

I jumped on the flaw in his logic immediately. “Precisely! Since Ominis is, you know, a Gaunt, shouldn’t you be more keen on listening to him regarding the Dark Arts?”

For the first time, Sebastian hesitated. His gaze flickered downward, the gears turning in his head as he processed my words. He sighed, finally relenting. “Perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn. Ominis’s family history is personal to him.”

I softened slightly. “I understand. You needn’t tell me more if you don’t want to.”

A smirk ghosted his lips, though his eyes remained thoughtful. “If I were you, I’d be begging for more details.”

That was true.

I had spent months familiarizing myself with the Gaunts’ history. The stories of cruelty, of obsession, of how their family name would eventually lead to someone more feared than anyone in the wizarding world’s history.

But despite knowing the truth, I did want to hear Sebastian’s perspective. And I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to tell me.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head with mock reluctance. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened as he leaned in slightly. “Ominis learned Dark Magic from his parents. Are you familiar with the Cruciatus Curse?”

A pit formed in my stomach.

My mind flashed to Neville Longbottom. To his parents. To the horrors they endured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and her twisted little circle of Death Eaters.

I clenched my jaw. “The Cruciatus Curse—also known as the Torture Curse. Inflicts excruciating pain on the victim.”

I said it flatly, my voice void of warmth.

Sebastian nodded. “Apparently, his parents and older siblings had no qualms about casting it on Muggles for sport. Ominis describes the sound of their cries as horrific. So the first time he was asked to cast it himself as a child, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”

I swallowed.

Sebastian’s voice darkened. “As punishment, his family cast it on him.”

I felt my breath hitch.

“The anguish was so bad that when asked to cast it again, he relented.” Sebastian shook his head. “I have repeatedly assured Ominis that he did what he had to, but he still hasn’t forgiven himself.”

I exhaled sharply. “That’s horrible!” My fists clenched. “However, I don’t blame him for still feeling guilty. I’m obviously not one to talk from experience, but from what I’ve heard, once you use Dark Magic, it follows you. Haunts you till the end of your days.”

Sebastian’s expression flickered, but he didn’t argue.

“After that,” he continued, “the rift between Ominis and his family only grew. That is, until I came along. Every moment he isn’t at Hogwarts, he’s with us in Feldcroft. Ominis trusts me. And more often than not, he winds up listening to me.” His gaze turned determined. “I’ll remind him of that when I follow up about the Scriptorium.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Just… don’t be an arse about it, okay? If it’s a sensitive topic, he probably won’t relent.”

Sebastian only smirked. “We shall see.”

I tried not to be frustrated with him. He had no clue what he was diving into.

Then his smirk twisted into something else. Something smug.

He tilted his head. “Also, I couldn’t help but overhear…”

I tensed up immediately. “Overhear what?”

The sharpness in my tone surprised even myself.

Sebastian’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second—just barely. But then, as if snapping back into place, he covered it with an easy, amused expression.

“Never mind.” His voice was deceptively casual. “Have fun on your date with Weasley.”

Before I could respond, before I could so much as breathe, he turned on his heel and walked off leaving me all alone.

The days blurred together.

Sebastian had always been a constant presence in my life since arriving at Hogwarts—always smirking at my expense, always challenging me in duels, always lingering by my side. But ever since our talking after the Halloween feast, that presence had wavered. He was still there, flashing me his usual cheeky grins in passing, but there was a distance between us now.

It wasn’t outright avoidance, but I knew him well enough to recognize when he was holding something back. And the truth was, I missed him.

But if space was what he needed, I’d give it to him.

Instead, I threw myself into distractions. After a grueling Potions test, then a Herbology exam right after, I spent hours trekking through the dragon’s mountain den, scooping up dung for Garreth’s latest reckless idea. By the evening, we were seated in the Three Broomsticks, laughing so hard I nearly spilled my butterbeer. Garreth, ever the mischievous spark, never confirmed if our outing was a date or not, and I chose to assume it wasn’t.

And yet, the entire time, I found myself wishing it was Sebastian sitting next to me instead.

I pushed the thought away.

The next morning, I knew what I had to do.

After walking into the Forbidden Forest, where no intelligent being was around to see, I reached into my core and tore a rift in space itself. A swirling portal of light and shadow yawned open before me, its edges pulsing with the warmth of home.

I stepped through.

The second my boots hit solid ground on the other side, I was tackled.

“Emma!”

A small body barreled into me, arms wrapping around my waist before I even had a chance to react. My vision filled with dark ringlet curls and tanned skin. Rose clung to me as if I might disappear if she let go.

I laughed, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle, though I exaggerated my struggle. “Oh no! Gravity is increasing on me!”

With a dramatic gasp, I collapsed backward, taking Rose down with me. We landed on the hardwood floor in a tangle of limbs, her giggles ringing through the house like a melody.

“Nice try,” she teased, grinning down at me. “I’ve seen that movie.”

I cracked one eye open and smirked. “Good. Your brother is raising you right. Lilo & Stitch is one of my favorites.”

Rose tackled me again, sending us into another fit of playful roughhousing. Laughter echoed off the walls, filling the house with warmth.

Eventually, I relented, pushing myself up and offering her a hand. “Alright, time to address the Erumpent in the room.”

Rose blinked. “The what?”

I waved it off. “Never mind, hold on a moment.”

She perked up immediately as I dug into my bag, her eyes shining with anticipation.

With a triumphant flourish, I pulled out a beautifully crafted copper baking mold, its intricate shape shifting slightly as it settled into its resting form. A large emerald-green bow was wrapped neatly around it.

I grinned. “Happy 13th birthday, Shortcake.”

Rose let out a delighted squeal, extending her hands eagerly as I placed it in her grasp. She turned it over, tracing the delicate engravings with wide eyes.

“That’s an enchanted baking mold,” I explained. “It changes shapes each time you use it.”

She gasped. “No way!”

From the doorway, I caught sight of Charles leaning against the wall, watching us with a fond expression.

I met his gaze and smiled.

He mouthed, Thank you.

I mouthed back, Of course.

“WELL,” a voice called from deeper in the house, “we all know MJ is back. I could hear her from all the way in the library.”

I smirked. “Get over it, Peter Parker. You know you missed me.”

Peter appeared beside Charles, arms crossed. “What? Definitely not. Also—how dare you give Rose her present now when her birthday was literally two days ago?”

I side-eyed him before turning back to Rose.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about being a few days late.”

Rose beamed up at me. “Like I care!”

She threw her arms around me again, squeezing tightly.

I pretended to wipe a tear from my eye. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

With one last beaming smile, she bolted toward the kitchen, undoubtedly eager to test out her new gift. Charles followed after her, shaking his head with amusement.

Peter, now standing in front of me, quirked an eyebrow. “So. What’s the plan for your weekend? Are you actually going to relax, or are you burying yourself in books and research again?”

“Just one book, actually,” I said. “And believe it or not, I have to destroy it.”

Peter’s eyebrows lifted. “Destroy a perfectly good book?”

“Oh no. This book is anything but good.”

He tilted his head, waiting.

I exhaled. “Sebastian, Ominis, and I are supposed to sneak into Salazar Slytherin’s secret scriptorium within the next week or so. There’s a spellbook in there that I know will lead Sebastian down a dark path, and I’d like to remove that from the equation entirely.”

Peter hummed in thought. “Can’t you just, like… not go into the Scriptorium in the first place?”

“That was my hope,” I admitted. “But knowing Sebastian Sallow, he’ll pester Ominis until he relents. I’d rather be there to stop him and make sure the book never sees the light of day.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“Sounds like a solid plan. As long as you’re sure it won’t screw up too much in the timeline.”

I hesitated, then shrugged.

“…It shouldn’t.”

Peter just laughed and walked away.

I hope I’m making the right call.

With a sigh, I glanced around the room. The estate had long since settled into its usual evening rhythm—Charles had just finished washing the last of the dishes, the smell of warm sponge cake still lingering in the air. Rose had retreated to her room, no doubt sketching out her next baking masterpiece, and Peter was nowhere to be seen, likely wrapped up in some mechanical project in the back of the house.

This would be the last quiet moment I had before heading back to Hogwarts.

I lingered for a moment longer, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of my robes. I hadn’t changed out of them since I arrived. There hadn’t been much of a point—this wasn’t a long visit, and if I was seen in the Scriptorium (which was highly unlikely), it’d be easier to explain why I was in my Hogwarts uniform than if I was strolling around in trousers and a blouse from another century.

Still. Even knowing how careful I had been, there was a weight settling over me.

The weight of what I was about to do.

I inhaled sharply, shaking it off. No room for doubt now.

Crossing the room, I raised my hand, fingers flexing as I focused. The air in front of me shimmered, bending inward like ripples on water. A swirling portal bloomed into existence, pulsing faintly at the edges like a living thing.

One last deep breath and then I stepped through.

The Scriptorium was colder than I expected.

Not just in temperature—but in something deeper, something that curled around my ribs like smoke, pressing into my lungs with every breath.

Malice.

This place had been sealed away for centuries, and yet I could still feel the weight of its history pressing down on me, suffocating in its silence. The stone walls loomed, lined with books that had long since succumbed to dust and decay. Desks sat abandoned, their surfaces marred with the stains of melted wax and forgotten ink. Crude stone statues lined the upper level, their hollowed-out eyes seeming to follow my every move.

I took a cautious step forward, then stopped.

Footprints.

I couldn’t leave any trace that I’d been here. If Sebastian somehow snuck in early, if he saw anything out of place… he would know. He was too clever for his own good.

With a quiet sigh, I pulled off my shoes and tossed them into a small portal, sending them back to my room in the Peizer Estate. Then, with a moment of concentration, I shifted my feet—light as air, weightless. Elven steps.

I took another step, watching as the dust remained undisturbed. Perfect.

The thought of Legolas trekking effortlessly across the snow crossed my mind. My lips twitched slightly before the memory soured, twisting into something colder. I still remembered those mountains—the biting wind, the endless white, the frost clinging to my eyelashes. Another time, another world.

This world had its own dangers.

I moved cautiously, gliding over the stone floor without a sound. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls as I descended the staircase, my wand casting a pale glow over the lower level. At the bottom, directly across from the entryway, stood a table—pushed against the wall, covered in melted candles, cobwebs, and the husks of long-dead insects. Above it, carved into the stone, was a face I knew all too well.

Salazar Slytherin.

And there, resting on its own pedestal, was the spellbook.

I exhaled sharply.

There you are.

The book was old, its pages yellowed with time, the spine cracked from use. I reached for it, fingers brushing against the worn leather. A small cloud of dust lifted into the air, spiraling in the dim light.

This is it. This was the moment. Destroy it. Leave no trace.

I flipped open the cover.

Just a glance.

My hands moved before I could stop them, skimming through the brittle pages, eyes scanning unfamiliar runes and diagrams. Spells and incantations long forgotten, their power bleeding from the ink itself.

Then—

Wait.

My heart lurched.

No. No, that’s not possible.

My breath hitched as my eyes landed on the top left corner of the page.

A familiar spell.

Sectumsempra.

I felt my stomach drop.

That—no. That’s not right. That’s not—

I scanned the page again, fingers gripping the edges of the parchment so tightly I thought it might tear. My brain screamed at me to make sense of it. To rationalize.

Sectumsempra was Snape’s spell. He invented it. He wrote it in his own textbook.

But this book was centuries old. Salazar Slytherin’s work.

So how in the hell did Snape end up with it?

My pulse thundered in my ears. The Gaunt family. Had they passed this knowledge down? Had a scrap of this book survived Anne’s destruction and found its way into Snape’s hands? Or had he… had he figured it out on his own, never realizing he wasn’t its first creator?

I ran a hand through my hair, muttering under my breath.

No. No, no, no.

I had rules. Rules.

I wasn’t here to change history. I wasn’t here to interfere beyond what was necessary.

And if I destroyed this book now… if I removed it from existence before it ever reached the catacomb, before those pages could ever be found…

Snape might never learn Sectumsempra.

I took a step back, breathing heavily.

I couldn’t be the reason that changed.

I clenched my jaw, pressing my fingers to my temples. I had spent so much time thinking about Sebastian—about keeping him away from this place, from this knowledge—that I hadn’t considered the ripple effects.

Frustration burned through me, tightening my throat. This book had to be in the catacomb. It was a more essential part of the timeline than I had previously thought. It had to be there for Anne to destroy later.

I forced a slow breath, trying to push down the frustration—the helplessness.

I had thought I could control this. That I could fix this before it spiraled beyond repair.

I was wrong.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I shoved them down, balling my hands into fists. I wouldn’t cry. Not for this.

Fine.

I couldn’t stop this. But I could still try. I could still stall.

Maybe—maybe—if I stayed close to Sebastian, if I kept my guard up, I could find another way.

I took one last look at the spellbook, my hands trembling.

Then, without another word, I opened a portal.

The cold air of the Scriptorium vanished, replaced by the familiar warmth of my room in the Peizer Estate. I let myself fall back onto the bed, hitting the mattress with a heavy thud.

For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched at my sides. Then, with a muffled groan, I grabbed my pillow and shoved it over my face. I screamed, not even worried whether my friends heard me or not.

What was I going to do?

Chapter Text

The trip back to Hogwarts was quiet.

Sunday at the Peizer Estate had been a much-needed reprieve, but the moment I stepped out of the portal and went back into the Forbidden Forest, reality came crashing back in. The cold, damp air bit at my exposed skin as I adjusted my cloak and pulled my robes tighter around me. Fallen leaves crunched beneath my boots, the scent of earth and pine filling my lungs with each steady breath.

As I walked through the forest’s outskirts and across the open lawn leading to the castle, my mind wandered.

Sebastian.

I hadn’t seen him since before I left. Our usual moments—casual study sessions, stolen conversations between classes—had been noticeably absent. I knew why, of course. He was giving me space. Or maybe he was giving himself space. Either way, I hated it.

My feet carried me toward the castle’s entrance, but instead of heading for Gryffindor Tower, I turned sharply toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. If Sebastian was anywhere at this hour, it would be the Undercroft.

I flicked my wand and pressed my hand to the entrance, waiting for the for it shift and groan open. The moment it did, I slipped inside, the dim light of torches casting flickering shadows across the cold walls.

And there he was.

Sebastian stood near the center of the room, his back to me, absentmindedly flipping his wand between his fingers. He must have sensed my presence because he turned before I could even say a word, his lips curving into that familiar smirk.

“Well, well. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He tilted his head. “I try.” Then, after a beat, his expression softened. “You’ve been gone for a few days. Off visiting your dear grandmother in Somerset?”

I nodded, ignoring the way my stomach twisted at the lie. “She’s doing well.”

Sebastian hummed in response, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. I had no doubt he’d pester me for details if I gave him the chance, so I swiftly changed the subject.

“What about you?” I asked, stepping closer. “I assume you’ve made absolutely no progress in prying information from Ominis?”

Sebastian scoffed. “That obvious?”

I gave him a pointed look.

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his dark hair. “He’s as stubborn as ever. I’ve tried everything—logic, persuasion, guilt-tripping—but he won’t budge. It’s maddening.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. “Maybe take a break from pestering him, then. Give him space.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “Oh, is that what you’d want?”

I hesitated. The way he was looking at me—head slightly tilted, eyes alight with amusement but searching for something deeper—made my heart race.

“Depends,” I mused. “Are you trying to get into my secret scriptorium?”

He grinned. “Not today.”

There was a beat of silence between us, thick with unspoken words. He was watching me carefully, waiting, and I realized that if I didn’t say something now, I might never.

“I wanted to clear something up,” I started, glancing down for a brief second before meeting his gaze again. “Garreth and I—going to the Three Broomsticks with him—it wasn’t a date.”

Sebastian’s smirk twitched, like he was trying not to look too pleased. “Is that so?”

I nodded. “And… I wished it had been you there instead.”

That got his attention. His playful demeanor faltered just slightly, and something flickered behind his eyes. Surprise? Relief? Whatever it was, it sent a thrill through my chest.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian took a slow step forward, closing the space between us just enough that I had to tilt my chin up to look at him. The air between us was charged, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of how close he was.

His fingers brushed against mine—just barely. A ghost of a touch.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “I would have rather been with you, too.”

I swallowed, pulse pounding in my ears.

It would be so easy to close the distance. To let whatever had been simmering between us for months finally boil over.

But then, just as quickly as the moment came, Sebastian smirked and took a step back, as if he hadn’t just made my entire brain short-circuit.

“Don’t go running off with Weasley again, then,” he teased.

I scoffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t deny it.

Because, heaven help me, he wasn’t wrong.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower had been nothing short of infuriatingly delightful.

Sebastian had insisted on escorting me, which in itself wasn’t unusual, but the way he had spent every step throwing flirtatious quips my way left my heart racing and my thoughts a tangled mess. It was maddening, the way he could switch from reckless and brooding to utterly charming in the span of a heartbeat.

By the time I reached my dormitory, I was grinning like an idiot, the warmth of his lingering presence still buzzing beneath my skin.

I got ready for bed in a daze, my mind replaying the almost-moments between us. The way his fingers had ghosted against mine. The way his voice had dipped just slightly when he told me he would’ve rather spent the evening with me than anyone else.

And then, as sleep finally claimed me, my dreams dared to wander into dangerous territory—visions of what could have been if I had just let that gap between us close.

The next morning, I woke with a start, the lingering heat of my dream still fresh in my mind. I groaned, burying my face in my pillow before forcing myself up and into the motions of a regular Monday.

By midday, after back-to-back classes in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, reality had fully settled in. There was no time to entertain foolish thoughts about Sebastian. I had bigger things to focus on—things that extended far beyond stolen glances and lingering touches.

As I made my way towards the castle doors to make my way toward Beasts class, weaving through bustling corridors lined with floating candles and shifting staircases, a familiar voice called out from behind me.

“Jo!”

I turned to see Professor Fig striding toward me, his expression warm as ever.

“It’s good to see you,” he said with a nod.

I hesitated for only a second before blurting out, “Oh! I’m glad I ran into you, Professor! I was actually planning on going to the Map Room today.”

It was a lie. The words had slipped out before I could think them through, and now I was committed.

Truthfully, I had been putting off my true purpose here—understanding Ancient Magic. But the guilt of neglecting my so-called duty had crept up on me, and now I found myself fabricating intentions just to appease my own conscience.

Fig’s face brightened, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Perfect! I was wondering what our next course of action should be.”

He rubbed his hands together eagerly, and I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Glad to see you’re excited,” I said. “I was thinking of heading there around four, after my last class. Meet me there?”

“Of course,” he agreed, giving me a friendly wink before continuing on his way.

As I resumed my path toward Beasts class, I exhaled slowly, my mind already working through a plan.

I would arrive at the Map Chamber earlier—at least by three-thirty—to speak with Rackham and Rookwood alone. Fig had proven himself to be a great mentor, but there were things I needed to discuss with the Keepers that he didn’t need to hear.

And then there was the trial itself.

Rookwood would undoubtedly direct me to the next one, and while I was better prepared than I had been for the first, my mind wasn’t entirely committed. I had been so focused on Sebastian, the Scriptorium, and the lengths I’d have to go to in order to keep him from a dark fate that I had nearly forgotten about my own path.

I wandered the castle for a while after Beasts, my thoughts heavy as I moved through its ancient halls. The shifting air carried the crisp bite of the encroaching winter, slipping through cracks in the stone and settling deep into the bones of the castle. The dim torchlight flickered against the aged walls, casting elongated shadows that danced in the corners of my vision.

As I descended deeper into the castle, my steps slowed.

It wasn’t just the cold that made me shiver.

It was the growing weight of everything.

Ancient Magic. The Keepers. The Trials. Sebastian. The Scriptorium.

It was suffocating, all these things pulling at me in different directions, demanding my attention, demanding my choices.

But I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

I inhaled sharply, bracing myself before pushing open the double doors to the Map Chamber.

At first, the room was silent.

Then, from the depths of their portraits, Charles Rookwood and Percival Rackham stepped into view.

Rackham’s voice was warm as he greeted me. “It is good to see you, my young friend.”

I nodded in return, stepping further inside. “Hello, Professors. I was hoping to have a word before Fig arrives.”

Rackham gave me a knowing look, understanding exactly what I meant.

Rookwood, however, raised a brow. “And what, exactly, do you need to discuss in private?”

I hesitated. There was so much I could say, but I needed to be careful.

Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out a sleek piece of machinery, its inner workings pulsing with a faint blue glow.

“I have about four of these,” I explained. “If it’s alright, I’d like to install them around the room. They’ll ensure that no unwanted ears are listening… even if their powers aren’t of this world.”

Rackham nodded in understanding before turning to Rookwood. “She is acquainted with Alissa Cleroux.”

Rookwood’s eyes widened slightly. “Interesting.” Then, after a pause, he gestured for me to proceed. “Do what you must.”

With a nod, I set to work.

The devices blended seamlessly into the stone, their presence undetectable to anyone who didn’t know exactly where to look. That was my biggest concern—Fig. I trusted him, but there were things even he couldn’t know.

As I placed the final device, I stepped back, satisfied.

“Peter Parker,” I muttered with a smirk. “You are a genius.”

Rookwood chuckled. “Now, tell me—how do you know our friend Alissa? I had noticed you looked eerily similar. Are you her descendant?”

I froze.

That was… complicated.

I exhaled slowly before settling on, “She’s my twin sister.”

Rackham’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I did not know that you two were sisters. How curious!”

Rookwood frowned slightly. “Then why do you speak so differently? Alissa told us she was from America—a country that, according to her, would not be founded for quite some time.”

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to shift, slipping effortlessly into the accent that had once been second nature.

“The United States of America has been founded as of the present day,” I explained, my American lilt stark against the chamber’s walls. “But I don’t speak like her often. It would be a bit odd to have an American at Hogwarts, considering they have their own wizarding school—Ilvermorny.”

Rookwood’s intrigue deepened. “Fascinating. And am I to understand you possess the same… capabilities as your sister?”

I nodded. “I do. But I try not to use them much in this dimension. My purpose here is to learn—so I immerse myself in the magic of this world. Though, under certain circumstances, I make exceptions.”

Rackham hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting indeed. You should know—Professor Rookwood was much closer to Alissa than I was. But, of all the Keepers, Professor Niamh Fitzgerald was the closest. She will be thrilled to meet you after you complete the next Trial.”

I straightened slightly.

So, it was decided then. The next trial was imminent.

I exhaled, nodding. “I was hoping to wait to discuss the trial until Professor Fig arrives. Is that alright?”

Rackham exchanged a glance with Rookwood before turning back to me.

“Of course,” he said with a knowing smile.

I squared my shoulders, standing taller under the watchful gazes of Rackham and Rookwood. I had gone over this information time and time again, ensuring I could deliver it seamlessly, without hesitation. This was too important to get wrong.

“I would like to inform you of a few things while we wait for Professor Fig to join us.” My voice was steady, but the weight of what I was about to say pressed against my ribs. “The last time Professor Rackham and I spoke, I asked to skip the Trials, since I already know what each Pensieve memory contains. But after thinking it through, I’ve realized that skipping the Trials would benefit no one—not even those I wish to save by cutting the time taken to complete them.

“So, before we move forward, I’d like to give you a full update on Ranrok’s plan.”

Rackham and Rookwood exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. I took their silence as permission to continue.

“Ranrok isn’t just after power—he’s after something far older and far more dangerous than the wizarding world realizes. He’s hunting for the repositories of ancient magic, convinced that wizards have been hoarding a power that rightfully belongs to goblins. His Loyalists have been raiding ruins, digging beneath Hogwarts, and attacking anyone who stands in their way. And he knows exactly what he’s looking for.”

I took a breath, gathering my thoughts before continuing.

“Bragbor, the goblin who built the repositories for Isadora Morganach, kept journals detailing their locations and purpose. Ranrok got his hands on them, and they’ve become his roadmap to uncovering every last trace of stored magic. He is only missing the last of Bragbor’s journals, which he may receive from his brother Lodgok at any time. That journal details the location of the final repository hidden beneath Hogwarts. Once he gets it, it’s only a matter of time before he reaches the last remaining store of magic.”

A heavy silence settled between us, the air in the chamber growing colder. Even the magical glow from the Map Room’s floor seemed dimmer, as if recoiling from my words.

“Ranrok has already unearthed multiple repositories, draining them of their magic. The most recent was in Rookwood Castle. The goblins broke into it and extracted every last trace of power. Whatever protections were placed there—whatever magic you used to guard it—is gone. And if he’s already done that to one, it’s only a matter of time before he reaches the last.”

I let my words sink in. The weight of the situation pressed down on us all.

Rookwood finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. “And you are sure of this?”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “As sure as a wand chooses its wizard.”

Rackham exhaled, his normally composed face creased with concern. “Then we truly have no time to lose. How long before Ranrok receives Bragbor’s last journal?”

I hesitated. “That is the one thing I do not know. Originally, Ranrok would have gotten it around March of next year. But because I haven’t interfered with Lodgok like this timeline originally intended me to, it may be delayed… but I don’t know by how much. A few weeks? A few years? Fate has a way of self-correcting. We can’t afford to assume we have time.”

Rackham opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the doors to the Map Chamber swung open.

Professor Fig strode inside, his presence steady and familiar amidst the storm brewing in my mind.

“Professor!” Rackham greeted. “It is good to see you.”

Fig nodded, his usual polite smile in place. “An honor, as always.”

I returned his smile, though my mind was still spinning from the discussion. As Fig took his place beside me, I made a mental note to switch back into my English accent. The last thing I needed was to slip up now.

“You came at the perfect time,” Rookwood said, gesturing toward the glowing map embedded in the floor. “We were just discussing how imperative it is for Jo to continue onto the next Trial.”

I followed his gaze to the map, where one location pulsed brighter than the rest—Rookwood Castle.

Fig’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Rookwood Castle?”

Rookwood inclined his head. “My former residence, yes. That castle is also the location of the next Trial.”

I inhaled sharply. “I should tell you that Victor Rookwood—evidently your descendant—is a Dark Wizard working with Ranrok.”

Rookwood stiffened. “My descendant—a Dark Wizard?” He shook his head, then straightened. “I am afraid we have no time to waste. Despite the obstacles that clearly await you, you must get to Rookwood Castle immediately. I do wish we had the luxury of time; however, I do not doubt your abilities. Find my portrait there as soon as you can.”

I nodded. “Very well, sir.”

Rackham’s expression was unreadable. “Best of luck.”

Fig turned to me. “No time to waste. Shall we go now, or would you rather wait until morning?”

I hesitated, glancing toward the map once more.

“While I don’t particularly like the idea of leaving right now, it seems like the better option,” I admitted. “I’m fine skipping History of Magic, but I have projects due in both Potions and Herbology tomorrow.”

Fig chuckled. “It’s settled then. Shall I meet you there?”

“Yes, please. I need to grab a few extra Wiggenweld potions from my dorm first.”

Together, we walked out of the Map Chamber, the weight of the mission ahead settling over me like a cloak.

As we ascended the stairs, Fig glanced at me curiously. “What were you discussing with them before I arrived?”

I forced my expression to remain neutral. “Ancient magic—how it works, the history behind it.” I shrugged. “Not much before you got there.”

He nodded, satisfied with my answer.

As Fig and I parted ways, I felt the weight of the coming trial settle heavily on my shoulders. Tonight, I would be stepping into Rookwood Castle, facing whatever dangers lay ahead. The reality of it pressed into my mind like an iron brand.

I inhaled deeply, trying to push away the tension coiling in my chest. It would do me no good to dwell on it now—not when there were still things to do, preparations to make.

As I made my way toward Gryffindor Tower, my thoughts churned, heavy and relentless. Every step echoed softly against the stone floor, a rhythmic reminder of how little time I had before everything spiraled further out of my control.

Rackham and Rookwood’s words still lingered in my mind, pressing against the back of my skull. Ranrok was closer than ever to reaching the final repository, and I had no way of knowing just how much time I had left before that final thread snapped.

I needed to focus.

I needed to breathe.

I barely rounded the corner near the library when I nearly ran straight into someone.

A warm hand grazed my arm as we both jolted to a stop, the brief contact like a spark in the cold corridor. I sucked in a sharp breath, my pulse stuttering.

“Jo?”

Ominis.

He straightened, his grip on his wand tightening slightly. He hadn’t grabbed for me, hadn’t stepped back either—he had simply stilled, head angled in my direction, as if deciphering something unseen. His voice carried a slight edge, but it wasn’t annoyance. More… curiosity.

I exhaled, trying to will my thoughts into order. “Ominis. Sorry—I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

His brows pulled together faintly. “Clearly.”

I expected him to leave it at that. He didn’t.

Instead, he remained standing there, his sightless gaze lingering just past my shoulder, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, not exactly uncomfortable, but dense in a way that made me suddenly hyper-aware of the space between us.

Ominis wasn’t one for small talk. He spoke when it was necessary, when he had something pointed to say. So the fact that he lingered now meant something.

"You sound distracted," he observed.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ve had a long day.”

His expression didn’t shift. “No. It’s more than that.”

Something in my chest tightened. Ominis had a habit of seeing through people—even without his eyes. It was unnerving sometimes, how he could strip you bare with only a sentence.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”

He made a soft noise of acknowledgment, tilting his head slightly. "And no one to share the burden with?"

That made me pause.

Ominis rarely pried into my business. If anything, he had spent most of our time together treating me with a mix of wariness and mild tolerance. But now? There was something softer in his tone. A quiet understanding.

“I…” My throat felt dry. “I don’t know if I can share it. Some things, you have to carry alone.”

Ominis let out a breath, fingers running absentmindedly along his wand. “That’s what Sebastian tells himself too.”

The mention of Sebastian sent a jolt of something sharp through me. Guilt, maybe. Uncertainty.

Ominis turned his head more fully toward me. “What are you doing with him?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Sebastian.” His expression was unreadable. “You’ve been spending more time with him. More than before.”

I hesitated, trying to gauge what he was really asking. Did he mean what I thought he meant?

I folded my arms, suddenly feeling exposed. “He’s my friend.”

Ominis hummed, unconvinced. “And yet, he’s not the only one watching you these days.”

My breath hitched.

Ominis didn’t say things carelessly. If he was implying something, it meant he had been paying closer attention than I thought.

“I…” I struggled for words, feeling as though I were standing at the edge of something dangerous. “I don’t know what we are. It’s too soon to say.”

Ominis didn’t move, didn’t react—not at first. Then, slowly, he let out a quiet sigh. “Just be careful.”

His words settled over me like a weight, heavier than I expected.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on his wand. "Sebastian has a way of drawing people in. But he’s also good at dragging them down with him if they’re not strong enough."

I swallowed. “I know.”

Ominis gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave, but hesitated just long enough for me to catch it.

“Goodnight, Jo.” His voice was quieter now, more measured.

I studied him for a moment longer, feeling something between gratitude and uncertainty twist in my stomach.

“Goodnight, Ominis.”

He lingered for only a second before turning and disappearing into the dim corridor, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I took a slow breath and forced myself to move.

By the time I reached the Gryffindor common room, most students had gone to bed. I hurried to my dorm, grabbing the extra Wiggenweld potions from my trunk and double-checking my supplies.

I also added an extra layer of undergarments, gloves, and a scarf. It was getting colder by the day.

Then, with my broom in tow, I slipped through the quiet halls of the castle and out into the night.

The cold bit at my skin as I mounted my broom and kicked off the ground, the castle shrinking beneath me as I soared into the dark sky.

Rookwood Castle awaited.

The air was sharp as I cut through the sky, the snow stinging my face and clinging to my cloak like stubborn frost. The Feldcroft region was already coated in a thin layer of white, the rolling hills now a frozen expanse, and the salt-heavy wind from the sea seeped through my robes, biting into my skin. I clenched my jaw against the cold, willing my fingers to stay steady on my broom handle.

Rookwood Castle loomed ahead, its jagged silhouette stark against the cloudy night sky. I stayed low, skimming over the frostbitten ground, careful not to draw attention to myself. As I neared the tree line that bordered the castle grounds, I spotted Professor Fig huddled among a cluster of bare birch trees. He had thrown on an extra layer of wool, his breath curling into the frigid air as he waved me over.

“Over here!” he called softly.

I landed smoothly, tucking my broom away and slinking toward him. Even in the dim light, I could see the sharp concern lining his features.

“The castle is crawling with both goblins and Victor Rookwood’s lot,” he murmured. “They’re working together, all right, but it is not a friendly alliance.”

I exhaled, peering toward the stone walls in the distance. “Maybe that will work in our favor.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” He shook his head. “The front gate is a death trap. But I spotted a ledge we may be able to climb over on the north side of the castle. Let’s move.”

We both cast Disillusionment, our figures rippling into near-invisibility as we crept closer.

The first obstacle we encountered was a makeshift camp pitched around the castle’s perimeter. Two large tents stood sentry, their canvas tops dusted with snow, while a massive bonfire crackled between them. The warmth from the flames illuminated a trio of goblins clad in dented armor, their crude axes strapped to their backs. A lone Ashwinder leaned against the castle wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded with boredom.

I exchanged a glance with Fig before raising my wand.

“Glacius,” I whispered, and the Ashwinder barely had time to gasp before his entire body froze solid, ice creeping over his limbs in an instant.

Fig followed up seamlessly. “Diffindo.”

A precise, sharp slice cleaved through the frozen wizard, and he crumbled to pieces like shattered glass.

One goblin turned at the sound, eyes widening before I flicked my wand. “Levioso!”

The goblin yelped as he was hoisted into the air, limbs flailing. Before he could retaliate, Fig slammed him back down with a swift “Descendo,” sending him crumpling onto the frozen ground with a sickening thud.

The remaining two goblins lunged at us, their short swords gleaming in the firelight. One let out a guttural roar, but I was faster.

“Depulso!”

The force of my spell sent him flying backward into the bonfire. He shrieked as flames engulfed his armor, flailing wildly before collapsing into embers.

The last goblin charged at Fig, but he flicked his wand effortlessly. “Bombarda.”

The explosion sent the goblin soaring backward, where he crashed against the tent poles, bringing the entire structure down in a heap of burning canvas and splintered wood.

I exhaled, watching the last of the flames crackle.

“One camp down,” Fig murmured. “Let’s keep moving.”

As we crept around the perimeter, the north side of the castle came into view. A gaping hole had been blasted into the stone, revealing a possible entry point.

Unfortunately, it was guarded.

Two goblins stood near the opening—one armed with a sword, the other with a crossbow. The ranger spotted us first, raising his weapon with a snarl.

I darted left just as a bolt whizzed past me, embedding itself in the stone.

Fig took the offensive, flicking his wand. “Confringo!”

The fireball slammed into the ranger, sending him staggering back, but he wasn’t down yet. He pulled the bowstring again—

“Flipendo!”

My spell sent the weapon flying from his hands. Before he could react, I lunged forward, slamming my wand into the snow. “Expulso.”

A concussive blast erupted from the ground, sending the goblin flipping backward, landing in a motionless heap.

The second goblin swung his sword at Fig, but my professor was quicker. He ducked the blow and retaliated with a sharp “Petrificus Totalus.”

The goblin stiffened mid-swing before toppling over, frozen in place.

Panting, I turned to Fig. “That was loud.”

He nodded. “Let’s get inside before more of them show up.”

We levitated some crates into place and climbed up, dropping silently into the castle courtyard.

The air inside was heavier, thick with tension. We barely had time to orient ourselves before voices echoed through the stone walls.

Ranrok.

Rookwood.

Fig and I pressed ourselves behind a stack of crates, listening as their argument unfolded.

Ranrok’s voice was sharp, full of barely restrained rage. “I wouldn’t have to dig if you could simply manage to bring me that blasted schoolgirl.”

Rookwood scoffed. “We wouldn’t need her if you hadn’t sent a dragon to retrieve a container I spent months and countless Ministry favors tracking.”

“You let them board the carriage,” Ranrok hissed. “My options were limited once it was beyond my reach at that infernal school.”

Fig shot me a pointed look. I gritted my teeth, gripping my wand tighter.

The conversation turned darker. Ranrok was growing impatient. He wanted results. He wanted me.

The sound of stomping boots and a furious scoff signaled their departure—Ranrok out the front gate, Rookwood Disapparating with a sharp crack.

A silence settled.

I squared my shoulders. “Let’s get into that castle.”

The second we stepped toward the entrance, the air rippled with the telltale sound of Apparition.

A hoard of Ashwinders and goblins materialized in an instant, wands drawn, weapons gleaming in the dim firelight.

“Kill the girl!” one shouted.

No hesitation.

I raised my wand, eyes flashing. “Protego!”

The shield absorbed the first barrage of spells before I countered. “Depulso!”

Two goblins flew backward into a crumbling pillar, stones collapsing on top of them.

Fig stunned an Ashwinder with a well-aimed “Stupefy,” while I whirled to face another—

He lunged at me, blade arcing down.

“Diffindo!”

My spell cut through the air like a blade itself, slashing across his chest. He crumpled, groaning.

Fig caught my eye. “We need to push forward!”

I nodded, dodging another attack before raising my wand one last time.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

A massive explosion rocked the castle, sending our enemies scattering. The dust settled, leaving only silence.

Breathing heavily, I met Fig’s gaze.

“The entrance is clear,” he said.

I swallowed and turned toward the heavy doors leading deeper inside.

“Then let’s finish this.”

Snow swirled around us as we ascended the outer ramparts of Rookwood Castle. The night air bit into my skin, seeping through the fabric of my robes, but I pushed forward, following Fig along the narrow, crumbling stone ledge.

Torches flickered in iron sconces along the castle walls, casting jagged shadows against the ancient stone. I shivered—not entirely from the cold. The weight of what we had just overheard between Ranrok and Rookwood pressed on my mind.

We reached the top of the rampart, where an old wooden door stood partially ajar. Fig shot me a wary glance before pushing it open, and we stepped inside.

The castle’s interior was as cold as the night air outside, the chill of stone and long-forgotten secrets clinging to the walls. A large opening in the floor revealed a massive drop into the lower chambers of the castle, barely illuminated by torches mounted along the walls.

Fig took a step forward and promptly vanished with a sharp crack, Apparating safely to the bottom.

I took a more practical approach. Or at least, I tried to.

The moment I stepped onto a wooden platform, it groaned under my weight. Before I could react, the brittle wood splintered, sending me plummeting. My stomach lurched, and my hands scrambled to catch something—anything—but there was nothing to break my fall.

I crashed onto the stone floor below with a painful thud. The impact rattled through my bones.

Fig turned, blinking at me in surprise. “I suppose that’s the quick way down. Are you okay?”

I groaned, pushing myself upright. “I’m fine.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out a Wiggenweld potion, grimacing as I downed it in one gulp. The warmth spread through my limbs, dulling the worst of the pain.

Fig gave me a knowing smirk but didn’t comment further.

The corridor ahead was eerily silent. Shadows stretched long and thin across the floor as we moved cautiously forward, the only sound being our footsteps against the stone.

Then we saw it.

The chamber before us was lined with the remains of a shattered repository. Jagged stone, scorched runes, and the lingering, bitter scent of burned magic filled the space. Whatever had been stored here—whatever power once lay dormant—was long gone.

Fig exhaled sharply, his brow furrowed. “They’re a step ahead of us. Professor Rookwood is going to be devastated when we tell him.”

I bit my lip. “Speaking of, where is his portrait?”

We pressed on, winding through corridors that bore the scars of past battles—crumbled walls, broken furniture, scorch marks from spells long since cast. Eventually, we entered what looked like an old study. The air was heavy with dust and the scent of burnt parchment.

Above the fireplace, mounted on the stone mantel, was Professor Rookwood’s portrait. His expression was tense, as though he had been waiting for us.

“I heard something,” he said. “I was hoping that was you.”

I stepped closer. “Professor, the goblins and Dark Wizards appear to be looking for stores of magic. I think we found one, but it’s been completely drained.”

Rookwood’s face paled. “No! Things are more dire than I could have imagined. How did—? We shall discuss this later. Right now, you must complete the next Trial.”

I nodded. “Just tell me where I need to go.”

“The power you stand to wield must first be fully understood. The Trials will ensure that. Power without knowledge is dangerous indeed. In the wrong hands—” Rookwood’s gaze darkened. “We will simply have to outwit Ranrok and my unfortunate namesake.”

“I’m ready.”

“I shall reveal the path. Professor Fig must leave you now.”

A surge of power pulsed beneath my feet. It curled around me like invisible tendrils, guiding my steps forward. Without thinking, I raised my wand, tracing the air in front of me. A shimmering archway materialized against the far wall, the stone shifting to reveal a hidden entrance.

Fig sighed, straightening his coat. “I would join you if I could. I shall await your arrival in the Map Chamber.”

With a nod, he Disapparated, leaving me alone.

I turned back to Rookwood. “Thank you for playing along. I don’t think Professor Fig needs to know.”

Rookwood’s expression softened. “No need to thank me. I’m paying it forward. Your sister did a lot for us.”

My chest tightened, but I said nothing. Instead, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the Trial.

The chamber I entered was massive, its stone walls lined with towering pillars. In the center stood three massive archways, each one shimmering with a golden glow. I recognized them immediately—portal gates. Unlike my own portals, these only led to specific destinations within the Trial itself.

I moved forward, solving puzzles by manipulating enchanted crates and shifting the archways’ positions to create new paths. The air thrummed with magic, a steady pulse beneath my skin.

Then came the first battle.

From the shadows, five Pensieve Sentries materialized, their silver-blue forms crackling with magic. In the center stood a towering Pensieve Protector, twice my height.

They struck fast, moving in sync. I barely had time to block before retaliating.

“Depulso!”

A sentry flew backward, slamming against a pillar. I spun, dodging an incoming blast before raising my wand.

“Glacius!”

Frost spread over the Protector’s legs, momentarily slowing its advance.

“Diffindo!”

The spell slashed across the ice-covered armor, sending cracks spiderwebbing through its surface.

Channeling my Ancient Magic, I thrust my palm forward. A surge of blue energy erupted from my fingertips, hitting the Protector square in the chest. It crumpled, dissipating into nothingness.

Panting, I pressed on.

After solving another set of portal puzzles, I stepped through the last archway and into a vast chamber. The air was eerily still, the silence pressing against my ears like the calm before a storm.

A floating platform hovered at its center, suspended over what looked like an endless foggy void. Shadows flickered along the stone walls, cast by unseen torches.

As I stepped onto the platform, a deep tremor rumbled through the room. A massive portal ignited before me, swirling with a familiar white glow.

Then, they appeared.

Pensieve Protectors and Sentries, materializing in silver-blue flashes of magic on either side of the portal. Their faceless helms turned toward me in eerie unison before they attacked.

I barely had time to react before the first spell hurtled toward me. I deflected it with Protego, the impact rattling through my arm, then retaliated with a sweeping slash of my lightsaber. The blade cut cleanly through one of the Sentries, sending it crumbling into dust.

Another lunged at me. I sidestepped, pulling my blaster from my Arsenal and firing a bolt of energy straight into its chest. The sentry staggered, its body crackling as it dissipated.

Spells and swords flew from all directions. I ducked, weaving between attacks as I countered with precise, powerful strikes. My saber hummed as I swung it upward, slicing through another Protector before spinning to cast Depulso at a cluster of enemies, sending them skidding across the stone.

Then, I made a mistake.

A Protector, larger than the others, appeared at my side faster than I expected. Before I could counter, its massive arm slammed into my side, the impact lifting me clean off the ground. Pain exploded through my torso as I was sent flying toward the edge of the platform.

My stomach lurched.

Instinct took over.

I threw my hand out, summoning a portal in midair just before I could plummet into the abyss. I twisted through it, emerging high above the battlefield. The rush of momentum propelled me downward, and I angled my fall, slamming into a Protector with my saber. It collapsed beneath my weight as I rolled off, panting.

But there was no time to celebrate.

A deep, resonating rumble shook the platform.

Then, from the swirling magic of the portal, it emerged.

A Pensieve Guardian, towering over me at nearly five meters tall. Its body gleamed with an otherworldly blue light, its form shifting and reforming like liquid metal. Its massive hands clenched into fists as it turned its hollow gaze toward me.

I had no choice.

I ignited my saber, gripping the hilt tightly as I sprinted forward.

The Guardian moved with terrifying speed for its size. It swung its arm in a brutal arc—I barely dodged, feeling the rush of air as it passed inches from my head. I retaliated, dashing between its legs and slashing at the back of its knee with my saber. Sparks flew, and the Guardian stumbled, but it did not fall.

It turned, swinging its swords down with devastating force. I rolled out of the way, casting Glacius on the ground beneath it. As it stepped forward, its foot slipped on the ice, throwing it off balance.

Taking my chance, I extended my free hand, channeling my Ancient Magic. Blue energy surged from my palm, striking the Guardian square in the chest. The force of the blast sent it staggering backward, cracks forming along its shimmering form.

But it wasn’t done.

With a guttural hum, it lifted one hand. A pulse of magic erupted from its core, and suddenly, the very air around me turned against me.

I tried to move, but the magic constricted me mid-step, holding me in place.

The Guardian raised its other arm, and I knew what was coming.

Desperate, I reached for my blaster and fired. The bolt struck its shoulder, disrupting its concentration just enough for me to break free.

I sprinted forward, channeling every last bit of energy I had left. The Guardian reared back for one final strike, but I was faster.

