Hogwarts Legacy Brainrot

Marlowe is a Muggleborn Metamorphmagus. The problem with being a Metamorphmagus is that it’s pretty hard to hide when your hair starts changing colors every time you throw a tantrum. Which meant his parents knew very early on that there was something different about him.

After kindergarten, it was decided that he’d move from Germany to London to live with his aunt, who was already part of the wizarding world and could help him navigate all the weird magical nonsense. He never blamed his parents for it. still writes them constantly and visits whenever he can.

His aunt owns a magical plant shop and is basically the reason he knows anything useful. She taught him about magical plants, potions, creatures, cooking, and generally how not to accidentally die.

Marlowe absolutely adores her.

Which is why he becomes unbearable whenever she starts dating someone new. Every boyfriend gets investigated. Every boyfriend is suspicious. Every boyfriend is probably hiding something - no evidence required. He just hates the idea of some random bloke showing up and acting like he belongs in their lives.

Growing up in the shop means Marlowe is weirdly good at anything involving plants. He can identify most magical herbs by smell alone, knows exactly how much sunlight a plant needs, and talks to them when nobody is around. He denies this.

He’s also naturally talented at Potions because, according to him it’s just cooking but people pretend it’s harder. This statement has started at least three arguments with top students.

Care of Magical Creatures is another subject he’s annoyingly good at because animals seem to like him. Probably because they can tell he’s genuine. Loud, rude, impulsive, foul-mouthed but genuine.

His grades would actually be excellent if he could go a single week without getting into a fight.

Unfortunately, Marlowe suffers from a chronic condition called ‘seeing something unfair and immediately making it his problem.’

He rarely starts fights for himself.

Bully a younger student? Fight.

Insult his aunt? Fight.

Mess with one of his friends? Fight.

Make someone he cares about cry? Congratulations on your upcoming funeral.

He’s the type of person who gets detention for punching someone and then argues with the professor because he’d do it again.

But his biggest flaw isn’t his temper.

It’s denial.

Marlowe can identify fifty different magical plants. He can brew advanced potions. He can read Quidditch formations at a glance.

He can absolutely not identify his own feelings.

The entire school will know he has a crush before he does. His hair will literally turn pink.

He will still deny it.

He is, unfortunately, an idiot.

A lovable idiot. But an idiot nonetheless.

Also somewhere under his bed is a shoebox full of old letters from his parents, childhood drawings, Quidditch tickets, and little keepsakes he’s collected over the years.

If anyone finds it, he’ll throw himself into the Black Lake before admitting how sentimental he actually is.

Despite being a Metamorphmagus, Marlowe barely uses his abilities.

Most people assume he’d love them. He doesn’t.

His hair changing colors with his emotions is one thing. He can’t control that. It’s as natural as breathing.

But actively changing himself? That makes his skin crawl.

No matter what happens, no matter how bright or ridiculous the color of his hair becomes, the roots remain dark. Black. The same color as his parents’ hair. The same color they’ve always been. The same color he started with. Most people never think twice about it.

But Marlowe has a deep fear that if he changed too much, if he leaned too heavily into an ability that lets him become anything, eventually he might lose himself.

So he keeps the changes small. Just his hair because he can‘t help it anyways.

Very funny that his Patronus turned out to be a chameleon. A shape-shifter with a shape-shifting Patronus. How fitting.

Took Marlowe years to understand that while a chameleon constantly changes it never stops being a chameleon.

Saturday September 12th, 1891.

                  “Are you certain you don’t want to come with us, Sebastian?” Ominis fastened the button on the cuff of his sleeve. “It’s unlike you to turn down an investigation like this.”

Ominis hadn’t stopped talking about it; Sebastian’s decision to stay behind with Elizabeth this weekend.

                  “I’m certain.” Sebastian affirmed, sitting at the edge of his bed. “Besides, you’re leaving before sunrise—I wish to go back to sleep.”

                  “Do not lie.” Ominis grumbled, heading for the door. “You will be in the restricted section before Anne and I have even set foot outside the castle.”

Sebastian scoffed, grinning smugly.  “You seem so sure—”

                  “I know you, Sebastian.”

                  “Sure.” Sebastian huffed, rolling back onto his bed as he teased Ominis: “Enjoy your day galavanting about with my sister.”

Sebastian didn’t expect the soft smile that tugged at Ominis’ lips.