With one last push of Ancient Magic, I sent a wave of crackling energy through the ground. The Guardian staggered. I leaped, spinning in midair as I drove my saber straight through its core.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, with a final, deafening crack, the Guardian shattered.

I landed hard on one knee, gasping for breath. A sharp, searing pain flared in my side—I glanced down to see blood soaking through my clothes. One of its final attacks must have caught me.

I pressed a trembling hand against the wound, my vision swimming.

I needed Wiggenweld.

No, that would only heal the superficial wounds

I needed to get to the Pensieve and then get out of here.

Staggering forward, I opened a portal and stepped through, collapsing onto the stone floor of the final chamber. The Pensieve glowed before me, beckoning.

I barely made it to the Pensieve before my legs buckled beneath me. My hands caught the edges of the basin as I crumpled forward, my breath shallow and ragged. I had no choice but to let the memory take me.

Isadora. The Keepers. Her father being extracted of his pain.

I watched, powerless, as Isadora reached out, her fingers curling as if pulling invisible strings. Magic—twisted, unnatural—coiled from her father’s chest and slithered into her palm. The moment it left him, his body sagged, relief slackening his features. But the magic in Isadora’s hand pulsed hungrily, shifting like a living thing.

A deep, sickening dread settled in my gut.

This wasn’t healing. This was something else entirely.

The Keepers must have felt it too—the way they stiffened, their hands twitching toward their wands. Even through the haze of my pain, I could see it written on their faces.

Disbelief. Horror.

I had seen enough.

I tried to stand, but the effort sent fresh agony slicing through my ribs. My vision swam. The edges of the chamber blurred, darkening like ink bleeding through parchment. I reached for my wand, but my fingers barely responded.

I wasn’t going to make it to the Map Chamber.

A sharp, cold fear lanced through me. I needed to move. I needed to get out before—before what? Before I bled out in the depths of Rookwood’s ruined castle?

Think, Jo. Think.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere I wouldn’t be alone.

Feldcroft.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I forced my shaking hand to rise. The air around me rippled as a portal tore open before me, golden light flickering like candlelight against the stone walls.

I stumbled forward—

And fell.

I hit the ground hard, snow swallowing me whole. The shock of it sent ice through my veins, a biting contrast to the heat of my blood spilling onto the white-frosted earth.

I gasped. The cold was suffocating. It burned against my exposed skin, seeping through the fabric of my clothes, biting into my wounds. My fingers twitched uselessly, curling into the snow as my body shuddered violently.

I was slipping.

Footsteps.

Crunching against the frost-laced earth, approaching fast.

Then—

A voice. Deep. Familiar.

“…McClam?”

I forced my eyes open, though the effort sent black spots dancing in my vision. The face above me wavered, shifting between focus and shadow.

Solomon Sallow.

His sharp, battle-worn features were drawn tight with something I had never seen before.

Concern.

I tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the darkness surged forward, and the last thing I felt was the weight of snow against my cheek as the world slipped away.

Chapter Text

A sharp breath tore from my throat as I jolted awake, my entire body screaming in protest. Pain lanced through my side, a sharp, biting sensation that forced me to collapse back onto the mattress with a wince. My fingers curled into the fabric beneath me as I forced myself to breathe through the shock.

Where was I?

My eyes flicked around the dimly lit room. The space was small, modest—just a bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. A few of the dresser drawers hung slightly open, clothes haphazardly spilling from them. A well-worn Quaffle rested against the wall, as if abandoned mid-game. Everything about the room felt… familiar, but the details weren’t clicking into place just yet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to piece together the fractured memories of last night. I had been somewhere else—no, I had teleported somewhere else. And someone had found me. But who?

A deep shiver ran through me, and I barely suppressed a groan as I tried propping myself up on my elbows. My whole body felt like it had been through a war. Despite the lingering pain, I was better off than I should have been, given how much blood I’d lost. I glanced down at myself. My coat, scarf, and gloves had been neatly folded at the foot of the bed, but my shirt and trousers were still stained with blood, dried and stiff against my skin.

Then, my gaze caught on something else.

A small stack of books sat atop the dresser—books on healing, obscure spells, and alternative magic practices. My breath hitched slightly as I recognized the familiar, slanted script on one of the spines. These were Sebastian’s.

My fingers brushed against a white button-up draped over the edge of the dresser, left haphazardly as if its owner had rummaged for something and forgotten to put it back. The moment I lifted it, a distinct scent hit me—not cologne or anything specific, just… Sebastian. Something warm and familiar in a way I hadn’t realized until now.

I set the shirt back down carefully, a strange warmth curling in my chest despite the ache in my body.

Before I could dwell on it further, the door creaked open. A pale face peeked around the edge, her eyes widening when she saw me sitting up.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Anne’s voice was soft but laced with relief.

“Anne?” My own voice came out hoarse, weaker than I expected.

She stepped inside, moving slowly, carefully. The flickering candlelight illuminated the soft white nightgown she wore, the fabric draping over her thin frame. She set a plate down on the dresser before lowering herself onto the foot of the bed, gripping the footboard for stability.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, eyes scanning me with quiet concern. “Solomon found you last night. You were in really bad shape, Jo. He was honestly afraid we were going to lose you.”

A chill ran through me, and suddenly, the memory of last night came rushing back. The snow. The blood. The way the cold had seeped into my bones, making it impossible to stop shaking. Solomon’s voice—stern, sharp, but beneath it, concern. He had been the one to find me.

Anne must have seen the realization flash across my face.

“You don’t remember much, do you?”

I hesitated. I remembered it all now, but I couldn’t exactly tell Anne—or Solomon—the truth.

“I remember bits here and there,” I admitted. “It wasn’t until you mentioned Solomon that I started to piece it together.”

Anne sighed. “Look, I don’t want to pry, and I know you’re probably still in a lot of pain, but… I am curious. What happened to you?”

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

“I—I don’t know,” I lied. “I remember being ambushed… by goblins. Then flying on my broom, and—I must have crashed because I was in so much pain.”

Anne’s brows knit together. “Ambushed? What were you doing in the first place to get ambushed by goblins?”

“I wish I knew,” I murmured.

Anne let out another sigh, rubbing her arms against the cold. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, but I’m so relieved you’re okay.” She stood slowly. “I’m going to get Solomon. Is it alright if I tell him what happened?”

I nodded. “Of course. And… tell him thank you.”

“I will.” She hesitated before motioning to the dresser. “Oh, I brought you some bread, butter, and fruit. You need the energy.”

I watched as she moved toward the door, her own pain evident in her slow, careful steps.

As I nibbled at the bread, my mind drifted elsewhere. Did Sebastian know I was here? I knew he and Anne exchanged letters frequently. My stomach twisted at the thought of him barging in, realizing I’d spent the night in his room.

I barely had time to push the thought aside before a knock sounded at the door.

Solomon stepped inside, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Miss McClam,” he greeted gruffly. “Glad to see you’re awake. You gave us quite a scare.”

I forced myself to sit up a little straighter. “I am so sorry, Mr. Sallow. If I knew what happened, I’d explain myself. Thank you for… everything.”

Solomon huffed. “It was no trouble. I’m just glad I found you when I did. You wouldn’t have made it through the night if I hadn’t.”

His tone was different. Gentler. A stark contrast to the last time I was here.

“I owe you my life.”

“No need,” he said with a dismissive wave. “From what I hear, you’ve been keeping Sebastian in line, which is more than I ever managed.”

I let out a small, breathy chuckle. “I try my best.”

A moment of silence passed before his gaze flickered to the stack of books on the dresser.

“You should probably thank Sebastian when you get the chance,” he said, voice quieter now. “I only knew how to heal those wounds because of one of the silly books he left behind. He hoped to find a cure for Anne in it. Instead, I found a way to save you.”

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.

Solomon—who had spent so much time berating Sebastian for his reckless pursuit of a cure—had been reading the same books. Maybe, deep down, he wanted to believe there was hope, too.

He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “I sent an owl to your Headmaster. You’re not fully healed, so you’ll need to go to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible. I expect Black will send someone to retrieve you.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

He gave a short nod in return before stepping out.

Fifteen minutes later, Anne reappeared. “Professor Fig is here.”

Relief flooded through me. “Fig!”

I forced myself to my feet, each step down the stairs sending sharp pangs through my side. When I reached him, his face twisted in concern.

“By Morgana’s wand, you look terrible,” he said.

I smirked weakly. “Apparently not as bad as last night.”

Fig steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. “We have a stretcher waiting near the flying class lawn. Do you think you can Apparate?”

“I think so. Wait—you’re telling me I have to be paraded through the school?”

Fig chuckled. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any alternatives since we can’t Apparate into the castle.” He glanced up at the Sallows. “Thank you again.”

And with a crack, we were gone.

The moment we landed, the world tilted. My stomach lurched violently, and I barely had time to turn before emptying whatever little I’d eaten onto the frozen grass.

A chorus of gasps echoed behind me. Students. I didn’t have the energy to care.

Before I could even look up, a pair of hands lifted me onto the stretcher, and I let my body go limp, letting exhaustion take over.

As I feared, the moment I was lifted onto the stretcher, I became a spectacle.

They carried me through the castle corridors, each turn, each staircase, a new gauntlet of whispers, gasps, and half-muffled exclamations. I wanted to disappear. Or sleep. Sleep through the unbearable humiliation. But every jolt of movement sent sharp pangs through my side, keeping me in a state of half-conscious awareness.

I could feel Professor Fig’s presence beside me, steady and unwavering, his voice occasionally breaking through the fog when he murmured reassurances I barely processed.

Somewhere in the distance, I caught snippets of voices.

“Wait—is that—?”

“Oh Merlin’s beard, is that Jo?”

“Bloody hell, what happened to her?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to block it all out, but it was impossible. I felt utterly exposed, lying limp as they carried me through the castle like some fragile thing.

The spiral staircases never seemed to end. Every turn of the stone steps made my head swim, the motion lulling me into a deeper haze. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered Everett Clopton’s voice.

“That’s Jo! What in Merlin’s name happened?”

Later, another voice—Leander Prewett—sounded unexpectedly concerned.

“She looks awful… what could’ve done that to her?”

Their voices faded into the background as my mind drifted further, exhaustion overtaking me. I let my head droop completely to the side, my arm sliding limply off the stretcher.

Fig’s voice, laced with quiet concern, cut through the haze.

“Don’t worry, Jo. We’re almost there.”

The warmth of his words barely registered before a new voice did—one that snapped me back into sharp awareness.

Sebastian.

“Ha, someone must’ve fallen off their broom or something.” His voice was casual, amused even.

A pause.

“Hm? Where?” Ominis asked.

Sebastian answered, still lighthearted. “A girl’s being carried on a stretcher down the hall. Her clothes are soaked with—” He stopped.

Then, his voice changed entirely.

“Jo.”

I felt him move closer. Heard his hurried footsteps. Ominis was right behind him. My fingers twitched, as if trying to reach for them, but I was too weak.

Before they could get too close, Fig stepped in front of them.

“Please stay out of the way. We need to get her help.”

“What happened to her?” Sebastian demanded, voice frantic now.

Fig’s tone remained calm but firm. “We don’t know. Now, please, stand back.”

Sebastian didn’t budge. “But she’s—”

“Stand. Back.”

The weight behind Fig’s words left no room for argument.

“If you really want, you can visit her when she’s feeling better,” he added, softer now.

I wished I could see their faces, wished I could say something, anything, but the darkness was creeping in again.

Sebastian hesitated, but Ominis touched his arm, a silent nudge to let go.

Fig kept walking, and before I knew it, they were gone, left standing in the corridor, helpless.

The rest of the trip to the Hospital Wing was a blur.

I only remembered fleeting moments—Nurse Blainey’s voice, the cool touch of a damp cloth against my forehead, the faint glow of candlelight above me.

Then, finally, sleep.

I woke slowly, my body feeling lighter, but my head felt like a balloon about to burst.

The room was quiet except for the faint crackling of a fire. The air smelled of herbs and antiseptics, and the soft rustling of fabric told me someone was nearby.

I blinked against the dim light, adjusting to my surroundings.

I was no longer in bloodstained clothes. Someone had dressed me in what looked like my usual attire, but fresh, clean, and mended. I sighed in relief. At least they hadn’t put me in a hospital gown.

Beside my bed, a glass of water and a plate of food sat on the nightstand.

A gentle voice broke the silence.

“Hello, darling. Are you feeling alright?”

Nurse Blainey stood beside me, watching with her usual patient expression.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Ugh… I think I’m okay.”

The moment I shifted, my head spun.

Blainey gestured toward the water. “Drink. It’ll help.”

I reached for the glass and took a slow sip, the cool liquid easing my parched throat.

“Professor Fig would’ve stayed longer,” she continued, “but he had a class to teach. He left strict instructions to get some food in you.”

I nodded weakly. “That sounds like him.”

Blainey gave me a knowing smile. “He also left two rather persistent visitors.”

I frowned. “Visitors?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Two young men. They’ve been hovering outside the Hospital Wing since you were brought in. I had to shoo them off to their classes twice, but after each one, they came right back.”

Sebastian and Ominis.

I stared at her, processing.

She folded her arms. “Shall I let them in?”

I hesitated.

My mind was still foggy, my body still aching, but…

I thought back to my last conversation with Ominis, the way I had brushed him off when he had tried to understand what was weighing on me.

I thought of Sebastian, his voice breaking when he realized I was the one on the stretcher.

I let out a slow breath.

“Not yet,” I murmured. “I need a minute.”

Blainey nodded in understanding. “Take your time, dear.”

She stepped back, allowing me a moment to gather myself.

I glanced at the food and finally picked up a roll, tearing off a piece.

As I ate, my mind wandered.

Fig must have told them something to ease their worry. But what?

And more importantly—

Did Sebastian know it was Solomon who had found me?

Because if he didn’t yet, he was going to flip when he did.

And Ominis…

He had been the last person I had spoken to before leaving for the Trial. I had told him I had too much on my plate, that I had to carry it alone.

Then, the very next day, I had nearly bled out on the castle floors.

No wonder they hadn’t left the Hospital Wing.

I sighed and reached for the water again, finishing the last of it.

I wasn’t entirely ready for whatever reactions awaited me.

But I couldn’t avoid them forever.

Setting the glass down, I exhaled deeply.

“Alright,” I said at last. “Send them in.”

The moment Nurse Blainey disappeared through the doors, Sebastian and Ominis wasted no time closing the distance between us.

Sebastian moved first, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach my bedside. His hands hovered over me, like he wanted to shake me, grab my face, or maybe strangle me for scaring him half to death.

Ominis, on the other hand, was far more composed, though the sharp crease between his brows told me he was just as concerned. He kept a step behind Sebastian, arms crossed, his usual mask of indifference faltering slightly.

“Jo,” Sebastian exhaled, exasperated. “What the hell happened?”

“You look awful,” Ominis added, far less dramatic but no less serious.

I chuckled at Ominis’s joke.

“Nice to see you both, too,” I muttered.

Sebastian scoffed, dropping into the chair beside my bed. “Oh, don’t even. Do you have any idea what it was like seeing you carted through the castle, covered in blood?”

“I thought he was going to throw hands with Fig,” Ominis remarked dryly.

Sebastian shot him a glare. “And you weren’t? Don’t act like you weren’t ready to hex someone.”

Ominis didn’t dignify that with a response, merely tilting his head in my direction. “Fig told us nothing. Said it was better if we heard it from you.”

I let out a slow breath. Of course he did.

“I—” I hesitated for the briefest moment before settling on the story I had already told Anne and Solomon. “I was ambushed. By goblins.”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened immediately.

I pressed on quickly. “I—I must have been flying away, and I crashed. I don’t remember much, just that I was in a lot of pain.”

Sebastian’s gaze locked onto mine, sharp and searching. He knew me too well to believe that was the whole truth.

I shot him a look, one that I knew he’d understand. Later.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push me on it.

Ominis, however, exhaled, running a hand down his face. “And who found you?”

I hesitated. “Solomon. He—he helped me. Brought me inside, stopped the bleeding. If he hadn’t… I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

Sebastian went rigid.

Ominis muttered something under his breath.

“Solomon?” Sebastian’s voice was sharp, disbelieving. “Solomon Sallow?”

“Yes, Sebastian,” I sighed. “Your uncle. The one who hated me.”

Sebastian scoffed. “He hates everyone.”

“Well, he didn’t hate me last night. He saved me.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to wrap his head around the fact that his own uncle—the man he constantly fought with—had saved my life.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, voice dangerously low. “Solomon was willing to keep you alive, but won’t lift a finger to actually help Anne?”

I sighed. “Sebastian—”

Ominis cut in. “Not now. We’re not having this conversation right now.”

Sebastian glared at him, but to my surprise, didn’t argue.

A silence stretched between us.

Then, finally, Sebastian let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re really something else, you know that? Always getting into trouble. If you wanted my attention so badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Ominis let out a long-suffering sigh.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Sebastian smirked, leaning closer. “You love it.”

“I don’t even have the energy to argue with you.”

Ominis groaned. “Merlin’s beard, the two of you are insufferable.”

Sebastian shot him a grin before turning back to me, suddenly serious again. “We went to Potions and Herbology, by the way. Told Sharp and Garlick you were in the Hospital Wing.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Ominis shifted slightly. “I also skipped Binns’ class.”

That surprised me. “You did?”

He tilted his head. “You were in the Hospital Wing. Fig wouldn’t tell us anything. I had other priorities.”

Something warm curled in my chest at that.

“Well,” I said, attempting a smirk despite my exhaustion, “congratulations. You finally had a good excuse to skip our most boring class.”

Ominis scoffed.

Sebastian grinned. “See, Ominis? Jo’s a terrible influence on you.”

“Oh, shove off, Sebastian.”

I smiled, shaking my head.

Then I noticed how both of them had settled in, looking like they had any intention of leaving. I wanted them to stay, but I knew they had things to do.

“I appreciate you both coming,” I said, shifting slightly under the blankets. “But I’m fine now. You should go. Last week Garlick said we’d be starting our project grafting different species of Venomous Tentacula today, don’t think I’ve forgotten. You need to be spending time in the Greenhouses, not here.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Please. You think I’m going to leave you alone after everything?”

Ominis nodded. “For once, I agree with him. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I won’t be,” I assured them. “Nurse Blainey’s will be right back, and I could use the rest. Besides,” I added, smirking at Ominis, “Ominis, you should at least pretend you care about academics, seeing as you skipped class for me.”

Ominis exhaled through his nose.

Sebastian crossed his arms.

I raised a brow at them.

Finally, Sebastian sighed. “Fine. But we’re coming back later.”

“Of course you are,” I said, amused.

Ominis rolled his eyes, but he was already turning toward the door.

Sebastian lingered a second longer, then, with one last smirk, turned to follow.

As the door shut behind them, I let out a deep breath, my body sinking further into the pillows.

I was exhausted.

But somehow, I felt lighter.

The next few hours passed in relative silence, save for the occasional rustle of Nurse Blainey. The lull gave me far too much time to think.

Fig must have been worried sick. I could picture him pacing the Map Chamber, brow furrowed, muttering theories to himself about what had gone wrong. He probably thought I had died, at least until Solomon’s letter arrived at Hogwarts.

I sighed, staring at the ceiling. I was beginning to regret sending Sebastian and Ominis away. Their presence, even with Sebastian’s endless dramatics and Ominis’s quiet exasperation, would have been a welcome distraction.

I considered falling asleep again, but my mind was too restless. Instead, I turned to Nurse Blainey.

“Would it be possible to get some paper, envelopes, a quill, and ink?”

She raised a brow but nodded, returning a moment later with the supplies. I set to work immediately, writing letters to Professors Sharp, Garlick, and Binns regarding my absence. I had just begun my final letter when the door creaked open.

“Professor Fig!”

Relief crashed over me as I took in his familiar form. He looked—well, terrible. His coat was rumpled, his face was lined with exhaustion, and there was an air of tension around him that he didn’t even attempt to mask.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” he breathed. “Nurse Blainey, would you mind excusing us? I need to discuss some sensitive matters with Miss McClam.”

The nurse gave a short nod before slipping from the room.

Fig took the chair beside my bed, letting out a long, slow exhale. “Godric’s heart, you really had me scared. The Keepers and I were sure you hadn’t made it through the Trial.”

“I almost didn’t,” I admitted. “Thank goodness Solomon found me.”

Fig’s eyes sharpened. “Indeed. How exactly did he find you?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He knew there was a portal that led directly to the Map Chamber. If I hadn’t gone through it, then how did I get out?

Professor Fig must have noticed my hesitation because his shoulders sagged slightly, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“I should probably apologize on the Keepers’ behalf,” he murmured. “When you didn’t show up, I feared the worst. They kept assuring me you’d return, but after a few hours, I lost hope and begged to be sent in to retrieve your body. They refused. At first, I thought they were being callous, but the more they spoke, the more I realized… they knew something I didn’t.”

A pit formed in my stomach.

Fig met my gaze, his expression torn between confusion and betrayal. “They told me, Jo.”

My breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

The Keepers had told him.

If Charles, Ben, Peter, and Paul found out, I would be hearing about it for the next year at the least.

I leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “Do not speak a word more of it.” My eyes flickered toward the door. “You never know who might be listening.”

Fig inhaled sharply. “So it is true.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I didn’t believe them at first,” he continued, keeping his voice low. “Not until I heard you’d been found by the Sallows. But now—”

“Professor,” I cut him off. “Stop.”

A tense silence stretched between us.

I sighed. “I’ve installed safeguards in the Map Chamber to ensure no one can listen in there. When I’m healed, we’ll go there, and I’ll explain everything.”

Fig studied me for a moment before nodding, relief flickering across his face.

“Alright,” he said. “But in truth, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” I murmured. “I didn’t think I was going to make it for a moment.”

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall.

Fig stood and, to my surprise, leaned down to pull me into a gentle hug.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of his coat for a brief moment before he pulled away.

“I should let you rest,” he said. “I’ll visit you again if I can.”

He turned toward the door but then hesitated.

“Actually,” he mused, “quick inquiry for you.”

I tilted my head. “Yes?”

“Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt,” he said. “Are they your friends?”

I blinked at the sudden shift in topic but nodded. “They are.”

Fig smiled slightly. “Good. Keep them close. I know you cannot say much about what truly happens in your life, but rely on them when you can. They are both excellent students and good young men.” His expression softened. “Sebastian, in particular, looked about ready to let me have it when I wouldn’t let him by your side.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “I was conscious for that. It was a good thing Ominis was there to hold him back. I’m glad to have them in my life.”

“Indeed,” Fig said. He studied me for a long moment before adding, “Especially the Gaunt boy.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Fig smirked knowingly. “I may be somewhat out of practice, but he seemed especially fond of you. Kept asking if you needed anything, how to help, and seemed so concerned for you it pained him.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. That… didn’t seem right.

Fig continued, “I don’t mean to imply that your friend Sebastian wasn’t concerned, but he looked more angry than anything. Ominis, however…”

I was stunned into silence.

I quickly reasoned it away. Ominis had better control over his emotions than Sebastian. That was all. Nothing more.

Right?

I cleared my throat. “That’s the first time I’ve heard anything like that regarding Ominis. He hated me until a few weeks ago, and I’m even surprised he stuck around as long as he did today.” I gave Fig a pointed look. “Are you sure you’re not talking about Sebastian? I’ve already had to stomp out a few rumors that he and I are dating—which, for the record, we are not.”

Fig chuckled. “Ominis is the blind one, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then no,” Fig said with a smirk. “I’m quite certain I have it right.”

I hesitated.

Fig softened. “Regardless, you have two people who would stand outside the Hospital Wing for hours on your behalf.” He met my gaze. “That is worth keeping around.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“…Thank you, Professor,” I murmured. “I needed to hear that.”

Fig nodded. “Feel better soon.”

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving the doors open behind him.

I slumped back against the pillows, my head spinning.

What just happened?

I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, letting my thoughts run rampant.

Fig’s words lingered, but I shook them off. Ominis was just a friend. A friend I had worked hard to win over after months of him wanting nothing to do with me. If anything, I should be relieved that he cared at all now. But it felt… wrong, somehow, that it took me nearly bleeding out in the snow for him to see me as something more than an unwelcome acquaintance.

I sighed, shifting slightly. A dull ache pulsed beneath my skin, reminding me why I was here in the first place.

I should have been able to take down that last Guardian without nearly getting myself killed. I had held back. Again. I had spent so much time trying to blend in—limiting myself to the magic of this world, keeping my abilities buried beneath a carefully constructed mask—that I had forgotten one simple truth: I wasn’t from this world.

I should have let loose. I should have used everything I had instead of trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t meant for me.

And now, here I was. Stuck in the Hospital Wing.

I grimaced, flexing my fingers. I could heal myself right now, just enough to be back on my feet by morning. But that would be suspicious. Too fast, too unnatural. I cursed myself for not thinking clearly in the moment, for teleporting out of the Trial instead of focusing my energy on healing. I had spent hours perfecting my shapeshifting just enough to mimic Wolverine’s self-healing, but it took concentration—concentration I hadn’t had in that moment.

I could heal gradually, maybe over the course of a day, but even that might raise questions. There wasn’t a good solution.

So I would just have to ride this out.

With any luck, I would be out of here by tomorrow.

But that wasn’t what unsettled me most.

The Scriptorium.

My heart clenched as I thought about my recent excursion there, how I had tried—and failed—to stop what was coming. No matter what I did, Sebastian would find a way inside.

He was too determined. Too desperate.

And I knew, without a doubt, that he would walk straight into that catacomb at the end of this journey whether I was beside him or not.

The thought of him doing it alone was unbearable.

I owed him. He had stuck by my side in my pursuit of ancient magic, following me into danger time and time again without hesitation. If he was willing to do that for me, how could I not do the same for him?

But then, Ominis’s words echoed in my mind.

"Sebastian has a way of drawing people in. But he’s also good at dragging them down with him if they’re not strong enough."

I was strong. I had always been strong.

But would my emotions blind me?

Would my loyalty to Sebastian be my downfall?

The thoughts spun faster and faster, looping endlessly in my mind until exhaustion finally caught up with me.

With a final, weary sigh, I let the weight of sleep pull me under.

And, for once, there were no dreams.

A dull ache in my neck pulled me from sleep. I had slept in an awkward position, my body protesting as I shifted onto my side, trying to find relief. The stiffness ran from my shoulder down to my spine, adding to the already lingering soreness in my muscles.

I sighed, preparing to settle back into sleep when—

There.

A figure sat beside my bed, head tilted slightly, breath slow and even.

Ominis.

My brow furrowed as I took in the sight. His usually well-kept hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had been running a hand through it repeatedly. His posture, though characteristically upright, was looser—more relaxed than I had ever seen it. He was half-asleep.

That alone was surprising.

I shifted again, the mattress creaking slightly beneath me. His head stirred, but he didn’t wake.

“…Ominis?”

His head snapped up at the sound of my voice, his posture straightening in an instant.

“Jo?” His voice was sharp at first, but then softened. “You’re awake.”

I blinked at him, still groggy. “I think so.”

He let out a breath, something between a sigh of relief and exasperation. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got trampled by a hippogriff,” I muttered, adjusting the blanket around me. “What are you doing here?”

There was a beat of silence.

“…Where’s Sebastian?”

The shift in his expression was subtle but unmistakable. His fingers tightened slightly around his wand, his jaw tensing before he forced his features back into neutrality.

“Of course. The first thing you ask is where Sebastian is,” he muttered dryly.

I frowned. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“I’m here because I wanted to be, not because I’m some attachment to Sebastian,” he cut in, though there was no real bite in his tone. “And, for the record, he’s currently failing spectacularly at our Herbology project.”

That earned a small smirk from me. “That bad?”

“Professor Garlick had to give him an entirely new pot after he managed to kill the first one in under twenty minutes.”

I let out a breathy chuckle. “I guess he won’t be your first choice for a partner next time.”

“I would rather partner with a flobberworm.”

I grinned but then narrowed my eyes. “Wait—then how are you here? Wouldn’t he have dragged you into his mess?”

Ominis leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I told him I needed to catch up on Binns’ class. He bought it without question.”

I blinked. “You lied to Sebastian?”

He tilted his head. “I thought you’d be more impressed.”

“I’m shocked, really,” I said, studying him. “Maybe I really am a bad influence, like he says.”

He let out a quiet scoff but didn’t argue.

A silence stretched between us before his expression sobered. “I needed to speak with you, away from Sebastian.”

My smile faded. “Why?”

“Because I’m worried,” he said, voice quieter now. “I’ve been worried. And I need to know what really happened to you.”

I hesitated.

“I know you went to Feldcroft with Sebastian. I know you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him,” Ominis continued, his tone careful. “Tell me the truth—did you get hurt trying to help him find a cure for Anne?”

“No,” I said firmly.

His shoulders stiffened. “Jo—”

“I promise, Ominis. That’s not what happened.”

His lips pressed together, clearly unconvinced. “You expect me to believe you just happened to be ambushed by goblins in Feldcroft?”

“I wasn’t ambushed by goblins.”

His head snapped toward me fully at that, brows knitting together. “Then what happened?”

I swallowed. “I can’t tell you.”

The frustration in his face was evident. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

I didn’t answer.

He let out a slow, measured breath. “I don’t understand you. First, you align yourself with Sebastian, now you’re keeping secrets—”

“I’m doing you a favor,” I interrupted. “Trust me.”

His jaw clenched. I could tell he wanted to argue, to pry, but something in my tone must have stopped him.

Another silence. Then, a change in subject.

“Sebastian told you about the Scriptorium.”

It wasn’t a question.

I exhaled. “He did.”

He shook his head. “Of course he did.”

I hesitated before speaking again. “I think… I think it might be necessary to let him in.”

Ominis turned toward me sharply. “What?”

“He’s relentless. You know that,” I said. “If we keep refusing him, he’ll just find another way in. But if we let him in, maybe it’ll satiate his curiosity.”

His expression darkened. “You think feeding his obsession will make it better?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know, Ominis. But I do know that he’s going to get in there one way or another. At least this way, we control the situation.”

His lips thinned. “It’s likely full of Dark Magic that is better left untouched.”

I hesitated. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your aunt?”

His breath hitched.

I pressed on. “I’m sorry about Noctua. I am. But if you know she went in and never came out… Don’t you want to know why?”

Ominis didn’t respond immediately. His fingers tightened slightly around his wand, his face unreadable.

Then, finally, he sighed. “Fine. When you’re healed.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Before I could say anything else, the door creaked open, and Nurse Blainey stepped inside.

Ominis stood. “I should go.”

I nodded, watching him. “Will I see you later?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Sebastian will insist on visiting again. I suppose I’ll have no choice but to accompany him.”

I smiled faintly. “Lucky me.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and slipped out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Thoughts I wasn’t entirely ready to face.

Chapter Text

Spending two nights in the Hospital Wing wasn’t as dreadful as I thought it would be. Sure, I was sore, exhausted, and haunted by the memory of what I saw in the Pensieve, but at least I wasn’t alone.

I quickly learned that Nurse Blainey was no match for Sebastian Sallow when he was on a mission.

He and Ominis practically lived in the infirmary with me, dragging their schoolwork from the Undercroft and library so they could study by my bedside instead. Sebastian even had the audacity to declare the Hospital Wing his “new favorite study spot,” much to Blainey’s dismay.

She tried—bless her—to shoo them away several times, citing that I needed rest. Ominis was willing to be reasonable, offering to leave when she insisted, but Sebastian? No such luck.

"I refuse to let Jo suffer through bedrest and boredom," he declared, arms crossed as if daring her to fight him on it.

She fought him on it.

He still won.

After that, she seemed to give up, muttering something about "stubborn Gryffindors rubbing off on reckless Slytherins."

Aside from my ever-present watchdogs, I had other visitors too. Poppy stopped by, her Puffskein, Gerald, rolling across my bed like a little fluffy menace. Natty, Cressida, Garreth, and Leander came to check on me as a group, each offering everything from sweets to their copied notes from class. Even Professor Fig made appearances when he could, though he was being used as Professor Black’s errand boy whenever Professor Weasley was too busy.

Due to Fig’s limited time, we agreed to delay our next meeting in the Map Chamber. The last thing I needed was to get caught discussing sensitive matters in the middle of the Hospital Wing.

By my second night, I was itching to leave. I was told I’d be released later the next day, but when I woke up and Nurse Blainey examined me, she frowned in surprise.

“You’re healing quicker than I expected,” she murmured, placing a hand on her hip.

I held my breath. Please, please let this mean I could leave.

She sighed. “You can go. But take it easy, Miss McClam.”

A grin spread across my face. “Of course.”

She didn’t look convinced.

For the first time in two days, I walked out of the Hospital Wing without an escort, a stretcher, or a lecture. I was free.

And just in time for Charms.

I made my way to class, my pace slower than usual—mostly due to lingering soreness, but also because I was savoring the moment.

When I stepped inside, I barely had time to react before several heads turned in my direction.

“Jo!”

Poppy was the first to call out, beaming. Natty grinned at me from across the room. Even Leander looked genuinely surprised and happy.

But no one’s reaction was as instant—or dramatic—as Sebastian’s.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, leaning back in his seat with an all-too-smug expression. “Back from the dead, are we?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, did you think I wouldn’t make it?”

He smirked. “I had hope. But I would’ve liked a bit more warning, love. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Something about the casual way he threw in love sent an unexpected warmth through me, but I forced myself to ignore it.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I teased, sliding into my usual seat.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the desk and lowering his voice. “You could make it up to me, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Meet me in the Undercroft after Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said, voice light but eyes dark with something unreadable.

I hesitated. For all his teasing, there was a flicker of something serious beneath the usual flirtation.

“Alright,” I agreed.

His smirk widened.

Professor Ronen entered the room then, signaling the start of class. I forced myself to focus, but the promise of whatever awaited me in the Undercroft lingered in the back of my mind.

I tried my best to focus in Charms class, but my mind was still adjusting to being back. It felt like I’d been gone for weeks, not just a few extra days. Thankfully, sitting next to Natty was a blessing. She executed each variation of Glacius with practiced ease, her wand movements precise and fluid.

“Like this,” she murmured, demonstrating Glacius Tria, freezing a target dummy solid.

I nodded, mimicking her movements. The spell came naturally—I had practiced Glacius countless times before—but it was reassuring to be back in a classroom setting, falling into routine again.

By the time class ended, I felt a renewed sense of normalcy.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked me as we walked toward Defense Against the Dark Arts, and within minutes, our conversation devolved into laughter.

We weren’t talking about anything particularly funny—just lighthearted teasing and Ominis making exasperated comments at Sebastian’s expense—but something about it grounded me. The three of us, wandering through the castle like idiots, cackling over nothing, felt right.

It reminded me of home.

I had always gravitated toward friendships like these—ones built on banter, loyalty, and the kind of companionship that felt effortless. Maybe it was because I had grown up mostly surrounded by boys, or maybe it was the simple fact that across every universe I’d traveled, I had found people who had carved a place for themselves in my heart. A found family, one that grew with each adventure.

I missed my parents. I missed my siblings. But my friends made the loss of my family bearable.

By the time we arrived in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I was feeling more at ease.

Professor Hecat’s lesson on Hinkypunks wasn’t particularly groundbreaking for me. I already knew how to counter their deceptive lantern tricks—Newt Scamander kept one in his case for research purposes, using it to throw off tracking charms. He had once rambled to me about them for nearly an hour, though curiously, he never included them in his book.

Still, I listened, nodding along as Hecat demonstrated how to dispel their illusions. Sebastian leaned in halfway through, whispering, “You look bored out of your mind.”

I shot him a look, suppressing a smirk.

It wasn’t that I was bored, exactly. But between my knowledge of Hinkypunks and my anticipation for what he wanted to discuss in the Undercroft, my mind was only half in the lesson.

Eventually, class ended, and Ominis excused himself to his study period, leaving me and Sebastian alone.

The Undercroft was conveniently close—just beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—but getting there unnoticed was always a game of timing.

We lingered at the base of the stairwell, pretending to idly chat while our classmates filtered out of the classroom. Sebastian leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, his expression deceptively casual.

“Think the coast is clear?” I asked, glancing toward the corridor.

He smirked. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Waiting for the last group of students to disappear, we moved in sync, slipping behind the nearest pillar. The entrance to the Undercroft was hidden, but we knew exactly where to step, maneuvering through the blind spots without hesitation.

The heavy wooden door creaked as we pushed it open, and as soon as we stepped inside, the familiar scent of burnt candles, old wood, and damp stone filled my senses.

The gate clinked shut behind me as Sebastian secured it, locking us inside our usual sanctuary. I dropped my bag by one of the stone pillars and stretched, wincing as tension shot through my muscles. Though I was mostly healed, the stiffness in my body remained—a lingering reminder of the damage I had taken. I’d deal with it later, probably in my dorm, when I had a moment alone to properly accelerate my healing. For now, I would just have to push through the discomfort.

Sebastian’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Be honest, how are you feeling?”

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders experimentally. “All things considered? Almost back to normal.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “Gobbledegook. You lied to Blainey so she’d let you out early, didn’t you?”

I placed a hand over my chest, feigning offense. “I am so hurt that you would think that! I just healed faster than she anticipated.”

His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something else. Concern. Doubt.

“Do you promise?” His voice dropped, quiet but firm.

I swallowed, holding his gaze. “Yes, Sebastian, I promise.”

He studied me for a moment longer, as if weighing my words, before giving a small nod. His shoulders relaxed, some of the tension bleeding away.

Then—just like that—his usual smirk returned.

“Care to tell me what actually happened?”

I tilted my head in mock consideration. “Hmmm… you know what? I do mind. I think I’ll just have to leave you in suspense.”

Turning on my heel, I walked away, knowing full well that he would take the bait.

Sebastian scoffed. “Come on, that’s not fair!”

Footsteps. Close. I grinned and darted to the side just as his arms reached for me.

Missed.

He tried again. I spun away effortlessly, laughing as I evaded his grasp.

The look in his eyes was all the warning I needed. Oh, it’s on.

We weaved through the Undercroft like a game of cat and mouse, laughter echoing off the stone walls. I used every pillar, every crate to my advantage, slipping through gaps just as he lunged.

Sebastian was fast, but I was faster.

For a solid minute, I kept ahead of him, my pulse thrumming with adrenaline. But then, just as I pivoted around a column, he feigned left and caught me off guard.

A sharp yelp escaped me as his arms wrapped around my waist and—

“AH! Sebastian Sallow! Put me down right now!”

He hoisted me over his shoulder with ease, chuckling as I squirmed.

“Nope. You have to tell me what happened.”

I smacked his back in protest. “Sebastian!”

“Jo,” he mimicked mockingly.

I groaned dramatically. “Ugh, fine! I surrender!”

“I knew you’d come around,” he said smugly, setting me down.

The second my feet hit the ground, I swayed slightly. Blood had rushed to my head from being upside down, and I could feel the heat rising in my face—not just from exertion, but from how close we suddenly were.

Trying to compose myself, I shed my outer robes, feeling the warmth of exertion settle into my skin. Sebastian followed suit in taking off his robes.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I grumbled.

Sebastian shrugged. “Fine, then don’t almost die on me again.”

I shot him a dry look. “Oh, you know very well that that’s a promise I cannot keep.”

“Exactly,” he said, stepping closer.

Before I could react, he grabbed me again.

I moved on instinct—looping my arms tightly around his neck so he couldn’t lift me. He tried, struggling for a moment, but when he realized I wasn’t letting go, he huffed in defeat.

Except… he didn’t let go either.

Instead, he melted into the embrace.

The shift was subtle, but I felt it immediately. His arms, once playful and teasing, tightened around me in something… more. Something heavier.

I hesitated before relaxing into him.

This wasn’t just a victory hug.

This was something else entirely.

For the first time, I realized just how much fear he had been hiding behind his smirks and taunts. How much the thought of losing me had shaken him.

The realization sent an unexpected jolt through my chest.

After a long moment, we finally pulled away.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Now will you tell me what happened?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “How much detail do you want?”

“As much as you’re willing to give me.”

I studied him for a second before nodding. “Alright. Do you remember me telling you about the Pensieves left by the Keepers?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“In order to earn the information given in each Pensieve, I have to go through what’s called a Trial. I completed the first Trial not long after you first brought me here for the first time. That’s how I broke my ribs.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed in realization.

“The second Trial was in Rookwood Castle,” I continued. “And… well… it was a lot tougher than I anticipated.”

I saw the exact moment the pieces clicked together in his mind.

“Usually, after the Trial, I’m supposed to meet up with the Keepers and Professor Fig,” I explained. “But I knew I wouldn’t make it. I had to find somewhere safe.”

Sebastian’s jaw tensed. “Feldcroft.”

I nodded. “Mhm. I crashed not too far from your house, and thank my lucky stars Solomon was nearby.”

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, good old Solomon—always there to save the day.”

His voice dripped with sarcasm, and I stiffened, already bracing for whatever was coming next.

“Just because—”

“You know, Anne has been slowly dying for months under his care.” His words were harsh, each syllable laced with bitterness. “But the second someone else is on the brink of death, he actually does something to save a life. What about Anne? He’s completely given up hope that she can be saved!”

“Sebastian, you need to take a moment to think. Solomon—”

“Solomon hasn’t done shit,” he snapped, pacing now, his hands clenched into fists. “My twin sister is dying, and he won’t lift so much as a finger! He is a hypocritical, cynical, useless son of a—”

“SEBASTIAN!”

My voice rang out, sharper than I had ever used with him before.

He froze, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before speaking again. “I think you’re forgetting that the life he did save was mine.” My voice was softer now, but no less firm. “If not for him, I would have bled out in the snow that night. Would you rather have that happen? Would it have been worth it just to keep your precious ego from crumbling?”

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

I slapped a hand over my lips, horrified. “I’m sorry. That was extremely insensitive.”

Sebastian blinked, looking momentarily lost. Then, after a beat, he let out a shaky breath. “No, I—I needed it.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and unyielding.

I sighed. “Sebastian… you should know, Solomon has more hope than you realize. Nowhere near as much as you, but it’s still there. He told me that the only reason he knew the right spells to heal me was because of you.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed.

I took a small step closer. “He read some of the books you left behind. The ones you read to find a cure for Anne.”

His expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes—shock, disbelief… maybe even guilt.

I hesitated before continuing. “He even told me I really should be thanking you, because without you, he wouldn’t have been able to keep me alive.”

Sebastian looked down, unable to meet my gaze. His whole body seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagging under the weight of something unspoken.

Time stretched between us. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made my chest feel too tight. I wanted to comfort him, to reach out and remind him that he wasn’t alone.

But I knew how dangerous that would be.

I should keep my distance. I should leave whatever this was between us untouched.

I should.

But I didn’t want to.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached out and cupped his cheek, guiding his face back up so our eyes met.

“You saved me, Sebastian.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I am alive because of you.”

            Sebastian’s breath was unsteady, his shoulders still tense, but he no longer looked angry. Just… lost.

I kept my hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm. I should have pulled away—I should have—but I didn’t.

His eyes flickered to mine, searching, pleading.

I had seen Sebastian wear many expressions over the last few months—cocky grins, mischievous smirks, sharp-edged glares—but this?

This was raw.

This was vulnerability laid bare.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

And then—then—he closed the space between us.

His lips met mine, slow, hesitant.

I gasped softly, fingers twitching against the fabric of his uniform as a rush of heat pooled in my chest. He was giving me a chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far.

I didn’t take it.

The hesitation melted into something more certain, more desperate. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. A shiver coursed through me as one of his hands slid up my back, fingers curling against my spine.

I could feel everything. The warmth of his body, the way his breath hitched when my hands moved up to his shoulders, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he tilted his head.

Sebastian kissed like he needed to—like he had waited for this, wanted this, expected this.

I kissed him back like I didn’t know if I should.

It was reckless, dangerous, and completely wrong.

And yet, when his grip on my waist tightened, when I felt his heartbeat hammering against mine, I let myself fall into it anyway.

My mind warred with itself.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This couldn’t happen.

I wasn’t staying. I wasn’t meant for this world. I wasn’t meant for him.

I—

Sebastian pulled back just enough for our lips to part, but he didn’t let me go. His forehead rested against mine, his breaths uneven, warm against my skin.

The absence of contact was suffocating.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on me spoke volumes.

He wasn’t second-guessing this.

He wasn’t doubting us.

But I was.

I swallowed, my hands sliding down from his shoulders to press gently against his chest.

I needed space.

I needed to think.

But Sebastian didn’t move. He just watched me, waiting for something—anything—from me.

I wasn’t sure what he expected.

I wasn’t sure what I expected.

And then, because I couldn’t bear the silence stretching between us, I said the stupidest thing possible.

“So,” I rasped, voice hoarse from emotions I couldn’t name. “You’re not mad at Solomon anymore?”

Sebastian let out a short, breathless laugh, but it sounded more like relief than amusement.

“Still mad,” he murmured. “Just… distracted.”

His hand brushed against my side, barely there, like he was debating whether or not to keep holding me.

I forced myself to take a step back.

The air between us was thick, heavy, and charged with something I wasn’t ready to name.

I looked down, focusing on my hands, flexing my fingers to ground myself.

Sebastian reached out, fingers brushing my wrist. I glanced up, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me again.

I panicked.

“Ominis,” I blurted.