What in Merlin’s name…

                  “You make it sound like punishment.” Ominis recovered quickly, straightening his coat. “I’ll have you know I rather enjoy spending time with Anne. She is far more tolerable than you will ever be.”

                  “Rude.” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

                  “Just—” Ominis sighed, turning back to Sebastian, “make sure Elizabeth stays out of trouble today, will you? She will obsess over this all day if she is left alone.”

                  “I know, I know. I am her friend too, Ominis.”

                  “Yes, well—ever since your apology she seems to be in higher spirits. Whatever you’re doing to distract her, it seems to be working.” The door creaked faintly under Ominis’ hand, making their roommates stir.

The grumbling and groaning would at least account for Sebastian’s silence.

He couldn’t tell Ominis why Elizabeth had been in higher spirits; why she had a seemingly inexplicable resurgence of hope.

                  “Anne and I hope to return before nightfall, we will meet you in the room of requirement.” Ominis whispered, trying not to anger their roommates any more than he already had.

                  “We’ll be there.”

They wouldn’t.

The door clicked shut, the sound of Ominis’ footsteps fading down the hall shadowed only by the disgruntled groans and snores of sleepy Slytherin’s.

Sebastian waited as long as he possibly could, his leg bouncing in anticipation. This is the day they’d been waiting for; the perfect opportunity to escape and investigate.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

He leapt out of bed, grabbing his clothes and heading for the showers.

He ran his hands down his face as the warm water embraced him.

His and Elizabeth’s plan was simple—easy. Far easier than most of the adventures they’d been on in fifth year, but somehow, he couldn’t escape this sense of unease, the fear that gripped his heart and refused to let go, the burning feeling in his hands—

Enough.

They were going to be alright. They’d planned every minute of this since Thursday. He was sure of it.

Yet the guilt kept creeping in.

Should he be doing this? Everyone else is trying to protect her? Were they right? He’d put her through enough already…

SLAM!

Sebastian’s hand cracked against the tiles.

He hated this; second-guessing himself. He was making the right decision. He knew that. Elizabeth assured him of it.

She needed this.

He needed this.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed their adventures, missed her. This was a way to repay her, too. In some sense. Well, a start at least.

Besides, Elizabeth was more than thorough in her planning. They had the perfect disguises.

It was better than his ideas had been, at least, but while brilliant, he despised their disguises. He’d never been one for wearing any sort of headwear but—as Elizabeth said—they needed to stay hidden. Castle Combe was a small village. Everyone knew everyone, and Sebastian was an outsider. Should anyone see his face? They’d pounce on him like a pack of starving wolves. And if they saw Elizabeth? He didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The tap squeaked under Sebastian’s fingers as he twisted it.

Never before had he been so rough while dressing himself—so tense.

Sebastian rounded every corner with caution, skulking through the halls of Hogwarts, ensuring he wouldn’t be seen as he made his way to the Room of Requirement.

He spotted Elizabeth standing against the wall by the entrance—pocket watch in hand, near unrecognisable.

                  “How the hell did you do that?” Sebastian whispered, standing beside her with a grin.

                  “Do what?” she whispered back.

                  “Get all of your hair under that thing?” he gestured to her hat.

                  “Very, very, tight braids.” She pulled it back to reveal three chunky braids atop her head—tight.

                  “Those look—”

                  “Painful?” She finished his sentence for him. “Honestly, what hurts most is my arms.” She winced, rolling her shoulders. “It took nearly an hour to get it this flat.”

                  “You couldn’t have just… cut it a little?” Sebastian suggested innocently.

Clearly, it had been a most unwelcome recommendation.

Sebastian had never seen her glare at him like that.

                  “Alright, alright—I get it. No cutting it.” He raised his hands in defence.

                  “I only let my mother cut it. Even then, I don’t like it.” Elizabeth said, fiddling with the edges of her waistcoat.

She looked like him; white cotton shirt, brown overshirt, a loose brown waistcoat, and black cotton trousers.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have taken her for a boy.

Perfect.

                  “You know what, this really suits you.” Sebastian teased—snickering.

Elizabeth gave him a small shove on the arm. “Oh, shut up.”

A small snort escaped him—an embarrassing sound that made him clear his throat and ask:

                  “Do you think Deek will be in the vivariums by now?”

                  “Almost,” Elizabeth started, looking back down at her pocket watch. “He’ll be in there in two minutes. He always goes to the coastal vivarium at 6:30 sharp.”

Sebastian’s laughing ceased when he saw Elizabeth take that deep breath, sighing to herself. Her leg bounced restlessly.

                  “Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, his eyes fixed on her leg.

                  “Hm? Oh, yes of course.” She placed her hand on her knee, stopping it. “I just— it feels wrong. Going there knowing they’re not there.”

                  “So, let’s bring them back.” Sebastian said plainly.

He saw it then—the way she tried to smile. She didn’t respond with words: only slow nods.

Not another word passed between them as the hands ticked.

6:30am.

Deek would be in the vivariums—distracted.

                  “Let’s go.” Elizabeth stood, her hand reaching for the door.

She didn't open it with the same bright intensity she normally had though. 

It irked Sebastian.

The room was quiet—still. Nothing but the sound of an enchanted broom against floorboards. No pitter-patter of tiny footsteps.

Good.

                  “Oo! What are you up to now?”

Sebastian and Elizabeth aggressively shushed Ignatia Wildsmith’s stony face.

Must that plaque always be so noisy?

Elizabeth groaned, whispering their destination.

A bright flash of green stung Sebastian’s eyes as Elizabeth disappeared.

His turn.

With a heavy sigh he whispered: “Diagon Alley.”

・☽・✧・☾・

Heavy sighs of relief escaped the pair as they slumped onto the seats below, dust rising as they sank.

                  “Merlin’s beard—” Sebastian breathed, resting his head against the wood-panelled wall behind him. “Is London always like this?”

                  “In my experience?” Elizabeth tilted her head. “Yes. It is.”

Sebastian let out a quiet huff, removing his cap to run a hand through his hair. He wished to forget their journey here, to Chippenham station:

Crowds that didn’t part.

Voices that never seemed to lower.

The constant shove of impatient shoulders.

The smog. Merlin only knew how people survived in such conditions.

And the eyes—Gods—the eyes.

There were too many of them. Every corner, every street, every damn step—another pair of eyes.

Sebastian had never seen Elizabeth so nervous, so quiet. He’d never seen her head so low, though, he knew it was for the better.

Even as they boarded the cart to the station, she’d barely looked up, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves as they bobbed over uneven roads.

Even now, she barely glanced toward the window before her attention dropped again, quick and deliberate.

                  “It’s not so busy in Chippenham,” Elizabeth pulled him from his thoughts, “or Castle Combe. Though, that brings with it another set of trials.”

                  “You mean nosy old ladies who would recognise that red hair in an instant?” Sebastian smirked.

Elizabeth shot him a warning glare: “Yes. Exactly that.”

                  “Well, I’m sure no one will give us a second glance dressed like this. You look like a stable boy.” He snorted quickly—trying (and failing) to hold-back his own laughter.

And then a small, breathy laugh.

He could see it in her eyes, the way Elizabeth tried to stifle it, but it escaped anyway.

                  “I most certainly hope so. The bored mothers and grandmothers of Castle Combe are often relentless.” She smiled softly.

                  “Perhaps they are only relentless around young girls known for breaking their sons' noses.” Sebastian turned away, unable to hide that cheeky grin.

Elizabeth scoffed, shaking her head. “I never should have told you that. You know I didn’t intend to—”

                  “Magic doesn’t just happen. There had to be some intention behind it.”

                  “Alright, alright.” She laughed, finally relaxing, uncrossing her arms as the train's whistle bellowed through Paddington station.

Thick, white clouds of steam engulfed the train as it jolted forward, as did silence around Elizabeth and Sebastian.

He didn’t want to notice it, how close they were, how their knees were mere inches apart, how she sighed when the train started to move faster and faster like she dreaded it all.

He needed to talk about something—anything! Or else—Merlin forbid—they’d suffer the entire two-hour journey in complete silence.

                  “So… Garreth’s party,”

Oh, for the love of Merlin—he scorned himself immediately for his decision.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her head jolting upward. “W-we don’t need to discuss—”

Sebastian couldn’t help but press a little harder given that reaction. “I don’t think it’s entirely wrong of me to ask—”

                  “It is.”

                  “Why do you wish to avoid the conversation?”

                  “It is simply not the time.” Elizabeth’s fingers gripped the edge of her seat a little tighter.

                  “I think now is the perfect time.” He gestured to the space around them.

                  “You are mistaken.”

                  “I don’t think I am.” Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes thinning in suspicion.

No response.