Sebastian blinked, the haze in his eyes flickering with something else.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound steadier than I felt. “Ominis. Did – did he finally relent about the Scriptorium?”

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, Sebastian nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quieter than before. “Took some convincing, but he’s agreed to show us where the entrance is.”

I inhaled sharply, forcing the emotions clawing at my chest into submission.

The Scriptorium. The spellbook.

Sebastian’s path was already laid out before him.

And no matter how much I wanted to stop it, no matter how much I wanted to change things…

I wasn’t going to let him walk it alone.

I nodded, jaw set. “Then I suppose we’re doing this.”

For the first time all year, I didn’t almost fall asleep in History of Magic.

Not because Professor Binns had suddenly become a riveting lecturer—no, the ghost was still droning on about Mungo Bonham and his founding of St. Mungo’s Hospital, his voice as monotonous as ever. It wasn’t even because I was particularly interested in the lesson.

It was because my mind refused to let me forget the kiss.

I wished I could just kick my feet and giggle about it with Poppy or Natty like some normal schoolgirl in a romance novel. But instead, all I felt was… wrong.

The more I thought about it, the worse it got.

Sebastian was sixteen. I—well, I wasn’t sure anymore. Time had stopped making sense for me long ago. Dimension hopping had a way of warping the years to the point where I barely even tracked them anymore. But I knew I was at least twenty. In my home world, that kiss wouldn’t have just been frowned upon—it would’ve been illegal. I shuddered at the thought.

And then there was the fact that I wasn’t even from this world. I had come here to study, to observe, to understand magic in its purest form. I was never supposed to entangle myself in its people, least of all in something as complicated as a relationship.

But despite all that—despite all the logic screaming at me to stop thinking about it—my mind kept circling back to the way his lips felt against mine. The way his hand had gripped my waist, the way his breath had come out shaky, like even he hadn’t been prepared for it. The way my own body had betrayed me by leaning into him instead of pulling away.

I was only human, after all.

A soft whisper cut through my thoughts.

“Jo.”

I blinked, snapping out of my daze.

Ominis was beside me, his head tilted slightly in my direction, his milky eyes unreadable.

“What?” I whispered back.

“You’re tense.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I’m blind, and even I can tell.”

I hesitated.

Ominis may have moved to sit beside me weeks ago, but that didn’t mean I was used to his uncanny ability to pick up on things no one else did.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“I’m not buying that,” he said flatly.

I exhaled through my nose, weighing my options. “I’ll tell you after class.”

He didn’t push, but he didn’t look satisfied either.

I tried to focus on Binns again, but the damage was already done. My nerves were frayed, and now Ominis knew it too.

I barely heard the dismissal bell before I was already moving, shoving my things into my bag and making a beeline for the door. If I could just get out fast enough—

My bag strap jerked backward, pulling me to a halt.

I let out a surprised yelp as I turned to see Ominis’s hand firmly gripping the strap. He wasn’t particularly strong, but his grip was like iron.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, voice low with warning. “I refuse to be the only one between the three of us who is not told things. It’s getting on my nerves.”

Guilt settled deep in my stomach.

I hated this part of my job—lying to the people I cared about. And Ominis had already been kept in the dark too often.

I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Then tell me.”

We walked out of the classroom together, his hand still hanging onto my bag as if afraid I’d run off.

“A lot is going on,” I admitted. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Then start with what’s weighing on you the most.”

The kiss.

I wasn’t about to tell him that.

So I went with the second-worst thing.

“The Scriptorium.”

Ominis exhaled sharply. “That’s nothing new. You weren’t this stiff in Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Did you suddenly change your mind about showing Sebastian the entrance in the span of an hour?”

I swallowed. Crap. He was onto me.

“Okay,” I said carefully, “there is something else. But I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”

Ominis scoffed. “Oh, enough with the secrets. Please. I’ll respect that you won’t tell me how you actually got hurt, but I don’t want to be kept in the dark about everything.”

I hesitated.

Ominis was patient—more than most—but I could hear the frustration creeping into his voice. He wasn’t pushing out of curiosity. He was pushing because he cared.

And that made it worse.

“I, um—” I started, but he cut me off.

“I don’t want to be nosy,” he said, sounding almost apologetic, “but if something is on your mind, I—”

“Sebastian kissed me.”

Ominis froze.

We had walked all the way to the staircases before the Library Annex. Thankfully, there weren’t any students nearby to hear my outburst.

His head turned toward me slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling very hot. “I thought it would be better coming from Sebastian, but you were adamant, so… there you go.” I forced out a nervous laugh. “It happened not long after Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I’m, um… not quite sure how I feel about it yet.”

Ominis was stunned. His face didn’t betray any particular emotion—just a quiet sort of processing.

Then, suddenly, he snapped out of it.

“Wait.” His expression twisted in something akin to horror. “Did you kiss in the Undercroft?”

I winced. “…Yes?”

“Oh, that’s vile.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You asked.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “That I did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so sorry I pressed. I shouldn’t have.”

“Lesson learned, I suppose.” I smirked. “Also, you never heard it from me.”

“My lips are sealed.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, neither of us sure how to continue.

Ominis finally cleared his throat. “Sebastian isn’t going to be able to wait much longer before going into the Scriptorium. He might burst into flames from impatience.”

I chuckled. “I agree.”

“Tonight, then?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Tonight.”

Tonight, we would open the Scriptorium.

Tonight, I would watch Sebastian step further down the path I had been trying to pull him away from.

And I would let him.

Chapter Text

I took a steadying breath as I rounded the last corner.

Sebastian and Ominis were already waiting outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Sebastian was the first to notice me.

His eyes flicked up the moment I stepped into view, and for a brief second, something unreadable passed across his face. Surprise? Relief? Something else?

Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual smirk. “Took you long enough,” he quipped, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think you had second thoughts.”

Ominis scoffed beside him. “If anyone was going to delay this, it would be you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian shot him a glare before turning back to me, expectant.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t take the bait. “I got here exactly when I said I would.”

Ominis tilted his head slightly, listening. “No one else is around,” he murmured. “We should move quickly before someone gets suspicious.”

He turned on his heel, leading the way down the dim corridor, and Sebastian and I fell into step behind him.

The dungeons had always been unnervingly quiet, the air thick with dampness and the scent of cold stone. Tonight, though, the silence felt heavier, like it was pressing in around us, urging us forward.

Sebastian walked beside me, hands tucked into his coat pockets. His steps were relaxed, casual—but I could feel the energy rolling off him. Excitement. Anticipation.

I should have said something. A joke, maybe. Something to make things feel normal again. But my mind kept flashing back to earlier—his hands on my waist, the way he had looked at me before he kissed me.

My stomach twisted.

I shouldn’t be thinking about that.

Not here. Not now.

I kept my gaze forward, trying to focus on the path ahead.

“Not having second thoughts, are you?” Sebastian’s voice was lower this time, just for me.

I glanced at him, finding his eyes already on me.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think you’ll find I’m quite committed to poor decisions.”

His lips twitched. “Good to know.”

I quickened my pace before the moment could stretch any further.

Ominis had stopped a few feet ahead, just past a row of aged stone pillars.

“We’re here,” he announced.

Sebastian exhaled, stepping forward eagerly.

The corridor looked no different than any other in the dungeons—cold, damp stone walls lined with flickering torches, their flames casting long, twisting shadows. If Ominis hadn’t led us here, I never would have thought twice about this particular stretch of hallway. But I supposed that was the point. Hiding the entrance to a secret chamber in plain sight was an effective strategy.

Sebastian turned to Ominis, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Alright, how do we get inside?”

Ominis inhaled deeply. “I hope I—we—don’t regret this.” He ran a hand over the wall as if reassuring himself before continuing. “Opening the entrance has something to do with threes—”

“Well, three heads are better than one,” Sebastian interjected.

Ominis huffed. “It’s two heads are better than one.”

“And by that logic, three is better than two. Simple mathematics, Ominis.”

Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother—”

“Wait,” Sebastian said, snapping his fingers. “Didn’t you say something earlier about the braziers?”

Ominis lifted his head. “Someone was actually listening.”

Sebastian smirked. “I do that—occasionally.”

I folded my arms, watching the two bicker. “If you two are done fighting like an old married couple, the way in seems simple enough, but I need your help first.”

Both boys snapped to attention, straightening.

“There are three unlit braziers here,” I explained, gesturing to the iron fixtures mounted on stone pillars. “I think all we have to do is light them—unless either of you think that’s too simple a solution.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

We each positioned ourselves in front of a brazier, wands at the ready. “On three,” I said. “One, two—three.”

Three perfectly timed Incendios shot out, igniting the braziers in unison. The flames cast a warm glow over the corridor, the firelight dancing off the walls. A shift in the air sent a shiver down my spine, followed by the unmistakable sound of stone grinding against stone.

All three of us turned at once.

An entryway had appeared in the wall, a dark passage yawning open before us.

Ominis sighed. “I hope we’re ready for this.”

My stomach twisted. I knew I wasn’t.

We stepped inside, immediately descending a narrow stone staircase that twisted left. The temperature dropped as we moved deeper underground, the damp chill creeping into my bones.

Sebastian let out a pleased hum. “Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite.”

Ominis deadpanned. “No comment.”

At the bottom of the stairs, we entered a small chamber. The stonework here was different—intricate, detailed, as if painstakingly carved by hand. A metal door stood at the opposite end, its surface etched with serpentine patterns, coils twisting into each other. It bore a striking resemblance to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets.

The air shifted again.

The door behind us slammed shut.

The chamber plunged into darkness.

“Well, that’s splendid,” I muttered. “Now we can’t see.”

Ominis, unbothered, simply said, “Welcome to my world.”

Sebastian and I immediately cast Lumos, twin orbs of light glowing at the tips of our wands.

The chamber flickered into view once more. My eyes fell on a section of wall to our right—broken stone, jagged edges, as if someone had blasted it apart. But as I stepped closer, I realized the fallen chunks on the ground were too symmetrical, too precise.

I pointed my wand. “Reparo.”

The stone lifted, moving seamlessly back into place, the cracks vanishing as the wall rebuilt itself.

A carved relief emerged—an image of a hooded figure holding a snake, their faces mere inches apart.

Ominis suddenly winced, hands flying to his ears.

I turned sharply. “Ominis, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond right away, his breathing shallow as he slowly lowered his hands.

“You hear a voice, don’t you?” I asked softly.

His sightless gaze turned toward me. “It’s ancient. Sinister. It’s saying… speak to me.”

Sebastian frowned. “A voice? I don’t hear a voice.”

Ominis inhaled deeply. “I’m a… Parselmouth.”

The air in the room felt heavier.

Ominis’s voice was tight, uncomfortable. “I don’t like bringing it up. It… brings back bad memories.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that the one where you can talk to snakes?”

Ominis nodded. “Nearly all known Parselmouths are descended from Salazar Slytherin.”

I tilted my head. “I’d like to speak to snakes.”

Ominis let out a humorless chuckle. “No you don’t. It’s often associated with Dark wizards. I haven’t spoken it in years, but… I’d wager if I do, the door will open.” He hesitated. “I’m hoping you two are having second thoughts.”

“Second and third thoughts,” I admitted. “But no use turning back now.”

Ominis squared his shoulders, stepping toward the door. The moment he spoke, a series of breathy hisses left his lips, slithering through the air like a living thing.

The carved snakes on the door shifted, twisting in on themselves as ancient mechanisms groaned to life.

With a final scrape of stone against stone, the door swung open.

I grinned. “It worked! Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

“Between the two of you,” Sebastian added, smirking at me, “I’m starting to feel left out.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “Between the two of us?”

Sebastian stiffened. “I—never mind.”

I bit back a laugh as we stepped through the threshold.

The next chamber was more complex—multiple pathways leading in different directions, some blocked by iron gates, others open.

Sebastian hummed, taking in the layout. “There’s no clear way forward.”

Ominis nodded. “Like a maze. Salazar Slytherin most likely wanted this to be difficult to solve.”

With a loud clang, the door behind us slammed shut.

My stomach lurched. I pressed my hand against the cold metal, my shoulders slumping. This was it.

When I turned, my eyes immediately met Sebastian’s. He was already watching me, a knowing look in his gaze.

He wasn’t sorry. Not completely.

I exhaled, forcing my shoulders back.

I needed to play this carefully.

I approached the nearest gate, pretending to inspect the symbols on it.

Sebastian followed, peering over my shoulder. “Find anything?”

I turned, thoughtful. “There are symbols on the gates and on these dials,” I said, motioning to the mechanisms set into the walls. “Could you tell me what the symbols are on the gate so I can turn the dials to the correct ones?”

Sebastian smirked. “Anything for you, love.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart betrayed me with a flutter.

Sebastian ducked back under the gate to check the markings while Ominis stepped into the chamber with me.

Sebastian’s voice echoed back. “Alright, the first symbol looks almost like a cat or a dog—it’s got a sort of tail on the left side. The other looks like the letter Z, but the right side is connected together. Does that make sense?”

“Just enough, I think.”

I reached for the first dial.

The moment my fingers brushed the metal, the snake perched atop the mechanism reared back, hissing.

My breath caught. I hurriedly turned the symbols into place just as the snake finished its rotation.

A heavy clunk echoed through the chamber.

Sebastian grinned. “You got it!”

I exhaled, flashing Ominis a victorious smile—one he, of course, couldn’t see.

Ominis nodded. “Nice work.”

I turned toward the next puzzle, my pulse steadying.

One step closer.

Sebastian wasted no time stepping through the newly opened gate, his excitement practically tangible. “One down, one to go,” he said, glancing around the dim corridor ahead. “That wasn’t so bad.”

We pressed on, our footsteps echoing against the damp stone. The deeper we ventured, the colder it became, the air thick with dust and an unsettling stillness. The flickering glow of our wands cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, making the twisting corridor feel even more claustrophobic.

Another gate barred our path, identical to the last, with two cryptic symbols carved into its iron surface. I turned toward the chamber beside it, already knowing what we’d find—a snake coiled atop another set of dials.

Sebastian grinned. “You know the drill.”

I rolled my shoulders, already bracing myself for another round.

Sebastian disappeared around the corner to inspect the gate. “Alright, first symbol looks like…hmm. Almost like an owl sitting on a branch?”

I turned the first dial carefully, eyeing the options. Sure enough, there was a symbol that resembled a perched bird, its wings tucked in. I clicked it into place just as the snake atop the mechanism twitched.

Sebastian continued, “Second one is…a trident, I think? No, wait—more like a pitchfork, but with curved prongs.”

I adjusted the second dial, holding my breath as the final click reverberated through the chamber. The gate groaned, then slowly creaked open.

I exhaled in relief.

“See? I can be helpful,” Sebastian said, brushing past me into the newly opened passageway.

“Once in a blue moon,” Ominis muttered.

We continued deeper into the labyrinth, navigating the winding corridors until we reached yet another puzzle. The gate loomed before us, the symbols barely visible under centuries of grime.

Sebastian examined them closely. “Alright, the first symbol looks like someone melded the letters O and K together and—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, already turning the dial to the first symbol as the snake began its rotation.

“The other looks like a triangle—I think? I’m not quite sure, it’s been scratched. I can’t see the whole thing.”

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the dial. “Uh, I need more descriptive words. And fast, please.”

Sebastian made a frustrated noise. “I don’t know! It—”

Too late.

The snake struck before I could fully react, its metal fangs sinking deep into my upper arm. A sharp cry escaped my lips as searing pain shot through me.

Ominis’s head snapped toward me. “That didn’t sound good.”

I grit my teeth, yanking the snake off and tossing it to the ground. It hissed before slithering back up to its perch.

Sebastian cursed under his breath. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—ugh—just peachy.”

Ominis frowned. “Peachy?”

“Oh, um, it’s a Muggle thing.” I waved him off, though my arm throbbed angrily beneath my sleeve.

I pointed my wand at the wound, muttering, “Ferula.”

A bandage wrapped tightly around my arm, dulling the sting but not erasing it entirely.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. “Do you want me to—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Just stay over there. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he stayed put.

I turned back to the dials, taking a steadying breath. “Any more identifying traits about the second symbol before I try again?”

Sebastian squinted at the gate. “I can’t be sure, but it looks like there’s no bottom line on the triangle.”

I turned the dial slowly, carefully selecting the symbol. A heavy click sounded, and the gate groaned as it lifted open.

Sebastian let out a relieved breath. “Finally.”

I turned to Ominis, giving him a tired smile. “Impressive, right?”

He huffed. “If by impressive, you mean reckless, then yes.”

I smirked despite the pain. “Reckless gets results.”

“Reckless also gets you bitten,” Ominis muttered.

Sebastian clapped his hands together, grinning. “Alright, enough arguing. Let’s move before she gets herself mauled by another enchanted trap.”

I rolled my eyes but followed.

We pressed forward, deeper into the twisting passages. The shadows seemed to stretch longer here, the air heavier with something unspoken. We were close.

The corridor stretched on, its walls looming high and tight around us. The dim light from our wands cast long shadows, flickering over the damp stone. It wasn’t spacious by any means, so the three of us moved closely together, steps in sync. I could feel the weight of the air, thick with dust and time, pressing down on us.

Not quite thinking twice about it, I let my hand brush against Sebastian’s. A moment later, he brushed back—this time, with intent. My fingers hesitated before slipping between his, and just like that, we were holding hands as we walked.

The warmth of his palm sent a shiver down my spine, a stark contrast to the cool air surrounding us. Sebastian’s thumb traced small, absentminded circles against my skin, a touch so simple yet so disarming. It was a quiet connection, almost grounding in the midst of the suffocating darkness. I barely had time to process it before Sebastian suddenly straightened.

His grip on my hand was gone in an instant, replaced by a firm grasp on Ominis’s shoulder.

“I can’t quite tell what it is,” he murmured, eyes narrowed as he peered ahead. “But there’s something up there. And it looks troubling.”

Ominis didn’t break stride. “This whole place is troubling, but, for my aunt’s sake, we cannot stop now.”

We pressed forward, rounding the last bend—then with a deafening clang, a metal gate dropped behind us, sealing us in.

Sebastian spun on his heel. “The gate! We’re locked in. Again.”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists. “Then Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us.”

My heart plummeted. I forgot about what was coming next. I had seen this moment before, and yet I hadn’t prepared for the dread curling around my ribcage, tightening like a vice. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus, but then—

My eyes landed on the door at the end of the chamber.

It was grotesque, sculpted from metal but shaped into the anguished faces of people in excruciating pain. The twisted expressions, the hollow eyes—my breath hitched. It was worse than I remembered.

And then my gaze dropped to the floor.

A gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

Sebastian tensed. “What?”

I lifted a shaking hand, pointing toward the skeletal remains lying beside the door.

Ominis stepped forward, wand trembling in his grip. “What is it?”

I hesitated, then softly, “I’m so sorry, Ominis.”

The air grew still.

Ominis’s breath caught as he knelt beside the bones. His fingers ghosted over the tattered fabric still clinging to the remains, searching—feeling.

And then, he understood.

A sharp inhale, a shuddering exhale.

“This is where she died,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “This is where we’ll die.” His expression twisted, anguish and frustration warring on his face. “I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!”

Sebastian stepped closer. “Ominis, I’m truly sorry about your aunt. But, I know what to do.”

I tore my gaze from the skeleton. “Oh?”

Sebastian pointed to the door. “Tortured faces and the word Crucio etched into the stone. My guess is we cast the Cruciatus Curse, and it’ll open.” He gestured toward the remains. “That’s why Noctua died. She had no one to cast it on.”

His eyes flickered to Ominis.

“Ominis has the most experience with this. He should cast it.”

Ominis recoiled as if Sebastian had physically struck him. “Over my dead body.”

Sebastian didn’t back down. “Well, that’s what will happen if you don’t!”

“The Cruciatus Curse is pure torture,” Ominis snapped. “I would know. That spell is the reason I have no family left. You two will need to sort out another solution.”

He turned sharply on his heel, putting as much distance between himself and the conversation as the small chamber allowed.

Sebastian clenched his fists. “You are being ridiculous! As if dying here is a better option than casting a damned spell.”

I reached out, gripping his arm, and felt some of the tension in his body ease beneath my touch. “You cannot blame Ominis for not wanting to,” I murmured. “Like he said, we will just need to sort out another solution.”

But I already knew there was only one way forward.

Sebastian turned to me, and there was something in his eyes that sent ice through my veins.

“It’s up to us,” he said. “I can teach you Crucio, or I can cast it on you.”

I stiffened. “Wait—you never said you knew how to cast Crucio!”

“Because I’m not sure I do,” he admitted. His jaw tightened. “Ominis knows that, yet he’s left us no choice.” He turned back to the door, gaze dark. “I don’t yearn to follow in Noctua Gaunt’s footsteps.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him.

I wanted him to ask me to cast it on him.

I wanted him to want to take the pain for me. To protect me.

I would refuse if he did, but I simply wanted to hear him say it.

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, waiting.

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced the words out.

“Cast it on me.”

I heard Ominis whip around, his breath catching in his throat. “No. Please, don’t.”

I turned to him, my voice softer this time. “There isn’t another way.”

Ominis looked at me, his sightless eyes wide with barely masked panic.

Sebastian exhaled and took a step back. “Very well,” he murmured. “If that’s what you want.”

My stomach twisted.

Would he have done the same for me?

Ominis’s voice wavered. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” I whispered. “I’ll live.”

Sebastian walked toward me and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back.

I wished, desperately, that I could think of something—anything—to dull what was about to happen. But my mind was blank.

I braced myself.

Sebastian lifted his wand, his expression unreadable.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

Sebastian’s wand cut through the air.

"Crucio!"

Pain.

Raw, excruciating, inescapable pain.

It was like fire igniting beneath my skin, like barbed wire tightening around my bones, like lightning splitting me apart from the inside. My body seized, muscles locking as I collapsed onto the cold stone, my screams ricocheting off the chamber walls.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

My vision blurred as the agony twisted deeper, sharper, suffocating me in waves of unbearable torment. Red sparks crackled in my peripheral vision, pulsing with every sickening jolt that tore through my limbs. It felt like my nerve endings had been set ablaze, like my very soul was being wrung out.

I tried to move—to do something—but all I could do was endure.

Somewhere beyond the haze of pain, I could hear them.

Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath.

Ominis’s strangled whisper of my name.

I didn’t know how long it lasted. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time had no meaning in suffering.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

The absence of pain was almost worse than the curse itself. My body, still shaking violently, felt hollowed out, drained. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, my fingers twitching against the stone floor.

A warmth surrounded me—strong arms, pulling me in. I barely registered the embrace, only that it felt safe.

"Sebastian…" I tried to whisper, but my throat was raw, my voice barely more than a breath.

A hand gripped the back of my head, holding me close. My face was pressed against a firm chest, the fabric of his robes cool against my burning skin. But something wasn’t right.

His scent was different.

Not Sebastian.

Slowly, painfully, I lifted my head just enough to see a glimpse of pale blonde hair.

Ominis.

His hands were shaking.

His whole body was shaking.

His breath was unsteady, and when I finally looked up, I saw the glistening of unshed tears in his milky eyes. He was gripping me so tightly, as if by sheer force alone he could take my pain away.

He felt it.

He couldn’t see my face, but he had felt every ounce of my agony.

I wanted to speak—to reassure him—but I had no words. Instead, I let my head drop back against his shoulder, my body still trembling as silent tears slid down my cheeks.

A choked sound from behind me.

"Jo—" Sebastian’s voice cracked.

I forced my head to turn, my body protesting the movement. He was standing frozen, wand limp in his fingers, his face ashen.

His brown eyes were wide with horror, locked on me like he barely recognized what he had done.

For the first time, he looked afraid.

My body tensed as I tried to move, but every muscle screamed in protest. Ominis immediately adjusted his grip, supporting my weight.

I wanted to tell Sebastian I was fine.

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But neither of those things were true.

"Is she alright?" Sebastian finally asked, but he made no move toward me.

Ominis turned his head slightly, and I didn’t need to see his face to know the glare he was sending. "What do you think?"

A heavy silence filled the chamber.

Then, with a slow, grating groan, the door before us began to shift. The anguished faces contorted, their expressions melting away into a smooth surface.

The way forward had opened.

Sebastian hesitated before finally stepping forward. "We should go."

Ominis exhaled sharply, like he wanted to argue, but instead, he helped me to my feet. The pain had faded, but my limbs still felt leaden, my head light. I swayed slightly, and both of them instinctively reached out to steady me.

Together, they guided me toward the entrance of the Scriptorium.

Sebastian broke away the moment we crossed the threshold, his eyes sweeping the chamber ahead with an almost feverish excitement.

"Merlin’s beard…" he breathed, already moving toward the towering bookshelves, his earlier distress seemingly forgotten.

I barely registered his words.

Ominis still had an arm around me, his grip firm, unwavering. His other hand rested lightly against my wrist, his fingers pressing against my pulse as if reassuring himself that I was still here.

I turned my head slightly, trying to read his expression. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed in something unreadable—anger? Grief? Regret?

I didn’t have the strength to question it.

I simply let my weight lean into him, let him keep me standing.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I could do it alone.

Sebastian moved through the Scriptorium like a man possessed, his fingers trailing reverently over the spines of ancient tomes, his eyes gleaming with an almost feverish excitement.

I forced myself to look away, my gaze landing on the small table where it still lay open—the spellbook. The same book that had led us here. That had led me here. The moment my eyes landed on it, a sharp, involuntary shudder ran through me.

Ominis must have noticed because his grip on my arm tightened.

"Ominis?" I murmured, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Yes?" he responded immediately.

"Can you let go for just a moment? I need to grab a Wiggenweld potion."

He hesitated before slowly releasing me. "Of course." But he stayed close, as if afraid I’d collapse if he moved too far.

And, as it turned out, he was right.

The moment I took a step forward, a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My legs wobbled, and before I could stop myself, I stumbled toward the nearest wall, sliding down against the cold stone.

"Jo?" Ominis took a step closer.

"I’m fine," I breathed, though I knew how unconvincing I sounded.

My hands fumbled through my bag, fingers shaking until they found the familiar curve of the glass bottle. I yanked the cork off with my teeth and downed the potion in one go, grimacing at the bitter taste. Relief spread through me, but it was weak and fleeting. My body still ached, the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse clinging to me like a sickness.

Ominis lowered himself beside me, his back stiff as his wand remained subtly angled in Sebastian’s direction.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was utterly engrossed in the bookshelves, running his hands over the bindings like they were sacred artifacts.

Despite everything, I almost found his excitement endearing.

Almost.

My stomach twisted.

He hadn’t hesitated. Not even for a second.

He had barely even asked me if I was sure.

I clenched my jaw as my hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.

I would have taken the curse again and again for him if I had to.

But would he have done the same?

I bit my lip, forcing back the sting in my eyes. There was no point in crying now.

I needed a distraction.

"Maybe I should have just stayed in the Hospital Wing," I muttered, my voice coming out hoarse.

Ominis let out a sharp breath, resting his head in his hands. "I should have never agreed to this," he murmured. "I should have listened to my gut. I should have taken the curse. Something, anything—"

I sighed. I could still feel the aftershocks of the pain wracking my body. But there was no undoing it now.

"I will have you know," I said softly, "I would never have let you take that curse. And I certainly wouldn’t have cast it on Sebastian."

Ominis exhaled shakily, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Please don’t beat yourself up over it," I continued. "If there’s anyone you should pity, it’s Sebastian. You know that."

"What?"

Sebastian’s voice rang out, startling me.

Ominis and I turned to him in unison. "Never mind," we both said.

Sebastian gave us an odd look before shrugging and turning back to his search.

I let my head fall back against the wall, exhaustion seeping into my bones. Now that we weren’t moving, the cold of the Scriptorium was starting to settle deep in my muscles.

My limbs felt heavy. My mind foggy.

I closed my eyes for just a moment, just to rest.

I felt my head slip. I didn’t think of stopping it until it accidentally rested on Ominis’s shoulder.

My first instinct was to pull away, but I didn’t.

I trusted him.

And he was warm.

I let myself lean into him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let sleep take me.

"I think I found something!"

Sebastian’s voice jolted me awake.

I had no clue how long I had been sleeping. It felt like mere moments, but was probably a lot more than that.

I blinked blearily, trying to pull myself back to consciousness, but a weight on my head stopped me.

Ominis.

He had fallen asleep too and his head was resting atop mine.

The two of us straightened at the same time, exchanging a fleeting glance before turning to Sebastian.

"Oh joy," Ominis muttered groggily.

I looked past Sebastian, my eyes landing on the book he had flipped open.

A pyramidal artifact was sketched onto the page.

The relic.

I swallowed hard, willing my face to remain neutral. "Something to help Anne?"

"Maybe," Sebastian said, but there was something off in his voice.

He was lying.

He was sure, but he didn’t want to admit that a Dark Magic relic might be the answer.

Sebastian ran his fingers along the page before snapping the book shut. "I’m taking this with me."

A sharp chill ran through me, but I didn’t argue. This was how it was supposed to go.

"If you two are done sleeping on each other, we should go," he added, a twinge of what I could only assume was jealousy in his voice.

"I couldn’t agree more," Ominis muttered.

Without another word, we made our way back through the winding corridors.

Not one of us spoke.

By the time we stepped out into the dungeon corridor, it felt like coming up for air.

I inhaled deeply, rolling my stiff shoulders. "Well," I said, stifling a yawn, "I think my body might give out on me if I do anything else tonight, so I will be off. Goodnight, boys."

I turned on my heel, heading away from the Slytherin common room. It was a longer route back to Gryffindor Tower, but I was done with people for the night.

Especially Sebastian.

But he didn’t take the hint.

"Wait," he called. "Let me walk you to your common room."

I stopped but didn’t turn. "Sebastian, if I’m being completely honest, I have about had it with today and would appreciate a walk back to my dormitory in silence. Alone."

Sebastian faltered.

He looked almost hurt, his brows furrowing slightly. "Okay, fine," he said, but hesitated. "But can I have a quick word?"

Ominis sighed. "Goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight, Ominis," I said.

Sebastian barely acknowledged him. "See you in a bit."

Ominis shot me a knowing look before turning and disappearing down the corridor.

Now, alone in the quiet, I exhaled.

"Alright," I said, finally turning back to Sebastian. "What is it?"

Sebastian hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his expression uncertain.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I sighed, shifting my weight onto my uninjured side. "Like I was just hit with the Cruciatus Curse," I said dryly.

He flinched. "Right."

Silence settled between us, stretching uncomfortably.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away before taking another step toward me. "Jo… I—" He exhaled sharply, then met my gaze again. "I’m sorry. For hurting you. For—" He shook his head. "For all of it."

I studied him.

There was real remorse in his eyes, but there was something else, too—something unreadable.

I wanted to stay angry.

I should have stayed angry.

But the way he was looking at me—like he hated what he had done, like he wanted to take it back but couldn’t—made it impossible.

I inhaled slowly, feeling the ache in my ribs from the tension I hadn't realized I was holding. "Without you, we never would have made it through," he added. "You were brilliant, you know that?"

I huffed out a quiet laugh, my lips twitching slightly. "Hardly."

"I mean it." His voice was softer now, and when I looked up, his eyes were searching mine. "I know you didn’t want to do this, but we had to. And I—" His voice dipped lower. "I don’t think I could have done it without you."

My stomach fluttered despite myself.

Stop it, I scolded my traitorous heart.

But it was hard—impossible—to ignore the way he was looking at me, how he had taken another step closer, how his hand hovered like he wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if he should.

"You’re lucky I’m rather fond of you," I murmured, tilting my head slightly.

His lips quirked into that familiar smirk, but there was something softer in it this time. "Oh?"

"Otherwise, I might have hexed you by now."

"Ah." He chuckled. "And here I thought you enjoyed our little duels."

"Duels are one thing," I said, arching a brow. "Torture is another."

Sebastian sobered slightly. "I really am sorry, Jo."

I sighed, rolling my eyes dramatically. "Alright, alright, you’re forgiven."

His grin returned, and this time it was pure mischief. "Does that mean I can kiss you again?"

My face went warm. "I—" I faltered, feeling my breath hitch at how close he was now.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and my stomach flipped.

I should have walked away.

I should have ended this before it got worse.

But when he reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, I didn’t move.

Didn’t want to move.

"You should go," I murmured, more for my sake than his.

"Should I?" His voice was teasing, but there was something else beneath it.

I swallowed. "Yes."

For a second, I thought he might ignore me. That he might push his luck.

But then, he let his hand drop, stepping back with a knowing smirk. "Goodnight, Jo."

I exhaled, rolling my eyes as I turned on my heel. "Goodnight, Sebastian."

I walked away quickly, not trusting myself to look back.

Because if I did, I knew I’d find him still watching me.

And I wasn’t sure I’d have the willpower to leave.

Chapter Text

By the time I made it to the Map Chamber, Professor Fig was already pacing.

I had expected as much. His note had arrived that morning via owl, requesting I meet him here after my classes. It was brief, but I could tell he had been impatiently awaiting this conversation since the moment I left the Hospital Wing.

And, if I was being honest, so had I.

The pain from last night still lingered in my muscles when I woke, a deep, aching soreness that refused to fade. Even with the Wiggenweld I had taken in the Scriptorium, the residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse were something no simple potion could fix. But I had other ways of healing.

So, instead of heading straight to breakfast, I stayed behind in my dormitory, shifting my body just enough to accelerate the healing process. It was a slow, draining effort—I still couldn’t risk making it too obvious—but by the time I finally arrived in the Great Hall, I felt significantly better. If anyone asked why I was late, I simply said I was still sore. Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Now, standing in the doorway of the Map Chamber, I found myself face to face with a very distressed Professor Fig.

At the sound of my footsteps, he turned abruptly. “Finally,” he breathed, relief evident in his voice. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten.”

I arched a brow. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Too long.” He gave me a once-over, as if trying to assess whether I was truly well enough to be here. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I answered automatically. Then, at his unimpressed look, I sighed. “But I’m alright, truly.”

His expression remained skeptical, but he nodded. “Good. Because we have much to discuss.”

My gaze flickered to the surrounding portraits. Percival Rackham and Charles Rookwood had appeared in their frames, observing the exchange with quiet expectancy.

I crossed my arms. “Right. Let’s start with what exactly you told him.”

Rookwood and Rackham exchanged glances.

Fig frowned. “I assume you mean the truth about your… unique situation.”

I nodded, my pulse quickening. “I want to hear it from you first. What, exactly, do you know?”

Rackham was the first to speak. “We told him what we believed he deserved to know. That you are not like the other students at Hogwarts. That your connection to Ancient Magic is… not of this world.”

My stomach twisted. Not untrue, but dangerously close to being too much.

I took a slow breath. “And what does that mean to you, Professor?” I turned to Fig, carefully watching his expression.

Fig hesitated. “It means that I—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t know what it means, Jo. That’s precisely why I need you to explain it to me.”

I held his gaze. This was it. The moment I had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

The Keepers had forced my hand, but I wasn’t about to let them dictate how this conversation went.

I was going to tell my story—my way.

            I took a steadying breath. “Alright. But before I say anything, I believe you have an introduction to make.”

Rackham and Rookwood exchanged glances before Rookwood gave a solemn nod. “Indeed, we do.”

A shimmer of magic rippled through the chamber, and a new portrait faded into existence. A woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and a striking presence stepped forward in her frame.

“This is Niamh Fitzgerald,” Rackham introduced. “The next Keeper, and an old friend of Alissa’s.”

At the mention of her name, my heart clenched. I swallowed hard, pushing past the sudden ache.

Niamh studied me with quiet intensity before her expression softened. “You look just like her.”

I hesitated. “You knew Alissa well?”

“I did. We worked closely together for some time.” Niamh’s gaze turned expectant. “Where is she now? Why isn’t she the one standing before us?”

The air in the chamber grew heavy.

I lowered my head. “She’s gone.”

A stillness settled over the Keepers.

Rackham’s face paled. “Gone?”

Rookwood exhaled sharply, gripping the edges of his frame.

Niamh pressed a hand over her chest. “Alissa…”

“She died protecting the people she swore to help,” I said, my voice quieter now. “She gave everything.”

Silence. A silence filled with unspoken grief, with memories that I would never know but that lived on in the hearts of these portraits.

“I am sorry,” I added, because it was all I could offer.

Niamh nodded slowly, regaining her composure. “Then it is only right that we honor her by ensuring you are prepared for what lies ahead.”

Rackham cleared his throat, his tone gentler now. “Go on, Jo. Tell your story.”

I turned back to Fig, who had been watching me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He had been patient, but I could tell his mind was brimming with questions.

I took a deep breath. “The Keepers were right in saying that my powers are not from this world. But what they don’t know is that my ability to use Ancient Magic is only one of many.”

Fig frowned. “What do you mean?”

I lifted my hand and let blue sparks dance between my fingertips before closing them into a fist. “I can do much more than this,” I said. “I can shapeshift. I can heal myself. And most importantly, I can travel between dimensions.”

Fig blinked. “Dimensions?”

“There are an infinite number of them—or at least, there used to be.” I clasped my hands together. “To explain this properly, I need to start from the beginning.”

I inhaled deeply, then began.

“There is a world, a single dimension, where every person has the ability to create other dimensions. Every story they tell, every idea they form—it becomes real. But they don’t know it. They don’t realize that their stray thoughts breathe life into entire universes. Some people are more gifted at this than others, and their stories are the ones that persist, the ones that are remembered.”

I let the words sink in before continuing.

“I was born in that world,” I said. “The people there never knew they had that power. I didn’t either. Not at first. But one day, I… I figured it out. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but we’ll start there” I paused. “And I wasn’t the only one. Two others discovered it with me. Atticus and Caden. My best friends.”

The names tasted like ghosts on my tongue.

“We learned how to cross between dimensions, how to navigate them. But we weren’t the only ones who saw the potential in that power.”

Fig’s brows knitted together. “What happened?”

I clenched my jaw. “Caden wanted more. He became obsessed with the idea of ruling the dimensions, of bending them to his will. That desire made him vulnerable. Something dark—something beyond time itself—took hold of him. It twisted him into something unrecognizable.”

The chamber felt colder as I spoke.

“There was a fight,” I said quietly. “Caden attacked Atticus and me. It was a battle that ended with the destruction of our home dimension.”

Rackham’s eyes widened.

“The world where all others were created—gone. Everyone in it… gone.” My voice wavered, but I forced myself to keep going. “Except for the three of us.”

Fig looked stricken.

“We barely escaped into another dimension,” I continued. “But Atticus—” My throat tightened. “Atticus died moments later.”

I could still feel the weight of him in my arms.

“With the Author dimension destroyed, new dimensions stopped being created. The infinite became finite. There are still trillions of them, but now… there is an end.”

A heavy silence followed.

Fig was the first to speak. “And Caden?”

I met his gaze. “He followed me, stalked me for months. Eventually I…I killed him.”

I let the words settle before pressing on.

“With Caden gone, I became the last Crosser—the last person alive who can move between dimensions.”

Fig exhaled, rubbing his temple. “That’s… that’s quite a lot to take in.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He took a moment to process before asking, “And why are you here? Why Hogwarts?”

I smiled faintly. “Learning.”

“Learning?”

I gestured around the chamber. “Ancient Magic is something I don’t fully understand. I came here to study it, to see if it could be used to help people across different dimensions.”

Fig looked thoughtful, but Rookwood frowned. “If you came here simply to learn, why insert yourself into this fight against Ranrok?”

I let out a soft laugh. “Because I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I help where I can. It’s who I am.”

I hesitated, then added, “And… this isn’t my first time here.”

Fig blinked.

“I first came to Hogwarts in the 1990s,” I admitted. “I spent two years here before returning to my team.”

Fig’s expression turned unreadable.

“When I returned to Hogwarts this term, I shapeshifted myself into the role of a fifth-year Hogwarts student,” I explained. “And I intend to stay here until the end of term before reporting my findings.”

Fig stared at me for a long moment before finally speaking. “You… you have been through more than I ever could have imagined.”

I gave him a small smile. “Yeah. But I’m here now.”

Rookwood still looked wary. “And we are simply meant to trust that your presence here is entirely benevolent?”

I met his gaze evenly. “I mean no harm. I only want to learn and to help in whatever way I can.”

Rookwood didn’t look fully convinced, but Niamh placed a hand over her heart. “If Alissa trusted her, then so do I.”

I let out a slow breath.

Fig nodded, his expression softening. “Then I suppose we have much more to discuss.”

I exhaled slowly, still reeling from how much I had just shared. "And that," I said, my voice quieter now, "is only a fraction of my life. There's more—so much more—but none of it matters right now. Not when we have a much bigger problem at hand."

Fig gave a slow, measured nod, absorbing every word I had told him. His brow was still furrowed, but his eyes held less skepticism and more understanding now. The Keepers remained silent, their gazes heavy with thought.

I shifted my stance, feeling the weight of everything I had to say pressing down on me. I turned to Fig, meeting his expectant gaze. “I know this is a lot to take in, but there’s something just as urgent that we need to discuss. You need to know everything about Ranrok’s plan.”

Fig’s expression darkened instantly. “Go on.”

I took a steadying breath. “Ranrok isn’t just after power for the sake of it. He believes wizards have been hoarding magic that rightfully belongs to goblins. And he’s convinced that the repositories of Ancient Magic hidden beneath Hogwarts and elsewhere are the key to taking it back.”

Fig frowned, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Repositories? You mean like the one we saw at Rookwood Castle?”

I nodded. “Exactly. But that was just one of them. There are more—created centuries ago by a goblin metalworker named Bragbor. He was the one who built them for Isadora Morganach when she started storing extracted pain. And here’s the problem—Bragbor kept journals. Detailed ones.”

Fig’s frown deepened. “And Ranrok has them.”

“Yes. Well, most of them,” I corrected. “The journals are essentially his roadmap, guiding him to every repository. The only one missing—the most important one—details the location of the final repository hidden deep beneath Hogwarts.”

Fig let out a sharp breath, already putting the pieces together. “If he gets his hands on that last journal—”

“It’s over.” I finished for him. “He’ll know exactly where to go, and nothing will stop him from reaching it.”

A tense silence stretched between us. Fig ran a hand over his face, his mind clearly racing. “How close is he to obtaining the final journal?”

“That’s the one thing I can’t predict,” I admitted. “Originally, he was supposed to get it around March of next year. But since I haven’t interfered with Lodgok, his brother, the timeline has shifted. It could be delayed, but by how much? A few weeks? A few years? I have no way of knowing.”

Fig exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Then we have to assume it’s imminent.”

“Exactly.” I folded my arms, the weight of our situation settling even heavier now that I had voiced it all aloud. “And what’s worse—Ranrok isn’t just finding the repositories. He’s already draining them.”

Fig’s brows shot up. “Draining them? How?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how, but I saw the results. The repository at Rookwood Castle—it was empty, completely stripped of magic. Whatever protections were placed there, whatever power was left—it’s gone.”

Fig rubbed his temple, looking more distressed than I’d ever seen him. “And if he’s already done it to one…”

“It’s only a matter of time before he does it to the last.”

The Map Chamber felt impossibly quiet. Even the glow from the floor’s magical carvings seemed dimmer, like the room itself recoiled at the weight of our discussion.

Fig finally looked at me, his eyes unreadable. “You’ve been carrying all of this alone, haven’t you?”

I hesitated but didn’t deny it. “Not completely alone. The Keepers know. And now, you do too.”

Fig let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “We truly have no time to lose.”

Before either of us could say another word, a voice cut through the silence.

“Indeed.”

I turned to see Niamh Fitzgerald’s portrait regarding us with a solemn expression. “And in order to prepare for the next Trial, I must speak with the one person none of us will enjoy dealing with.”

Fig groaned. “Not Black.”

“I’m afraid so.” Niamh let out a dramatic sigh. “My portrait resides in the Headmaster’s office. If we are to move forward, I will need to speak with him.”

I resisted the urge to groan right along with Fig. “Of course. Because nothing this year has been easy.”

Fig crossed his arms, his expression deeply unimpressed. “And you believe he’ll actually listen to you?”

Niamh scoffed. “Oh, absolutely not. But I intend to try.”

I ran a hand down my face. This was about to become a whole new headache.

And something told me it was only the beginning.

I walked past the towering rhinoceros skeleton, its hollowed-out eye sockets staring down at me as I made my way toward the Undercroft. The air in the castle felt different—lighter, somehow. Perhaps it was because I had finally told Fig and the Keepers the truth, or maybe it was just the relief of finally having someone else share the burden. Either way, it felt as if I could breathe a little easier.

It wasn’t lost on me, though, that my confession had consequences. I’d have to keep an eye on Fig long after I left this dimension, ensure that he carried what he knew wisely. But for now, at least, that weight wasn’t mine alone to carry.

I clutched my Field Guide in one hand, though I had little intention of opening it. My feet carried me forward with purpose, because I knew exactly where I’d find Sebastian. He’d be here, pouring over Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook, his mind tangled up in whatever secrets he had unearthed.

Sure enough, as I slipped through the hidden entrance and the gate clanged shut behind me, I found him perched atop a barrel, his beloved spellbook open on a crate before him like a makeshift desk. His head snapped up at the sound, and the moment his eyes landed on me, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, hopping down with an easy grace. “Couldn’t resist my charm, could you?”