                  “Weasley planned that entire night just to kiss you, Lily.” Sebastian fiddled with a muggle coin, twirling it between his fingers. “Rather romantic, is it not?”

                  “He planned the game to kiss me, not the entire party.”

Sebastian noticed the way she refused to meet his gaze, the way her cheeks turned red. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Elizabeth’s head snapped to him again, eyes hardening. “Sebastian—”

                  “Did you like it?”

Silence.

Elizabeth’s eye twitched with a cold intensity then.

                  “Did you like kissing Katherine?”

Sebastian’s entire demeanour shifted—every ounce of feigned indifference melted away like snow under fire.

And oh, was Elizabeth’s gaze burning.

                  “That wasn’t the question.” Sebastian said flatly.

                  “It certainly looked like you did.”

                  “I was drunk.”

                  “Barely.” Elizabeth scoffed.

Ouch.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, their chests heaving a little too fast.

                  “You’re right, perhaps now is not the time.” Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, looking out the window, watching as the smog slowly faded as they neared the countryside.

A long moment passed between them, both refusing to pull their eyes from the window.

                  “I’m sorry.” Sebastian cleared his throat.

                  “Me too.” Elizabeth sighed softly, finally pulling her gaze away from the glass to look at him.

The entire world seemed to stop—as did his breathing.

                  “H-he asked me about it a few days ago,” Elizabeth shook her head; her throat looked tight. “just before you came to apologise, actually.”

                  “And?”

Too quick.

                  “I said it wasn’t the time—well, he knew it wasn’t the time. I just… confirmed it, more or less.” She turned back to the window, gazing upon the sodden soil and green pastures. “He didn’t want to ‘burden me with such matters’, I suppose.”

Sebastian didn’t respond, but his fists clenched.

                  “Has Katherine been—”

                  “Yes.” He said bluntly. “She has.”

Elizabeth turned back slowly, “Not the time?”

                  “No,” he shook his head. “Not the time.”

A moment of silence stretched before that familiar grin tugged at Elizabeth’s lips.

Oh no.

                  “Though, if it were the time—”

                  “Lily,” he warned, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

                  “My apologies,” she pressed her cheek against her fist, elbow resting against the slim window-sill. “I’m surprised she took no for an answer.”

                  “I told her the truth. That’s why.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’m trying to restore a relationship with my twin sister and my best friend while also trying to assist my other best friend find her parents.”

                  “My, my. She must pity you.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “It is not her pity I want.”

                  “So, space then? One would have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to court a lady as beautiful as Katherine—”

                  “Lily!”

                  “Alright, alright, I yield.” She surrendered, unable to stop herself from giggling.

                  “You are the relentless one.” Sebastian grumbled, trying his hardest not to give in to the laugh that wanted so desperately to escape. “You’re worse than Anne.”

                  “Oh please, Anne doesn’t need to ask questions about you. She simply knows.”

                  “Unfortunately for me, I think that’s true.”

The pair laughed together, though it didn’t last long enough.

Soon, the silence rose again.

                  “I suppose there isn’t much I can do to take your mind off your parents for a moment?” Sebastian’s hands clenched in his lap.

                  “Did I ever take your mind off of Anne?”

More often than he’d like to admit—at the worst of times.

                  “No, I suppose you didn’t.” He lied. Though it seemed to fool her for now.

Elizabeth bit her lip almost obsessively. Her lip would surely bleed if she kept doing this. She was spiralling.

He needed to say something—anything.

                  “Do you want to—”

                  “What if I’m recognised?” Elizabeth cut him off, eyes locking onto his once more. “What if we’re caught? The authorities would call my grandmother in an instant—”

                  “Lily.” Sebastian nudged her with his foot. “Breathe, would you? And stop pretending that’s your grandmother is your main concern.”

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but it was the only way to stop her.

Well, stop this version of her.

                  “Sorry.” She said softly, fidgeting with her hands. “I just… I dread being there without them.”

                  “I know you do. I know I certainly couldn’t go back to Feldcroft without Anne there.” Sebastian looked at his hands.

The memory of Anne’s disappearance stung—the pain never truly fading even after their reunion. In truth, Sebastian’s mind spiralled whenever he thought about it; how much longer it would have taken Anne to see him had she not returned to Hogwarts.

                  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Should anything happen I can always just—”

                  “Call for Mrs. Bennet?” Sebastian looked up.

                  “No.” Elizabeth scoffed.

A beat passed.

Sebastian grinned.

Elizabeth groaned again. “Fine, yes, perhaps I was hoping to call upon Mrs Bennet should something go wrong but she cannot know I’m here otherwise.”

                  “And why is that?”

                  “She’d kill me.”

                  “I doubt she’d resort to something so drastic,” Sebastian shrugged, “though, I must say, sometimes it is tempting.”

                  “Hey!”

                  “What?” Sebastian said innocently. “With all your reckless adventures and secret midnight raids it’s hard not to get frustrated.”

Elizabeth shook her head, scoffing once more as her arms folded over her chest. “Stop it.”

                  “Stop what?”

                  “This!” Elizabeth’s hand stretched between them, mere inches from his chest.

                  “And what is ‘this’?” He raised an eyebrow cockily.

                  “Distracting me.”

                  “Distracting you?”

                  “Yes!”

                  “I don’t think I should stop.” Sebastian shook his head, slouching against the cushions with that devilish grin.

                  “And why is that?” She tilted her head.

                  “It’s making you tolerable.” He teased, earning yet another scoff.

But Elizabeth wasn’t laughing like she was before though… the sound was somewhat hollow.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched; the playful glint in his eyes faded. “Shall we go over the plan again then?”

                  “Yes… I think that would be helpful.”

・☽・✧・☾・

Never before had Elizabeth’s boot felt so heavy as it hovered over the platform.

She didn’t want to touch the ground at Chippenham station. Not without her parents.

It felt wrong. This all felt so very wrong—

                  “Lily,”

Elizabeth’s head snapped in Sebastian’s direction.

His hand was outstretched—an offering. “If I promise to buy you a butterbeer will you—”

Thunk.

                  “Well, that answers that question.” Sebastian pulled his hand away—she hadn’t taken it.

Elizabeth didn’t look at him—couldn’t. She needed to stay focused; she needed to stay hidden. She adjusted the brim of her hat, making sure to tuck those rebellious curls away, and keeping her eyes trained on the ground when she spoke:

                  “Do you remember what you have to say to the—”

                  “Castle Combe, the Castle Inn.” Sebastian responded quickly as they approached the carriages just outside the station. “Then it’s just a short walk home—no main roads. Avoid the school and the bakery at all costs—”

                  “And the nursery,” Elizabeth added before he could finish.

                  “And the nursery.” Sebastian echoed.

Silence fell upon them again as they allowed the remaining passengers to pass.

No one paid them any mind—thank Merlin—even the people she recognised.

Mrs. Mason from the church, Mr. Tanner from the tailor shop—even Mr. and Mrs. Kent. The parents of that boy—Theodore—who used to torment her back at school before she moved away.

Not even they saw her—and they loathed her.

Elizabeth and Sebastian let the other passengers board the carriages and carts first—thankfully there was still one cart left.

Elizabeth barely heard Sebastian as he spoke to the coachman—not as the train lurched forward with that familiar sound of the pistons and steel rods chugging as they found their rhythm.

                  “Is your friend coming?”

The coachman’s voice—rough and lazy—pulled her from her daze.

Sebastian held out his hand again to help her into the cart.

This time, she took it.

・☽・✧・☾・

Elizabeth stared at it—the little wooden gate to the back garden.

She froze.

Sebastian must have noticed she’d stopped following him because he was already turning toward her.

                  “Lily,” he reached for her hand again, but stopped just before he touched her.  “we need to get inside before we’re seen. It’s a miracle no one else is out here.”

It truly was a miracle. The park behind her home was quite lively at this hour… and that only made things feel worse.

                  “Right, sorry.” Elizabeth shook her head, fixing her eyes to the grass below. It was still cold from the dew of the morning.

Elizabeth’s hand hovered over the wooden gate, flexing over the little metal lock—slightly rusted.

                  “Let me,” Sebastian reached around her, moving to open the gate.

He tugged at it several times. Once, twice, three times—

                  “Here,” Elizabeth pushed him gently aside. “You have to lift the gate a little or else the latch get’s—”

Elizabeth lifted the gate just so and tugged on the latch.

                  “—stuck.”

The gate swung open. Easily.

Too easily.

The gate didn’t get caught in the grass anymore. It simply glided over…

Strange…

Elizabeth looked at Sebastian with a look that screamed: that wasn’t right.

By the furrowing of his brows, it seems he understood.