I raised a brow, tilting my head at him. “Or maybe I just have an unfortunate habit of indulging your nonsense.”

His grin widened. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched upward despite myself. I should have been annoyed with him—furious, even, after everything that had happened—but Sebastian had a way of making me forget the reasons I should be mad at him.

For better or worse.

“Have you discovered anything useful in the spellbook?” I asked, forcing myself back on track.

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded. “Yes! It was a little difficult to interpret, but fascinating.”

He gestured toward my bag, and I frowned, unsure of his meaning.

“May I?” he asked.

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Gently, he reached for the strap of my bag and lifted it over my head, his fingers brushing against my neck in the process. I suppressed a shiver, but I knew he noticed. His lips quirked slightly before he set my bag down on the crate and propped the spellbook at a better angle.

I stepped forward, skimming the dense, handwritten text. No illustrations, just line after line of Salazar Slytherin’s meticulous script. I caught fragmented words—teach, class, Imperio, pure-blood. My stomach twisted.

Then, I felt him behind me.

His warmth pressed against my back, his hands landing lightly on my shoulders before beginning a slow, deliberate motion, rubbing small circles against my stiff muscles.

“Evidently,” he murmured, voice low, smooth, but dangerously casual, “Salazar Slytherin encouraged teaching Dark Magic at Hogwarts. Neither the Imperius Curse nor the Killing Curse was considered unforgivable in his time. He believed students should be prepared to use Dark Magic when necessary—not fear it.”

I flinched. Just slightly. But enough for Sebastian to notice.

His hands stilled for a moment before they slid from my shoulders, drifting downward, slow and measured, until they rested on my waist. I felt his breath, warm and teasing, against the curve of my neck, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

“I know I already apologized,” he murmured, pressing closer, his words a feather-light caress against my skin. “But I want you to know how truly sorry I am.”

I should have stepped away. Should have created distance, should have put a stop to whatever this was. But I didn’t. I melted into him, my body betraying me, as if drawn by some invisible force.

Sebastian exhaled, his breath fanning across my skin as he turned his head slightly, lips grazing just below my ear. It was barely a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth through me, drowning out any lingering chill from the cold stone chamber.

“Jo,” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, huskier. “You know I would never want to hurt you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the war inside my chest. He had already hurt me. The remnants of pain still clung to me like a ghost, yet here I was, sinking into his embrace like I hadn’t been screaming in agony under his wand just a day before.

He shifted, and suddenly his lips were right above the collar of my shirt, pressing the lightest, most agonizingly soft kiss against my skin. My breath hitched. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, trying to ground myself.

This was too much.

With every ounce of willpower I had left, I took a step forward, slipping out of his grasp.

“I know we had to do it to open the Scriptorium,” I said, voice quieter than before, “but I think the memory of that pain will forever be burned into me.”

Sebastian exhaled, lingering just behind me. But instead of pressing forward again, he turned back toward the book and flipped through several pages.

“It was worth it,” he said finally, his tone lighter, like he was trying to shift the conversation away from the weight of what had happened. “Because I found something else.”

I frowned as he landed on a page featuring an illustration—a pyramidal artifact, sketched with meticulous detail.

“Here,” he tapped the page. “There are references to a lost relic. From what I can tell, it grants the holder the power to reverse Dark Magic curses.”

My pulse quickened, though not in the same way as before.

“And you think this relic might be able to save Anne.”

Sebastian’s gaze burned into mine, his determination unwavering. “Precisely. I plan to search for this relic, but I don’t think we should tell anyone.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not Ominis?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve seen how he frets about the Dark Arts. I promise—I’ll tell him when I’ve found the relic.”

I crossed my arms, glancing between him and the book. “He’s left in the dark too often. And if we’re really doing this, he deserves to know.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Jo—”

“I mean it,” I interrupted. “We do this, we do it right. No more secrets.”

His jaw clenched, and I could see the internal battle waging behind his eyes.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m telling him in my own time. And don’t feel sorry for Ominis. Keeping this to ourselves is for his own good.”

The clang of the gate slamming behind Ominis sent a jolt through my chest. He stood rigid, his expression unreadable, but the sharp tension in his posture was enough of a warning.

“I’ll decide what’s for my own good,” he said, his voice low and edged with something unspoken.

Sebastian exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. “Ominis—we were just about to get some air. Care to join?”

Ominis didn’t take the bait. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his usual carefully measured demeanor slipping. “You’re a liar, Sebastian. I heard everything.”

My breath caught. Everything. My mind raced, trying to determine how much he could have overheard. Was he talking about the relic? The spellbook? Or—Merlin’s beard, had he heard when Sebastian—

My face heated, but I forced myself to stay composed.

Ominis took a step closer, shaking his head. “Engaging with Dark Magic in any form is a slippery slope, and you know that. At least Jo had enough sense to try and talk you out of it. But you don’t know when to stop.”

Sebastian bristled. “Why should I stop?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “I need to find a cure for Anne. If I don’t, no one else will.” His jaw tightened. “And do not bring Jo into this.”

He stepped closer to me, his body angling slightly in my direction, as if trying to pull me into his argument. I swallowed hard. I wanted to say something—anything—but what was there to say? I’d already tried to talk Sebastian down. He wasn’t going to listen, not when his mind was set.

A heavy silence fell between us, stretching the moment unbearably thin. There was something else happening here—something beyond this single argument. A deeper, unspoken conflict between the two of them, like this fight had been brewing long before I ever came along.

I debated opening a tiny portal to grab one of Peter’s Spider Tracers from my room back home. It would be so easy to slip it onto Sebastian’s cloak, just to keep tabs on him—but no. I wouldn’t eavesdrop unless I absolutely had to.

Sebastian scoffed. “Leave this alone, Ominis.”

He turned sharply on his heel, and I expected him to storm out without another word. But then, suddenly—he didn’t.

In one fluid motion, Sebastian closed the distance between us, his hand sliding to the side of my face.

I barely had time to react before his lips were on mine.

The kiss wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was swift, possessive—over before I could even process it. A surprised sound caught in my throat as he pulled back, leaning in close to my ear.

“Meet me on the second floor of the library as soon as you can,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

Dazed, I nodded. “Alright.”

And just like that, he was gone, striding away with his head held high, his confidence unshaken.

I exhaled sharply, trying to steady myself, then turned to Ominis—who stood frozen, his face unreadable, arms stiff at his sides like someone had just struck him with a bolt of lightning.

Guilt twisted in my stomach.

“Ominis,” I started carefully, “Sebastian meant well…”

Ominis let out a slow, measured breath. “I appreciate you telling Sebastian not to keep this from me, but going after that relic is not a good idea.” His voice wavered slightly, but he steadied himself. “I cannot understand his recklessness. We’ve practically lost Anne. I cannot lose Sebastian too.” He turned his face toward me, imploring. “Please, Jo, avoid anything to do with that spellbook.”

I hesitated, my heart aching at the desperation in his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I admitted. “Some references Sebastian mentioned in the book worry me.”

Ominis’s shoulders sagged slightly, relief flickering across his face. “I’m glad you understand. I hope Sebastian pursues this no further.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “But if you think he might, please, let me know. It would mean a lot.”

I nodded. “I will. But… you know Sebastian. He’ll stop at nothing to save Anne.” My throat tightened. “I’ll do my best to delay the inevitable. I have another thing he’s… helping me with. Hopefully, it’ll take his mind off finding a cure.”

Ominis scoffed softly, the tension cracking just enough for sarcasm to slip through. “By the sounds of it, you two are ‘helping’ each other a lot.”

I blinked, thrown by the sudden shift.

Wait.

Was that—jealousy?

Before I could stop myself, I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “That was not what I was referring to!”

Ominis chuckled, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Sounded like it.”

“You Dorcus,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m trying to keep Sebastian out of trouble, and instead, I get sass? That’s low.”

We both laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment.

Ominis exhaled, his amusement fading just slightly. “You should—um—find Sebastian.”

I nodded. “I should.”

But I didn’t move right away.

Because the truth was… I wasn’t quite sure who I was trying to keep out of trouble anymore.

With a final glance at Ominis, I forced my feet to move.

"See you later, Ominis."

He gave a slow nod, though he still looked troubled. "Goodbye, Jo."

I turned and slipped through the Undercroft’s entrance, leaving him behind in the dim candlelight. The cold stone passageways of the dungeons swallowed me whole, but the air felt lighter than before—if only slightly. Ominis was right to worry, but I couldn't let myself dwell on it. Not now.

I climbed the stairs out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, making my way toward the Library. The castle was quiet at this hour, only the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long shadows along the stone walls. My thoughts tangled as I walked. Had I done the right thing? Could delaying Sebastian really make a difference? I told myself yes, that keeping him occupied with the Triptych might slow his descent into desperation.

But then, wasn’t I only delaying the inevitable?

The Library’s grand doors stood ajar when I arrived, the warm glow of lanterns spilling into the corridor. I stepped inside, winding my way up the stairs to the second level where Sebastian was waiting.

He was leaning against one of the massive bookshelves, arms crossed, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows along his jaw line. His eyes met mine the moment I reached the landing, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“You’re late,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes. “You should be used to that by now.”

“I should, but somehow, you still manage to keep me on my toes.”

I shook my head, suppressing a smile as I leaned against the railing across from him. “Alright, what is it?”

Sebastian pushed off the bookshelf and stepped closer. “I had been so preoccupied with the Scriptorium and the spellbook that I’d almost forgotten what it was that struck me about the Triptych. I’m pretty sure I recognize the view on the little piece of canvas that’s still intact.”

That piqued my interest. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking over my face as if trying to gauge my reaction before continuing. “I’ll have to check to make sure, but if I’m right, we could actually go there. Maybe find more clues.”

A strange thrill ran through me. Despite everything, I couldn’t deny the curiosity I felt toward the Triptych. “That’s wonderful. I have a feeling it’s important—otherwise, why go through so much trouble to hide it?”

Sebastian grinned. “Exactly! I hope we’re onto something big.”

I folded my arms, studying him. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

His grin widened. “Pretty much. That, and…” He took another step forward, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I just wanted to see you.”

I scoffed, feigning exasperation. “Sebastian, I see you every day.”

“Not enough,” he countered smoothly. “I think you should be honored that I seek out your presence so frequently.”

“Oh, absolutely. How could I ever take it for granted?” I deadpanned, shaking my head. “Alright, so what’s the plan? You said you think you know where it is—if you’re right, when were you thinking of going?”

Sebastian’s face lit up. “I was thinking this weekend. If we confirm the location, there’s no reason to wait.”

I sighed dramatically, already searching for an excuse. “I wish. But I’m still behind in Herbology. You may have been able to start the grafting project on time, but I was a few days late. I need to catch up before Garlick decides I’m a lost cause.”

He groaned. “Come on, you’re in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw. That can wait.”

“It really can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “The professors were lenient when I first arrived, but that’s over now. They’ve made it very clear I’m to be held to the same standards as everyone else.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Fine. Then next week.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, knowing I had to plant the next delay. “Actually… I’m leaving next week.”

That caught him off guard. “Leaving? What do you mean?”

I nodded, keeping my expression casual. “I’m going back to America for Thanksgiving. It’s a big holiday where I’m from—family, food, all that. I’ll be gone from the 22nd to the 30th.”

He frowned. “Thanksgiving?”

I shrugged. “Muggle thing. But my family expects me.”

Sebastian sighed, clearly displeased but not about to argue. “Fine. But the moment you get back, we’re going.”

I gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Of course.”

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find some reason to doubt me. Then, without warning, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. My breath hitched, but I didn’t move away.

“You better hurry back, Jo,” he murmured. “I’m not nearly as patient as you think.”

I swallowed, forcing a smirk. “I never took you for patient at all.”

His lips quirked. “Then you’d be right.”

With one final glance, I turned on my heel and made my way down the stairs. My heart pounded with each step, but not from excitement.

Because as much as I wanted to believe that delaying him would change anything…

I knew deep down that it wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

The week before my trip passed in a blur of parchment, ink-stained fingers, and the ever-present chill that signaled winter’s approach. Between my coursework, tutoring struggling first-years, and attempting to subtly dissuade Sebastian from his more reckless pursuits, I had little time to breathe. That was fine. Keeping busy meant keeping my mind occupied—away from thoughts of dark artifacts, painful spells, and the gnawing dread that I was running out of time.

And then, just like that, I was gone.

The Peizer Estate was exactly as I left it—vast, secluded, nestled in a time pocket in the 1860s like a secret written between the lines of a story. It smelled of old books, fresh bread, and the ever-faint crackle of something electric in the air, a remnant of the place’s cosmic nature.

The second I walked through the doors, I was met with a loud, enthusiastic “Surprise!” followed by the familiar sight of my team gathered around a heavily decorated dining table, grinning like a bunch of overgrown children. The table was overflowing with food—Charles had clearly gone overboard, as always—mashed potatoes stacked like mountains, pies lined up in a colorful array, and a turkey so massive I half-expected it to start speaking.

“Thanksgiving?” I blinked at them, bewildered.

“Or, well, what passes for Thanksgiving around here,” Peter said, sliding up next to me with his usual smirk. “Since, you know, we don’t exactly do linear time.”

Paul, ever composed, shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”

Charles, apron still dusted with flour, smiled warmly. “And you’ve been gone a while. Thought you might like a reminder of home.”

Home. The word settled strangely in my chest.

For a little while, I let myself sink into it—helping Rose and Charles in the kitchen, sparring with Ben (and promptly getting knocked on my ass), dodging Peter’s endless attempts to flirt, and trying to speedrun Hogwarts Legacy. I only got so far before I got distracted, mostly by tackling the task of replenishing our supply of cosmic marbles—small glass-like orbs that, when shattered, opened portals to predesignated places.

But even as I laughed and fought and baked all while surrounded by my found-family, a quiet realization settled over me like dust on an old book.

I only had about five months left in the Wizarding World.

Five months before I disappeared from their lives forever.

Sebastian. Ominis. Fig. Poppy. Natty.

Everyone.

And when that day came, they would never see me again.

So… what was stopping me from doing whatever I wanted?

For the first time, I began to wonder: what if I stopped worrying so much about the future and just let myself exist?

Returning to Hogwarts felt surreal. The castle loomed against the winter sky, its towers wrapped in ribbons of mist, windows glowing like embers in the early evening light. Snow had begun to collect in uneven patches across the grounds, and the chill in the air bit at my skin the second I stepped off the carriage.

I had barely set foot in the Great Hall when a blur of green and black shot toward me.

“Jo!”

Sebastian skidded to a halt in front of me, eyes alight with excitement.

“Well, hello to you too,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Miss me that much?”

He scoffed, though his grin never wavered. “Obviously. But more importantly, I found it.”

I blinked. “Found what?”

“The place on the canvas piece—the one in the triptych.” He practically buzzed with energy, his hands moving wildly as he spoke. “I’m pretty sure I recognize the view. It’s an overlook of a mine just north of Upper Hogsfield. And I say, ‘pretty sure,’ but I really mean I know.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite myself, I found my lips twitching into a small smile.

“Wonderful,” I said. “goodness you’ve been busy!”

“Why, thank you.” He smacked a hand against his chest, grinning. “So, now that you’re back, we can finally check it out. This weekend?”

I opened my mouth, instinctively reaching for another excuse—another way to stall him, to slow the inevitable. But then, I stopped.

What was the point?

Sebastian would never let this go. Not until he had answers. Not until he found a way to save Anne. I could try to delay him, to steer him away from his obsession with the Dark Arts, but what was the point? He was already walking this path, and deep down, I knew where it would lead. Ominis had been right—he was a lost cause.

And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to care the way I should.

I only had so much time left here. A handful of months, maybe less, before I vanished from this world forever. I had spent so much of my life making decisions based on the needs of others, protecting people from things they didn’t even know existed. But for once, I just wanted to let go—to stop overthinking, stop trying to control every outcome.

I wanted to spend time with Sebastian.

Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should keep my distance, especially after the Scriptorium. After what he did. I hadn’t forgotten the pain—hadn’t forgotten the way he barely hesitated before casting that curse. But the problem was, he had a way of making me forget. He smiled, he flirted, he teased me like nothing had changed, and for a moment, it was easy to believe it hadn’t.

Even if I wanted to protect him, to save him from himself, I knew I couldn’t. But I could at least be with him while I was still here.

And for now, that was enough.

So instead of lying, instead of trying to shield him from himself, I met his gaze and nodded.

“This weekend,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

Sebastian blinked, clearly surprised by my lack of resistance. He studied me for a moment, as if searching for the catch. When he found none, his expression morphed into something triumphant.

“I knew you’d come around,” he said smugly.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight back a small smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer beneath it. Gratitude, maybe. Relief.

“Friday, then,” he said.

“Friday,” I confirmed, feeling the weight of my decision settle in my chest.

Whatever lay ahead, there was no turning back now.

The wind howled across the overlook, carrying flecks of snow through the air.

Sebastian stood beside me, his coat drawn tight against the cold. He was staring out over the mine below, eyes flicking between the terrain and the scrap of canvas in his hand.

“This is it,” he murmured.

I swallowed, my breath curling into the frigid air.

Sebastian folded the canvas scrap and tucked it into his coat. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he turned to me.

“What do you know about this place?” I asked, tightening my scarf against the wind.

“Not much,” he admitted, shrugging. “But while I was waiting for you to arrive, I scouted around to get a look at the entrance to the mine. It’s surrounded by Ranrok’s Loyalists.”

I exhaled sharply. “I suppose that makes sense. If there’s a connection between this mine, Isidora’s manor, and Rookwood Castle, Ranrok would be all over it.”

Sebastian smirked. “Exactly what I was thinking. So, how do we want to handle this?”

I gave him a sidelong glance, a mischievous glint in my eye. “We deal blows.”

His grin widened. “That’s my girl. After you.”

We made our way down the rocky slope, careful not to dislodge any loose stones that might alert the goblins below. A crude wooden barricade surrounded the camp, forming a tight perimeter with only one visible way in.

Sebastian shot me a look, his fingers already twitching toward his wand. “Stealth or chaos?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Why not both?”

He chuckled. “I like the way you think.”

We cast Disillusionment Charms and crept through the entrance, moving like wraiths between the tents and supply crates. The stench of burnt metal and damp earth filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of goblin forge fires.

We reached the center of the camp before letting ourselves flicker back into view.

The nearest goblin barely had time to register our presence before I whipped my wand forward, sending a crate flying into him with a pulse of Ancient Magic.

Chaos erupted.

Sebastian was already in motion, his wand slashing through the air as he blasted one goblin off his feet with Depulso. I spun to the side, dodging a bolt of red light before retaliating with Confringo, sending a Loyalist careening into a tent, the fabric igniting on impact.

Sebastian’s laughter rang out through the skirmish. “You’re getting good at this!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Sallow,” I teased, sidestepping another attack before sending my opponent flying with Flipendo.

“Really?” He ducked a goblin’s axe swing and countered with a well-placed Diffindo, sending the weapon clattering to the ground. “Because it seems to be working so far.”

I rolled my eyes, but a grin tugged at my lips as I sent another pulse of Ancient Magic surging through my palm. The energy crackled before launching a goblin high into the air, his screams echoing as he slammed into the wooden barricade.

Sebastian finished off the last Loyalist with a flick of his wand, sending a crate barreling into his chest. The goblin collapsed with a groan.

I exhaled, lowering my wand as the battlefield settled into eerie silence. “Well, that was fun.”

Sebastian dusted off his coat and shot me a roguish grin. “I’d call it a good warm-up.”

I huffed a laugh, nudging his arm before stepping over the fallen goblins toward the mine entrance. The minecart tracks led directly inside, disappearing into darkness.

“For better or for worse,” I murmured, staring into the abyss ahead, “we’re in.”

The darkness swallowed us whole as we stepped inside. The walls of the mine were damp, the air thick with the scent of earth and rusted metal. At first, the only sounds were the soft clink of our boots against the tracks and the distant, rhythmic drip of water echoing from somewhere deeper within.

Then, up ahead, flickering lanterns illuminated a small clearing where two goblins stood chatting, their guttural voices carrying through the cavern.

Sebastian and I ducked behind an abandoned minecart, peeking over the rusted edge.

Sebastian leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Oh, come on,” he whispered. “It’s too perfect.”

I smiled slyly. “What on earth could you possibly mean?”

His grin was practically audible. “Depulso, then?”

I rolled my eyes but nodded, then we both casted Disillusionment. We crept forward, our movements silent as shadows.

The goblins were standing far too close to the ledge of what looked to be a bottomless drop.

Sebastian glanced at me, his eyes alight with mischief.

In perfect synchrony, we raised our wands.

“Depulso,” we whispered in unison.

The force sent the goblins tumbling into the abyss, their surprised yelps fading into the void below.

Sebastian smirked. “Too easy.”

I shivered as I peered upward, spotting the thick layers of webbing clinging to the ceiling. Shadows of bundled corpses were suspended above us, wrapped tightly in silk, long dead.

My stomach twisted. For a brief, horrifying moment, I wasn’t in the mine anymore—I was back in Shelob’s lair. The suffocating webs pinning me, the spindly legs closing in, the stinger plunging into my side—

I swallowed hard, shoving the memory deep down where it belonged.

“I don’t see any goblins in these webs,” I muttered, forcing my voice to remain steady.

Sebastian grimaced. “Too disgusting for even a spider to prey on.”

We pressed forward, moving cautiously up a slope. The pit yawned beside us, reminding me of just how easily we could share the same fate as the goblins if we weren’t careful. At the top, a rickety-looking staircase led further down into the mine. Voices carried from below—gruff, clipped goblin chatter.

I exhaled sharply. “Ten Galleons says there are six down there.”

Sebastian smirked. “I say eight. You’re on—”

The moment he leaned against the wooden railing, it gave way.

I barely had time to register what was happening before he plummeted through a boarded up shaft.

“Sebastian!”

His shout was cut off by the sound of a rough landing, followed immediately by startled goblin cries.

Spells exploded below.

My stomach clenched.

Stairs or the shaft?

I gritted my teeth. “Screw it.”

I leapt into the opening, wand already raised.

The world blurred around me as I plummeted, the wind howling in my ears. At the last second, I flicked my wand downward.

“Arresto Momentum!”

My descent slowed, and I landed lightly on the cavern floor.

Sebastian was already in the thick of battle, his wand a blur as he sent curses flying in all directions. A gash trailed down the side of his forehead, crimson dripping down the side of his face.

I barely had time to take in the six goblins surrounding him before one lunged at me.

I whirled, my wand slicing through the air. “Expulso!”

The blast sent the goblin flying into a nearby crate, splinters exploding outward.

Sebastian sidestepped a goblin’s club swing and shot me a grin. “Oh, look at that. Six goblins.”

I flicked my wand, sending a boulder from the ground slamming into another enemy. “You lost the bet, Sallow.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting payment in kisses, then?”

I snorted. “Try Galleons.”

The battle was far from easy. The goblins were relentless, their weapons swinging and slicing through the air with deadly precision. One nearly caught Sebastian in the ribs with a wickedly curved blade, but he twisted just in time, his wand sparking with a well-timed Protego that sent the goblin staggering backward.

I ducked beneath another goblin’s axe, feeling the rush of air as it barely missed my skull. With a sharp flick of my wand, I sent him careening backward. “Depulso!”

He slammed into a support beam with a sickening crack before crumpling to the ground.

Sebastian cast Expelliarmus on a goblin lunging at him with a jagged dagger, then, without hesitation, blasted him back with Diffindo, sending the unfortunate creature sprawling.

I had barely caught my breath when another charged at me. This time, I was ready. I twisted my wand through the air. “Flipendo!”

The goblin was thrown back with a startled yelp, flipping through the air before landing face-first into the dirt.

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh. “Show-off.”

“You love it,” I shot back, dodging another strike.

But then the chittering started.

A horrible, bone-deep clicking sound echoed from the cavern ceiling.

My heart stuttered.

Then, all at once, the spiders descended.

A massive one landed right in front of me, its long, hairy legs scrabbling against the stone. Its many black eyes gleamed in the dim light, its fangs dripping with venom.

I barely had time to react before another dropped onto a goblin, sinking its fangs into his shoulder. He screamed before going limp, dragged into the shadows.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sebastian muttered.

More poured in, their grotesque forms scuttling over the walls and ceiling, dropping onto what few goblins remained and skittering toward us.

“Confringo!” Sebastian shouted, sending a spider bursting into flames.

I swung my wand, sending a surge of Ancient Magic into the air. A bolt of crackling blue energy tore through the cavern, disintegrating two spiders mid-leap.

One lunged at Sebastian from the side, its fangs bared.

“Bombarda!”

The force of the explosion sent it hurtling backward—

And me along with it.

The blast slammed me into the ground, pain ricocheting through my body. My vision blurred as I tried to push myself up, but my limbs felt like lead.

Sebastian was beside me in an instant, his hands gripping my arms, hauling me upright.

“You good?” he panted, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, that gash on his forehead still bleeding.

I blinked away the dizziness and nodded. “I’m fine. Keep fighting.”

We pressed back-to-back, our spells weaving together in perfect synchrony. I launched a crate with Ancient Magic, crushing one of the last spiders beneath it. Sebastian sent another flying into a stalagmite with a forceful Depulso.

By the time the last spider twitched its final leg, we were both gasping for breath, our bodies aching from cuts and bruises.

The cavern was eerily silent once more.

I turned to Sebastian. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand.

Then, before I could react, he was on me.

His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him, his lips crashing into mine.

I gasped against his mouth, my mind short-circuiting.

The heat from the battle still thrummed through me, my pulse racing, my body still thrumming with adrenaline. And he—he was desperate, urgent, like he needed this, like he needed me.

And damn it, I needed him too.

My hands fisted into his coat, pulling him closer. His fingers curled against my hips, pressing firmly, grounding me as he deepened the kiss.

I could taste the remnants of the fight on him—blood and fire and something undeniably Sebastian.

He groaned softly, tilting his head, his lips moving against mine with a fervor that made my knees weak.

I let him press me back against the stone wall, the cold seeping through my jacket, a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

His hands slid up my sides, slow and reverent, as if he was memorizing the shape of me. One of my own found his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there, tracing the sharp lines of his face.

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless.

He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still gripping my waist, like he couldn’t bear to let me go.

For a moment, I forgot why I shouldn’t be doing this.

Forgot the timeline.

Forgot the inevitable end.

Because right now, in this moment, all that mattered was him.

I wanted to keep kissing him—to lose myself entirely in the heat of his touch, to let his hands and lips make me forget everything else. And yet, the moment couldn’t last. Not here. Not now.

I forced myself to refocus. “Your head.”

Sebastian barely had time to react before I brushed my fingers along the side of his face, tracing the edges of the gash that trailed down his temple. The dried blood cracked beneath my touch. He reached up, catching my hand in his own before I could pull away, and kissed my palm.

“I’ll be alright,” he murmured against my skin.

His lips lingered a second too long before he dropped my hand.

I inhaled sharply, willing my thoughts to stay on task. “You got hit pretty hard too. Are you sure you’re alright?”

He smirked, but it was softer than usual. “I’m right as a runespoor.”

I huffed. “Cute.” Then I twisted, reaching into my bag. Sebastian hesitated, but I felt his warmth retreat slightly as I rummaged through my belongings.

“No, really,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Could be a cool scar.”

“And ruin your perfect face?” I shot him a pointed look as I pulled out a Wiggenweld potion. “I don’t think so.”

He gave a mock pout but took the potion from my hand, popping the cork and downing it in one go. I watched closely as the wound began to knit itself back together, the raw edges smoothing out, the torn flesh healing seamlessly. But the blood remained, dark streaks against his skin.

Frowning, I reached into my bag again, this time pulling out a small cloth. With a flick of my wand, I whispered, “Aguamenti.” The fabric dampened instantly.

Before he could protest, I stepped closer and gently dabbed at the dried blood.

Sebastian went still under my touch.

“If I had known sooner that you’d be doting on me like this,” he mused, voice teasing but quieter than before, “I would’ve been getting hurt more often.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, he caught my wrist.

My breath hitched as he kissed my hand again, then trailed his lips down to my wrist—soft, slow. Then lower, his lips pressing against the bare skin of my forearm as he pushed back the sleeve of my coat.

“Sebastian,” I warned, my voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk against my skin. “You should take off your coat.”

I swallowed hard.

Focus.

Instead of answering, I let my fingers slip from his grasp and turned away. “We should get moving before more spiders show up.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine,” he relented. “But where do we go? I don’t see any way out of here except the way we came.”

I grinned, pointing toward a faint shimmer in the stone. Embedded in the walls were metallic runes, their edges glinting like silver under the dim torchlight.

“That’s because you, and the goblins, don’t know where to look.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but as I stepped forward and touched the first rune, it flared to life with an ethereal blue glow.

Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly. “I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly,” I murmured.

I darted across the room, pressing my palm to the second rune. Then the third. Each one pulsed under my touch, sending soft waves of light through the stone.

A low rumble echoed through the chamber. The wall before us trembled, the stone shifting, parting like two halves of a secret doorway. Dust and debris trickled from above as an archway carved itself into existence.

The door swung open, beckoning us forward.

I turned, satisfied, only to catch Sebastian watching me with an unreadable expression.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He shook his head, grinning. “You’re adorable.”

I scoffed. “Excuse me? I just mercilessly took down a mob of goblins and spiders. I don’t see how that could in any way classify as ‘adorable.’”

He smirked as he stepped beside me. “You’re just proving my point, you know.”

I smacked his arm lightly as we passed through the doorway. “Oh, whatever.”

The room beyond was smaller, almost intimate in comparison to the vast, web-infested cavern we had just fought our way through. Bookshelves lined the walls, the wood warped and dust-covered. A desk sat at the center of the room, papers long since yellowed and curled with age scattered across its surface. The air smelled like parchment and stale ink.

An abandoned study.

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Now we’re talking.”

I folded my arms, watching as he strode toward the desk like a child in a sweet shop.

            Sebastian had already started poking through the desk, rifling through ancient papers and cracked leather-bound books, his eyes alight with curiosity. I, however, was more taken in by the atmosphere of the room itself.

There was something oddly intimate about it—the small, enclosed space, the scent of parchment and dust, the way the flickering torches cast long shadows across the walls. It didn’t feel like a place meant for many. It felt personal. A retreat. A secret.

I trailed my fingers along the spines of a row of books, my footsteps soft against the stone floor.

“Someone clearly went to great lengths to keep this hidden,” I mused.

Sebastian hummed in agreement. “Whoever used this study didn’t want it found. Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it?”

I glanced over at him, amused. “It’s almost like you have a thing for hidden, forbidden places.”

He smirked. “What can I say? Secrets are best when unraveled with good company.”

I huffed a laugh, rolling my eyes, but the words sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless.

Something on the shelf ahead caught my attention—a roll of canvas, tucked away like an afterthought. My fingers brushed the edge of it, and I felt my heart stutter.

“Sebastian.”

He turned, catching the shift in my tone, and was beside me in an instant. I carefully pulled the roll from its place, untying the string that held it together.

The moment it unfurled, I knew.

The colors, the strokes, the faint remnants of what once was—it was unmistakable. This was another piece of the triptych.

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “Well, well, look at that.” His fingers ghosted over the edge of the fabric. “Another piece of the puzzle.”

I turned the canvas over in my hands, excitement thrumming in my veins. This was it. This was why we were here.

Before I could even process it, Sebastian’s hands were on my waist, tugging me toward him.

Sebastian’s hands moved to the lapels of my coat, his fingers grazing the fabric as he smirked against my lips. "Far too warm in here for this, don’t you think?"

I barely had time to answer before he was slipping the coat from my shoulders, his fingers skimming along my arms as he pushed it off. The cool air of the study kissed my skin, but the warmth in my chest made it easy to ignore. He shrugged off his own coat in turn, tossing it carelessly onto a chair behind him before his hands found my waist again, pulling me flush against him.

The moment our lips met again, the tension that had been humming between us all night snapped. This wasn’t like the kisses before—this was deeper, more urgent.

Sebastian took his time, his lips teasing mine, coaxing them open, as if savoring the moment. His hands pressed firmly against my waist, pulling me impossibly close, his body heat seeping through the layers of our clothes.

I melted.

All the tension, all the restraint, it unraveled in an instant.

My fingers wove into his hair, pulling him down further, deepening the kiss with a need I hadn’t let myself acknowledge before. He responded immediately, his grip tightening, his breath growing heavier as he angled his head to kiss me even deeper.

Every nerve in my body was on fire.

His lips moved down to my jaw, trailing slow, lingering kisses along my skin. My breath hitched as he found a sensitive spot just below my ear, and he hummed against my skin, clearly pleased with himself.

“Sebastian—”

“Hmm?” His voice was husky, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

“You’re insufferable,” I whispered, though my hands betrayed me as they clutched at the front of his shirt.

He smirked against my skin. “You’re enjoying this far too much to insult me properly.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I let out a shaky breath as he moved back to my lips, capturing them in another searing kiss. I felt the world tilt, not sure if it was from the intensity of the moment or the way he effortlessly backed me against the desk, pressing me flush against him.

The edges of the canvas still in my grip crinkled between us, a stark reminder of why we were here.

Sebastian’s hands slid up my sides, fingers tracing over the fabric of my blouse, his touch leaving trails of warmth in its wake. Every fiber of my being begged me to keep going, to lose myself in this, in him—

But something in me whispered to stop.

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss, my forehead resting against his as I tried to catch my breath.

He exhaled sharply, his grip on me lingering before he finally loosened his hold.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

I let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah.”

We stood there for a moment, the reality of what just happened settling between us. My heart was still pounding in my chest, my lips tingling from the intensity of his touch.

But we had work to do.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to step back. “We should… probably figure out why there’s a secret study hidden in a mine.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, still looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Right. Priorities.”

His eyes flickered to my lips one last time before he finally turned his attention back to the room.

I exhaled, pressing a hand against my chest in an attempt to steady myself.

I cleared my throat, willing the heat in my cheeks to fade. “If the triptych led us here to find this bit of canvas, we can probably assume that Isadora Morganach was here.”

Sebastian hummed, rolling the canvas between his fingers. “She seems to have been everywhere.”

My gaze swept the abandoned study, fingers trailing over the worn edges of the desk. “My question is—if she was using the Undercroft and the cellar beneath her manor in Feldcroft—why would she create this space?”

Sebastian frowned, turning the thought over in his mind. “And why hide it behind cryptic rune symbols and ancient magic that no one but you can see?”

I exhaled. “Isadora and Percival Rackham—one of the Keepers—could see traces of ancient magic too.”

“Rackham?” Sebastian’s brows lifted. “I haven’t heard his name before.”

“His are some of the memories I’ve seen,” I admitted carefully. “I don’t think he and Isadora saw eye to eye on how ancient magic should be used.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened with interest. “How come?”

I hesitated, then chose my words carefully. “I’m not sure. I think that’s the point of being shown all these memories bit by bit—to slowly understand Rackham’s and the other Keepers’ perspectives in comparison to Isadora’s.”

That wasn’t exactly true. I was sure. Sure that Isadora had strayed down a dangerous path, sure that the Keepers feared her methods. But knowing Sebastian… telling him that would only make him more curious. More determined.

His lips curled in amusement. “Ah, and the mystery continues to unravel. Now we just have to put this in the triptych with the other canvas piece.”

Sebastian turned, retrieving both of our coats from where he had tossed them over the chair. As he handed mine to me, his eyes lingered. “This place is odd, to be sure, but I’m fascinated by it. Now for the trek back out of here and to Hogwarts.”

I turned toward the study once more, scanning the room. I knew there was a passageway back to the Undercroft in here, but I didn’t want to make it obvious that I already knew. I feigned curiosity, my eyes sweeping over the bookshelves and cracked stone until—

There.

A glint caught my eye in the corner of the room. The faintest shimmer against the rough stone wall.

I smirked. “I don’t think we need to be going out the way we came, Sebastian.”

He gave me a look. “What? How c—wait.” His face lit up. “Do you see another passageway to the Undercroft?”

I pointed toward the shimmering wall, and his excitement was almost childlike. “Yes! I was not looking forward to going back out into that snowstorm.”

We walked toward the enchanted wall, both of us reaching out at the same time. As soon as our fingers touched, a bright flash of light enveloped us, pulling us forward.

The moment our feet landed on the cold stone floor of the Undercroft, Sebastian exhaled in awe. “You never cease to amaze me, Jo.”

I gave him a small bow, smirking. “Why, thank you.”

But before we could take more than a few steps forward, something flickered at the edge of my vision.

Movement.

Sebastian stiffened beside me, both of us snapping our heads to the side in unison.

A figure stood in the shadows, rigid, motionless.

An unmistakable red glow of a wand tip casted a stark light against a pale face.

Ominis.

He stood frozen, wand still lifted, his mouth slightly open as though words had abandoned him entirely. He looked as if he had just been hit with a stunning spell.

Sebastian, ever quick on his feet, jumped in. “Ominis! There you are! We were just—just over there, actually.” He gestured vaguely toward a stack of cauldrons piled near the back wall of the Undercroft. “We, uh, got trapped behind these cauldrons. Been there this whole time.” He let out a forced chuckle. “Good thing you found us, right?”

I shot Sebastian a sharp look. His words were confident, but Ominis’s face was unreadable, and I could see the exact moment he decided he wasn’t buying a single word of it.

“Sebastian,” I said, cutting him off before he could spin any more nonsense. “Stop.”

Ominis finally found his voice, though it came out in a breathless rush, his usual composure nowhere to be found. “You—you weren’t here a moment ago. I’ve been in here for almost two hours, I would’ve heard you. I did hear something, but it wasn’t footsteps, it was—” He took a step toward us, gripping his wand like a lifeline. “Where did you two just come from?”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ominis—”

“No,” Ominis snapped, his voice rising slightly, a rare display of emotion overtaking him. “Tell me the truth! And don’t you dare make me out to be an idiot!”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Just—calm down.”

Ominis let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Calm down?” he repeated, incredulous. “You just appeared out of thin air in a supposedly sealed-off chamber in a castle that won’t allow anyone to apparate in or out of, and you want me to calm down?”

I crossed my arms. “I will explain everything. But you have to swear not to tell a soul.”

Ominis scoffed. “Who would I tell? You two and Anne are my only friends.”

I hesitated, exchanging a glance with Sebastian before nodding. “Alright,” I said, inhaling deeply. “The truth, then.”

I turned back to Ominis, my voice steady as I began. “I have the ability to see and use a form of magic that no one else can—Ancient Magic.”

Ominis’s face twitched slightly, but he said nothing, so I continued. “It’s powerful. As in, long-forgotten, lost-to-time powerful. The first time I became aware of it was during the dragon attack on my way to Hogwarts.”

Ominis’s brows knitted together. “Dragon attack?”

Sebastian sighed. “I told you her arrival was dramatic.”

I ignored him and pressed on. “I was with Professor Fig. We were en route to Hogwarts when a dragon attacked our carriage. It wasn’t random. The dragon was after a goblin-made lockbox that belonged to Professor Fig’s late wife, Miriam. The box was tied a group of people who protect ancient magic, they call themselves Keepers. And the dragon that attacked us was working for Ranrok.”

Ominis tensed at the name. “The goblin rebellion leader.”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s after something far more dangerous than what the Ministry believes. He wants access to repositories of Ancient Magic, convinced that wizards have been hoarding a power that rightfully belongs to goblins. He’s hunting for them—draining them. And if he reaches the final one…”

I trailed off, letting the weight of my words sink in.

Sebastian crossed his arms. “He could become unstoppable.”

Ominis’s grip tightened on his wand. “And the Keepers you mentioned before? Who exactly are they?”

“They’re a group of four powerful witches and wizards from centuries ago—Percival Rackham, Charles Rookwood, Niamh Fitzgerald, and San Bakar. They dedicated their lives to studying and protecting Ancient Magic, but at some point, they decided that it was too dangerous to be widely known. So they hid away their knowledge, leaving behind trials to test whether someone was worthy of uncovering their secrets.”

“Trials?” Ominis repeated, his voice sharper now. “Is that why you almost bled to death a while ago?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

His expression darkened. “Merlin’s beard, Jo. Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. “She does, it’s just buried under layers of recklessness.”

Ominis ignored him. “So, let me get this straight. These Keepers, these long-dead wizards, set up dangerous tests, and you’ve been willingly throwing yourself into them just to get glimpses of their memories?”

I crossed my arms. “It’s not just for memories. It’s to understand why they hid Ancient Magic away, what they feared, and why it matters now. The trials aren’t pointless—they’re a way to earn their trust, to prove that I won’t abuse this power. And iot helps me learn how to control my own use of the magic.”

Ominis shook his head in disbelief. “And that’s worth nearly getting yourself killed?”

Sebastian scoffed. “Oh, come off it, Ominis. You sound like Solomon.”

Ominis bristled. “Forgive me for being concerned that Jo is risking her life for something that—correct me if I’m wrong—no one else has been able to do in centuries?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Look, I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d react like this. I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

Ominis’s jaw clenched. “That’s not how friendship works, Jo.”

Guilt curled in my stomach. He was right.

“I know,” I admitted. “I should have told you sooner.”

Ominis exhaled sharply, still visibly tense, but he nodded. “And this entrance I just heard you come through? That’s tied to this Ancient Magic as well?”

“Yes,” I said. “It was a hidden study—Isadora Morganach’s study. She was a powerful witch who also had a connection to Ancient Magic. From what I’ve seen, she didn’t exactly agree with the Keepers on how this power should be used.”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Which I still don’t understand, by the way.”

I shot him a look before turning back to Ominis. “The triptych led us to the study, which means Isadora must have been there at some point. She left behind a piece of canvas that fits into a triptych we discovered. We still don’t know exactly what it reveals, but we’re getting closer.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with everything unspoken.

Finally, Ominis let out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

Sebastian smirked. “Try ‘thank you for finally telling me.’”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around his wand. “Were you in danger?”

Sebastian scoffed. “Of course not.”

I frowned. “Well...”

Ominis’s head snapped toward me, his expression tightening. “What happened?”

I hesitated, glancing at Sebastian, but his face had already hardened into stubborn defiance. He wasn’t going to say anything.

I sighed. “Sebastian hit his head pretty badly when he fell down a shaft. There was blood, and it would’ve left a nasty scar if I hadn’t healed it. And I—well, I’m a bit bruised and cut up, but nothing a Wiggenweld couldn’t fix.”

Ominis turned back toward Sebastian, jaw clenched. “Again?” His voice was cold, accusing. “You endangered her again?”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. “Oh, don’t start.”

Ominis took a step forward. “She can make her own choices, yes—but that doesn’t mean you have to keep encouraging her to throw herself into danger at every opportunity.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “She’s fine. I’m fine. And you need to stop bringing this up.”

I stiffened. They had already had this argument before. I could tell by the way Sebastian spoke—short, clipped, rehearsed.

Ominis scoffed. “It’s not about whether you’re ‘fine,’ Sebastian. It’s about trying to keep her safe!”

I straightened my spine. “Look, I’m not some China doll that needs to be protected. And I am not just endangering myself for the fun of it. It’s necessary. The Keepers left this information specifically for me. I need to learn the truth about my powers.”

Ominis turned to me, his voice gentler but still firm. “I respect that, Jo. I do. But Sebastian should at least be advising caution, not fueling your determination to throw yourself into every deadly situation that presents itself.”

Sebastian threw up his hands. “And how exactly is this my fault?”

Ominis’s nostrils flared, and suddenly his voice cracked like a whip. “Because someone who claims to have strong feelings for someone shouldn’t cast the Cruciatus Curse on them without a second thought!”

The words sliced through the air like a dagger.

Sebastian flinched, and for the first time since this argument started, he had nothing to say.

Ominis pressed on, his voice shaking with frustration. “You didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” Ominis snapped. “You justify everything you do by saying it’s for Anne, but that doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t even consider taking the curse yourself.”

Sebastian’s face twisted. “And what would that have accomplished? It needed to be done.”

“To get your precious spellbook?” Ominis spat. “Was it worth it?”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Ominis shook his head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”

Sebastian inhaled sharply, gripping his wand at his side. “If I had to do it again, I would.”

I looked away, my breath unsteady.

Something inside me cracked.

I had pushed it down before, buried it deep beneath my rational mind—but hearing it now, so blunt, so final, the wound ripped open all over again.

Ominis crossed his arms, his voice dropping to something raw, pleading. “Jo, tell me you see how reckless this is. Tell me you see how he uses anything and everything as an excuse to justify his obsession.”

Sebastian let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now you’re turning her against me?”

“I don’t have to,” Ominis shot back. “You’re doing that all on your own.”

Sebastian took a step forward. “You think I’m doing this for myself? That I’m chasing the Dark Arts for my own amusement?” He turned to me suddenly, and I froze under his burning gaze. “Jo, you’ve seen what Ancient Magic can do. You’re the only one who can wield it. If it’s powerful enough to destroy, then surely it can heal. It could be the answer to saving Anne.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I had known this was coming. I had known, the second I let Sebastian into my world, that he would take this route.

I swallowed hard. “Sebastian… Ancient Magic won’t heal Anne.”

His brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”

I hesitated, but it was too late to back out now. “Because I’ve seen enough of the Keeper memories to know what Isadora did was wrong. I’ve seen what she did in the name of ‘healing.’ And it wasn’t healing at all.”

Sebastian stared at me, confusion flickering behind his eyes.

I forced myself to continue. “She believed she could extract pain and suffering, store it. She thought it was mercy, but the Keepers thought otherwise. She didn’t cure people, Sebastian. She took away their ability to feel anything. And if I tried—if I even attempted it—I’m afraid it would do more harm than good.”

Sebastian’s face hardened. “You don’t know that.”

I shook my head. “I do.”

His hands trembled at his sides. “No. You’re just too afraid to try.”

I recoiled.

Ominis stiffened. “Sebastian, don’t.”

“You have the power to help her, and you’re choosing not to?” Sebastian’s voice was rising now, frantic, angry. “How is that any different from Solomon giving up on her?”

Tears burned in my eyes. “It’s not the same—”

“It is,” he snapped. “You’re just like him. You pretend to care, but when it comes down to it, you’d rather play it safe than actually try to save her.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence.

Ominis took a step forward. “Sebastian—”

Sebastian’s lip curled, his eyes wild with emotion as he stared down at me.

“Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?”

The word sliced through me like a knife.

And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Undercroft.

The sound of the gate slamming shut behind him echoed through the chamber.

I stood frozen in place, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Ominis sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to me. His expression softened, and for the first time, I realized that I was crying.

I hastily wiped at my cheeks, willing myself to stop.

Ominis exhaled. “Jo…”

I shook my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “It’s fine.” My voice came out hollow, empty.

Ominis didn’t look convinced.

Neither was I.

Chapter Text

The hollowness lingered far longer than I would have liked.

Fate had a sick way of correcting my adjustments to a timeline. If I had done everything exactly as the game had intended—going to Lodgok for help, gathering information about Ranrok from a goblin instead of figuring things out on my own—Sebastian and I would have had a very different conversation in the Undercroft that night. For starters, Ominis wouldn’t have been there. I had no idea what small thing I’d changed, what barely noticeable ripple had nudged him to be in the exact place at the exact time to witness everything. But he had been, and because of that, our argument had spiraled into something much worse.

And Sebastian would have still called me ignorant. That much, I knew. But at least it wouldn’t have ended like that.

If there was one good thing that came out of the fight, it was that it gave me perspective.

Just a week before, I had decided to be more carefree. To stop worrying about the timeline so much and just live in the moment. Look where that got you, I thought bitterly. One moment, I was melting under Sebastian’s touch, letting him kiss me like there was no tomorrow. The next, he was screaming in my face.

It had been a slap in the face, but maybe I needed it.

Because what was I thinking?

Sebastian was a minor—at least four years younger than me, no matter how much time refused to touch my body or my mind. It didn’t matter how mature he acted, how fiercely he looked at me, how easily he made me forget myself. I let him kiss me like that. Again and again. I let him consume me when I should have walked away.

Yeah. I needed the wake-up call.

But that didn’t mean it was easy to avoid him.

For the next couple of weeks, he wouldn’t even look at me. In classes like Charms and Transfiguration, it wasn’t so bad—we didn’t sit close. But in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and especially Herbology, it was unbearable. His potting table was right next to mine, and there was no way to swap spots or move. I could feel his presence like a weight, pressing against me, even though he acted as if I didn’t exist.

The Undercroft was off-limits now. I didn’t want to risk running into him, didn’t want to face whatever storm of emotions would come from being alone with him in that space. So, I had to find somewhere else to study. The library became my refuge, though my bed in the Gryffindor dorms was a close second.

Natty noticed immediately that something was wrong.

She didn’t ask—she just knew. And before I could protest, she had recruited me to help compile evidence against Theophilus Harlow. Poppy got involved too, and soon we were sabotaging local poachers, tracking their movements, and ruining their operations in the dead of night.

I was grateful for the distractions. They kept me from feeling lonely.

But nothing could shake the feeling of being cut off from them—from him.

At first, I expected Sebastian and Ominis’s friendship to strain under the weight of our fight. Ominis had been furious at him. I had seen it in his face. And for a moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be the only one left in the cold.

But I had been wrong.

I still saw them talking, still saw them walking to class together, studying together, laughing together—just as they always had. It made my chest ache in a way I didn’t have words for.

I hadn’t just lost Sebastian.

I had lost Ominis, too.

He still sat next to me in Binns’ class, but that was it. There were no more conversations outside of lessons, no more dry quips whispered under his breath, no more companionship. He had drawn a line between us, just as Sebastian had, and I had been too stubborn or too proud or too hurt to cross it.

I missed him.

I missed them both.

And after weeks of pretending I was fine, of pretending I didn’t care, I had finally had enough.

After Herbology, we were supposed to head to the Great Hall for lunch.

Sebastian was going to look at me.

And he was going to talk to me.

I was going to stop him on the way, and I was going to confront him—because I refused to be ignored any longer.

I quickened my pace as the greenhouse doors swung shut behind me, the crisp afternoon air biting against my skin.

Sebastian was ahead, walking in stride with Ominis, his posture rigid, his head slightly tilted toward the ground. He wasn’t sulking—not exactly—but he wasn’t his usual self either. I knew his moods well enough by now to tell when he was still stewing over something, and unfortunately, I had a good idea of what that something was.

Time to put an end to this.

“Sebastian.”

He didn’t stop walking.

“Ominis.”

Ominis did stop walking. Sebastian shot him a glare, but Ominis—clearly wanting no part in whatever was about to go down—lifted his hands in surrender and turned to leave.

Oh, absolutely not.

I reached out and grabbed the strap of his bag, yanking him back with a force that made him stumble slightly. He let out a startled noise, catching his balance as I stood firm behind him.

Sebastian’s brows raised slightly, unimpressed. “Really?”

Ominis let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his temple. “I believe this is what you would call karma?”

I smirked, then quickly sobered, turning my attention back to Sebastian.

“Look,” I said, keeping my voice even, “I know you’re not happy with me. And I’m not here to argue with you about it. I get it. Anne means everything to you, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes to help her. I can’t fault you for that.”

Sebastian’s expression remained unreadable, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not going to change my stance,” I continued, “but I’d like to move on. I’m okay if we aren’t friends, but I don’t want to keep avoiding each other. It’s exhausting. At the very least, I think we should be cordial.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, glancing away.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I added. “I just… don’t think it’s fair for you to shut me out completely. Because that also means I don’t get to be friends with Ominis.”

Ominis stiffened beside me.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I’d like to move on too,” he admitted, though his voice was quiet, reluctant. “But I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Well, I am,” Ominis interjected.

Sebastian shot him a deadpan look. “Yes, I know, Ominis.”

The tension in the air lessened—only slightly—but it was something.

I nodded, letting out a small breath. “Then let’s start there.”

Sebastian held my gaze for a moment longer before giving a slow, barely perceptible nod. “Fine.”

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

I left the greenhouses with a weight lifted off my chest. Things weren’t magically fixed—Sebastian was still stiff and guarded, and Ominis had a way of looking at me like he wasn’t sure how much distance to keep—but at least we had settled on civility. That was enough for now.

Lunch in the Great Hall was a welcome distraction. I sat between Garreth and Natty, their lighthearted conversation keeping me grounded. Across from us, Leander occasionally chimed in, usually with some half-snide remark that Garreth would immediately counter. It was oddly comforting—like slipping into a pair of well-worn gloves. Even if things with Sebastian and Ominis never fully mended, I was grateful for the friends I still had.

At some point, our conversation shifted to Christmas break.

“I’ve only stayed for one Christmas,” Leander said, nudging his plate aside. “And the castle was so quiet it freaked me out. Even our common room seemed peaceful.”

Garreth snorted. “Well, that’s a first. Glad I’m not sticking around.”

Natty arched a brow. “Speak for yourself. I quite like the castle to myself over the holiday. And…” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Less Prefects.”

Garreth waggled his brows. “Hmm, touché. But I’ll take my Christmas back home, thank you.”

Natty turned to me. “Are you going anywhere for Christmas, Jo?”

I looked up mid-bite, hastily swallowing before clearing my throat. “I’m not quite sure yet,” I admitted. “I’ll probably stay with my grandmother over the holiday, but I haven’t officially informed anyone that was my plan.”

Leander gave me a look. “Well, you better get a move on. I think your official declaration of departure is due at the end of the week, or else they assume you’re staying.”

“Noted.”

I chewed over that—not the food, but the reality of the upcoming break. I’d been so caught up in studies, Ancient Magic, and the tangled mess of my personal life that I had completely lost track of time. I knew Christmas was coming, of course—one glance at the towering, decorated pines in the Great Hall was enough of a reminder. But what was I actually going to do?

Logically, it made sense to return to the Peizer Estate for a couple of weeks. I had no real reason to stay here since the only friend of mine remaining over the holiday was Natty. And, if I was being honest, I needed the time. The next repository was still looming ahead, and I had to figure out how to leave this dimension once I was sure it would remain safe.

But those were problems for later.

For now, I laughed along with my friends, letting myself get swept into their conversation until lunch ended.

As we rose from the table, I spotted Poppy waiting near the doors, scanning the hall. She caught my eye and waved. I gave Natty and Garreth a parting smile before heading toward her.

“Ready?” she asked as I fell into step beside her.

“Always.”

We left the Great Hall together, making our way toward Care of Magical Creatures, the crisp December air biting at my skin as we stepped outside.

            The afternoon passed in a blur of snow-dusted fields and the chatter of Poppy’s endless enthusiasm for magical creatures. Beasts had always been one of my favorite classes, and today had been no exception—though I was sure my fingers would be frozen for hours after spending most of the lesson handling an especially affectionate Mooncalf.

After class, I trudged back up to the castle, eager to warm up by the common room fire and settle into some much-needed studying.

That plan fell apart almost immediately.

Cressida Blume, in her never-ending pursuit of perfecting her spellwork, had gotten a little overzealous with the Epoximise jinx and managed to glue her entire hand to the strap of her bookbag. That alone wouldn’t have been much of a disaster, except that in her panic, she’d knocked over a cup of ink, sent someone’s stack of parchment flying, and somehow managed to drag the entire mess halfway across the room in an effort to shake herself free. It had taken both Nellie and a very exasperated third-year to undo the jinx, but by that point, the common room was filled with a loud, chaotic energy that made concentrating impossible.

I gave up.

The library was my only other option.

By the time I stepped inside, the air was thick with the familiar scent of parchment and old wood, the warmth of torches casting flickering light along the towering shelves. It was quieter than usual—most students had finished their studying for the night, leaving only a handful of stragglers.

I wove my way through the aisles, heading toward a table near the back when a familiar head of bright blonde hair caught my attention.

Ominis was sitting alone.

For a moment, I hesitated.

We had barely spoken since the argument. He had remained cordial but distant, caught between two worlds—one where he still wanted to be my friend, and one where his loyalty to Sebastian outweighed everything else. I had told myself I wouldn’t push him. If he wanted to keep his distance, I would respect it.

But now, seeing him sitting there with his fingers idly tracing the edge of his book, his expression tense with some unreadable thought, I found myself changing course.

I walked over and set my bag down across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

Ominis startled slightly, his wand shifting away from pointing at the pages of his book. He turned his head toward me, his expression briefly unreadable before softening. “Not at all.”

I settled into the chair, glancing at his open book. “Light reading?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Arithmancy. If you can call that light.”

“I’d rather not call it anything at all.” I sighed dramatically. “I’m convinced numbers are just runes in disguise, and I barely tolerate one of those subjects as it is.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from him, but it faded quickly. He shifted slightly, closing the book with a quiet thud. “Jo, I—” He exhaled, tilting his head toward the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. To apologize.”

I blinked. “Apologize?”

“For keeping my distance.” He ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure slipping just enough for me to see the guilt lingering beneath. “After the argument… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to stop being your friend, but Sebastian—”

“He was your friend first.”

Ominis nodded. “Exactly. And after everything, I felt like I was being forced to choose.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to.”

I studied him for a long moment before leaning back in my chair. “I get it, Ominis. Really, I do. And if I’m being honest… I would’ve felt worse if the fight had ruined your friendship with him. He needs someone to keep him grounded.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of that.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But you’re trying. And that’s more than most would do.”

Silence settled between us, not tense, but contemplative.

Ominis was the first to break it. “I did mean what I said, though. About you.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“That you shouldn’t have to put yourself in danger,” he said firmly. “I know you don’t think you need protection, but—”

“I don’t,” I interrupted, but there was no malice in my voice. “Ominis, I appreciate you standing up for me, I do. But I’m not some helpless first-year. I make my own choices, and the last trial? I got hurt because of a stupid mistake that I won’t make again.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway, as if he knew there was no point in arguing further.

We let the subject drop after that, shifting instead to easier topics. Eventually, talk of the upcoming holidays found its way into the conversation.

“I assume you’re going to Feldcroft for the break?” I asked, glancing at him over the edge of my Field Guide.

“Actually, I haven’t decided,” Ominis admitted. “Sebastian’s going, obviously, but I don’t know if I can handle another dramatic winter at the Sallow residence. It would be more peaceful to just stay here.”

I hummed. “That’s a fair point. Though I hear Hogwarts over the holidays can be too peaceful.”

“What about you?”

I hesitated, stroking the edge of a page in thought. “I don’t know. The idea of staying is tempting, but I also think I might get a little restless with nothing to do.”

Ominis considered that for a moment before leaning slightly forward. “If I stay, would you?”

I raised a brow. “You’d stay just to keep me company?”

He smirked faintly. “No, I’d stay to avoid the inevitable catastrophe that is Sebastian and his uncle. But the company would certainly be a bonus.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“So?”

I studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

Ominis’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Then it’s settled.”

We returned to our books after that, but the air between us felt lighter somehow.

Like something had finally shifted back into place.

The next few days were a blur of last-minute assignments, stolen moments of festive cheer, and carefully planning my gifts. I had never been one for grand holiday gestures, but this year, I wanted to do something different. Something meaningful.

I spent the better part of Friday gathering the final pieces, making quick trips through dimensions when needed, and enchanting Sebastian’s book. By Saturday morning, everything was wrapped and ready.

Natty, Garreth, and Poppy received their gifts before breakfast, their delight obvious even without me lingering to hear their reactions. I had no doubt Garreth was already scheming ways to test the contents of the Skiving Snackbox, and I could only hope he wouldn’t try them on me.

But now, the real challenge awaited me.

I chose my moment carefully, slipping into the Undercroft when I was certain both Sebastian and Ominis would be there, saying their goodbyes before Sebastian left for Feldcroft.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt their eyes on me.

Sebastian tensed, his usual easy smirk absent, but he said nothing. Ominis, standing slightly apart from him, tilted his head in silent curiosity.

“I’m not staying,” I said quickly before either of them could make any assumptions. “I just wanted to give you both something before break.”

I stepped forward, unshouldering my bag, and pulled out the first gift. I handed it to Ominis, watching as his fingers traced the smooth edges of the box before carefully untying the ribbon.

The small turquoise orb rolled into his palm, and the moment his fingers curled around it, a faint warmth radiated through his skin.

“It’ll warm when you’re near someone you trust,” I explained softly. “I figured… it might be nice to have something like that.”

Ominis’s lips parted slightly, his grip tightening around the small sphere. He swallowed, something flickering across his usually unreadable expression.

“Jo…” His voice was quiet, but the emotion in it was unmistakable. “This is… incredible.”

I gave a small smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Are mine and Ominis’s gifts supposed to be a matching set?”

I turned to him, pulling a slightly larger package from my bag. “Yours is different.”

He accepted it, tearing away the wrapping to reveal The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. His brow furrowed, but before he could question it, he spotted the note tucked inside.

I watched as his eyes scanned the words:

"Since you are already so good at dueling, why not try your hand at regular Muggle combat? If you ever want to practice, tap your wand to the name of a character in this book and say, ‘I accept the challenge.’ This pen should also help you."

He glanced at the accompanying pen, testing the cap between his fingers. When he pulled it off, the sleek blade extended in his grip.

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, spinning the sword experimentally before retracting it. “You got me a weapon?”

I shrugged. “If I recall, you’re the one who said you were interested in trying sword fighting.”

His fingers ran over the book cover, his expression guarded but… softer. “You actually remembered that?”

“Of course I did.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but I could tell he was pleased—even if he was trying to hide it.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

Sebastian was still avoiding me, still keeping me at arm’s length, but for the first time in weeks, I saw something shift in his expression. Something softer.

It would be so easy to stay.

To sit here with them, to pretend everything was fine, to slip back into the rhythm we had before.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

So I pulled my bag over my shoulder and took a step back.

“Well,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light, “Merry Christmas, both of you.”

Ominis’s expression faltered. “You should stay.”

I hesitated.

Sebastian said nothing.

That was my answer.

I shook my head, before facing Sebastian. “I’ll see you after break.”

As I stepped out of the Undercroft and into the castle corridors, I exhaled, watching as my breath curled in the cool air. The warmth of the underground chamber was quickly replaced by the chill seeping through the stone walls.

I had expected to feel relief after giving Sebastian and Ominis their gifts, after parting on somewhat amicable terms. But instead, there was only an odd sort of emptiness, like I had left something behind in that dimly lit space.

I shook the thought away and made my way toward the Gryffindor common room, eager to grab my thickest coat, gloves, and—hopefully—my scarf before heading out.

But, of course, my scarf was nowhere to be found.

I rifled through my trunk, checked under my bed, and even peeked behind the armchair I usually sat in, but it was gone. With a sigh, I gave up. The walk to Hogsmeade Station would be cold, but I wasn’t about to miss the chance to say goodbye to my friends before they left.

Pulling my coat tighter around me, I stepped out of the castle.

The cold bit at my skin, but I barely felt it. My mind was preoccupied, still turning over the conversation in the Undercroft, still mulling over the way Sebastian had looked at me before I walked away.

But I forced those thoughts aside. Today wasn’t about Sebastian.

Today was about saying goodbye.

Snow crunched beneath my boots as I made my way down the path, the trees around me blanketed in fresh powder. The air smelled of pine and frost, and I found myself strangely comforted by the stillness of it all.

Halfway there, I spotted Poppy struggling along the path ahead, her arms loaded with not just trunks but also two cages—one containing a rather disgruntled-looking Mooncalf and the other a Niffler who was already scheming its escape. I picked up my pace, jogging the last few steps to her side.

"Need a hand?" I asked, already reaching to take one of the trunks from her grasp.

Poppy let out a relieved sigh. "I was hoping someone would ask before my arms gave out entirely."

Together, we managed to haul her luggage to the platform, and by the time we arrived, the train was already steaming, readying for departure.

The station was filled with students saying their goodbyes—laughing, hugging, and making last-minute promises to send letters. I made sure to give Poppy and Garreth proper hugs, then said farewell to Leander, Everett, Cressida, and Amit before stepping back from the crowd.

As I finished my last goodbye, I noticed someone entering the platform in a rush, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. My breath caught.

Sebastian.

Instinct told me to turn around and leave, to keep giving him the space he clearly wanted. But I'd promised Poppy I'd stay until the train left. That was the only reason I remained rooted in place, watching as Mr. Moon, the groundskeeper, hurried over to help him.

"Oi, Mr. Sallow, you got here with a couple minutes to spare. Let’s hurry and get you on board," Moon said, flicking his wand to levitate Sebastian’s luggage onto the train.

Sebastian followed close behind, passing by me without a word. My heart clenched despite my best efforts to ignore it. I shouldn’t care. I didn’t want to care.

Moon gave me a polite nod. "Ms. McClam."

I returned the gesture. "Hello, Mr. Moon."

Sebastian didn’t acknowledge me as he walked by, and I tried not to let it sting. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re moving on.

Still, out of the corner of my eye, I caught him taking a deep breath, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Then, slowly, he turned.

His gaze met mine.

For a moment, I was too surprised to react. He had deliberately looked at me—acknowledged me—even if it was just with his eyes. Slowly, I offered him a small smile and a wave, careful not to push too much.

Sebastian hesitated, then shoved his hands further into his coat pockets and strode toward me. His movements were slower than usual, more tentative, like he was still debating whether this was a good idea. When he finally reached me, he lifted his gaze and gave me a small, sheepish smile.

"Please don’t say anything snarky," he muttered. "I know I’ve been an ass recently."

I raised an eyebrow. "I wasn’t going to."

"Good," he exhaled, glancing at the train before looking back at me. "Um… thank you for the book. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier."

"That’s quite alright," I said, crossing my arms. "After all, I didn’t give you a gift to receive a thanks back. I did it to show I care… regardless of how much of an arse you’ve been."

Sebastian let out a genuine chuckle, shaking his head. But then his humor faded, replaced by something more serious.

"You know," he started, shifting on his feet, "I will never give up on Anne. She’s my best friend. And, as her brother, it’s my responsibility not to give up hope that she can be cured."

I nodded, my chest tightening. "I know."

He took a breath. "But I also don’t want to give up hope that we can still at least be friends. Because, regardless of the fight we had, I still care a lot about you. I just… I’m not great at showing it."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks—the tension, the regret, the aching loneliness of missing him—all of it cracked, just a little.

I didn’t let him say another word.

Instead, I launched forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. Sebastian let out a surprised oof but quickly recovered, his own arms encircling me, squeezing back just as tightly.

It was warm. Familiar. Right.

We pulled apart, and the sudden loss of his warmth made me shiver.

"You better get on the train before it leaves without you," I said, forcing a smirk to mask the lump forming in my throat.

Sebastian lingered for a second, his eyes searching mine like there was something else he wanted to say. Then, finally, he nodded. "I know."

He turned away, taking a few steps toward the train before suddenly stopping.

I blinked as he spun on his heel and walked right back toward me.

Without a word, he unwound his scarf from around his neck.

"Sebastian, no—" I started, but he ignored me.

He reached up and wrapped the scarf snugly around me, tucking the ends neatly into place.

"You gave me a cool book with characters I can actually fight," he said with a small smirk. "This is the least I could do."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the top of my head.

The cold vanished.

"Happy Christmas, Jo," he murmured before stepping away.

I swallowed hard, my fingers instinctively curling around the fabric of the scarf. "Merry Christmas. See you after the break."

Sebastian gave me one last lingering look before turning and boarding the train.

As it began pulling away, I stood among the small handful of remaining students, watching my friends wave from the windows. My breath curled in the cold air as I lifted a hand to wave back, my heart still hammering from the encounter.

I buried my nose into the tartan scarf, breathing in his scent—like books, pine, and something distinctly Sebastian.

He would never give up on Anne. No matter the cost, no matter how many times he was told it was hopeless, he would keep searching. That stubborn, unwavering hope was something I had always admired about him. Even when it made him reckless. Even when it drove him to dark and dangerous places.

I had told him that Ancient Magic couldn’t heal her. That Isadora’s methods were too twisted, too unnatural. And I stood by that. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a way. Maybe there was something—something he hadn’t considered, something hidden in texts he’d never had access to.

I had knowledge and resources beyond what this world could offer. And if I could find something—anything—that might save Anne without tearing apart the very fabric of this dimension, wasn’t it worth trying?

No. I would start here first. I would scour the Restricted Section, search every tome I could get my hands on before even considering looking beyond.

I adjusted the scarf around my neck, my mind already set.

Tomorrow, I would begin my search.

Chapter Text

The first two days of break passed in a blur of books and parchment.

I’d stationed myself in the library as promised, only leaving when absolutely necessary. Occasionally, I tend to get so wrapped up in my work that I forget I have a team of friends outside this dimension who would gladly help me at the drop of a hat. So, after a particularly frustrating morning of struggling to absorb the dense, archaic texts, I sent a message to Charles, asking if he could whip up a batch of Memory Enhancing Macarons.

By midday, I got my response: Ready when you are.

I had to be discreet. Making a portal in the Gryffindor common room was risky, but it was the quickest way. So I stuck the top half of my body through, shouted a quick thank-you to Charles (who was somewhere in the house, probably pretending not to be startled), grabbed the tin, and shut the portal before anyone could question what they’d just seen.

After spending ten minutes scouting the library for the comfiest seat, I settled into a plush armchair by the fire, right near the entrance to the Restricted Section. Perfect. The warmth of the flames, the soft glow of candlelight, and the quiet hush of the near-empty library made for the ideal study environment.

Fig had reluctantly given me a signed pass for the Restricted Section earlier that day, warning me not to let my studies consume my entire break. He clearly underestimated my ability to obsess over a problem.

At some point, Ominis found me buried in books. I had half-expected him to tease me or drag me away for something more entertaining, but he didn’t. He merely took the seat beside me and read his own books in silence. For the rest of that day and the next, he was there, a steady presence beside me.

I had to remind myself that just because Ominis was Sebastian’s best friend didn’t mean he was like Sebastian.

By the end of my second day in the library, I could barely sit still.

With an exasperated sigh, I pushed my chair back and stretched, rolling my shoulders. The stiffness in my muscles had officially reached unbearable levels. I stood up and paced the lounge area in slow circles, trying to shake off the discomfort.

From his seat, Ominis didn’t even look up. “Restless?”

I groaned. “Ugh, yes. I used to sit and read for hours every single day with no issue, but I can’t do that anymore. I get all stiff and sore.”

I bent forward to touch my toes, stretching out my back, and Ominis chuckled softly.

“Why are you so determined to spend this much time in the library anyway?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to take the opportunity of no one being here to study in peace.”

He turned a page in his book, unimpressed. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to lie to me or to yourself right now.”

I hesitated. He had me there.

Ominis exhaled, leaning over to run his fingers along the spines of my books. He stopped suddenly, pulling one from the stack as if he already knew what it was regardless of his lack of sight.

“I remember Sebastian checking this one out a while ago,” he murmured. “I didn’t even have to use my wand to recognize it.” His head tilted slightly in my direction. “Are you trying to find a cure for Anne?”

I sat back down, gently taking the book from his hands and returning it to the pile.

“I am,” I admitted. “I thought maybe Sebastian missed something, or I could provide an alternative insight. Just… something to help that didn’t involve the Dark Arts.”

Ominis sighed. “Jo, you are the most compassionate—albeit audacious—person I know, but you truly don’t have to do that. Sebastian has probably read each of those books at least three times through. I know we joke about his study habits, but when his mind is set on something, he will do anything. Even study.”

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking you could help. Nothing wrong with that.”

I hesitated before asking, “So do you also think Anne can’t be cured?”

Ominis opened his mouth, but no words came out. He shut it again, looking down, his fingers tightening on the cover of his book.

“…Yes,” he finally admitted, voice quiet. “As much as it pains me to say it, Anne will have that curse until the end of her days. I wish Sebastian could see that, but he refuses.”

I studied his face, something about his expression making a slow smile creep across my lips.

“Do you… care for Anne?”

Ominis’s head snapped up. I barely had time to register his stunned expression before I burst out laughing.

Across the library, Madam Scribner shot me a sharp glare. “Shhh!”

I winced. “Sorry, Madam Scribner.”

I turned back to Ominis, grinning, and gave him a playful shove from my armchair. “You fancy her! Don’t you dare deny it—I’ve noticed how you talk about her.”

His already pale face flushed pink. “I—I… uh.”

I watched, amused, as he floundered for words. But the more I thought about it, the more my amusement wavered.

Because if he did like Anne, then he was struggling with this situation far more than I realized.

I felt bad for him.

But there was also another feeling.

Jealousy?

Oh no. Definitely not.

Ominis finally regained his composure and cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flash of conviction in his expression.

“I will dare deny it,” he said firmly. “Because it is not true, and it’s very presumptuous of you.”

“You are acting very guilty right now, Ominis.”

“That’s because I’m being attacked!”

The hint of laughter in his voice made me pause. He sounded genuine.

“…Alright then, keep your secrets.”

“Unlike you, I have no secrets to keep.”

I smirked. “I told you all of mine already, remember?”

Madam Scribner’s sharp voice rang across the library again. “Miss McClam, if you cannot keep your voice down, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“I'm so sorry, Madam Scribner!”

She shot me another pointed look before continuing her rounds.

With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ominis tapping a finger thoughtfully against the book in his lap. He was plotting something.

Then, without warning, he stood and flicked his wand toward my towering pile of books. One by one, they lifted into the air and began shelving themselves.

I straightened. “What are you—”

He extended a hand toward me.

I stared at him, confused.

For the briefest moment, Sebastian’s image flickered in my mind. But the way Ominis stood—his precise, calculated movements, his gentlemanly demeanor—it was starkly different from Sebastian’s playful smirks and brash attitude.

Ominis’s expression remained unreadable. “If you’re finished reading—which I assume you are—I have an idea.”

I hesitated, then reached up to take his hand. “How presumptuous.”

He smirked. “I suppose you are rubbing off on me.”

Ominis didn’t let go of my hand until we were clear of the library, his grip steady and sure as he tugged me through the Annex. The warm glow of torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows as our footsteps echoed through the mostly empty corridor.

Once we were far enough from Scribner’s sharp ears, we finally dropped hands and fell into a more natural pace.

I gave him a sideways glance. “Alright, what is your grand idea?”

Ominis didn’t answer right away. Instead, his head tilted slightly, as if considering something. “Do you like music?”

I hesitated.

Music was one of the few things I truly, deeply loved. But that wasn’t something I offered up easily. The problem with admitting you liked music was that it usually led to follow-up questions. Do you play anything? Do you sing? And while I was perfectly fine with people knowing I liked music, I had no intention of sharing that I was actually good at it. It was a closely guarded secret, shared only with Bunty and Newt.

Ominis must have caught my hesitation because a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh, Merlin. That’s right. I remember hearing that you’re not really into music since you…” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “Er, well, I heard you can’t sing very well.”

I blinked.

Then I let out a breathy chuckle. “That would be correct.”

I’d had this conversation with Sebastian before. It had been months ago, just the two of us wandering the highlands when he casually asked if I could sing. When I told him no, he didn’t believe me. Everyone can sing, he had said. Unfortunately for him, I was very well-rehearsed in pretending to be terrible. It took less than a minute for him to look completely horrified and drop the subject.

The memory still made my ears burn. I could only assume that he’d gone and told Ominis.

“You know,” I mused. “I don’t recall telling you that I can’t sing.”

Ominis looked immediately guilty. “Don’t tell Sebastian I told you. He made me promise not to.”

I smirked. “Oh, so this is your deep dark secret, is it? That you broke a promise to him?”

His expression remained serious, as though he had committed some terrible crime.

I couldn’t help it. A laugh burst from my chest, echoing through the Annex.

Ominis furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m sorry, you just looked so worried—it was—”

Cute.

I barely managed to stop the word from slipping out.

I cleared my throat. What was that? I didn’t think of Ominis like that. Probably just habit from being around Sebastian so much.

“Anyway,” I continued, brushing the thought aside. “Just because I can’t sing doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy music. Why?”

Ominis relaxed slightly. “Have you been to the Music Room?”

I shook my head. “No, actually, I haven’t.”

“Perfect.”

I let him lead me toward the Bell Tower, climbing the winding stairs until we reached a set of grand doors. I’d passed them plenty of times before, usually hearing the faint sounds of a harp, a choir, or an entire ensemble playing inside. But now, as we entered, the room was silent.

I took it in—the tiered layout, the warm glow of candlelight bouncing off the stone, the towering stained-glass windows filtering in the sunset. It wasn’t a particularly impressive room compared to some of the castle’s grand halls, but it had a certain charm to it. I drifted toward the railing overlooking the lower levels, resting my hands on the cool wood.

It was the kind of place where music would sound breathtaking.

Ominis, however, remained near the front, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the piano. His wand was pointed in my direction, as though gauging my reaction.

I turned to him. “Do you come here often?”

“When I have time,” he admitted. “Which isn’t common. Sebastian has a tendency to keep me occupied.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Indeed he does.”

I glanced at the piano beneath his fingers. “You play?”

Ominis smirked. “Do you?”

I hesitated. “I… dabble.”

That was a lie. I knew how to play the piano. Well. But I had been faking mediocrity for so long that I was starting to lose my touch.

Ominis hummed in amusement. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged. “You haven’t heard me play.”

“Then let’s fix that.”

Before I could protest, he sat down and patted the space beside him on the piano bench.

I chewed my lip, debating my options. If I sat down, I’d have to keep up the act. And at this point, it was getting harder to remember what pretending to be bad even looked like.

Still, I crossed the room and sat beside him, keeping a reasonable amount of space between us.

Ominis cracked his knuckles before placing his hands over the keys.

The first few notes were soft, careful, but as his confidence built, the music swelled into something richer, deeper. His fingers glided effortlessly, finding the notes with practiced ease.

I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me.

It was beautiful.

When the last note faded into the air, I opened my eyes to find that he had already turned toward me, expectant.

I let out a slow breath. “Ominis, that was…”

He arched a brow. “Better than you expected?”

“I didn’t have any expectations,” I admitted. “But you play beautifully.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Your turn.”

I hesitated.

“Unless, of course, you were lying about dabbling.”

I shot him a half-hearted glare. “I wasn’t lying.”

“Then prove it.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

I placed my fingers over the keys, playing a simple tune I had purposefully let myself get rusty at. The notes were hesitant, not entirely wrong but not polished either.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, listening intently.

I stopped midway through and pulled my hands back, shaking my head. “Told you. Hopeless.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

I smirked. “You only just figured that out?”

He huffed, then, without warning, took my hand and placed it back over the keys. His fingers gently adjusted mine, guiding them into position.

My heart skipped a beat.

Not because of the touch—no, it wasn’t. Couldn’t be

It was just…

Unexpected.

“You’re holding too much tension,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

My throat went dry.

He slid his hand away, resting it back on his lap.

“There. Try again.”

I swallowed, regaining my focus, and pressed the keys.

The notes came easier this time, flowing more naturally. Ominis nodded, satisfied.

We sat like that for a while, playing back and forth, the silence between us filled only with music.

It was… comfortable.

And something else.

But I wasn’t quite ready to examine what.

The next few days had passed in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

I had expected to spend time with Ominis, of course. We had agreed to stay at Hogwarts together over break, and it only made sense that we’d keep each other company. But what I hadn’t expected was how easy it was—how quickly I had fallen into step with him.

Most of the time we had spent together before this had been overshadowed by Sebastian. His charisma, his wild ideas, his endless ability to draw people into his orbit. But now, without that influence, I was seeing Ominis in a new light. Our humor complemented each other almost effortlessly. He was sharp-witted, often dry, but quick to pick up on even my subtlest jokes.

We had spent the 23rd exploring the castle, swapping secrets about hidden corners and passageways the other hadn’t known about. When night had fallen, we had ended the day back in the music room, where I had definitely not let on that I actually knew how to play the piano better than I had let him believe.

And then, Christmas Eve arrived.

“Tell me you’ve got a plan for Christmas Eve,” Ominis had said the evening before. “Because otherwise, I’ll be forced to aimlessly roam the castle, and I think we both know I’m better at that than you are.”

I had laughed. “I do, in fact, have an idea.”

And so, that afternoon, we bundled up and made our way to Hogsmeade.

The streets were bustling despite the cold, filled with students who had stayed behind and villagers finishing last-minute shopping. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, peppermint, and spiced cider. Garlands wound around lampposts, shop windows gleamed with displays of wrapped packages and enchanted snow, and above it all, the distant sound of carolers drifted through the air.

We wandered into Tomes and Scrolls first.

Ominis traced his fingers along the spines of the books, idly asking me to describe some of the covers. I did my best, trying to make them sound as interesting as possible—though I was certain I butchered a few of the more elaborate ones.

“You’re terrible at this,” he muttered, shaking his head as I struggled to explain a particularly gaudy gold-embossed design.

“Oh, excuse me for not being a professional book cover describer,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

I picked up a book on wizarding history and flipped through the pages. It seemed promising, so I brought it up to the counter and paid for it.

As we stepped back out into the cold, Ominis turned toward me with a smirk. “Now, I know you’re going to say no, but I feel obligated to offer. Madam Puddifoot’s?”

I made a face. “Absolutely not.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “You didn’t even let me make my case.”

“You don’t have a case,” I retorted. “It’s a snogging hotspot disguised as a tea shop. And I hate tea.”

Ominis tilted his head. “Hate is a strong word.”

I waved a hand. “Strong opinions require strong words.”

He let out a mock sigh. “Pity. I wanted to know if it was as dreadful as people say.”

“I can describe the interior for you in excruciating detail if you’d like,” I teased. “All pink. Everything. Even the lace on the tables.”

He grimaced. “On second thought, I’m glad you spared me.”

Instead, we opted for The Three Broomsticks, settling into a booth near the fireplace with warm Butterbeers in hand. The conversation flowed easily, laughter coming more often than not.

It was a side of Ominis I had never quite seen before—not in this way.

I had seen him relax, sure. But not like this. Not with an ease that felt so natural, so unguarded.

At some point, Sirona swung by our table, exchanging pleasantries before she was pulled away by another patron. The warmth of the inn, the low hum of chatter, the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table—it all felt comfortable. Like something that had always been there, waiting for me to notice it.

We spent the rest of the day meandering through the village.

We ducked into Zonko’s, where I had to physically drag Ominis away from a particularly loud set of Screaming Yo-yos. Honeydukes smelled of peppermint and chocolate, and we lingered a little too long over the shelves before I convinced him we should actually leave before one of us bought the entire shop. Dominic Maestro’s Music Shop was a stop I hadn’t anticipated, but Ominis seemed at ease there, listening as I described the different instruments on display.

By the time the sun had fully set, we had wandered beyond the heart of the village, toward the outskirts where the gardens lay.

Here, the festive decorations were more subdued—no garlands or wrapped-up trees, just strings of twinkling lights woven through the branches, giving the snow-covered paths a golden glow.

It was quieter here.

Peaceful.

I pulled my coat tighter around myself, exhaling softly as my breath curled in the cold air. The gardens were nearly silent, save for the distant hum of Hogsmeade’s festivities and the faint rustling of tree branches in the breeze.

Beside me, Ominis tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He had a habit of doing that—listening, as if there was something just beyond the reach of sound, something only he could sense.

I studied him for a moment, watching as the warm glow of the enchanted lights cast soft shadows across his face. There was something thoughtful in the way his lips curled at the corners, as if he were on the verge of saying something but wasn’t sure whether to voice it aloud.

I nudged his arm lightly with my own. “You’re quiet.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “That’s not unusual.”

I huffed a small laugh. “No, but this kind of quiet is.” I tipped my head toward him. “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitated, then exhaled through his nose, his breath misting in the air. “It’s nothing.”

I hummed, unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

His smirk deepened. “And you’re far too persistent for your own good.”

I gasped in mock offense. “That’s what you were thinking about? How annoying I am?”

“Not exactly,” he mused.

I scoffed, shaking my head, but there was no real irritation behind it. The banter between us was lighter, different from what I had with Sebastian. Ominis didn’t try to provoke or challenge me—he found amusement in the little things, in my reactions, and I found myself enjoying the ease of it more than I had expected.

The path beneath us curved slightly, and as I stepped over a patch of uneven snow, I instinctively reached out for balance. My hand brushed against Ominis’s sleeve, and before I could pull back, he wordlessly adjusted, looping his arm through mine.

I blinked, surprised by the simple gesture. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t falter—just kept walking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I glanced up at him, but if he noticed my moment of hesitation, he didn’t show it. His face was still calm, contemplative, like he was carrying some secret I wasn’t privy to yet.

I let myself settle into the quiet between us, matching my steps with his.

It had been a good day.

A very good day.

The moon hung high in the sky, only half full but still bright enough to cast a silver glow across the snow-dusted path. The lanterns along the way flickered softly, their light stretching in thin beams across the frost-kissed cobblestones. Our breath curled in the air as we walked, our arms still linked, feet crunching against the frozen ground in an unhurried rhythm.

The conversation between Ominis and me drifted between little things—how the cold was unbearable but somehow charming this time of year, past Christmases, classes, small anecdotes that didn’t require much thought. It was easy. Comfortable. And as much as I loved all my friends, there was something about spending time with Ominis that felt… different.

Not forced. Not complicated. Just right.

As we neared the castle, I cleared my throat. “So, tomorrow I promised Natty and Mrs. Onai I’d spend the morning with them—opening presents, all the usual Christmas cheer.” I shot him a sidelong glance. “But I should be free in the evening. Maybe even the afternoon if I can sneak away fast enough.”

Ominis tilted his head toward me. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to spend all that time with me.”

I scoffed. “I don’t feel obligated to. I want to. That and Natty has her mum. We have each other.”

Ominis didn’t say anything at first, but I could see the small twitch in his expression, like he wasn’t quite convinced. He had been quieter today, more thoughtful. I had truly enjoyed these past few days. Hanging out with him was probably the most natural thing I had done in months—so natural, in fact, that it was hard to imagine there had been a time when he could barely tolerate me.

A thought struck me.

I had entertained the idea last night in the Music Room but had pushed it down. After all, I had only been real friends with Ominis for a little over a month. Could I really trust him that much?

More than Sebastian?

…Yes. Yes, I could.

“Besides,” I continued, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, “I have one more gift for you.”

Ominis turned his head slightly in my direction, his brow furrowing. “You do?” He sighed. “Jo, thank you, but I really don’t need—”

“Ominis.”

We both stopped walking.

I turned toward him, my gloved hand still looped through the crook of his arm. “Please let me give you one more present. This one is… special to me.”

He hesitated, as if weighing his options, then exhaled a soft chuckle. “Fine. Only because you said please.”

I grinned, and we started walking again, though our steps were a little less coordinated now, bumping into each other every few strides.

And then, it happened.

Ominis stepped on a patch of black ice and his foot shot out from under him. Since we were still linked at the arms, there was no saving either of us—he went down, and I went with him.

He hit the ground first with a muffled oof, and I landed right on top of him.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Our faces were only inches apart, our breath mingling in the cold air.

Then we both burst into laughter.

I could feel the shake of his chest beneath me as he laughed, his hands slightly raised as if he wasn’t sure whether he should push me off or just accept his fate.

I scrambled up first, brushing the snow off my coat before offering him a hand. But the second I put weight on my foot—

Down I went again.

Flat on my back this time, staring up at the night sky as Ominis—who was now very much standing—absolutely howled with laughter.

“I give up,” I groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over my eyes. “The ground is my home now. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright, have a good night then,” Ominis said smoothly, turning as if to walk away.

I lifted my arm and shot him an incredulous look. “Wait, no! Ominis!”

He stopped mid-step, chuckling, before extending his hand to me. I took it, still giggling, as he helped me up. His grip was firm, steady, making sure I didn’t repeat my mistake.

Once I was properly upright, we resumed our walk, linking arms again like nothing had happened.

I sighed playfully. “Were you seriously about to leave me there?”

He smirked. “No. I could never leave you.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with my coat or scarf spread through my chest. I ignored it, squeezing his arm just a little tighter.

“Oh, for your gift tomorrow, you’ll need to meet me on the western edge of Feldcroft at 4pm,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

Ominis stiffened slightly. “Feldcroft?” He turned his head toward me. “Wait—why?”

I bit my lip. “I can’t tell you.”

I almost backed out right then. I was really going out on a limb here.

No. I was committed.

Ominis exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. “Alright then, keep your secrets.”

I grinned, nudging him as we continued walking, our laughter still lingering in the crisp night air.

This was the first Christmas in a long time where it actually felt like Christmas.

Not some afterthought.

Something real.

Christmas morning passed in quiet warmth.

Natty and I exchanged our own traditions, laughing as we swapped foods neither of us had ever tried before—mine, an old family recipe for fry bread with honey, hers, a warm, spiced maize dish from home. I didn’t get much in terms of gifts, but that wasn’t what mattered. Spending the holiday with a close friend—with her mother, too, who welcomed me like one of their own—was more than enough.

Natty’s gift had made me smile: a carved walking stick with intricate designs etched along the length of it. “For when you get yourself into trouble,” she’d teased, “and need a way to get yourself out.”

It was a simple Christmas. A good Christmas. The kind that made my chest ache with something warm and bittersweet.

But the day wasn’t over yet.

The sun had begun its slow descent by the time I arrived at the western edge of Feldcroft, its golden light bleeding into streaks of deep orange along the horizon. I pulled my coat tighter against the breeze, pacing idly as I waited. The rocky cliffs overlooking the ocean stretched out ahead, the waves crashing below in steady, rhythmic pulses.

Ominis should be here any minute.

Sure enough, a faint whoosh of magic signaled the activation of the Floo Station nearby, and moments later, a figure stepped out from the green flames.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Ominis stood there, looking remarkably unimpressed, with streaks of ash smudged across his face from the journey. He lifted a hand to dust himself off, but only managed to smear the soot further.

"Well, that was unpleasant," he muttered, brushing his clothes before he turned his head toward me. "And here I was, half expecting Sebastian to be here, waiting to jump out and scare me.”

I smirked, stepping forward. “You have something—” I reached up, brushing my thumb lightly against his cheek to wipe away a particularly dark smudge.

Ominis stilled at the contact, and for a brief second, I felt his breath hitch.

His skin was warm under my fingers, a contrast to the cool December air.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the sudden weight in my chest. “There. Now you’re less covered in ash. Less being the key word.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Remind me why I let you talk me into this again?”

I grinned. “Because I promised you a present. Now, do you want to walk to where we’re going, or should we fly?”

Ominis immediately tensed. “…How long is the walk?”

“Twenty, maybe thirty minutes.”

He hummed, considering.

“Or,” I continued, tilting my head toward the sky, “I brought my broom. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

His jaw clenched.