They crossed the small garden quietly—their boots squelching in the damp earth.

With trembling hands, Elizabeth reached into her pocket for her keys as Sebastian kept a watchful eye on the meadow behind them.

Elizabeth reached for the doorknob, pressing her fingertips against the metal before snatching her hand back sharply.

It burned. And not because of the cold.

Her breathing was uneven now—erratic. Her limbs felt useless. The trembling got worse—no matter how much she begged it to stop. No rational thought would make it stop.

She lifted her hands again trying desperately to align the key to the lock, but she wouldn’t stop shaking.

                  “Elizabeth—”

A sharp but quiet cry escaped Elizabeth as her hand planted itself firmly against the wooden door in sheer frustration.

Why couldn’t she just do this? She needed to do this! She’d faced trolls and goblins and dark wizards but this?! A door—

Sebastian’s hand clasped over her right hand holding the key and slowly pried it from her shaky grasp.

                  “Just- let me.” Sebastian didn’t shove her—didn’t force her away—he just guided her.

Normally she’d push back or fight against him whenever he tried to move her, but her body felt much too weak.

The door clicked as Sebastian turned the key, the gentle weight of his hand against the door was enough to push it open—creaking as it went.

Sebastian waited for her to enter first, despite how utterly still she was, staring into her home.

                  “We can go back—”

                  “No.” Elizabeth’s voice was breathy, but her word was final.

She wasn’t turning back.

She hissed, forcing back tears and whatever dread kept her from moving forward, and took her first step onto the wooden floor.

It crackled and creaked underfoot.

Elizabeth heard the door shut behind them gently and turned.

Sebastian rested his hands against the doorknob, his back pressed against the wood like he was trying to keep something out—but his eyes wandered over every inch of the room they were in—the kitchen.

It was small—quaint and cosy and…

Clean.

Why was it so clean?

Elizabeth’s expression shifted from fear to confusion in an instant.

                  “What is it?” Sebastian asked.

                  “There’s no flour.”

                  “What do you mean there’s no flour?” He pushed himself off the door.

                  “I mean, there’s no flour.” Elizabeth gestured to the countertops—to the wooden bench centered to the room—the place her father would always prepare loaves of bread. “It’s clean.”

She spun—her eyes scanning every surface.

Her mother’s teacups weren’t by the kettle on the stove. They were always by the stove.

And the bowl atop the wooden bench—usually full of apples—was gone.

No flour. No teacups. No apples.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Well, of course it’s clean. Someone would have cleaned it up—surely. Perhaps Mrs. Bennet—”

                  “Not this well.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Throwing away fruit, sweeping the floor—sure—that is understandable but the teacups? The bowl being put away—?”

                  “What teacups?” Sebastian stepped forward.

                  “My mother always left at least two teacups by the stove, ready for tea.” Elizabeth pointed to the countertop. “They’re placed neatly—intentionally. You can’t tell me the authorities would have tidied that much, can you? This is…”

                  “Methodical?”

                  “Right…” Elizabeth turned away again. “Besides—this is still an open investigation. No one should have touched this place.”

Elizabeth’s head darted from corner to corner when Sebastian decided to move further, walking toward an archway to the living room.

                  “Elizabeth?” his voice sounded more worried than usual.

                  “What is it?” she turned, walking toward him.

He didn’t answer.

What could it—

Elizabeth saw it then—the sitting room—it was in complete disarray.

Shattered glass from photographs once sat atop the mantle was scattered across the carpet, cushions and blankets were strewn across the floor, the furniture was overturned—

The tea table was split in two as if someone had been thrown onto it.

Sebastian called her name—possibly. She wasn’t quite sure; she wasn’t really listening.

Her mind was consumed by the thought of what could have possibly happened here. She imagined it—the fight that could have led to such carnage but… she couldn’t.

Her parents were not stupid. Her mother may have been like her—stubborn and brave—but like her father, Áine was no fighter. And her father...

William would have shielded Áine—she knew that—but this?

                  “Elizabeth—” Sebastian gasped.

                  “This is wrong.” She cut him off sharply.

Sebastian stepped into the room. He whispered her name again, but she didn’t respond.

She crouched beside the broken tea table, running her hand along the splintered wood. “They wouldn’t have fought like this…” she whispered, her throat bobbing as it fought back against tears.

Sebastian searched the rest of the room. He was looking for anything when—

                  “Here,” Sebastian pointed toward a black mark on the wall.