I bit back a laugh. “Ominis, come on. We’ll get there faster, and all you have to do is hold on.”

He exhaled sharply, tilting his face upward as if weighing his options. “This is a terrible idea.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I pulled my broom from my bag, letting it expand in my hands before swinging my leg over. I glanced back at Ominis expectantly.

He hesitated. Then, with a resigned sigh, he stepped forward, gripping my shoulder for balance as he carefully swung a leg over the broom behind me.

The moment I kicked off from the ground, his arms clamped around my waist in a death grip.

“Merlin’s beard—”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Relax, Ominis.”

“I am relaxed,” he said through gritted teeth, tightening his hold on me.

I rolled my eyes, steering us up and over the treetops. The wind rushed past, crisp and cool against my face. Ominis’s chest was pressed firmly against my back, his fingers curled tightly into the fabric of my coat.

It was… warm.

I swallowed, pushing down whatever unfamiliar feeling had crept into my stomach.

After all that had happened with Sebastian, the last thing I needed was another little crush.

As we descended lower, weaving along the coastline, I spotted the familiar opening of the cave ahead. I guided us down, skimming just over the cliffs before landing smoothly near the entrance of Siren’s Hollow.

The moment his feet hit the ground, Ominis stepped away, exhaling sharply. “That was—” He ran a hand through his hair, composing himself. “—an experience.”

I snorted. “Not so bad, was it?”

He sighed. “I suppose not.”

Still frowning slightly, he turned his head toward me. “Alright, McClam,” he said slowly, “where exactly have you brought me?”

I stepped forward, running my fingers along the rocky entrance. The familiar hum of the cave settled into my bones, its acoustics amplifying even the smallest of sounds.

I glanced back at him, my heart thudding against my ribs.

“You’ll see,” I murmured.

“I can hear the ocean literally a meter away. If your idea was to take an icy dip in the water, I politely decline the offer.”

I chuckled at his face. He was obviously trying to disguise a bit of fear, but was trying his best to seem stoic.

“If I wanted to take you swimming, I would have just suggested the Black Lake. I have something different in mind. If you really want to though, I suggest waiting a few months till it gets warmer.”

“Tempting, but I do not swim.”

“Hm, noted.”

And with that, I led him inside.

The cave swallowed us in shadow as we stepped inside, but the moment we crossed the threshold, warmth wrapped around us, a stark contrast to the chill outside.

Ominis inhaled sharply. “It’s warmer in here.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I put a warming charm on the place a while ago. Didn’t want to freeze every time I came here.”

He took another step forward, his wand gently tapping his wand against the smooth stone wall. “And where exactly is ‘here’?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening at my sides. I had been building up to this moment since the second I invited him.

“I call it Siren’s Hollow,” I finally said.

Ominis tilted his head. “Interesting name. Why?”

I walked further in, running my fingertips along the cool, worn stone, grounding myself in something familiar.

“Because sirens lure people with their voices,” I said softly. “And this place… lures me.”

Ominis was silent for a long moment, listening. I could see it in the way his expression shifted—how his face was no longer guarded, but open, curious.

“You said you aren’t musical,” he finally said, his voice unreadable.

I let out a short, breathy laugh. “Did I?”

I felt more than saw the way he turned toward me.

A small smile flickered at my lips. “It’s not something I like other people to know.”

Ominis exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You cheeky little liar!”

I chuckled, kicking a small stone I saw on the cave floor. “Sorry, I am working on honesty. I suppose this is a step in the right direction.”

His voice softened. “Why show me this now?”

I bit my lip, forcing myself to meet his unseeing gaze. “Because you showed me one of your talents that was important to you. It felt right simply to return the gesture.”

Ominis didn’t say anything. He simply waited.

I took a breath. “The only two people who know I can sing are a couple of my friends from home,” I admitted. “And they only found out by accident.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Not even Sebastian knows?”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Not even him.”

Ominis absorbed this, tilting his head slightly as though re-evaluating everything he knew about me.

The air between us felt fragile—like if I moved too quickly, the moment would shatter.

I swallowed, shifting my weight. “You have to understand… singing is different for me. It’s mine. It’s something I’ve always kept to myself, and I—I don’t really know how to share it.”

Ominis tilted his head, slow and deliberate. “You’re going to sing for me?”

No turning back.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my palms against my coat. “If that is alright with you, that is,” I muttered. “Just—give me a second.”

Ominis said nothing, simply standing still as I gathered myself.

I could back out.

I could laugh this off, make a joke, pretend this had never been my intention.

But Ominis had listened. He had seen me in ways no one else had.

And I had chosen him.

I clenched my fingers, then flicked my wand.

Soft golden light flickered through the cavern as the air shifted, swirling in delicate patterns before taking shape.

A violin.

A cello.

A harp.

A flute.

The instruments hovered gently in the air, waiting.

I flexed my fingers, willing my heart to slow as I stepped forward.

Then, I sang.

The first few notes were hesitant, the words fragile on my lips. But as the instruments swelled around me, I let myself fall into it.

Die Lotosblume ängstigt
Sich vor der Sonne Pracht,

The cave came alive with sound, the music wrapping itself around us like a whispered secret.

Und mit gesenktem Haupte
Erwartet sie träumend die Nacht.

The violin wept, the cello hummed deep beneath it, the harp plucked each note with aching precision. The melody curled through the air, stretching into every crevice of Siren’s Hollow.

Der Mond, der ist ihr Buhle,
 Er weckt sie mit seinem Licht,

Ominis had gone completely still.

I could feel his presence, his breath barely there, his focus solely on the music, on me.

And then, the final note rang out, soft and lingering.

Silence followed.

My heart pounded.

I turned, but I didn’t meet his gaze. I couldn’t.

The quiet stretched, thick and heavy.

Then—

“That,” Ominis breathed, “was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I ducked my head, wrapping my arms around myself as if that could contain the warmth spreading through me. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Ominis—”

“You don’t understand,” he pressed, stepping forward. His voice was steady, deliberate. “I have heard countless musicians in my life—harpists in grand parlors, orchestras in the finest concert halls, choirs that shake the very rafters of Hogwarts.”

He lifted his head slightly, as if to better recall the sounds etched into his memory.

“But you—” he exhaled softly, as if still caught in the remnants of the melody. “Your voice doesn’t just sing, Jo. It breathes. It weaves itself into the air, into the very walls of this place. It… feels alive.”

I swallowed, suddenly unable to look at him. My fingers twisted into the fabric of my sleeves.

Ominis took another step forward, his expression unreadable, though his voice carried something unshakable—something reverent. “I never thought I would envy those with sight.” His lips parted as if tasting the words before speaking them. “But I do now. Because they can see you as you sing, and I—” He let out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “I would give anything to witness what I just heard.”

Something in my chest clenched so tightly I could barely breathe.

I forced another nervous laugh, trying to dispel the heat rising to my cheeks. “You—you don’t have to say all that.”

“I do,” Ominis murmured. “Because I need you to know how extraordinary you are.”

His words settled deep into my bones, leaving me breathless.

A tense silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—brimming with something I didn’t dare name.

Then, Ominis straightened, his expression softening. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

I blinked, thrown by the sincerity in his voice.

He took a half-step closer, tilting his head slightly toward me. “I will cherish your secret, Jo. And I will keep it. Always.”

A lump formed in my throat.

He meant it.

I don’t know what compelled me to move, but suddenly, I closed the space between us, wrapping my arms around him.

For a moment, Ominis stilled, like he hadn’t expected it.

Then his arms circled me, warm and sure, holding me in the quiet stillness of Siren’s Hollow.

I let my eyes flutter shut, breathing him in, listening to the soft sound of our steady breaths and the crashing of the waves outside.

Ominis held me firmly, his arms strong and sure, grounding me in the moment. The scent of him—clean parchment, sandalwood, and a faint trace of something warm—wrapped around me, steady and familiar. I allowed myself to sink into the embrace, breathing in the quiet comfort he offered.

He’s just a friend.

I repeated the thought in my head, as if saying it enough times would make it undeniably true. Ominis was my friend. A good one. One I had come to rely on these past few weeks more than I ever thought I would. But that was all. It had to be all. I was leaving in a matter of months. The last thing I needed was to tangle my heart up in something that couldn’t last.

“Merry Christmas, Ominis.”

“Merry Christmas, Jo.”

I felt Ominis shift slightly against me, his breath hitching for the briefest of moments. His arms loosened just a fraction before he stepped back, and when he did, something had changed.

His hands fell away too quickly, his expression carefully neutral. He tilted his head, inhaling lightly, as if catching something on the air.

I raised a brow. “What?”

He hesitated before shaking his head, a small, barely-there smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing.”

I frowned slightly, but before I could press him, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight.

“It was nice having you here,” I admitted, brushing my hands over my sleeves. “I—I don’t know why, but… it felt right. Having you here.”

His lips parted slightly, as if my words had surprised him.

I glanced away, feeling the warmth creeping up my neck. “What I mean is… if you ever need to get away from the castle, you can always come back here with me. I wouldn’t mind.” I hesitated before adding, “And I might even sing again.”

His smile softened—small, but undeniably real. “I’d like that.”

The tension that had flickered between us moments ago seemed to settle, replaced by something quieter, something unspoken.

I clapped my hands together, suddenly eager to move. “Alright, then. Ready to head back?”

Ominis let out a short laugh. “I’d say yes, but I’m not entirely sure I trust your flying.”

I smirked. “Oh, you’ll be fine.”

He shook his head, a ghost of amusement playing across his features as he followed me toward the broom.

We took off, the cool night air rushing past as we soared over the coastline. Ominis held onto me, though his grip wasn’t quite as desperate this time. Still firm, still certain—but not quite the same.

I told myself I didn’t notice the difference.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

The next morning, I awoke to the soft rustling of feathers and the faintest weight pressing against my arm.

Gwaihir.

I groggily sat up, rubbing my eyes as my tawny owl hooted softly, extending his leg toward me. A letter was tied neatly to it.

My stomach twisted as I recognized the handwriting.

Sebastian.

I inhaled sharply before untying the parchment, fingers carefully unfolding it.

Jo,

I think I’ve found something. Please meet me outside the Feldcroft catacomb at 1pm sharp tomorrow. It is just southwest of town.

Please do not tell Ominis.

—Sebastian

I stared at the words, my pulse picking up.

Of course, he would find something. Of course, he would call me out there—alone.

I exhaled, leaning back against my pillows.

So much for a peaceful holiday.

Chapter Text

I paced back and forth outside the Feldcroft catacomb, my boots crunching against the thin layer of fresh snow. My breath curled in the frigid air as I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets.

A glance at my watch.

1:13.

I huffed, rolling my eyes. 1 p.m. sharp, yeah right.

The snowfall was steady, light flakes drifting lazily down from a sky that was somehow both bright and overcast. I rubbed my arms, trying to summon warmth, but it was a futile effort. The cold wasn’t the only thing that made me uneasy.

My gaze flickered toward the entrance of the catacomb, dark and yawning. It felt like it was waiting for something. Or someone.

Sebastian had told me about the relic weeks ago. I knew exactly what it was. What it would drive him to do. That thought alone made my stomach twist. I had long since accepted that I couldn’t stop everything from happening exactly as it had in the game—but maybe, just maybe, I could change the outcome.

Maybe Solomon Sallow didn’t have to die.

I scuffed the toe of my boot against the frozen ground, the weight of what was coming pressing against my chest. This trip wouldn’t be the one that sent Sebastian over the edge. Not yet. But it was the first step toward it. And I was walking that path with him.

A dull thud sounded behind me, and I spun around, hand twitching toward my wand.

Sebastian stood atop the earthen ledge that framed the catacomb entrance, his hair tousled from the wind, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, hopping down effortlessly. “Had to make sure Solomon wasn’t suspicious before I slipped out.”

I exhaled, letting my shoulders relax. Of course, he would be late.

“It’s alright,” I said, though my voice lacked the warmth I might have once had for him. “Tell me, why are we here exactly?”

His smirk grew, though I could see the flicker of something beneath it. Excitement. Determination. Obsession.

“Well,” he said, brushing some stray snow from his shoulder, “if my suspicions are correct, then the relic I told you about is in this catacomb.”

I raised a brow, crossing my arms. “Right. And let me guess—this relic has absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Arts?”

He sighed, though it held more amusement than exasperation. “I know, I know. Anything to do with the Dark Arts is a slippery slope.”

My eyes narrowed, waiting.

“But,” he continued smoothly, “we don’t even know how to use it yet. We don’t even know if it can be used. I simply want to check it out. That’s all.”

I kept my expression unreadable, letting him feel the weight of my silence.

This wasn’t just curiosity. This was another step toward an inevitable end.

Still…

I forced my shoulders to relax, let out a small sigh. “Fine. Give me the rundown. Why do you think it’s here?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He grinned—mischievous, delighted, dangerous.

“I knew I was right to ask you,” he said, pleased. “So, I believe one of Slytherin’s students stumbled upon the relic during an assignment to study sarcophagi in this catacomb. From what I read in their report, they weren’t permitted to take it with them.” His eyes glinted. “Which means it should still be here.”

I hummed, shifting my weight. “Perfect. I’ll follow your lead.”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, moving toward the entrance. I hesitated just long enough to let my eyes sweep the woods surrounding the catacomb.

The second we stepped inside, the air shifted.

A foul stench hit me so sharply I gagged, pulling my scarf up over my nose.

Sebastian barely reacted.

“I’m sure that foul smell is the scent of success,” he quipped, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls. “Try not to lose your nerve just yet.”

I forced my expression to remain neutral, ignoring the way my stomach churned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sebastian smirked and kept walking.

The tunnel was tight, lined with decayed wood beams and brittle, ancient stone. The deeper we went, the more it felt like the walls were pressing in around us. I pushed down the unease clawing at my ribs.

“So,” he said, voice casual, “how was your Christmas?”

I blinked, slightly thrown by the shift in topic.

“Best Christmas I’ve had in a while,” I admitted. “Ominis and I spent Christmas Eve in Hogsmeade, and on Christmas Day, I was with Natty and Professor Onai for most of the morning. The rest of the day, I spent with Ominis again.”

Sebastian let out a quiet hum. “Sounds nice. Shame I wasn’t there to bring more Christmas spirit.”

I snorted. “If by ‘spirit,’ you mean chaos, then I am glad you kept it to yourself in Feldcroft.”

The words were teasing, but the second they left my mouth, something twisted in my chest.

Because they were true.

Christmas had been peaceful. It had been simple and warm and easy. And Sebastian hadn’t been there.

Sebastian gave a soft chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Speaking of Ominis,” he said, shifting the conversation, “you didn’t tell him what we’re doing, did you?”

I forced myself to meet his gaze evenly.

“I didn’t,” I said smoothly. “I promise.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. “Good. Ominis would be livid if he knew what we were about to do.”

That part, at least, was true.

We stepped through a narrow passageway and entered a large, rounded chamber. The contrast was stark—the claustrophobic tunnels opening up into a vaulted ceiling lined with thick stone sepulchers. Some were closed, but many were open, the skeletal remains of their inhabitants lying in brittle disarray.

Sebastian wrinkled his nose as we moved deeper into the chamber. "I think I know where that smell was coming from."

I pulled his scarf higher over my nose, grateful for the barrier between me and whatever corpse-ridden stench filled the air. From the corner of my eye, I caught Sebastian smirking.

"Nice scarf."

I froze for half a second before burying my face deeper in the tartan wool, but it was too late. I could already see the self-satisfied gleam in his eye, like he’d just been handed irrefutable proof of something he had long suspected.

"Did some cute guy give that to you?"

I should have rolled my eyes. Brushed him off with a scoff. That was the logical response, the one that would keep him from thinking he had any real effect on me. But if I was going to protect him—and keep Solomon safe—I needed to stay close. And that meant keeping Sebastian Sallow exactly where I needed him: comfortable in my presence, trusting me, confiding in me.

So I let my lips curve ever so slightly as I met his gaze.

"Possibly…"

And I winked.

His grin widened, satisfied, and I hated how easy it was. How effortless it felt, slipping back into this rhythm with him.

Then came the sound of scuttling feet. A lot of them.

Both of us turned toward the corridor ahead, wands drawn, just in time to see a wave of long-legged shadows rushing toward us.

Spiders.

A hoard of them.

Sebastian barely had time to glance at me before I sent a bolt of magic flying past his ear.

"Arania Exumai!"

A blast of violet-blue light erupted from my wand, striking the first wave of spiders and sending them skittering back in a tangle of writhing legs. But more followed.

Sebastian was already in motion, his wand slashing through the air. "Confringo!"

The explosion sent shards of chitin flying in every direction, but it wasn’t enough to deter the rest. They poured in from the ceiling, the walls, the floor.

I bit back the rising panic in my throat and thrust my wand downward. Blue lightning crackled through my fingertips, pooling in my palm before I hurled it into the mass of creatures. The burst of Ancient Magic sent them flying, some reduced to nothing but smoldering husks.

Sebastian let out a low whistle. “You sure you’re not part Veela? Because that was terrifyingly attractive.”

I huffed a laugh, nudging aside a still-twitching leg with my boot. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Sallow.”

“Worth a shot,” he said, smirking as he flicked his wand to extinguish a stray ember. “But really—terrifyingly attractive.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t quite fight the amused smile tugging at my lips.

Sebastian exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "At least we know we’re not alone in here."

"Perhaps that was it," I deadpanned, "and the rest of the tomb will be insect-free."

He shot me a dry look. "Spiders aren’t insects."

"Don’t start."

Still catching our breath, we pressed on, winding through the narrowing tunnel until the passage widened again. Here, natural light filtered in through a collapsed portion of the ceiling, illuminating the chamber in a hazy golden glow. The air was damp but fresher, the stone floor cracked in places where tufts of grass had begun to grow through.

Sebastian nudged a patch of greenery with his boot. "All this grass—it no longer feels like a tomb."

"It looks almost nice in here," I admitted, "Oh, look. Dead end."

Sebastian groaned. "Of course. Alright, let’s go back a ways and see what we missed."

Retracing our steps, we scoured the chamber until our attention fell on a half-built stone wall, its edges rough, as if it had been abandoned mid-construction.

We exchanged a glance.

Sebastian smirked.

I barely had time to step back before he flicked his wand. "Bombarda!"

The explosion shook the chamber, sending dust and debris cascading to the floor. When the dust settled, a darkened corridor stretched beyond the rubble. Carefully, we stepped over the fallen stones and into the next room.

It was massive.

A raised platform overlooked a grand hall lined with towering archways and crumbling sepulchers. The light filtering in from above gave the space an eerie, cathedral-like feel. But it wasn’t the vastness of the chamber that caught my attention.

It was the altar.

A massive stone slab sat at the center of the room, its surface covered in a heap of brittle, yellowed bones.

Sebastian let out an impressed huff. "Now this is the sort of great room I want to be buried in."

I shot him a look. "Surrounded by grandeur?"

"Grandeur and then some. Even an altar with a pile of bones—lovely."

I shook my head, descending one of the sloping pathways to the chamber floor. "I could care less where or how I’m buried, as long as I die of old age or by saving the people I love."

Sebastian hummed in thought. "Eh, agree to disagree."

We split off, each taking a different side of the chamber, searching for anything that might hint at the relic’s location.

"Jo, look—coin bag with about… ten Galleons!"

I glanced up to see him holding a tattered pouch, eyes alight with amusement.

I wrinkled my nose. "Sebastian, that is a dead person’s money. Just because it’s lying around doesn’t mean you can take it. Gross."

He sighed, dropping the bag with an exaggerated air of disappointment before making his way back toward the altar.

Something caught his eye.

"Come see what I found."

I crossed the chamber as he stooped to pick up a crumpled scrap of parchment. He handed it to me, and I held it up between us. Sebastian stepped behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder as we both scanned the faded ink.

I foolishly mentioned the relic in my report and was reminded to leave it where it lay. But research must come before my fealty to the rules. I sense something about this relic.

I was told that those chosen by English Oak wands have powerful intuition. I believe it.

Therefore, when no one was looking, I acted. I conjured two barricades to isolate the relic. Ancestors forgive me, but I used their very bones as the key.

I plan to return it, but first, I must ready myself for our next assignment: learning the Imperius Curse. The spell is said to serve well against enemies.

Sebastian’s breath tickled my neck as he exhaled sharply. "Looks like a part of the student’s diary."

I nodded, my fingers tightening on the parchment. "Indeed. There has to be more to this room."

Sebastian’s gaze flickered to the pile of bones. "What do they mean by ‘their very bones are the key’?"

            I took a slow breath, steadying my grip on my wand.

"Simple solution, Sallow."

With a flick of my wrist, the pile of bones rose from the altar, rattling faintly as they lifted into the air. I guided them carefully, constructing a crude archway around the blocked door, each skeletal piece locking into place like some macabre puzzle. The moment the structure was complete, a deep rumbling filled the chamber.

The barrier before us crumbled into dust.

Sebastian let out an impressed huff. "You're head and shoulders above these bones."

I shot him a flat look. "Hilarious."

He grinned, stepping past me into the newly opened corridor, and I followed, shaking my head.

We moved deeper through the winding tunnels, the air growing heavier with each step. The stone around us was damp, slick with age, and the silence pressed in so thick it was almost suffocating. It wasn’t until we emerged into a vast chamber that something inside me twisted violently.

The cold hit me first.

Not the kind that made your breath frost or sent a shiver down your spine. No, this was deeper, seeping into my very bones, like the warmth was being drained from me entirely.

I wrapped my arms around myself, inhaling sharply.

Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy staring ahead, drawn forward like some unseen force was calling him.

On the far end of the chamber, a thick curtain of cobwebs obscured the passage beyond. Sebastian raised his wand. "Confringo."

The webs caught fire, curling away in blackened strands, revealing more of the chamber.

Sebastian exhaled, shaking his head. "I see why Slytherin’s student was so entranced by this place. If we—" He paused mid-sentence, turning back toward me, eyes narrowing. "Are you okay?"

I forced a nod, rubbing my hands along my arms.

Sebastian frowned, closing the distance between us in a few strides. Before I could protest, he took my hands in his, pressing them between his palms. His touch was warm, grounding, and I hated how much I missed it.

"Jo, your hands are shaking."

I swallowed, forcing a weak smile. "I think I’m just cold."

His brow furrowed. "It’s not any colder here than the rest of the catacomb."

I said nothing.

Because the truth was, I knew exactly what was wrong.

The relic was here. I could feel it.

It was like a weight pressing against my chest, an invisible pulse humming in the very air around us. But there was something else—something beyond the relic. A presence. An absence. A void where warmth should be.

Sebastian must have seen something in my expression, because his own sharpened with realization.

"The relic is in this room," I murmured.

His grip on my hands tightened before he suddenly pulled away, spinning on his heel to scan the chamber with renewed determination. I exhaled, my breath shaky without his warmth anchoring me.

I turned my gaze toward the passage behind us, longing for the open air beyond these suffocating walls.

Then a piercing shriek shattered the silence.

Before I could react, something massive struck me from above.

Pain exploded through my back as I hit the stone floor, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp. I barely registered the weight pinning me down before I caught sight of gleaming fangs and bristling legs.

Sebastian’s voice cut through the chaos. "JO!"

"Depulso!"

I sent the spider hurtling backward, slamming it into another that had begun its descent from the ceiling. My heart lurched as I realized just how many there were. They poured in from the cracks above the sarcophagi, their chittering filling the chamber like a living nightmare.

Sebastian was already moving, his wand slashing through the air.

"Incendio!"

Flames erupted from his wand, engulfing the nearest spider in a wave of fire. It screeched, curling in on itself as its charred husk crumbled to the floor.

I staggered to my feet, my limbs sluggish from the cold. "You should have left those spider webs alone!"

"I didn’t know!" he shot back, dodging as another spider lunged for him. "I’m sorry!"

I barely had time to process his words before one of the larger ones—a beast nearly the size of a small carriage—skittered toward me.

"Arania Exumai!"

A bolt of violet-blue light shot from my wand, slamming into the spider and sending it skidding across the floor.

Sebastian pivoted, hurling another Incendio into the swarm, but they just kept coming. My limbs ached, my body stiff and unresponsive. The cold was sinking deeper, dragging me down, slowing me in ways I couldn’t afford.

One of the spiders took advantage of my delay.

It lunged, legs spread wide, fangs bared.

I didn’t have time to raise my wand.

But Sebastian did.

"Bombarda!"

The explosion sent the creature careening backward, its exoskeleton cracking as it collided with the stone wall.

"Jo, move!"

I spun, just in time to duck beneath another spider’s lunge. Summoning the last reserves of my strength, I pressed my free hand against the icy floor.

A deep pulse of magic erupted from my palm, the Ancient Magic surging through me like a shockwave.

The force of it sent the remaining spiders flying, their bodies colliding into the stone with sickening crunches.

And then—

Silence.

Sebastian and I stood panting in the aftermath, the stench of burnt flesh thick in the air. My entire body trembled from the cold and exertion, but I forced myself to stay upright.

Sebastian’s hand found my arm, steadying me. His grip was firm, grounding. I glanced up, meeting his gaze.

There was something unreadable in his expression.

Something that made my breath catch.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice low.

I nodded.

Even though I wasn’t sure it was the truth.

            I grabbed a Wiggenweld potion and uncorked it with stiff fingers, tipping it back and swallowing the cool, bitter liquid. Warmth spread through me, pushing away the ache in my back from being toppled by a giant arachnid. It also helped with the feeling of emptiness in my body. My breath steadied, my trembling hands stilled. But the unease in my chest—the part that had nothing to do with the cold—remained.

Sebastian watched me, his brows knitted together in concern. Before I could react, he stepped closer, his hands finding my arms, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the sleeves of my coat.

“Better?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure.

Sebastian sighed and, in one fluid motion, pulled me into his arms. I stiffened at first, caught off guard by the sudden embrace, but then I melted into him. His warmth, his scent—something deep and familiar that reminded me of long conversations by the fire and stolen moments in dark corridors. I hated how much I missed it.

His chin rested lightly against the top of my head, his arms tightening as if he thought I might slip through his fingers. “Thank you for helping me, I need you,” he murmured.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I wanted to believe that, despite everything, he still had a place in my life—one that didn’t lead to disaster. But no matter how much I craved the comfort of his touch, I couldn’t shake the truth lurking beneath it.

I could forgive him. In fact, I already had.

But I would never trust him the same way again.

As if sensing my hesitation, Sebastian pulled back slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet. His gaze flickered down to my lips, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me.

I almost let him.

Instead, he exhaled sharply and took a step back, breaking the moment entirely.

“Come on,” he said abruptly, his voice shifting back to something determined, urgent. “There’s something here—I know it.”

The warmth of his body disappeared, and I was left standing there, breathless and slightly dazed, as he strode toward a table at the far end of the chamber.

A sharp reminder that, no matter how much he cared, Anne would always come first.

I followed him toward the table, my footsteps quieter now, more cautious. Sebastian’s hands hovered over ancient scrolls and ornate boxes, carefully lifting some, setting others aside with reverence. I hung back, letting him work, my eyes scanning the dark corners of the room for movement.

Then he froze.

I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the air, the slow, deliberate way he reached for something.

Sebastian carefully lifted an object from the table, his fingers curling around it as if he had just found the key to everything. When he turned, his smile was wide, triumphant.

“The relic.”

I swallowed, my stomach sinking.

Sebastian’s eyes shone with exhilaration. “I can’t believe it! After all this, it lines up. We’ve really found it!”

“I know you’re excited,” I said carefully, stepping toward him, “but I think you should leave the relic alone.”

His grip on it tightened. “I assure you, we were meant to find this. For Anne’s sake. I’m taking it to Feldcroft.”

My pulse quickened. This is how it starts.

“You said you simply wanted to check it out, not take it with you!” I protested.

“Well, now that I see it, I’ve changed my mind,” he said, turning toward the exit. “Come on.”

“Sebastian!”

He didn’t stop. He moved with purpose, his excitement outweighing his caution. I hurried to catch up, my mind racing through ways to stop him, to make him see reason before it was too late.

But as we rounded the corner, we were met with a familiar figure standing in the passageway, waiting.

Sebastian’s footsteps slowed as he took in the figure blocking our path. His brow furrowed. “Is that—Ominis?”

Ominis stood motionless, his posture rigid, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. The dim torchlight cast long shadows across his face, but even in the flickering glow, I could see the tension in his expression—the barely restrained fury simmering just beneath the surface.

My heart leapt into my throat. “Ominis! Have you been following us?”

His head tilted slightly toward me, but his focus remained locked on Sebastian. “You gave me no choice. I had to follow you.” His voice was eerily steady, but there was an edge to it, sharp and unyielding. “Sebastian, please, leave the relic alone. We can find another way to help Anne.”

Sebastian’s grip on the relic tightened. His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, Ominis, but I’m taking it.”

“No, you’re not,” Ominis snapped. “If you won’t put it back, then I will.”

He took a step forward, wand raised.

Sebastian mirrored him, his stance shifting, the air between them thick with unspoken threats.

Panic surged through me. They were about to duel.

I shoved myself between them, hands raised in a silent plea. “Hold on, both of you.” My voice was firm, but my chest was tight with unease. I turned to Sebastian first, meeting his gaze. “Sebastian, please, take a step back.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes but relented, exhaling sharply as he turned and stalked back toward the table where they found the relic. “Fine. But Ominis knows I won’t step back from a fight.”

Ominis let out a shaky breath, his hands covering his face for a brief moment before dragging down his features. I could see the weariness in the lines of his expression, the weight of his frustration pressing down on him.

I hesitated before speaking. “How much did you hear?”

His fingers curled tightly around his wand again. “Everything.” His voice was softer now, but no less urgent. “I was glad to hear you tell Sebastian to leave the relic. We need to stand together—convince him this is wrong.”

I nodded slowly. “And if nothing will change his mind?”

Ominis stiffened. “Something has to.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. This seems far riskier than Sebastian realizes..”

Relief flickered across his face. “Good. We’re agreed, then. We don’t allow him to leave here with the relic.”

I hesitated.

Because I knew the truth.

Sebastian was going to leave here with the relic—one way or another. And there was nothing Ominis or I could do to stop him. The only alternative was forcing him to stay… or casting the Imperius Curse.

Over my dead body.

I forced the thought away, pushing down the chill that crept up my spine.

“I do think we should talk to him,” I said carefully, “but I fear we won’t stop him from taking the relic.”

Ominis’s brows knit together. “What are you suggesting?”

I sighed, my stomach twisting. “I’m suggesting we negotiate. We allow him to leave with it under one condition: after this, no more.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. “Sebastian and I talked after the Scriptorium, and we agreed that there would be no more. And now I’m having the same conversation with you on his behalf.” His voice cracked slightly. “I am being taken for a fool.”

“You’re not, Ominis,” I insisted. “This may be the only way to keep your friendship intact. Let’s trust him to know what’s best.”

Ominis let out a bitter laugh, but it held no real amusement. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Trusting Sebastian.”

I saw it then—the moment he realized he had already lost this fight. His shoulders dropped, his grip on his wand loosening just slightly. But worse than the frustration in his face was the sorrow.

He knew.

He knew that if Sebastian left with the relic, there would be no stopping him in the future. We had let him get away with too much. We had excused his reckless decisions, convinced ourselves that we could reason with him, that if we just gave him time, he would come to his senses.

But he wouldn’t.

Ominis’s hands trembled slightly, his knuckles white. He turned his sightless eyes towards me, lost and searching, like he wanted me to give him another answer. A better one. One where Sebastian put the relic back and walked away of his own free will.

I wished I could give him that.

I reached out and took both of his hands, rubbing my thumbs across the back of them in slow, steady motions. “Ominis,” I said softly. “You know I wouldn’t suggest this unless it was the only option.”

He inhaled shakily, then exhaled. His grip slackened, his shoulders sagging with reluctant defeat.

He turned his head slightly toward Sebastian, his voice hollow. “Go, then. Leave with the relic. I’ll not say a word more.”

Slowly, I let go of his hands.

He took a step back, moving out of Sebastian’s way.

I turned, catching sight of Sebastian at the far end of the room, watching us carefully. He had seen the way Ominis’s posture shifted, the way he moved aside.

I gave him a single nod.

That was all he needed.

A slow, victorious grin spread across his face, and he wasted no time jogging toward me, the relic tucked safely under his arm.

Ominis kept his head down, refusing to look at us as we passed.

I wished there was more I could say.

More I could do to ease his conscience.

But there wasn’t.

Sebastian led the way out of the catacomb, and I followed. I couldn’t bring myself to look back.

The cold air hit us the moment we emerged, the wind stinging my face.

I was relieved to be out of that place.

Even if it was still snowing, even if the air was freezing—it was better than the unnatural cold I had felt in that room. That cursed, dreadful room where something inside me had shifted. A quiet sense of inevitability settling deep in my bones.

Sebastian suddenly grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

“Well?” His voice was hushed, but insistent. “What happened back there?”

I turned to face him, expression unreadable. “Ominis and I found a compromise.”

He frowned. “Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. Is that it?”

I hesitated. “Perhaps it is.” I exhaled, my breath curling in the winter air. “Does it matter? You have the relic.”

Sebastian studied me for a moment. “There has to be more to it than that. Tell me.”

I forced a small smile. “We agreed on what was needed, Sebastian. You have my word.”

His frown deepened slightly, but he didn’t push further.

Not yet.

We turned and walked away from the catacomb.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing our footprints behind us.

Erasing any sign that we had ever been there at all.

We trudged through the snow in tense silence, the only sound between us the steady crunch of our boots and the distant howl of the winter wind.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his breath curling in the frigid air. “As we were leaving, Ominis wouldn’t even acknowledge me. That’s not like him.”

I stiffened but kept walking. “Leave it be, Sebastian.”

“No, I won’t.” His tone turned sharp. “I look over, and you two are whispering and holding hands.”

I stopped short, whipping toward him. “Oh my word, will you stop it!”

Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly at my sudden outburst, caught off guard by the sharpness in my voice. I clenched my fists, exhaling slowly through my nose to calm myself. Yelling wouldn’t solve anything. I needed to be careful. To tread lightly. I was walking a dangerous line, trying to stay close enough to Sebastian to keep him from slipping too far while knowing that every step I took alongside him might just drag me down with him.

I loosened my posture and tilted my head, silently motioning for him to keep moving.

He followed, though his scowl remained.

I spoke evenly, keeping my voice measured. “To be quite frank with you, both Ominis and I agree that you’ve taken this all too far. But we both know that if we tried to stop you, you’d only become more determined.”

Sebastian huffed, his shoulders tensing.

I pressed on. “We want Anne to be healed too, but not at the cost of you destroying yourself in the process.”

Sebastian scoffed. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you two—”

“I know you’re capable.” I cut him off, my voice firmer than before. “That’s exactly what we fear.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to argue, but his words never came.

Instead, his entire expression shifted. His eyes flicked past me, down the hill, widening in alarm.

I turned instinctively, following his gaze.

A thick column of black smoke curled up from the center of Feldcroft.

My stomach dropped.

Sebastian’s entire body tensed like a drawn bowstring. “Oh no.” His voice was barely above a whisper before it hardened with panic. “Anne!”

He took off in a full sprint.

“Sebastian, wait!”

But there was no stopping him.

I cursed under my breath and ran after him, my boots skidding against the frozen ground as we tore down the hill toward the hamlet.

The moment we reached the town center, I understood the source of the smoke—goblins.

A swarm of them had overtaken the village, wielding magic and setting fire to homes and market stalls. Chaos erupted around us. Townsfolk screamed as they scrambled for cover, spells and curses lighting up the cold air.

A small group of witches and wizards fought back, but they were struggling—outnumbered and overpowered.

Among them were Solomon and Anne.

Sebastian charged forward without hesitation, his wand already drawn, his expression hardened into one of sheer determination.

“We have to fight!” he called over the chaos. “You’ll not win here!”

I barely had time to steel myself before a goblin lunged at me, swinging a jagged blade. I twisted away just in time, my boots skidding against the frozen earth, and cast Bombarda. The goblin was thrown back, crashing into a burning cart with a sickening crunch.

Another one took its place, hissing in Gobbledegook as it raised its hands.

Protego! I barely had time to deflect the incoming curse before countering with Depulso, sending the goblin careening into a pile of splintered wood.

Sebastian fought like a man possessed. He moved with reckless precision, his wand flashing as he sent spell after spell at the invading goblins. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch—he was relentless.

“They’re closing in!” Anne’s voice rang through the fray, laced with fear.

Solomon, fending off a pair of armored goblins, barked a warning. “Keep out of swords’ reach!”

Sebastian didn’t listen. His focus was razor-sharp, his fury driving him forward. “We’ve got them. They’ll retreat. We’ll make them retreat!”

I ducked as a streak of red shot past my head, retaliating with Expulso. The goblin that fired it was lifted off its feet and slammed into a stone wall, slumping motionless to the ground.

But the tide wasn’t turning.

No matter how many fell, more took their place.

A shadow shifted to my right. I turned just in time to see a goblin break through the line, blade raised high—aimed directly at me.

I couldn’t dodge in time.

The goblin lunged—

A spell struck it square in the chest.

It collapsed in a heap at my feet.

I snapped my head around, wand still raised—

And froze.

Ominis.

He stood at the edge of the battle, his wand still aimed forward, his breath shallow from exertion.

My heart nearly stopped.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

In the original timeline, he wasn’t here.

What else had changed?

For a split second, everything else—the goblins, the fight, the chaos—faded.

His face was set with determination, his normally unreadable expression tinged with something else—urgency. He had come.

For me.

For Sebastian.

For both of us.

I didn’t have time to think about the implications. Instead, I turned back to the battle, fighting by his side, wordlessly falling into sync.

Ominis’s spells were controlled, precise. He didn’t move as wildly as Sebastian, but his magic cut through the battlefield like a blade.

“Incendio!” Flames erupted from his wand, engulfing two goblins who had strayed too close.

I saw another goblin preparing to cast a curse at him. Without hesitation, I shouted, “Arresto Momentum!”

The goblin’s movements slowed, its attack fizzling into nothing. Ominis didn’t hesitate—he finished it off with Bombarda, sending it crashing backward.

Even in the chaos, my mind raced.

Had I truly altered the future?

Would Ominis being here change the outcome?

For the first time in months, I didn’t know.

And that terrified me.

A piercing scream snapped me back to reality.

Anne.

She collapsed to her knees, clutching her stomach, her face contorted in pain.

“Anne!” Sebastian’s voice cracked as he whirled toward her.

Time seemed to slow.

A goblin—larger than the rest, its sword gleaming with fresh blood—charged forward, blade raised to strike.

Anne squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the blow.

Sebastian’s wand shot forward. “Imperio!”

The goblin froze.

Then, with eerie precision, it turned its own blade inward.

And plunged it into its own chest.

The sickening squelch of metal slicing through flesh was deafening.

The goblin crumpled, its weapon still lodged in its body.

Silence fell over the battlefield like a shroud.

Anne gasped, staring at the lifeless goblin with wide, horror-stricken eyes. Slowly, shakily, she turned to look at her brother.

Not in gratitude.

But in fear.

Sebastian stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. “Anne, I—”

She flinched.

Sebastian froze, his entire expression shattering.

And then, before either of them could speak, Solomon stormed over, his entire being radiating fury.

Ominis, still beside me, moved before I even realized what was happening.

His hands found my shoulders, steadying me.

As if he knew I was about to run to Sebastian.

As if he knew I wanted to stop this from spiraling further.

“Boy,” Solomon growled, his voice low, dangerous, “what have you done?”

Sebastian’s hand fell limply to his side. “I—I saved my sister!”

“With an Unforgivable Curse,” Solomon spat, disgust twisting his features, “from that damned book, no doubt!”

Sebastian’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Solomon’s voice was a death knell. “Your father would be ashamed.”

Sebastian flinched.

The words cut deeper than any blade ever could.

Solomon didn’t wait for a response.

He turned his back to Sebastian, stooping to lift Anne to her feet. She leaned into him, trembling, still looking at Sebastian with terror.

Solomon’s voice was final, resolute. “You’ve gone too far, Sebastian.” He barely spared him a glance. “Stay away from her. From all of us.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Anne didn’t look back.

Sebastian didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

I could feel the devastation rolling off of him.

I swallowed hard, taking half a step forward. “We need to help him.”

Ominis’s grip on my shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

“No.” His voice was quiet but firm. “He needs this.”

I turned my head, meeting his gaze.

His expression was unreadable, but something in his tone made my stomach twist.

“Just give him time,” he murmured. “He’ll come to us.”

Sebastian still hadn’t moved.

Ominis’s hands remained steady on my shoulders, grounding me, keeping me still.

So I stayed.

Even though every part of me ached to reach out.

I forced myself to focus on something else, anything other than Sebastian’s hunched shoulders and the devastation radiating from him like a silent storm.

I leaned my head back slightly, letting it rest against Ominis’s shoulder.

The tension in my chest loosened ever so slightly at the familiar warmth. Ominis didn’t flinch or shift away; he simply remained there, solid and steady, a grounding presence against the whirlwind of emotions clawing at my insides.

I tilted my head, my eyes tracing the sky. The clouds moved lazily above us, indifferent to the chaos that had unfolded beneath them.

What was done was done.

Ominis wasn’t supposed to be here. He hadn’t been in the original timeline.

But none of that mattered anymore.

“Thank you for being here, Ominis,” I whispered.

His answer was immediate. Soft, but firm. “Always.”

I closed my eyes for half a second, letting the word settle in my chest like an anchor before I was forced to snap back to reality.

Sebastian turned towards us.

I immediately straightened, pulling away from Ominis as my gaze locked with Sebastian’s.

His expression darkened. His eyes flickered between me and Ominis, sharp and assessing.

Then his fists clenched.

I barely had time to react before he stormed toward us, his movements stiff and brimming with barely contained frustration.

Ominis, sensing my shift in posture, silently released me.

I hesitated only for a second before stepping forward, arms slightly outstretched—whether to embrace him or simply hold onto his arms, I wasn’t sure. I just needed to do something. To show him I was here.

But as I reached out, his arms remained rigid at his sides.

I faltered.

“Sebastian—”

He brushed past me.

The cold emptiness where he had once been hit harder than I was willing to admit.

I stood frozen, my hands curling into fists at my sides, as he stopped just between me and Ominis.

His breathing was uneven, his body practically vibrating with frustration.

“What did my uncle expect me to do?” he seethed. “I saved Anne’s life. That is what matters.”

Ominis’s voice was quiet but firm. “But at what cost?”

Sebastian’s shoulders tensed. “None! I don’t see what the problem is. If I have to keep proving that to my uncle, I will. He cannot banish me from my own home. From my sister!”

His voice cracked on the last word.

I stepped closer, my voice gentle. “Please, calm down, Sebastian.”

His eyes snapped to mine, frustration brimming just beneath the surface. “Can’t you see how ludicrous this is?”

Ominis crossed his arms. “Sebastian, Jo is right. You need to calm down.”

Sebastian’s gaze flickered between us, his expression warping into something I hadn’t seen before—something raw and vulnerable, like the weight of everything had finally sunk in.

The anger drained from his face, leaving only sorrow in its place.

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

For the first time since we left the catacomb, he looked lost.

Neither Ominis nor I hesitated.

At the same time, we closed the distance between us and wrapped our arms around him.

Sebastian didn’t resist. He sank into the embrace, his body trembling ever so slightly.

I tightened my hold, one arm wrapped securely around his back, the other resting against Ominis’s shoulder.

Ominis held onto him just as tightly.

We might not agree with what he had done.

But we were with him.

No matter what.

Sebastian let out a shuddering breath, his forehead resting between mine and Ominis’s as he silently cried.

The moment stretched between us, weighty and fragile, like something that could shatter at the slightest wrong move.

I ignored the way my heartbeat subtly shifted at the feeling of Ominis so close beside me, anchoring us both.

That wasn’t important.

Not right now.

After a while, Sebastian pulled away, his movements slow and reluctant. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, sniffling once.

I stepped back, exhaling softly. “I think it might be best to let Solomon cool off for a while.”

Sebastian didn’t respond, his jaw tight.

I hesitated before continuing, “I’m going to go speak with him. I’ll grab your things while I’m there.”

Sebastian’s head snapped up, his brows pulling together. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” I held his gaze. “You two get back to the castle.”

Ominis nodded, touching my arm lightly before stepping away.

Sebastian remained where he was for a moment, searching my face as if trying to decipher something unspoken. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.

Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the floo station.

Ominis followed, though not before casting one last sightless glance back at me, unreadable.

I watched them disappear into the swirling green flames before exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I turned my gaze toward the Sallow home, dread curling in my stomach.

In the game, this conversation had led to Solomon accusing me of being just as guilty as Sebastian—complicit in his actions.

I prayed that I would not have the same outcome.

Some things had already changed in the timeline today.

Maybe fate could afford one more adjustment.

And with that, I took a steadying breath and walked toward the house.

Chapter Text

I knocked on the Sallow’s front door and held my breath, my fingers curling into my palms as I willed my nerves to settle.

Please, please, please don’t get mad at me. Please.

The cold bit at my cheeks as I waited, the wind whistling softly through the eaves of the house. My heart beat faster as I heard the latch click. The door swung open to reveal Solomon Sallow, his expression first unreadable—then slightly surprised.

“Jo,” he said, brow lifting. “Didn’t expect to see you standing there.”

I mustered a polite smile. “Hello, Mister Sallow.”

He hesitated only a moment before stepping aside. “Come on inside. The snow’s only going to get worse.”

Despite my surprise at his warmth, I didn’t hesitate. I slipped inside, brushing off the frost that had clung to my cloak. The moment the door shut behind me, the scent of woodsmoke and faintly charred bread filled my senses. It smelled like home—not my home, but a home. Lived-in. Worn. Familiar.

Solomon reached out, helping me slip my coat from my shoulders. As he folded it over his arm, I caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes as he glanced at the brown and green tartan scarf as I took it off my neck. He knew it belonged to Sebastian. But we both silently agreed to ignore it.

“I came to grab Sebastian’s things,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “I promised him I’d bring them back to the castle.”

Solomon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You and the Gaunt boy—”

“Ominis,” I corrected gently.

“Yes, Ominis,” he conceded with a small nod. “You’re both too kind to him.” His voice was gruff, but not unkind. “I saw how you reacted during the attack. You don’t approve of what he did, do you?”

I straightened. “Wholeheartedly, no. But Ominis and I are still his friends. Regardless of his actions, we’ll stand by him.” I hesitated before adding, “I wish we had more sway over his choices, but… he’s stubborn.”

Solomon exhaled through his nose, a weary sound. “I am well aware. Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding. “I understand, sir.”

For a long moment, he studied me. I didn’t look away. Then, finally, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Sebastian cares for Anne more than anything in this world,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I don’t blame him. She’s his other half. Has been since birth.”

He paused. Something about the way he measured his next words made my stomach turn.

“Nothing else will replace his love for his sister,” he said slowly. “Nothing.”

The weight of what he was implying settled heavily between us. This wasn’t just a warning—it was a truth.

Solomon knew. He knew.

I kept my expression neutral, but inwardly, I wrestled with the sting of his words. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already known—Anne was and always would be Sebastian’s first and only priority. I had no illusions about that. But hearing it aloud from Solomon made the quiet ache in my chest all the more difficult to ignore.

I met his gaze and nodded once. “I understand.”

His shoulders relaxed just slightly. Then, to my surprise, he reached out and patted my shoulder—a fatherly gesture, one I hadn’t expected.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’ve already seen you hurt once, for whatever reason that was. I don’t want to see it come from my own nephew.” He stepped back. “I’ll gather Sebastian’s things. You can sit and wait at the table if you like.”

“Alright. Thank you, Mister Sallow.”

“Solomon,” he corrected, surprising me again.

I blinked but quickly nodded. “Thank you, Solomon.”

He gave a brief nod before disappearing down the hall.

Left alone, I turned toward the small wooden table and took a seat. Absentmindedly, I brushed away the small bits of debris clinging to my blouse—remnants of the catacomb and the battle. I exhaled, leaning back slightly, trying to ground myself.

Then, light footsteps padded against the wooden floor.

I turned just in time to see Anne.

She smiled warmly. “Jo!”

Before I could stand up completely, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me. I returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly before we both sat down.

“I was surprised when Solomon told me you were here,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re just picking up Sebastian’s things?”

I nodded. “I am. Ominis took him back to Hogwarts, and I promised I’d gather anything he left behind.” I hesitated, then reached across the table, placing my hand gently over hers. “But I also wanted to see how you’re faring.” I smiled. “You held your own during the attack. Hecat’s teaching, no doubt.”

Anne giggled. “Who else?” She squeezed my hand before sitting back. “And thank you. I should say the same for you. You seem very skilled with your wand despite this being your first-year.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Well, unfortunately, your brother has a knack for getting me into situations where I need to be a decent spellcaster.”

Anne laughed. “Sounds about right.”

But as the laughter faded, so did the light in her eyes. Her expression fell slightly, her voice softer.

“I think Solomon was too hard on him,” she murmured. “Should he have used the Imperius Curse? No. But banning him from Feldcroft altogether is…” She swallowed. “It’s too much.”

I pursed my lips. “Only time will tell. But one thing’s certain—his determination to cure you won’t waver. Now, he’s only more furious with your uncle.”

Anne sighed, nodding. “I was afraid of that.” Then, after a beat, “I’m glad he has you and Ominis to keep him in check.”

I chuckled. “Attempt to keep him in check.”

A ghost of a smile played on her lips, but her mind seemed elsewhere. For a brief moment, I considered asking her if she liked Ominis—I had my suspicions. But something deep in my gut told me I didn’t want to know the answer.

Before I could dwell on it, Solomon returned, carrying two large trunks. He set them down near the door, dusting off his hands.

“There you go, Miss McClam.”

I stood, nodding. “Thank you again. I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

Solomon exhaled sharply. “No need to apologize for my nephew’s choices.” Then, his gaze turned steely. “But remind him that he’s to come nowhere near Feldcroft. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But he’s made his choice.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I will, sir.”

He tilted his head. “Solomon,” he corrected again.

I swallowed. “Thank you, Solomon.”

He nodded once and turned away.

Anne stood and faced me, tears brimming in her eyes. Without hesitation, I pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as though passing along an embrace from Sebastian himself.

Anne’s voice wavered as she whispered, “Take care of Sebastian. Please.”

I squeezed her tighter. “You have my word.”

We broke apart, and with one last look at her sorrowful expression, I turned to the door and grabbed my coat and scarf.

With a flick of my wand, the trunks levitated, floating beside me as I stepped out into the snow. The cold nipped at my face, but I barely felt it.

As I reached the Floo station, I pulled a handful of powder from my bag, gripping it tightly before whispering, “Hogwarts.”

I threw the powder down, the world flashing green around me.

And then, I was gone.

The world shifted around me as the green flames whisked me away, and in the next moment, I stumbled out of the Floo station at the far border of Hogwarts. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I caught my balance, the air significantly clearer here than in Feldcroft. I took a deep breath, adjusting my grip on my wand before flicking it at the trunks beside me.

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

Both trunks lifted into the air, hovering just above the ground. With a slight tilt of my wand, they floated along beside me as I began my trek toward the castle. The familiar silhouette of Hogwarts loomed ahead, torches flickering along the castle walls, their glow warm against the encroaching dusk.

The walk felt longer with the weight of the day pressing down on me, but the rhythmic sound of my boots crunching through the snow kept me grounded. I kept my gaze ahead, focusing on the castle doors, then on the path leading down into the dungeons. My fingers were stiff from the cold by the time I reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

It wasn’t until I stood before the stone snake-engraved door that I realized my predicament.

How exactly was I supposed to get Sebastian’s things to him?

I sighed, rubbing at my temple. I couldn’t exactly waltz into the common room, and I wasn’t about to stand here all night hoping he emerged. Just as I was debating my next move, a small figure stepped into view—a second-year Slytherin, judging by his green and silver scarf, who was on his way inside.

“Excuse me,” I called, offering my best attempt at a friendly smile. “Could you do me a favor?”

The boy hesitated, looking me up and down with wide eyes. “Depends. You’re not going to hex me, are you?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “No, I am not going to hex you.”

He still looked wary but seemed interested enough to stay and listen.

“Can you go into the common room and fetch Sebastian Sallow for me?” I asked. “Tell him Jo McClam is here with his things.”

The first-year’s expression shifted, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his lips. “Ohhh, you’re Jo McClam?”

I blinked at his sudden change in demeanor. “Er… yes?”

His smirk widened. “So… are you Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend, then?”

My brain stuttered to a halt. “What?”

The boy shrugged. “I heard him and Sebastian yelling about a girl named Jo a month or so ago. Sounded like you were Ominis’s girlfriend.”

I felt my face heat instantly. “I—what? No! No, I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” I shook my head, willing the warmth in my cheeks to disappear. “Why would you think that?”

The first-year just grinned. “Dunno. That’s just what it sounded like.”

I huffed, determined to brush it off. “Well, you heard wrong. Now, please, go get Sebastian.”

Still smirking, the boy nodded and slipped inside the common room, the stone door shifting closed behind him. I folded my arms, trying to push away the ridiculous conversation, but my mind wouldn’t let it go.

Ominis and Sebastian had argued about me? Why?

The thought stirred something deep in my chest, but before I could dwell on it, the door opened again.

But instead of Sebastian stepping out, it was Ominis.

I blinked. “Ominis?”

He sighed, folding his arms. “Sebastian fell asleep not long after returning to the dormitory.”

I tilted my head. “That fast?”

“He was exhausted. It’s been… quite the day.” Ominis shifted slightly, and I noticed his brows draw together ever so slightly. “The second-year who fetched me talked to me in such a weird tone. It was rather unsettling.”

I felt the heat creep up my neck again. “Oh. That.”

Ominis turned his head slightly toward me. “Oh?”

I quickly shook my head, hoping to dismiss the topic entirely. “It’s nothing. Really.”

He didn’t push but didn’t look entirely convinced either. I cleared my throat, changing the subject. “Do you think Sebastian will be asleep for much longer?”

Ominis exhaled softly. “It’s hard to say. He either naps for a few minutes or a few hours—never in between.”

I nodded in thought. “Alright. If he’s not up in the next fifteen minutes, meet me in the Underground Harbor.”

Ominis tilted his head. “The Underground Harbor?”

“Yes. So we can… discuss.” I met his gaze—or rather, where his gaze would be. “Will you come?”

There was a pause, brief but noticeable. Then he gave a single nod. “Of course.”

“Alright.” I took a small step back, nodding toward the trunks. “Let Sebastian know his things are here when he wakes up. I’ll see you soon.”

Ominis nodded again before retreating back into the common room with the luggage. As the stone door sealed shut, I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders as I turned and made my way toward the viaduct courtyard.

There was still much to do.

I dipped my fingers into the harbor’s still water, only to immediately recoil at the bitter chill that shot up my arm. Grimacing, I pulled out my wand, tapped the surface, and slipped my hand back in. A warmth spread through the water, gentle and inviting.

"Much better," I murmured to myself.

With a slow breath, I lifted my hand, calling a sphere of water to rise from the harbor’s surface. It hovered above my palm, shifting and swirling as I guided it through the air with practiced ease. The motion was soothing, my mind momentarily free of its usual clutter as I let the water dance between my fingertips.

Then, a clunk echoed through the cavern. The elevator.

I let the water fall back into the harbor with a quiet splash and turned just in time to see the platform descend once more. The red glow of a wand illuminated the enclosed space, casting soft shadows over the features of the boy within. Ominis stepped forward as the gate slid open, his presence immediately warming the underground chamber in a way the lanterns never could.

I stood, careful not to lose my footing at the dock’s edge.

"Good evening, Ominis."

He tilted his head slightly in my direction, lips curling into something just shy of a smirk. "Evening, darling."

My heart stuttered, catching on the syllables as they rolled smoothly off his tongue.

Darling.

Ominis had always spoken with a kind of elegance, his words thoughtful, deliberate. But this—this was different. The way he said it, low and warm, made my stomach flutter treacherously. I willed myself to ignore the feeling, to focus on anything else.

I tucked my hands behind my back. "Is Sebastian still fast asleep?"

"Yes," Ominis sighed. "And snoring his cares away."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I don’t blame him. Sleep helps the brain process emotions that may feel overwhelming. Actually, when the body is asleep and our adrenergic activity is down, our brain can reactivate neural structures that help form long-term memories and refine our feelings regarding our emotions. But since that only happens—"

I stopped abruptly, realizing too late that I had begun rambling. My ears burned as I caught Ominis pressing his fingers against his lips, clearly suppressing a laugh.

I cleared my throat. "—Never mind."

His smile widened. "No, don’t stop! I was fascinated, keep going."

"You probably didn’t understand a word I just said."

"Not in the slightest," he admitted easily, "but I still want to hear whatever it is that you're talking about."

I exhaled a soft laugh, shaking my head. "It’s alright, sorry for dumping useless information."

Ominis frowned. "No information is useless. Where did you learn all of that anyway?"

I hesitated.

The truth was, I had learned it in school years ago—back before magic had even been a consideration in my life. Before I knew Hogwarts existed. Before my world had changed entirely. I scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't make him question too much.

"Before I found out I was a witch, I wanted to be a doctor," I said carefully. "So I would read anatomy and neurology books from the library back home. I have since changed my mind about going into healthcare, but the knowledge is still rattling around in my brain."

Ominis looked genuinely impressed. "So you read all of that from Muggle books? That’s amazing. You’re amazing."

The words hit harder than they should have.

I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat, forcing my expression to remain neutral. But my body betrayed me. My skin felt too warm beneath my coat, my pulse a little too quick. I shrugged it off, quite literally, peeling my coat from my shoulders to create some sense of relief.

"If you knew my father, you’d understand I learned all of that out of necessity," I muttered, voice quieter than before.

Ominis's expression turned serious. "What do you mean?"

I hesitated again, but there was no point in hiding it. If anyone understood complicated family dynamics, it was Ominis.

"Let’s just say…" I exhaled, rubbing my thumb over the edge of my sleeve. "He had very high standards for all his children. If I wasn’t learning, practicing, or developing some kind of skill, he made sure to tell me how disappointed he was. Repeatedly and loudly. And as the oldest child, he took most of his anger out on me. I couldn’t stand to see him treat Beckett and Faith the same way he treated me."

Silence stretched between us, thick with understanding.

Ominis's jaw tightened. "Jo… I am so sorry."

"Don’t be," I said quickly. "Lots of people have family issues, right? And it brings me a lot of peace knowing that my mother and father treat my siblings like royalty now that I’m gone."

Ominis opened his mouth, likely to argue, but I wasn’t sure I could handle any more sympathy—not from him. Not when I was already struggling to keep a growing part of me from seeing him in a way I shouldn't.

I cleared my throat, speaking before Ominis had the chance. “Anyways, I was able to talk to both Solomon and Anne when I picked up Sebastian’s things. Solomon is still adamant about keeping Sebastian away from Feldcroft, but Anne thinks he’s being too harsh.”

Ominis exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I expected nothing less. And thank you for informing me about Sebastian’s letter in advance. I don’t like that he’s deliberately trying to keep things from me, so I’m grateful you’re here to even the odds.”

I let out a soft sigh. “Unfortunately, regardless of whether the odds are even, we’re not going to be able to stop him. I’ll try to remain a confidante for him and his reckless behavior—as long as you promise not to tell him I ratted him out to you.”

Ominis smirked. “Not for all the gold in Gringotts.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down. “I hate all these secrets. Sebastian telling me to keep things from you, us keeping things from him—it’s exhausting.”

Ominis’s voice softened. “He’s left us no choice. You said it yourself in the catacomb—if we confront him, he’ll only become more defensive. It won’t stop his actions.”

I nodded grimly, my voice quieter. “I know something terrible is going to happen if he tries to use that relic, but it’s too late to stop it entirely. My only hope is to mitigate whatever damage comes from it.” My voice dropped even lower. “I should have never asked you to let us into that godforsaken Scriptorium.”

The words hung between us like a heavy fog. Rationally, I knew I hadn’t had a choice—not really. But part of me still wished I could have done something, anything, to change the trajectory we were on.

I let out a slow breath, pressing my palms against my face. I wasn’t going to cry. I refused. Not over this.

Warmth encased my hands as Ominis gently pulled them away from my face.

“Jo,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “This is not your fault. I know you care for Sebastian, but you need to stop protecting him. One day, he will have to face the consequences of his actions—no matter what you or I do to lighten his burden.”

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. My gaze flickered between his eyes, my throat tightening. “But he’s just a boy trying to save his sister.”

“And you’re just a girl trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Ominis countered. “You have people who can help you.” His grip on my hands tightened slightly. “Let me help you.”

My breath hitched.

The sincerity in his voice, the quiet plea—it was undoing me.

“My dear Ominis,” I whispered, forcing a smirk, trying to lighten the moment. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I know. But I want you to know that I will stand by your side, regardless of where your feet must be planted.”

There it was. That slow, aching pull. The kind I’d been shoving down, ignoring, burying beneath layers of stubbornness and denial.

Ominis was not a force of nature like Sebastian—he didn’t sweep me up like a strong wind, leaving me breathless and unsure of where the ground even was.

No.

Ominis was the tide. Constant. Steady. Pulling me in, little by little, until suddenly I realized I’d been wading into deep waters all along.

I cleared my throat, breaking eye contact as I gently pulled my hands free from his. “I should tell you—I’m to complete the next Keeper Trial soon.”

Concern flickered across his face, but before he could ask, I kept going.

“Thankfully, I know what to expect,” I assured him. “But it won’t be easy.”

His jaw tightened. “What do you have to do?”

I hesitated. “I am to… literally be sucked into a book.”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s a new one.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Whilst in the book, I will learn how to wield the three Deathly Hallows.”

Ominis stiffened. “You mean the Hallows?”

I nodded. “The very ones. I will have to be in a long battle as part of the trial, but I should be alright.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“But what if you’re not?” he asked quietly. “Can someone come with you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not allowed any help. If I was, Professor Fig would be by my side the entire time.”

Ominis exhaled sharply, clearly unsatisfied.

“I’ll be fine, Ominis,” I reassured him. “Don’t worry about it.”

His expression darkened. “Last time, you almost died. So naturally, I will worry.”

I frowned. “I understand, but—”

“Don’t do the trial.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said firmly. “Don’t do it. What do you have to gain from it anyway?”

“Knowledge,” I said simply. “Knowledge about Ancient Magic. If I am to progress in my learning and understanding of my powers, I need to complete each trial. I am not being forced to do them, but I understand the value of the wisdom I will gain.”

His fingers curled slightly, as if holding back words.

Eventually, he sighed, shaking his head. “Please stay safe.”

I smiled, softer this time. “I will. I promise.”

Ominis let out a slow breath and cracked a small smile. “If you don’t make it, I’ll be stuck handling Sebastian’s reckless decisions on my own.”

I chuckled. “You did that just fine before I came along. You’ll still manage if I happen to meet an untimely end.”

His lips parted slightly, as if the words hit something deeper.

“I won’t,” he murmured.

I tilted my head. “You won’t…?”

“Manage,” he said simply. “Not if something happened to you.”

My breath caught.

A silence stretched between us—thick, heavy, charged.

Then, before I could find words, Ominis reached for my hand.

He lifted it slowly, deliberately, and pressed a kiss to the back of my palm.

The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down my spine.

I could feel my pulse pounding—too fast, too loud.

My fingers curled slightly in his grasp, but I didn’t pull away.

            Ominis's grip on my fingers tightened just slightly, as if he were weighing a thought, hesitating before committing to it. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke.

“May I…” His voice was softer now, almost uncertain. “May I feel your face?”

Of all the things I had expected him to say, that hadn’t been one of them.

He must have sensed my hesitation because his fingers flexed slightly around mine, like he was preparing to let go. “You don’t have to say yes,” he murmured. “It’s just… I’ve spent so much time with you, and I—” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I just want to know what you look like.”

I swallowed, my heart thudding dully against my ribs. This was Ominis. Not Sebastian with his infuriating smirk and easy charm, but Ominis—steady, thoughtful, a quiet storm I had never quite known how to name.

I nodded before realizing that wasn’t an answer he could see. “Okay,” I whispered.

His fingers left mine, trailing up to hover just beside my cheek. For a moment, he didn’t move, almost like he was giving me one last chance to change my mind.

Then, finally, he touched me.

His fingertips brushed against my jaw, featherlight, like he was memorizing the shape of me. He traced along the curve of my cheek, his touch reverent, as if he were handling something fragile, something precious. My skin burned beneath the gentle glide of his fingers.

I inhaled sharply when his thumb ghosted over my lips. He stilled, as if waiting for me to stop him. I didn’t.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, I took a step back. My shoulders hit the wooden beam behind me, the cool surface grounding me in the moment, reminding me that this was real—this was happening.

Ominis followed.

The space between us dwindled, and before I could fully process it, his body was close—closer than it had ever been before. His free hand came up, resting lightly against the beam above my head, his breath warming the air between us.

I could feel the heat of him, the way his presence filled the space, wrapped around me like something tangible. I had been held by him before, had stood shoulder to shoulder with him more times than I could count, but this was different.

This was beyond deliberate.

My breath came unsteadily now, shallow and uneven. Ominis’s fingers traced along my cheekbone, down the bridge of my nose, mapping every line, every dip and curve. When he reached my lips again, his touch lingered, the barest brush of his thumb across them.

I felt his breath before I realized just how close he had gotten.

It would take nothing—nothing at all—for me to tilt my chin, to bridge the tiny gap between us. I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat, the way it pounded against my ribs, demanding, waiting.

But something held me back.

This was Ominis.

My anchor, my steady ground. The one person who never asked too much and never expected more than I was willing to give. He didn’t make my head spin or my stomach twist in nervous anticipation like Sebastian did.

But maybe that was why this felt so different.

So safe.

Ominis shifted, and for one breathless second, I thought—

But then he stopped.

His fingers drifted away, his weight shifting as he slowly straightened, putting the smallest bit of space between us.

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Ominis hesitated, like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to stay. Then, with a small, almost regretful sigh, he took a step back.

The loss of his warmth was almost jarring.

I swallowed, pressing my back against the beam, trying to steady myself.

Ominis let out a quiet chuckle, though there was something almost uncertain about it. “You… you have a lovely face,” he murmured.

I let out a breathless laugh, something between amusement and disbelief. “Thank you?”

He tilted his head slightly, lips twitching as if he had just realized how absurd that sounded. “You know what I mean.”

I did.

And that was the problem.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The space between us felt heavier than it should have, like the harbor itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what either of us would do next. But there was nothing to do—nothing to say. Not yet.

Instead, I slowly stepped back, the wooden beam behind me creaking softly in protest as if it, too, didn’t want to let go of the moment. Ominis lingered for only a second longer before exhaling, a slow, measured breath that seemed to carry whatever weight had been pressing between us away with it.

“I should—” I started, but he was already nodding.

“I know,” he said simply, his voice as calm and composed as ever, yet tinged with something quieter, something unspoken.

I offered him a small smile, knowing he couldn’t see it, but somehow sure he would feel it. Then, without another word, I turned and walked toward the elevator, stepping onto the platform and pulling the lever. The last thing I saw before the gates closed was Ominis standing exactly where I had left him, his wand’s crimson glow reflecting against the dark water.

The lift rattled as it ascended, the sound breaking the silence in my mind, but not doing much to break the thoughts themselves.

What the hell just happened?

I shook my head as I stepped out into the corridor, my footsteps echoing against the cold stone. The walk to Fig’s classroom wasn’t far, but it gave me enough time to think, to replay the moment over and over again in my head. I should have been panicked, confused—maybe even regretful. But the truth was… I wasn’t.

I felt comfortable with Ominis. Too comfortable. It wasn’t the kind of heart-pounding, breath-stealing intensity that I felt around Sebastian. No, this was something quieter, steadier. It settled into me like a slow-burning ember instead of a wildfire.

But that didn’t mean I had any idea what to do with it.

By the time I reached the Theory of Magic classroom, I had successfully convinced myself not to think about it. At least for now.

I knocked lightly before pushing the door open. Professor Fig stood near his desk, flipping through a book, but he looked up with a warm smile the moment he saw me.

“Jo!” he greeted. “I was wondering when you’d come find me again. How were your holidays?”

I stepped inside, letting the door shut behind me. “Surprisingly nice, actually. Quiet, but not in a bad way.”

Fig chuckled, setting his book aside. “That’s a rare thing at Hogwarts.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, shaking my head. “But it was good. Natty and I spent Christmas morning together, then I dragged Ominis all over Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve, and I’ve spent the past couple of days—”

Trying not to think about Sebastian. Almost kissing Ominis. Possibly making my life more complicated than it already is.

“—keeping myself busy,” I finished.

Fig arched an amused brow. “I’d expect nothing less.”

I smiled before letting my expression turn a bit more serious. “Actually, that’s part of why I came to see you.”

Fig straightened slightly, sensing the shift in tone. “Oh?”

“I think it’s time we return to the Map Chamber.”

His expression darkened just a fraction—not in reluctance, but in understanding. “I was wondering when you’d say that.”

“I’d like to go tomorrow,” I continued. “Today’s already been… long.”

Fig studied me for a moment, likely noting the exhaustion that even I could feel creeping into my bones. Finally, he nodded.

“A wise decision,” he said. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

I let out a breath, some of the tension in my shoulders easing. “Thank you, Professor.”

He nodded once more, but as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“And Miss McClam?”

I glanced back.

“Try to get some rest,” he said, not unkindly. “Something tells me you’re going to need it.”

I swallowed and nodded, stepping back into the corridor.

As I made my way toward the common room, I tried not to let his words settle too deeply in my chest.

Chapter Text

Fig sighed, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised? I don’t think the word ‘help’ resides in Professor Black’s vocabulary."

I let out a small chuckle, crossing my arms. "Getting into his office shouldn’t be a problem—I already know the password to the Headmaster’s office."

Niamh Fitzgerald’s portrait flickered slightly, the painted expression shifting to something resembling intrigue. "You do?"

I nodded. "Mhm. Toujours Pur. The Black family motto."

Fig let out an amused huff. "Impressive. I trust you haven’t had to use that information for your own benefit."

I smirked. "I haven’t. But if I had, I know you would be more proud than angry."

Fig gave me a look—one of those unreadable expressions that hovered between reluctant approval and exasperation. He shook his head, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Shall I meet you at your portrait then, Professor Fitzgerald?" I asked, turning my attention back to the Keeper.

"Indeed," she replied, her voice smooth and regal. "Until then."

With a final nod, the portrait faded into stillness. Fig and I turned toward the chamber doors, but he stopped just before we ascended the steps. He stood at the ledge, overlooking the great glowing map below.

"Before we clear ourselves from the chamber and whatever safety measures you’ve installed here," he said, his voice softer now, "I have a question."

I tilted my head. "Yes, Professor?"

His brows furrowed slightly, a rare glint of something deeper—concern, maybe? "Last time we were here, when you told me… well, what you are, I got the impression that you have power unlike any I’ve seen. And that’s besides the Ancient Magic." He hesitated, his hands folding behind his back. "But if that’s the case, why did you almost die during the last Trial? And who’s to say it won’t happen again?"

I blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. It was strange, feeling truly worried over. It wasn’t something I was used to. But rather than dwell on the unfamiliar warmth in my chest, I gave him a reassuring smile.

"I’ll be fine, Professor," I assured him. "The reason I struggled in the last two Trials is because I didn’t allow myself to use my full abilities. The point of the Trials is to learn how to wield Ancient Magic and rightfully earn the knowledge at the end." I paused, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides. "However, I don’t want another near-death experience. So this time, I plan to allow myself to use a wider range of my abilities."

Fig studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Good. Do what you must to make it out alive."

"Don’t worry," I said, my lips curling into a smirk. "I’m a shapeshifter, remember? I have practically infinite tricks up my sleeve. Not to mention this."

Without so much as moving my arms, I conjured a portal directly behind me. Without looking back, I jumped in, vanishing into its depths.

A second later, I dropped down behind Fig.

He spun sharply, eyes wide in surprise as I landed lightly on my feet.

"Now imagine that in combat," I teased.

Fig exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "I see why you’re confident. Don’t let it get to your head."

"Yes, Professor."

Still grinning, we ascended the staircase, leaving the Map Chamber behind.

"Oh, before I go," I said as we neared the dungeon corridors, "could you do one thing for me?"

Fig turned, arching a brow. "What is it?"

I clasped my hands behind my back. "It would be rather unfortunate to waltz into the Headmaster’s office and find him sitting there, pompous as ever. Could you…?"

"Keep him occupied?" Fig guessed, his lips twitching.

I snapped my fingers. "Exactly."

He sighed but nodded. "I’ll tell him we’re to meet a liaison from the Ministry in Hogsmeade. That should give you plenty of time."

"Excellent!" I beamed. "I’ll give you two an hour or so before I make my way up there."

We reached the dungeon halls, where our paths split. Fig gave me a final nod, his face softening just slightly.

"Be safe," he said.

I dipped my head. "See you on the other side, Professor."

And with that, we parted ways.

As I walked the familiar route toward the Slytherin common room, I told myself that it was simply convenient to pass through here. But in truth, I knew if I saw either Ominis or Sebastian, I would let them know.

Because despite everything, I wanted them to know where I was going.

Just in case.

I circled by the entrance to the Slytherin common room twice, scanning the corridors for any sign of Ominis or Sebastian. Nothing. On my third pass-by, however, I spotted a familiar head of platinum blonde hair among a group of younger students.

The second-year. The one I’d asked to fetch Sebastian yesterday.

I debated stopping him, asking him to run another message, but something about the smug tilt of his head made me pause. I didn’t want to seem clingy—especially not to Sebastian. I was about to turn away and continue toward the Headmaster’s office when the boy took a deliberate step into my path, blocking my way just enough to make his presence known.

A wicked grin spread across his face. He was short, about my height, and hardly intimidating. But something about the sharpness in his expression gave the distinct impression that he knew more than he let on.

"Jo McClam, right?"

I arched a brow. "Oh, hello. You’re… the one who helped grab my friends yesterday."

His smirk deepened, like he’d been waiting for me to acknowledge him. "Yes. I’m Cassius Marion Malfoy."

Of course, he’s a Malfoy.

I kept my expression neutral, though my thoughts immediately spiraled into caution. While I understood Draco Malfoy’s actions during the war—his circumstances, his struggles—most of the Malfoys I’d encountered in my travels were… well, less than charming.

Still, I wasn’t about to make assumptions.

I offered my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Cassius."

He took it with a grip just a little too firm, as if testing my reaction.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said smoothly, releasing my hand after an almost uncomfortably long pause. "If you ever need me to gather any more information regarding your ‘friends,’ do let me know."

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "Noted."

His smirk widened, but before he could get too comfortable, I decided to throw him off balance.

"Cassius, you are what we would call in the American Southwest, un chismoso."

He blinked. "I… beg your pardon?"

I leaned in just slightly, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You are all about the drama."

Understanding flickered across his face, and his grin turned downright mischievous. He knew I was right.

An idea struck me. A wicked, risky idea.

I had an hour to kill. Why not have a little fun?

"You know, Cassius," I said, watching his interest pique. "I do have a favor to ask."

His eyes gleamed. "Oh?"

"I’m running an errand and was hoping to run into either Sebastian Sallow or Ominis Gaunt to let them know my plans. Maybe you could pass along the message?"

"Gladly."

I folded my arms. "Whichever one you find first, tell them I’m going to play my third game of Quidditch as a Keeper. I shouldn’t be back until later today."

Cassius hummed, tilting his head. "Hmm… seems a bit bland. Anything to, how would you say, spice it up a bit?"

I sighed, already knowing where this was going. He wanted compensation.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a small coin pouch filled with Galleons. Cassius held out his hand, fingers wiggling expectantly. But just as I was about to drop it into his palm, I hesitated, pulling the pouch back ever so slightly.

"Consider this sufficient compensation for any future exchanges we may have," I said.

His smirk remained, but there was a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Agreed."

I placed the pouch in his hand, and he greedily opened it to check the contents.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said, pocketing the pouch. "Hope we have more exchanges soon."

I gave him a knowing look before turning away, walking briskly down the corridor.

            Now I just had to occupy myself for the next hour.

The stone gargoyle loomed before me, its lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead. I hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer, lowering my voice to a whisper.

"Toujours Pur."

The gargoyle stirred. With a deep, grating groan, the statue shifted, the ancient mechanisms within whirring to life. Stone scraped against stone as it spiraled upward, revealing the hidden staircase behind it. I exhaled slowly, squaring my shoulders before stepping onto the moving stairs.

Each step lifted me higher, the world outside the stairwell growing smaller as I ascended toward the Headmaster’s office. A quiet determination settled over me. This Trial was different. I wasn’t going to hold back like before. I had spent too long underestimating myself, too long hesitating. Not this time. I was ready.

The staircase came to a stop, depositing me in front of the heavy wooden doors. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and the lingering traces of a fire long extinguished. I pressed my hand against the door and pushed it open.

The office was just as I remembered—dimly lit, cluttered with ancient tomes and delicate trinkets, the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lining the walls, their painted gazes following my every move. At the center of it all, framed in a large, ornate frame, was Professor Niamh Fitzgerald.

Her dark eyes twinkled as she met my gaze. “It’s good to see you.”

I dipped my head respectfully. “Likewise, Professor. I’m assuming the book I need to start the Trial is in the antechamber?”

She chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “I am curious, do you use foresight or research to know that sort of thing?”

I smirked. “Research. I make sure to do my homework.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said approvingly. “We shall speak when you are finished.”

I nodded before turning toward the antechamber. The air grew heavier as I crossed the threshold, the weight of magic thick against my skin. A single pedestal stood in the center of the chamber, and upon it rested an ancient, leather-bound book.

This was it. The start of the Trial.

Steeling myself, I reached out, lightly opening the book. As soon as the book laid flat, opened to a random page, a powerful force yanked me forward. The room around me vanished, the world dissolving into a blur of ink and parchment. My breath hitched as I felt myself being pulled into the pages, reality shifting around me.

And then, everything became white.

The white didn’t blare in my eyes, but filled my vision, stretching infinitely in all directions. I looked down at myself, my breath hitching slightly in surprise. My body—my clothes, my hands—had transformed into something that hovered between vague and detailed, an ink illustration given form.

Black flecks drifted through the air like scattered ash, swirling aimlessly in the emptiness. I turned slowly, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

"This is such an odd feeling," I murmured, spinning in a slow circle as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. "Like I’m walking on the edge of a page."

A deep stillness settled over the space, pressing against my skin like unseen hands. I swallowed, gathering my composure before calling out.

"Professor Fitzgerald? Are you out there?"

A voice, smooth and powerful, filled the space around me.

"I am here. In this place, you may call me Niamh."

Her voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was neither harsh nor soft, but something commanding, something wise.

"You shall be witness to a fable," she continued. "Pay attention. Things are not always as they seem."

As soon as she spoke, the whiteness around me flickered, like ink bleeding into parchment. The world faded into view.

Everything looked illustrated—just as I did. A stone platform beneath my feet. A small courtyard surrounded by towering, gnarled briars, their thorns glinting like jagged ink strokes. Ahead, a narrow stone path wound forward. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"You must move swiftly and cautiously," Niamh’s voice instructed as I walked. "Use the tools you encounter to find me. In this place, Death takes many forms. Avoid each of them at all costs."

The landscape shifted again, writing itself into existence. A village took shape before my eyes—thatching formed on rooftops, carts appeared along dirt roads, villagers bustled in frantic motion. Then, the sky darkened.

A shadow loomed overhead.

A giant, hooded figure emerged, its skeletal hands resting on the rooftops as it peered down at the village. The breath in my lungs stilled. In a single, violent motion, the figure’s bony hand slammed into the ground, scraping its fingers through the streets. Where it touched, inky darkness curled upward, birthing smaller hooded figures—shadows, twisted echoes of the massive specter. The villagers’ screams cut through the air as Death’s minions swarmed.

I watched, my jaw clenched, as the creatures slashed through the helpless villagers. Each swipe of their cloaked hands erased a life, leaving behind nothing but curling tendrils of shadow. The giant figure turned, its task complete, and disappeared into the distance, leaving its dark spawn to finish what it had begun.

Ordinarily, I would have followed the rules. In the game, the Disillusionment Charm would be the key to sneaking past the creatures. But I wasn’t bound by the game. I had mastered invisibility far beyond a simple charm.

With barely a thought, I vanished completely.

I walked unseen through the chaos. Death’s shadows moved past me, unaware of my presence. Even as I passed dangerously close—so near I could have stepped on their heels—they remained oblivious. I had a few close calls, but nothing I couldn’t slip away from. The real problem was where to go.

Unlike the game, this wasn’t a single, clear path. The village sprawled before me in endless possibilities—winding roads, crumbling alleyways, bridges arching over darkened canals. I went in circles, passing frightened villagers, some hiding, others already lost to shadow.

Then, I heard it. A voice, trembling with despair.

"I don’t understand. What did I do? What did I do?"

I turned sharply, my chest tightening. A woman sat behind a crate, rocking back and forth, her face streaked with tears.

A lump formed in my throat.

"Mom?"

The word escaped before I could stop it.

The woman’s head snapped up, her eyes searching wildly for the voice she couldn’t see. My hands trembled. I wanted—so desperately—to make myself visible. To run to her. To tell her I loved her, that I missed her cheeky laugh, her silly stories, the way she did my hair in the mornings.

But I couldn’t move.

A shadow lurched closer, drawn by my voice. My mother shrank away, pressing herself further into her hiding place.

I forced myself to turn and slip away before I did something reckless. Tears burned in my eyes as I pressed forward, only for the horror to deepen.

More faces.

Fred Weasley. Cedric Diggory. Fives. Boromir. Tadashi Hamada. Bob Newby.

All people I had known. All people who had died.

Some were hiding, others already lay motionless, lost to the shadows. And then—I saw them.

My father. My brother. My sister.

My breath hitched as I saw my brother, trembling where he hid, his hands clenched into fists. My legs nearly gave out when I saw them. I had to force myself to move, to keep going. And then—

Alissa and Ian.

I staggered back. My own face—Alissa’s face—stared back at me, lifeless.

A sick, sinking feeling settled in my gut. I wasn’t just walking through a nightmare—I was drowning in it.

Panic clawed at my throat. I searched frantically, my mind latching onto one name.

Ominis.

If all of these people were here—people I knew were doomed—then that meant—

I had known for a long time that Ominis was destined to die. The Gaunt family was a dying bloodline, their legacy fading into ruin. By the 1920s, there were no Gaunts left save for Marvolo, his children Morfin and Merope, and Merope’s son, Tom Riddle. No records of Ominis. No trace of him. Which meant he had to be here. Didn’t it?

I wandered through the village with measured curiosity, my eyes scanning the faces of the doomed. This wasn’t a frantic search—it was confirmation. A quiet, grim acceptance of something I had known but never seen.

But the more I looked, the more I realized I couldn’t find him. The longer I walked, the heavier the air became. The grief that surrounded this place, this illusion of Death’s design, began to seep into my skin. The deeper I ventured, the more my curiosity twisted into something heavier.

What if I did find him? What if I saw his face among the lifeless, another soul claimed by shadow? Would it change anything? Would it hurt worse than I had already allowed it to?

I searched for what felt like hours, desperation growing with every step. The streets became ruins, flooded with shallow water, the remnants of stone houses crumbling around me. Shadows lurked just outside, their presence suffocating. I felt the weight of death, of grief, settling into my very bones.

I could let it consume me.

I could let myself float, dissolve into the darkness that coiled around my heart.

But then, Niamh’s words echoed in my mind.

Things are not always as they seem. Death takes many forms. Avoid each of them at all costs.

This was all an illusion. None of it was real.

I straightened, standing taller despite the weight pressing down on me. Looking and searching was only dragging me deeper into despair. I needed to move forward.

Just then, the massive, hooded figure leaned over the ruins. I watched it, something stirring deep in my chest.

"Death," I whispered.

It didn’t hear me.

It searched for a moment longer before moving on.

My mind cleared. I walked with purpose. I needed to get out. And suddenly, I felt the way forward.

A small courtyard, untouched by Death’s shadows. A floating cloak—the Cloak of Invisibility—hovered above a stone platform.

I stepped forward, grasping the fabric.

One down. Two to go.

I draped the cloak over myself, stepping past the remaining shadows with ease. Ahead, another platform shimmered with a soft glow.

This was the way forward.

Finally free.

Now where are you, Niamh?

As I stepped onto the platform, the world around me unraveled, fading into a sea of white once more.

Niamh’s voice surrounded me, calm yet unwavering.

"You have outrun Death thus far, but have yet to find me. Keep searching, but this time you will be unable to hide."

Out of the swirling white and drifting ash, another raised stone platform inked itself into existence. I stepped forward, my boots meeting solid ground as the world faded back into view. My gaze flicked around the space, brows furrowing in confusion. Wasn’t I supposed to have received the Elder Wand? Maybe that was later—

A sharp pulse shot through my fingers.

I glanced down just in time to see my wand shift, the familiar dark wood twisting and reshaping in my grip. It grew longer, the grain deepening, knots forming along its surface like coiled veins of power. The realization hit me in an instant.

The Elder Wand.

I lifted it as a shiver ran down my spine, but not from fear. The power humming beneath my fingertips was unlike anything I had ever held before. It coursed through me like a live wire, raw and intoxicating.

"Wield the wand you have been given," Niamh instructed. "Do not squander its extraordinary power."

I took a steadying breath, rolling my shoulders. Right. Focus. No matter how tempting it was to revel in the sheer force radiating from the Elder Wand, I had a job to do. And with this, the battles ahead would be nothing short of spectacular.

I turned my attention forward. Tall stone walls surrounded me on all sides, blocking any obvious path. No matter. If this wand was as powerful as legend claimed, then I wouldn’t need a path.

With a flick of my wrist and an aggressive thrust, I cast, "Bombarda Maxima!"

The explosion wasn’t just powerful—it was cataclysmic. The wall in front of me detonated, chunks of stone obliterating into dust as a shockwave surged through the air. My hair whipped back, the force pressing against my skin. I stared at the destruction, turning the wand over in my grip, awe bubbling in my chest before spilling into laughter.

"I am so glad I have to do these Trials alone," I mused, grinning. "Because if Sebastian was with me, he would be beyond jealous!"

I shook my head, still chuckling as I stepped through the gaping hole I had just created. The landscape beyond stretched in two directions. To my left, the remnants of the eerie village, now distant but still lingering like a ghost of what I had just endured. To my right, a towering keep, its dark stone walls looming against the ink-washed sky. A bridge stretched toward its entrance, the massive archway standing open—but thick, twisting shadows pooled beyond it, forming an impassable veil of darkness.

A clear message: I wasn’t getting through without a fight.

I took a step forward.

The moment my foot touched the bridge, columns of inky blackness slammed into the ground before me, sending a ripple through the air. The shadows coalesced, forming into cloaked figures, their tattered robes billowing like smoke. Their presence was suffocating, tendrils of darkness curling at their feet as they moved.

Six of them.

I smirked. Finally.

One of the shadows lunged first, its clawed hand slicing through the air toward me. I rolled to the side, raising the Elder Wand in a fluid motion.

"Depulso!"

A concussive blast erupted from the tip of my wand, striking the creature square in the chest. The force sent it hurtling backward, its form unraveling into wisps of black mist before dissipating entirely.

Another rushed from my left. I pivoted on my heel, whipping my wand upward.

"Conjunctivitis!"

The spell struck it directly, a sickly green light flashing across its obscured face. It stumbled back, clawing at the air as if suddenly blinded. I didn’t give it time to recover.

"Incendio!"

Flames roared to life, a wave of fire engulfing the advancing shadow. It writhed, screeching in silence as the fire consumed it, leaving nothing behind but embers.

Two more surged forward in tandem. I sprinted toward them, leaping onto the edge of the bridge’s railing to gain higher ground before flicking my wand downward.

"Flipendo!"

A powerful burst sent one shadow flying backward, slamming against the stone with a deafening crack. The second one lunged, but I was faster.

"Reducto!"

The spell hit center mass, and the creature exploded into nothingness, its fragments dispersing into the air like shattered ink.

The last two hesitated, sensing—if they could even feel—that they were outmatched. I arched a brow, tilting my head.

"Oh, don’t stop now," I taunted, twirling the Elder Wand between my fingers. "We were just getting started."

The figures darted toward me at once.

I stepped back, then sprinted forward at the last second, sliding beneath their outstretched hands. I twisted onto my back, aiming upward.

"Glacius!"

A jet of icy blue magic shot from my wand, freezing one of the shadows in place. Its form solidified, crystalline cracks forming along its cloaked body. With a sharp spin, I kicked it, and it shattered into nothingness.

The final shadow hesitated a moment too long.

I didn’t give it a chance to rethink its decision.

"Confringo!"

A fiery blast struck it head-on, the impact shaking the bridge. The creature gave one last shudder before evaporating into smoke.

Silence fell over the bridge. My breath came steady, my grip firm. The power of the Elder Wand still thrummed beneath my skin, exhilarating and deadly.

The shadow over the gate dissipated and I was able to move forward. I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders as I stepped forward. The stone bridge beneath me groaned under my weight, as if weary from centuries of decay. Beyond it, the keep loomed, its crumbling walls and jagged battlements standing as a monument to time’s relentless assault. It had once been great—proud towers and thick fortifications—but now, it barely clung to its own existence.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I found myself in an open-air courtyard. The walls enclosed me on all sides, trapping me within the ruin, but above, the sky stretched in endless white, clouds swirling like the elegant strokes of a quill. The entire world felt like it had been written into being, a carefully inked story where I was both participant and reader.

Another barrier of shadow sealed the path forward. Of course. I tightened my grip on the Elder Wand and steadied my stance. The moment I moved toward it, the air thickened with an ominous presence.

Shadows descended.

The inky tendrils of darkness slammed into the stone, and Death’s servants rose from them, their cloaks swirling like black mist. More than before. Much more. The ground quaked as Dark Mongrels clawed their way up from the abyss, skeletal forms barely held together by shadow. They snarled, empty sockets glowing with spectral hunger.

I barely had a second to react before the first wave charged.

I flicked my wand, summoning a torrent of ancient magic. The bolt arced between enemies, crackling through their incorporeal bodies. One of the Mongrels leapt for me—I sidestepped, raising my palm.

More ancient magic surged through my veins. A pulse of raw energy exploded outward, sending the beast flying. It slammed into the wall and dissolved into mist.

The rest were closing in. Too many. I twisted my wrist sharply. A portal burst open behind me, and I stepped backward through it just as claws raked through where I had been. I reappeared behind them, already mid-spell.

"Confringo!"

Fire erupted, licking through the battlefield. The Mongrels yelped as they burned away, but the shadows did not falter. One lunged, and I barely had time to react before its claws scraped across my shoulder. I stumbled back, wincing.

I retaliated with a rapid succession of spells. "Flipendo! Expulso!!" The last spell hit one of the Mongrels square in the face, blinding it. It howled, thrashing wildly before I put it down with a precise Reducto.

More shadows materialized. The second wave had arrived.

I gritted my teeth. My breath came quicker, but I refused to slow down. This was more than I had faced before, but I wasn’t about to let some illusions of Death bring me to my knees.

I raised my free hand. Ancient magic pooled at my fingertips, swirling with raw, untamed power. I slammed my hand against the ground. The courtyard trembled—golden cracks of energy fissured outward, and with a deafening boom, a massive shockwave erupted. The force shattered the weaker shadows instantly. The Mongrels, more resilient, shook off the blast and snarled.

One leapt, fangs bared. Too close. I twisted, opening another portal at the last second. It passed through empty air as I reappeared above it. I plunged downward, driving a charged Diffindo straight into its back. It collapsed into nothingness.

Only a few remained. They circled me, wary now.

I narrowed my eyes. Let’s finish this.

I spun the Elder Wand, gathering power. Then, in one final, decisive motion, I unleashed everything I had left. Electricity crackled, fire roared, stone shattered.

And then—

Silence.

The last remnants of shadow dissipated, leaving the air eerily still. My pulse thundered in my ears as I stood there, breathless, surrounded by nothing but ruin and fading embers.

I exhaled, steadying myself. The way forward was clear.

The dark veil over the entrance unraveled, peeling away like ink dissolving in water. Without hesitation, I pressed forward, stepping beneath the archway that had been previously blocked. A grand staircase stretched before me—or at least, what remained of one. Time had not simply worn it down; it had been destroyed, shattered beyond recognition. The stone crumbled beneath my boots as I climbed, each step a precarious gamble against gravity. More than once, my foot slipped on loose rubble, but I pressed on, gritting my teeth as I reached the top.

Turning a corner, I entered an enormous open space. It had once been magnificent. I could feel it. The remnants of its former grandeur clung to the ruined structures that framed the courtyard. But now, it was nothing more than a battlefield waiting to happen.

And then, it did.

A skeletal hand clawed onto the edge of the abyss at the far end of the courtyard. My breath hitched as Death itself began to rise. Not fully—only its upper half loomed over the field, but it was enough. The ground trembled as its hollow gaze bore down on me. Then, without warning, it slammed its fists into the ground. A shockwave of shadow exploded outward, surging over the courtyard like an ink-stained tide.

From the darkness, Death’s army emerged.

Shadows twisted into cloaked figures. Mongrels slithered from the abyss, their forms barely held together by the tendrils of magic sustaining them. And at the center of it all, standing taller than the rest, was a troll—its body wrapped in shifting darkness, its eyes hollow voids of nothingness.

A grin spread across my lips.

The Elder Wand pulsed in my hand, its power thrumming against my skin like a heartbeat. This? This was nothing I couldn’t handle.

I surged forward, magic exploding from my wand before the first enemy had even finished forming. "Bombarda Maxima!" The force shattered a cluster of shadows into oblivion, their remnants fading before they could even lift their weapons. I pivoted, sending a storm of fire roaring across the field. Incendio had never felt so strong. The flames licked at my enemies, consuming them in an instant.

I was unstoppable.

The Elder Wand had never felt this good in my hands. Every spell was effortless, every movement precise. The sheer force of my magic sent my foes reeling. I flicked my wrist, and a Mongrel crumpled as if it had been struck by an invisible hammer. Another attempted to lunge, but I barely spared it a glance before uttering, "Deprimo." The ground beneath it imploded, swallowing it whole.

Laughter bubbled up in my throat. I had fought so many battles, but none had felt like this. The raw, unbridled power of the wand consumed me, and I reveled in it. Every shadow I obliterated, every Mongrel I burned away—it was exhilarating.

More. I wanted more.

The troll roared, raising its massive club, but I wasn’t concerned. I leveled my wand at it and sent a bolt of lightning cracking through the air. It howled in pain, its body convulsing as the magic ripped through it. The creature tried to strike again, but I had already opened a portal behind it. In an instant, I was gone, reappearing at its flank before sending another devastating spell into its side.

It fell, twitching, before dissolving entirely.

The first wave fell. But I had no time to rest.

More shadows rose. Mongrels slithered forward. And this time, two trolls emerged, their monstrous forms casting long shadows over the battlefield.

I exhaled, rolling my neck. Screw it.

The Elder Wand spun in my grip, its energy surging through me like a drug. But then—

Pain. Sharp, searing.

A Mongrel’s claws raked across my side, tearing through my robes and sending me staggering back. The sudden impact yanked me out of my daze, my vision snapping into focus.

I had become so concentrated on the pure power of the wand, I didn’t even focus on what I was doing. I was so consumed by the wand’s strength that I had forgotten myself—forgotten what I was truly capable of. The Elder Wand was powerful, yes, but my powers were more than the wand I wielded.

I inhaled sharply, centering myself. My grip on the wand loosened for a brief moment before I switched it out—gripping my lightsaber instead. The blade ignited with a snap-hiss, the white light reflecting against the eerie darkness surrounding me.

Time to get serious.

The battle reignited around me, and this time, I fought with precision. I wove between the shadows, using my agility to my advantage. A portal snapped open beside me—I stepped through, reappearing behind a Mongrel and slicing it down in one clean motion. Another enemy lunged; I ducked low, sweeping my leg beneath it before driving my lightsaber through its core.

The trolls were relentless, their attacks shaking the earth. The Mongrels swarmed, shadows closing in. My side ached from my earlier wound, my breath coming heavier. I could keep fighting—but why should I hold back?

I smirked. Time to end this.

I lifted my free hand.

Power unlike any other surged through me as the Infinity Gauntlet gleamed to life. Energy pulsed at my fingertips, raw and overwhelming. The battlefield seemed to pause, as if sensing the shift in power.

And then—I unleashed hell.

A shockwave of red energy from the reality stone erupted from my palm, erasing everything in its path. The shadows disintegrated. The Mongrels dissipated into ribbons. The trolls—massive, unyielding—crumbled like sand, their very essence unmade by the sheer magnitude of my power.

When the dust settled, nothing remained but silence.

I stood in the aftermath, chest rising and falling, the Gauntlet still humming with untamed energy. Slowly, I lowered my hand, the glow dimming.

The battlefield was mine.

And the path forward lay waiting.

The Gauntlet pulsed once more, then dissolved into golden light, reshaping itself back into the Elder Wand. I gripped it tightly, staring at the intricate patterns along the wood. A thought crept into my mind—what if I placed the Elder Wand in my Arsenal with the rest of my weapons? The idea lingered for only a moment before I shook it away. I already felt overpowered enough with the Infinity Gauntlet in my collection. The last thing I needed was to wield the most powerful wand in existence on a whim.

The last archway stood ahead, its ominous shadow dissipating into the air. I stepped forward, entering a vast open corridor. The air was still, almost expectant, as if the very walls were holding their breath. My footsteps echoed softly against the stone, carrying me toward a familiar sight—a raised stone platform. I took my place at its center, bracing myself as the world around me faded into white once more.

For a moment, I basked in the void, feeling as though I was standing at the edge of creation, waiting for the next chapter to be written. Then, from the endless white, another platform materialized. Hovering above it was a small, triangular stone.

The Resurrection Stone.

I reached for it, cradling it in my palm. It was no larger than a button, unassuming in size yet burdened with immeasurable weight. A chuckle escaped me as I thought about Harry Potter dropping this exact relic in the Forbidden Forest before facing Voldemort. Such a small thing, with such great significance, lost to time and the earth. And yet, how strange to think that the real one currently within Ominis’s family.

"You are not yet finished," Niamh’s voice drifted through the white expanse. "Pass the mourners ahead. Nothing is what it seems."

Nothing is what it seems…

It was the second time she had told me that. I had to remember it I had panicked while hiding from Death and then also become drunk on power wielding the Elder Wand. I couldn’t let myself lose focus again.

A thought struck me, and I lifted my wand, inspecting it closely. The Elder Wand was gone. My own wand had returned. A breath of relief passed through me. That thing was a weapon, not a tool. I had been glad to be rid of it.

The world shifted again, color bleeding into existence. I now stood before a large open gate, its iron bars rusted with age. Beyond it, I saw a graveyard.

I stepped through cautiously, my eyes scanning the tombstones and sepulchers lining the area. But it wasn’t the graveyard itself that put me on edge—it was the people. Everywhere, witches and wizards dressed in black murmured amongst themselves, their voices hushed and mournful.

"She’s gone. Niamh’s dead."

"Dear, sweet Niamh. Taken from us."

"Let us always honor her memory."

Everything about their words felt wrong. Their sorrow was final, yet I felt no grief. No loss. Instead, there was only peace.

Curious, I decided to test something. I knelt down and gently placed the Resurrection Stone on the cold earth.

It hit me like a crashing wave.

Guilt. Pain. Sorrow. An unbearable weight of grief clawed at my chest, dragging me under. The whispers around me grew louder, shifting into wails of despair. My breath hitched, my vision swam—

I snatched the stone back up, gasping as the oppressive emotions faded. My hands shook as I closed my fingers around it.

That had been too much.

I pushed myself to my feet, forcing my focus back onto my task. I had to find Niamh.

Scanning the graveyard, my gaze finally locked onto something more chilling than anything else I had seen.

Death.

The skeletal figure hunched over a large sepulcher, its bony fingers clasping onto the stone as if unwilling to let go. And in front of the sepulcher laid Niamh. Dead.

My breath caught in my throat. Death turned its hollow gaze toward me, its attention flicking briefly to the stone in my hand. Then, without a word, it turned and drifted away, fading into the distance.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding before stepping forward. But before I could reach Niamh, the world around me fractured. The graveyard, the mourners, even Death itself—all of it melted into nothing, leaving only the woman lying motionless atop a stone box.

I hesitated, then reached out.

Before I could touch her, Niamh’s eyes shot open.

She sat up, then stood, her expression calm as if waking from a deep sleep. "You found me. But you cannot undo what’s been done. The magic of the stone can only conjure a shadow of my former self."

As she stepped forward, ink bled from her footprints, curling outward like tendrils. The blackness spiraled, consuming our surroundings and reshaping them. Within moments, we stood in a grand hall—tall, swirling columns stretching into a sky of endless parchment.

Niamh walked ahead, her pace slow and deliberate. I quickly followed.

"There is no light without shadow, as there is no shadow without light," she said, her voice steady. "Simply because you can eliminate darkness does not always mean that you should. Remember that as you witness my memory."

She lifted her hand. A graceful arc of ink spiraled from her fingertips, swirling into shape until it formed a Pensieve.

The first drop of color appeared—blue light, glinting off the swirling water.

Niamh gave me a knowing nod. I stepped forward, staring at the rippling surface.

Then, slowly, I leaned in.

The world tilted as I fell into the memory.

The moment my face broke the surface of the Pensieve, the world lurched.

Ink bled from the edges of my vision, spiraling outward, pulling me deeper into the memory. I felt weightless, suspended between past and present, watching history unfold as if I were nothing more than a ghost in its wake.

The scene materialized around me.

            I watched as Isidora Morganach and Niamh Fitzgerald walked side by side atop a glassy hill, the silhouette of Hogwarts looming in the distance. The sky above them was soft and muted, streaked with the last remnants of daylight, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape.

Their conversation was calm at first—measured. Though only an observer, I could sense the tension woven between their words. Niamh tread carefully, her voice steady but edged with concern as she spoke of Isidora’s decision to take away her father’s pain. The younger witch, however, was unwavering in her conviction, her posture rigid with self-assurance.

Then, Isidora revealed something that sent a ripple of unease through the memory.

She had found a way to contain pain.

Niamh’s carefully composed facade cracked. Her voice took on a new urgency, raw with concern, but Isidora was unmoved. She spoke passionately of her discovery, of her ability to harness suffering itself. And then, as if to prove her point, she turned toward Niamh, raising her wand with deliberate intent.

I felt a chill run through her as Isidora aimed directly at Niamh’s heart. There was no hesitation—only an eerie, focused determination. A tendril of dark, swirling magic unraveled from Niamh’s chest, writhing like living shadow as it coiled through the air. Niamh gasped, her body jolting slightly, but she did not step back.

"Isidora!" Niamh’s voice rang sharp against the quiet night, filled with unfiltered dismay. "What are you doing!"

But Isidora didn’t falter. Instead, she lifted the mass of darkness and, without a moment’s pause, inhaled it. The magic sank into her, its tendrils seeping into her very being. A tremor passed through her body, and for a moment, her eyes fluttered closed as though she were savoring it.

"Breathe it in," she whispered. "Can you feel it?"

The words sent an unsettling shiver down my spine. The act had been almost reverent—like Isidora was embracing something forbidden, something unnatural.

Niamh stepped forward, her disapproval cutting through the still air. "Oh Isadora. This must stop. All of it."

But Isidora had already turned away, her expression unreadable. Without another word, she strode forward, leaving Niamh standing alone on the hilltop, the wind tugging at her robes as she watched her student walk away.

The memory began to blur at the edges, dissolving into streaks of ink and light. I felt myself being pulled backward, weightless as I was expelled from the past and back into reality.

I let out an unvoluntary gasp as I lifted my head from the Pensieve, the chamber around me coming into focus. The tall, swirling pillars of stone towered above, their intricate carvings casting shifting shadows across the floor. The air was cool, carrying an ancient stillness that made her skin prickle. I took a deep breath, trying to shake the eerie sensation that lingered from what she had just witnessed.

Isadora was truly a mad woman, consumed by power.

I shuddered, rubbing my arms as if trying to dispel the chill that clung to my bones. That had been more than just a demonstration of power—it had been an obsession manifesting in real time. The way Isidora had inhaled the extracted pain, the way she had felt it—I couldn’t shake the image from my mind.

My gaze shifted, drawn toward the far wall. As if sensing my presence, the stone shimmered, shifting like liquid before parting to reveal an open passage.

The way to the Map Room lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The stone passage shimmered under my fingertips, the momentary pull of magic wrapping around me before sucking me through the barrier. The world twisted, the cool rush of transition washing over me like a tidal wave.

And then—

Solid ground.

Hogwarts.

Relief flooded through me, wrapping around my chest like a warm embrace. The dim glow of torches flickered against the chamber walls, the ancient stone floor grounding me once more in reality. The air was crisp, scented with parchment, aged magic, and something uniquely familiar—home.

My side bag was back.

I exhaled, adjusting the strap that had disappeared during the Trial. A small but welcome return to normalcy. I briefly considered rummaging through it for a Wiggenweld Potion—my arm ached from the Mongrel’s claw marks—but I pushed the thought aside.

I wasn’t alone.

Professor Fig’s head shot up the moment I had stepped into the Map Chamber. His expression—relief mixed with something bordering on pride—made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t expecting.

A grin tugged at my lips as I strode toward him, mirroring his own smile.

Before I could say anything, his arm wrapped around my shoulder in a firm side hug.

“Thank Merlin you are alright!” Fig said, squeezing lightly before stepping back to study me. “Not that I had any doubt, of course.” His eyes darted over my torn sleeve, the blood staining the edges. “Anything broken or bruised?”

I smirked. “Just a nasty scratch.”

I turned my arm slightly so he could see the deep claw marks cutting across my skin. The gashes stung, but they were nothing I couldn’t handle.

Fig’s expression darkened with concern, but I was already digging through my bag.

“But other than that,” I continued, finally wrapping my fingers around a familiar glass bottle, “I’m as steady as a Seeker.”

I uncorked the Wiggenweld Potion and downed it in one go. A cool, tingling sensation spread from the inside out, the wound knitting itself closed with practiced efficiency.

Fig sighed. “You’ll be the death of me, Jo.”

I grinned. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Before he could respond, movement flickered in the corner of my eye. My gaze snapped toward the portraits, where, for the first time, all four Keepers were present.

San Bakar stepped forward, his expression one of curiosity and intrigue.

“Is it true?” he asked, his voice carrying an air of disbelief. “Has someone completed the first three Trials?”

I tilted my chin slightly. “It is, and I have.”

Bakar studied me, his head tilting. “But… you are so—”

“Young?” I finished for him. “Not really.”

His lips twitched in mild amusement. “You must be Professor Bakar.”

“I am.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Jo McClam.”

Bakar’s sharp gaze flickered across my features, as if committing them to memory. “Perhaps the other Keepers—most likely Professor Fitzgerald—have already mentioned this, but you bear a striking resemblance to a young woman we once knew.”

I chuckled. “Alissa seemed to know everyone.”

Bakar’s brows lifted slightly, his expression shifting into something unreadable. I could see the gears turning in his head, his curiosity piqued. He hadn’t expected me to acknowledge Alissa so freely.

Before he could respond, Rookwood cut in smoothly. “We shall explain to you later, Professor Bakar. That is, if you don’t mind us telling him.”

I shrugged. “Not at all.”

Bakar still looked uneasy. His posture stiffened, and when he spoke, his voice was measured—careful. “Should I assume your relationship with Miss Cleroux was a good one? You have her same face, which means you are either a relative, which is fine, or you stole it from her, which is deeply concerning.”

My breath caught for just a second.

How was I supposed to explain this?

Alissa was my accidental creation—an echo of who I was before I even knew what I was. I had designed her to be everything I wasn’t, giving her my face as a reflection of the life I thought I could never live.

In a way, Bakar was right. We were connected.

But had Alissa truly stolen my face, or had I given it to her?

I opened my mouth, trying to string together an answer—

But Fig beat me to it.

“I have only known about the powers and responsibilities my young friend carries for a short time,” he said, his voice unwavering. “But let me tell you this—you have no reason to mistrust her. I have seen the pain she has endured, the sacrifices she has made. They outweigh any I or you would be able to imagine.”

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“And yet, here she stands, willing to help those in need. Let her help you.”

Bakar eyed him critically. “And who exactly are you?”

Fig straightened slightly. “I am Professor Eleazar Fig. I am Jo’s mentor. Although, most times, I feel she should be my mentor.”

Bakar regarded him with narrowed eyes, then turned toward the other Keepers. Rackham and Fitzgerald gave him reassuring smiles, while Rookwood nodded in silent agreement.

A heavy sigh left Bakar’s lips before he turned back to me. “I will continue to discuss with my fellow Keepers regarding the final Trial.”

I crossed my arms. “Is waiting truly necessary? I already know where the next Trial is and how to complete it.”

Bakar’s expression shifted to one of stunned confusion. “What? How do you know that?”

I hesitated for half a second. “Um… foresight?”

He looked entirely unconvinced.

“Regardless,” I continued quickly, “I won’t go unless I have your permission to start the last Trial.”

Rackham gave me a long look before nodding. “We will discuss it together. Return tomorrow, and we will have an answer for you.”

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. “Alright. I shall see you all tomorrow.”

With that, Fig and I turned toward the exit of the Chamber.

The conversation weighed on me more than I cared to admit.

Bakar had been suspicious. I didn’t blame him.

San Bakar was going to be the difficult one.

I had expected that.

In the game he was the most wary of the Keepers and I had suspected he would be the hardest to win over. But I had thought that mentioning Alissa—bringing up the undeniable connection we shared—might help sway him.

Suppose not.

The Map Chamber felt colder as I turned away from the portraits, the weight of Bakar’s scrutiny still lingering in the back of my mind. I could shake it off later.

For now, I had other things to focus on.

Fig let out a quiet chuckle beside me as we made our way toward the staircase. “I would love to come back with you tomorrow, but I’m swamped all day,” he said, shaking his head. “Promise to tell me what their decision is?”

I smiled. “Promise.”

We exited the chamber, stepping into the dimly lit passageway leading back into the dungeons. The torches along the walls cast long shadows, their flickering light creating a rhythmic dance against the stone. My boots echoed with each step, but the steady sound was grounding—pulling me back to reality, to the present, away from the gnawing thoughts of Bakar’s suspicion.

Fig hummed in thought beside me as we climbed the stairs. “You seem deep in thought,” he observed.

I shrugged. “Just thinking about something else entirely.”

“In that case, care to share?”

I hesitated, then looked up at him. “Does Hogwarts have any kind of celebration for the New Year?”

Fig raised a brow at the sudden shift in topic but didn’t comment on it. “Well, since there aren’t many students in the castle over the holiday, not much goes on. There’s usually a decent feast, but that’s about it.”

I hummed in thought. “Hmm… alright.”

He glanced at me, clearly intrigued. “What traditions did you have back in America?”

I chuckled, knowing he didn’t just mean back in the States—he meant back in my time.

“Well, in New York and a lot of other states, they do something called a ball drop. It’s a huge celebration in Times Square, packed with thousands of people counting down to midnight.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not my thing, to be honest. I never had any interest in standing in the freezing cold, surrounded by a crowd of sweaty strangers.”

Fig let out an amused hum. “Understandable. Anything else?”

I smiled slightly. “I grew up in Arizona, which is just north of the Mexican border, so there’s a lot of Latin influence. One tradition my Hispanic friends would do is eating twelve grapes in the final minute before midnight.”

Fig blinked. “Grapes?”

“Yep. One for every month of the new year. It’s supposed to bring fortune, prosperity, and love.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Interesting. Does it work?”

“Oh, heavens no,” I said with a laugh. “There’s no magic or science behind it—it’s just superstition. But it is funny watching people try to stuff twelve grapes in their mouths like chipmunks.”

Fig chuckled. “And other Muggle traditions?”

“There are tons, but it depends on the person whether they follow them or not.” I tapped my fingers against my bag absentmindedly. “A lot of people take a drink every hour before midnight.”

Fig raised a brow.

I shook my head quickly. “Not me, though. I grew up in a household that didn’t drink alcohol, and I never had an interest. Another common one is kissing someone right at midnight.”

“And have you done that one?”

I huffed a small laugh. “Nope. And at this rate, I probably never will.”

Fig gave me a knowing look. “What makes you say that?”

I let out a slow breath, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Because of how often I ‘travel,’ I hardly form strong enough relationships to even lead to something like that.”

As the words came out I knew it wasn’t true. But maybe if I said it enough I would believe it.

Fig smirked slightly. “I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

I groaned. “Not this again, Professor.”

“All I’m saying is that you’ve formed friendships with two particularly good young men—”

I threw my hands up. “You are not playing matchmaker with me and Sebastian or Ominis.”

Fig chuckled. “No matchmaking necessary. Just an observation.”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Professor, I try not to get too attached to people. And even avoiding attachment, I already feel bad enough about the friendships I have built. I’ll be gone by the end of the year, and then what? They spend the rest of their lives missing the girl they met at school?”

He didn’t answer immediately. I sighed again. “I avoid friendships in general. But sometimes… sometimes I’m selfish.” My voice softened. “Sometimes, I just want people I can talk to.”

By now, we had reached the top of the staircase, stepping into the quiet halls of the dungeon. The stone walls were chilled from the winter air creeping through the corridors, the distant hum of the castle filling the silence between us.

Fig suddenly stopped.

I turned, confused, only to find his hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me back so we stood eye to eye.

His expression was kind but firm. “Jo, it is not selfish to want friends.”

I swallowed.

He studied me for a long moment before tilting his head. “Have you read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled slightly. “Then you know The Warlock’s Hairy Heart.”

My stomach clenched.

I did know it.

The tale of a wizard who locked his own heart away, thinking himself invincible, only to become a creature incapable of love—incapable of being human.

I frowned. “Professor, I’m not in solitude. I have a family I built from the people I’ve helped. And together, we help people.” I gestured vaguely. “That’s not solitude.”

Fig nodded. “And the Warlock in the story lived in a castle, surrounded by servants and people. He was never physically alone, either.” His voice softened. “Jo, I’m not saying you’re alone. But you have a habit of locking parts of yourself away. You fear attachment because you fear losing people. And while I understand why you feel that way, you must be careful.”

I bit my lip.

“You have a beautiful and kind heart,” he murmured, giving my shoulder a small squeeze. “Do not let it shrivel away.”

I stood frozen for a second, unsure how to respond.

There was so much I could say, but none of it seemed right.

Fig gave me a knowing smile before patting my shoulder one last time. “Now, get out of here,” he said lightly. “Don’t you have some friends to spend time with?”

I huffed a small laugh. “Probably.”

He turned to leave but glanced over his shoulder one last time. “You do have friends, Jo. Never doubt that.”

And then, with a final nod, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving me standing there—shoulders lighter, but mind heavier.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Fig was right.

I needed to be more open.

The idea of it made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t deny that I had spent far too long keeping people at arm’s length. It wasn’t intentional—at least, not entirely. It was just how I had learned to survive. Growing up in a house where love was a second thought and attention had to be earned, I had conditioned myself to expect distance.

But that didn’t mean I wanted it.

I wanted to build strong, beautiful relationships—platonic and romantic—but I always found myself hesitating. Because in the end, I was leaving. And what good was a relationship when I was destined to disappear?

Still…

Sebastian was going through so much already. His life was only going to spiral further into chaos, and even though he didn’t know it yet, I did.

Anne.

My stomach twisted.

If there was even a chance I could find a cure, I had to. But I didn’t just need to find it—I needed to find a way to frame it, to make it look like something natural. Something explainable.

And time was running out.

It felt as if a countdown was looming over my head, pressing down on my ribs like a vice. If I was going to help Anne, I had to do it before Sebastian reached his breaking point.

I glanced at my watch. 1:06.

I had left the Map Chamber to start the Trial around 11:40. Meaning I had only been in there for about an hour. But… that didn’t add up. It had felt longer than that. Which meant—

I furrowed my brow.

Was it possible that no time had passed when I was inside the book?

With a sigh, I turned on my heel and started making my way through the dungeons, heading toward the stairs that led to the Grand Staircase. I had barely been walking a minute when—

BAM!

Something—or someone—slammed straight into me, and my head cracked against theirs.

I staggered back with a sharp inhale, my hands flying up to clutch my nose.

“Great golden Gobstones—”

“Oh my word, I’m so sorry, I—”

The voice cut off abruptly.

“JO!”

It was Sebastian.

And before I could even process what had happened, a pair of strong arms hoisted me off the ground and spun me around in a crushing hug.

Pain shot through my ribs from the residual bruising of the Trial.

“Ow,” I groaned. “It’s good to see you, but please put me down.”

Sebastian immediately set me back on my feet, his hands still gripping my arms like he wasn’t entirely convinced I was real. His gaze darted over me, sharp with scrutiny.

Then he paled.

“Your nose is bleeding!”

I blinked. “What?”

I reached up and dabbed my fingers just below my nose. Sure enough, warm blood slicked against my fingertips.

I sighed. “Brilliant.”

With my free hand, I flipped open the top flap of my bag and blindly searched for a handkerchief. But trying to dig through my mess of belongings one-handed—and without looking down—proved to be nearly impossible.

“Sebastian, can you—”

“On it.”

Without hesitation, he reached into my bag and started rifling through it himself.

A beat of silence.

Then:

“Bloody hell, Jo, how much stuff do you have in here?”

I huffed. “Just find something to stop the bleeding.”

He let out an exaggerated groan before finally pulling his wand.

“Accio handkerchief!”

Nothing happened.

Sebastian stared at my bag in betrayal. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, plan B.” He grabbed my wrist and tugged me forward.

“Where are we—?”

“No time for questions.”

I had no choice but to follow as he led me down the dungeon halls, weaving through corridors with quick, determined steps. I still held my nose, afraid the blood may trail down my face. After a few moments, he stopped in front of a door, yanked it open, and peeked inside.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Satisfied, he pulled me in after him and shut the door.

I had just enough time to make eye contact with Imelda Reyes—who had been passing by—before she disappeared behind the door. She had given me a look.

A very weird look.

I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. The porcelain sinks. The cracked mirrors. The eerie silence.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Suddenly Imelda’s look made much more sense.

“Sebastian,” I said slowly, turning to face him. “Why are we in the girls’ lavatory?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed some bath tissue from a stall, walked back over, and pressed it into my hand.

“For this,” he said simply. “Obviously.”

I deadpanned. “Okay, better question—why are you in the girls’ lavatory? Someone could walk in at any moment, you have to leave!”

Sebastian waved a hand dismissively. “From what I hear, no one likes to come in here. Something about it feeling too eerie.”

I glanced at the snake-engraved faucet across the room.

Gee. Wonder why.

“But that’s beside the point,” Sebastian continued, crossing his arms. “I’ve been looking for you for over an hour!”

I paused, pressing the tissue to my nose. “You have? Why?”

Sebastian gave me an incredulous look. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because your message said you were starting the next Trial soon?”

Oh. Right.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t even seen you since the goblin attack in Feldcroft! You hardly survived last Trial, Jo! Ominis and I just wanted to see you before you went in case—”

He cut himself off, his expression tightening.

In case something happened.

I swallowed. “Sebastian—”

“No,” he snapped. “I was thinking, and—don’t do the Trials. Just—just don’t. I know you want to learn more about Ancient Magic, but is there really more to learn? I see you get better and better every time we are in battle! It sounds like the Keepers are sending you on some wild gnome chase that could get you killed!”

I sighed. “Are you done?”

“No!”

He launched back into another tirade, but I barely heard him.

Instead, I turned and walked into a stall, grabbing some extra tissue to clean up the excess blood.

By the time I stepped back out, my nose was no longer bleeding, and my face was clean.

Sebastian was still talking.

I put my hand on my hip and gave him a pointed look.

He stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t listening to a word I just said, were you?”

I smirked. “Not a single one.”

Just then, the door creaked open, and a dim red light spilled into the room.

Ominis.

He stood in the doorway, wand raised, his expression unreadable behind the glow of his wand. His presence alone was enough to freeze both Sebastian and me in place—like two misbehaving children caught red-handed.

“And here I thought Imelda was messing with me when she said she saw you two slip into the girls' lavatory,” he said dryly. “What on earth are you doing?”

I barely had time to open my mouth before Sebastian pointed an accusatory finger at me.

“She dragged me in here.”

I gasped. “You dragged me in here!” I gestured to my face. “To clean up the blood after you ruthlessly broke my nose.”

Ominis sucked in a sharp breath. “By the stars of Circe, Sebastian!”

Sebastian groaned. “That’s not what happened!”

But Ominis wasn’t listening. He strode toward me in an instant, clearly forgetting—or simply not caring—that we were still in the girls’ bathroom. His hands hovered near my face like he wanted to assess the damage himself, but didn’t quite know where to start.

It was the sheer ridiculousness of the situation that did me in.

A bubbling laugh escaped before I could stop it. At first, I thought it would be just a chuckle—but the more I pictured Ominis storming into the girls’ lavatory like a hero arriving too late and Sebastian lecturing me for no good reason, the harder I laughed.

I doubled over, laughter shaking my shoulders, my hand pressed against my ribs to keep from aggravating my bruises. Sebastian and Ominis stood stiffly beside me, equal parts confused and exasperated.

Eventually, I managed to compose myself, wiping the moisture from the corners of my eyes.

“Oh, you two kill me.”

I exhaled a final breath of amusement before turning to Ominis first.

“No need to worry,” I assured him, gesturing to my face. “It was just a bloody nose, and it’s already subsided. Did Sebastian run smack into me? Yes. But no real harm done.”

Ominis let out a slow breath, looking unconvinced.

Then I turned to Sebastian.

“You,” I jabbed a finger at his chest as I smirked, “have no place to tell me not to do the Trials.” I tilted my head, a smirk forming. “Not to mention, I already completed it.”

Sebastian stiffened.

“What?!”

“I beg your pardon?” Ominis added, clearly just as shocked.

I simply chuckled. “Do you think there’s any food left in the Great Hall? I’m famished.”

I strode forward, fully expecting them to ask me to stop.

They did more than that.

I yelped as two hands yanked me back by my robes.

“Oh, come on—”

Sebastian spun me around, eyes narrowed. “When did you complete the Trial? Cassius gave us your message not even two hours ago!”

I shrugged. “I just finished it.”

Ominis’s brows knitted together. “That’s impossible.”

“It was located inside a book in the Headmaster’s office,” I explained. “I don’t think any time passed while I was inside.” I tilted my head slightly. “But somehow, I still managed to leave with some scrapes.”

Sebastian let out an incredulous laugh. “Of course you did.”

I turned my arm slightly toward him, knowing he could see the torn sleeve and healing scratch across my skin.

Ominis frowned. “Are you alright?”

“An undead wolf scratched me up pretty bad, and I got a few bruises,” I admitted, flexing my fingers. “But nothing major. I already drank a Wiggenweld, so I’m all set.”

Sebastian shook his head with a smirk while Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose.

“An undead…! I can’t believe you,” Ominis muttered.

“Well, you better believe it.” I crossed my arms. “I’m supposed to go talk to the Keepers tomorrow after they decide when to show me the final Trial. The sooner I complete it, the better.”

The words slipped out so easily. So calmly.

But the second they left my lips, my stomach clenched.

The final Trial.

The last one.

Then it would almost be time to leave.

I forced my smile to stay in place, masking the sudden weight pressing down on my chest.

Ominis scoffed. “Just because you passed this Trial doesn’t mean you’ll be so lucky next time.”

I rolled my shoulders. “True. But I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian let out a sharp laugh. “You’ll be fine?” His arms folded across his chest, and the relief in his expression hardened into disbelief. “That’s what you’re going with?”

I sighed, already feeling my patience thinning. “Yes, because it’s true.”

“You barely survived the second Trial.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Ominis, who had been quiet so far, exhaled slowly. “Jo, he’s right.”

I turned to him, eyebrows raising.

Ominis’s expression was unreadable, but his posture was tense. “Sebastian and I—we know you’re capable. But this magic you’re dealing with is unlike anything we’ve ever seen.” His voice was calm, measured. “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

Sebastian nodded. “Exactly. Let us help you.”

I scoffed, shifting my weight. “Help me how? You can’t just waltz into the Headmaster’s office and jump into the Trials with me. That’s not how this works.”

Sebastian threw up his hands. “Fine! Then stop doing them!”

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“Just stop, Jo!” he pressed. “You don’t have to keep putting yourself through this.”

My jaw tightened. “Yes, I do.”

Sebastian took a step closer. “Why? Who decided you had to do this? Who’s making you risk your life?”

I clenched my fists. “That’s not the point.”

“It is the point!” His voice was rising, frustration boiling over. “You’re treating this like some grand mission, but what are you actually gaining from it? What happens when it does go wrong?” His voice dropped slightly, but the intensity didn’t waver. “What happens when you don’t come back?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Ominis spoke first.

“We’ve already nearly lost you once.” His voice wasn’t sharp, wasn’t loud, but somehow it cut deeper than Sebastian’s did.

I turned on him, irritated. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“This time.”

The weight of those two words settled over me like a stone.

I shook my head. “This is my choice. I knew what I was walking into, and I know what I’m doing.”

Sebastian let out an exasperated breath. “Do you, though? Because to me, it just looks like you’re throwing yourself into danger without a second thought.”

That was it.

That was the moment I snapped.

I scoffed harshly, glaring at Sebastian. “Oh, and you’re one to talk?”

Sebastian’s expression darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I took a step forward, not caring how sharp my words came out. “You’re so worried about my safety, but maybe you should take a long, hard look at yourself first.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Jo—”

“No.” My voice rose. “You’ve been running around, making reckless decisions, playing with Dark Magic you barely understand, and I’m the one who’s being careless?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s rich, Sebastian.”

Ominis shifted beside us, frowning. “Jo, that’s not—”

“And you,” I turned on him now, “you’re really siding with him?”

Ominis’s face tensed. “I agree with him because he’s right.”

I scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

He took a breath. “Jo, you know I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it. You know how much we care about you.” His voice softened slightly. “We’re worried.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

Sebastian stepped forward. “Well, too bad, because we do.”

I felt cornered.

Trapped.

My breath came faster, my chest tightening. I hated this.

Hated the way they were ganging up on me like I was some fragile thing that couldn’t handle herself.

Hated how Ominis was standing there, acting like he knew what was best for me—

Hated how much easier everything would be if they just stopped caring about me at all.

I turned to Ominis, my words sharp as a blade. “I thought you said you’d stand by me no matter what.”

Ominis stiffened.

His lips parted slightly, like I had physically struck him.

Sebastian blinked, his frown deepening. “Jo—”

But I wasn’t done.

I took a step closer to Ominis, my voice lowering into something almost venomous. “I trusted you to be on my side.” My throat burned, but I refused to let it show. “I thought you understood me.”

Ominis just stood there.

Frozen.

His entire posture shifted, like he had just been doused in ice water.

And for the first time—

He didn’t have a response.

The moment stretched too long, too heavy.

Then he took a small step back.

The door creaked open.

All three of us froze.

Soft footsteps echoed against the stone floor, and a small girl—a first-year, probably—stepped inside. She stopped short, staring at the three of us with wide, owlish eyes.

Ominis exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “We’re leaving.”

No one argued.

Without another word, we all vacated the bathroom, stepping into the dim corridor.

Sebastian stood stiffly beside me, his fists still clenched. Ominis’s face was unreadable, but I could feel the tension radiating off him.

The air between us was heavy with everything unsaid.

Sebastian let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “Right. Well.” He shook his head slightly, then turned and walked away without another word.

Ominis hesitated, lingering for just a moment longer. He looked like he wanted to say something—like he was waiting for me to say something.

I didn’t.

He sighed. “Talk to you later, Jo.”

Then he, too, walked away.

I stood there, arms crossed tightly over my chest, staring at the empty space where they had just been.

A small part of me knew I had been in the wrong for snapping at them.

But I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

It took until the next morning before what happened sank in.

I had been completely in the wrong.

Fig’s words echoed in my mind, relentless as waves crashing against the shore.

"You fear attachment because you fear losing people. And while I understand why you feel that way, you must be careful."

And yet, what had I done? I had proved him right.

The very moment he reassured me that I had people who cared about me—who I could turn to—I lashed out and shut down. Again.

Sebastian and Ominis hadn’t deserved that.

Sebastian, who was already on the verge of losing his sister, who had just been kicked out of his home and was struggling to hold himself together.

Ominis, who had always stood by my side, regardless of my choices, regardless of how little I had ever told him.

And I had blown up on them.

The realization settled into my stomach like a heavy stone, weighing down every step I took. It wasn’t just them either—I had let my foul mood seep into other interactions. When Natty had vented about her mother’s strictness a little while after the lavatory incident, I had snapped, practically biting her head off for complaining when she didn’t know what real loss was.

The memory made me wince.

It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning, staring at the crimson canopy above my bed, that the events of the previous day clicked—like puzzle pieces sliding into place, forming an ugly picture of my own mistakes.

I had messed up.

Badly.

I needed to make things right.

So when I spotted Natty in the Common Room soon after waking up, I immediately pulled her aside, apologizing for my behavior. She waved me off with a laugh, brushing it away like it was nothing. “If I stopped talking to every friend that was snippy when they were upset, I’d have no friends left,” she joked.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, relief washing over me.

Natty forgave me. So maybe—maybe Ominis and Sebastian would too.

That tiny spark of hope carried me all the way to breakfast.

But the second I stepped into the Great Hall, that confidence evaporated.

Sebastian was already looking at me.

Not angrily, but far from happy.

His sharp eyes flicked toward mine, and then he turned back to Ominis, speaking in hushed tones. The way his brows pulled together, the way his lips pursed slightly—he was definitely talking about me.

Ominis, for his part, didn’t seem angry either.

But he looked… heavy. Like he was still carrying the weight of my words, the ones I had snapped at him in frustration.

I froze.

A battle raged inside me—Go over and apologize. No, give them space. No, just go, get it over with. No, they don’t want to see you.

I wanted to run over, to fix it, to tell them how sorry I was. I wanted to throw my arms around them and beg for forgiveness.

But something in their eyes made me hesitate.

They didn’t want to see me.

I felt like a deflated balloon, all the air knocked out of me in an instant.

Slowly, I turned away and walked to the Gryffindor table instead.

Natty greeted me with a warm smile, joking about my temper the day before. “I thought I was going to have to duel you,” she teased.

I chuckled, trying to match her lighthearted tone, but my heart wasn’t in it.

She was a good friend. A better friend than I deserved.

Fig had been right, as always.

I had friends.

I cared for them all so deeply.

Especially Ominis. Regrettably.

So why did I keep pushing them away?

Sebastian, Ominis, Natty—none of them had done anything wrong intentionally. They had simply cared about me. Worried about me. And I had shut them out.

What kind of person did that?

A terrible one.

But wasn’t this how it had to be?

I had spent so long protecting infinite dimensions—helping others. Was it worth doing it all at a distance?

For my own sanity? No.

But for their safety?

Yes.

It had to be.

And if there was one last thing I could do to make all of this worth it—one thing that could actually help—

It was finding a cure for Anne.

The thought solidified into resolve.

Finishing my breakfast quickly, I excused myself from the table and slipped out of the Great Hall. I kept my head down, my pace quick, ignoring the way my hands trembled as I clenched my fists.

I needed to focus.

I needed to fix something.

I found an empty, closed-off room, checking twice to ensure no one was around. Then, with a flick of my hand, I created a portal—its swirling energy casting a soft glow against the stone walls.

Without hesitation, I stepped through.

And just like that, I was gone.

I spent the rest of the day—and half of the next—holed up in the Peizer Estate.

It wasn’t like anyone at Hogwarts would miss me.

Ominis and Sebastian certainly didn’t want to see me.

The only one who might notice my absence was Natty, and she’d be fine.

It wasn’t like I had planned to come here. I had told Charles—and, by extension, everyone else—that I would spend as much time at Hogwarts as possible over the break, so they shouldn’t expect me to visit. But the moment I had stepped through the portal, all four of my teammates were there.

They were surprised to see me.

I hadn’t bothered explaining much, just that I had an idea and that it would take time to execute.

Then I had shut out any of their attempts to talk to me and got to work.

For hours, I pored over the data stored in the computer system—thousands of pages of research that both Alissa and I had compiled over hundreds of dimensions. Everything we had ever learned, every discovery, every theory, every cure we had ever come across.

If there was even a chance that one of them could help Anne, I had to find it.

Most of the day faded into the night. I barely noticed. I had locked myself in my room, ignoring any knocks or calls for me to eat or rest.

By the time I did emerge the following afternoon, I had done it.

The information was no longer just in the computer. It was in my hands.

A book.

An ordinary-looking book.

The leather cover was a deep blue, and at only about five centimeters thick, it looked no different from something pulled straight from the Hogwarts library. But inside?

Thousands of pages.

Pages that held everything.

I had slept for a few hours that morning, finalizing the details of my work. Now, as I sat cross-legged on my bed, I focused on something else—stitching the tears in my uniform from the Trial.

A knock at my door made me pause.

"Come in," I called.

The door creaked open, and Charles stepped inside, hands shoved in his pockets. He studied me for a moment before his gaze flicked to the book resting beside me.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his tone casual but careful. "Did you finish your book?"

I set my needle and thread down, picked up the book, and held it up triumphantly. "Yup!"

Charles raised a brow as he stepped closer. "So, uh—just to clarify—you completely lost me when you tried explaining this before. Why do you need a book, again?"

I grinned. "Because I need to find a cure for Anne, but I can’t do that while I’m at Hogwarts. There’s nothing in the wizarding world that can help her—not yet, anyway. So I need access to my information. And what better way to do that than by putting it all in a book?"

Charles looked unconvinced. "Seems risky."

"It should be fine. If anyone were to peek over my shoulder, all they’d see is a book on the history of the wizarding world. Foolproof."

Charles squinted at me.

I blinked. "What?"

He tilted his head, his expression shifting into something more serious.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I’m going to say something, and I’d like you to really listen to me. And this is coming from a place of love and concern—not judgment, not belittlement."

A pause.

"Are you alright?"

I stiffened. "Oh, not you too. I just had this conversation with Sebastian and Ominis!"

Charles’s brows shot up. "Oh? Well, that’s reassuring to know we’re not the only ones who think you’ve been acting strange."

I frowned. "We?"

"You think I wouldn’t talk to the others about this?"

I narrowed my eyes. "So you’re all conspiring against me now?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "It’s called being worried. We’re your family, M. We care. I don’t see the fault in that."

My first instinct was to get defensive.

To shut down.

But I caught myself.

Why was I acting like this?

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "I— I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s probably just stress."

Charles sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

I chewed my lip. "I just… I want to make the biggest impact I can on this dimension before I have to leave, and it feels like I’m carrying a ticking time bomb that will go off the second Sebastian casts the Killing Curse."

I ran a hand through my hair. "I’m not worried about Ranrok or Ancient Magic—I know I can handle those things. It’s these darn boys that are driving me insane!"

Charles smirked. "Oh mercy Lewis, this is a boy problem?"

I groaned. "Not like that!"

He lifted a brow.

I deflated. "…Okay, maybe a little like that. But it’s not the main issue!"

Charles chuckled, but said nothing.