Elizabeth’s head turned.

The mark Sebastian was pointing to—it was clearly left by a rogue spell. The wallpaper was singed and ripped. Elizabeth froze; her eyes fixed on the stain on the wall.

She was right.

She stood to investigate, but Sebastian stepped in front of her. “Don’t.”

His warning didn’t matter. She continued to stare through him until he forced her to look away, turning her around with a gentle tug on her arm.     

                  “Let’s keep moving.”

Elizabeth’s head turned back to the spell mark as they walked through the ruined sitting room, stepping over broken glass and embroidered cushions that had taken her mother hours to perfect—now torn.

She felt her heart in her throat.

                  “Come on,” Sebastian said softly, leading her out of the sitting room through another wooden archway—the one that led to the entrance of their home. A narrow hallway with stairs to the right and another arch leading back into the kitchen.

Elizabeth’s head immediately turned to the front door, expecting at least some sort of damage, but… it seemed pristine.

                  “I- I don’t understand,” her voice shook as she spoke, her face pale.

There was still broken glass in this room—photo frames that had been hanging on the wall beside the doorway above the entry table.

A small broken sound left Elizabeth as shattered glass cracked underfoot.

She looked down, lifting her foot when—

                  “The photographs are gone,”

Elizabeth’s head snapped up at the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

She looked around the room.

He was right.

Every photograph had been removed—their frames overturned to hide their absence.

                  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Elizabeth whispered.

Sebastian crouched by the frames, tilting his head. “Didn’t you say The Ministry came here?”

                  “Once—briefly. I’m not even sure they came inside.” Elizabeth entered the sitting room again.

No photographs.

                  “Would the muggle authorities have taken them?” Sebastian stood, walking back to her.

                  “I haven’t the slightest idea why they would.” Elizabeth brushed past Sebastian again, barging into the entry.

                  “Perhaps they needed photographs of you. Aren’t they looking for you too?” Sebastian followed close behind.

                  “The Ministry said they would handle it,” Elizabeth’s hand gripped the banister of the stairs. “And besides, why would they need that many?”

                  “The Ministry does tend to say many things they do not mean.”

The pair of them walked up the stairs in silence—though the air had shifted around them.

Elizabeth turned back to Sebastian as they reached the landing. “If the Ministry never came and they never handled the problem of my absence with the authorities then—”

                  “You’re missing too.”

                  “Or worse,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

                  “Surely they wouldn’t suspect you would they?”

Elizabeth shot him a glare as she turned, walking to her parents bedroom with slow, measured steps.

Another perfect room.

The bed sheets weren’t wrinkled slightly like they usually were. They were flat and tucked perfectly under the pillows.

Sebastian followed behind her, watching Elizabeth closely as she ran her hand over the bed sheets. He picked up a small frame on the bedside table—empty—and sighed.

                  “This one is missing too.” Sebastian shook his head, setting the frame back down.

Elizabeth stood up, bringing one hand up to bite her knuckle.

                  “What is it?” Sebastian asked.

                  “What is what?” Elizabeth’s hand fell from her face.

                  “You’re doing that thing again.” He gestured vaguely at her face.

                  “What thing?”

                  “The thing when you have a theory and don’t like it.”

A sharp breath escaped Elizabeth’s lips at that.

Damn you.

She paced back and forth and bit her knuckle again.

                  “What if they knew?” she stopped suddenly, clutching her hands in front of her face.

She knew she looked terrified.

                  “Knew what?” Sebastian asked—not following.

                  “What if they knew someone was after them? What if they took the photographs?”

Sebastian’s head turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he listened to her.

                  “Sebastian, what if they were leaving.” Elizabeth’s fists clenched a little tighter.

Without a moment to pause, Sebastian rounded the bed and took Elizabeth’s trembling hands in his.

                  “Elizabeth,” Sebastian stared into her soul with an unwavering resolve. “they wouldn’t have left without writing to you—you know that. And besides, it doesn’t explain the spell mark on the wall—the broken table! They weren’t about to abandon you.”

Elizabeth was still for a moment, staring back at him with an almost pleading expression when she started to nod.

                  “Y-you’re right,” she took a deep breath, “they wouldn’t just—”

A soft, tearless sob escaped her.

                  “No. They wouldn’t.” Sebastian squeezed her hands in his just once.

Elizabeth’s eyes fell back to the empty frame on her father’s bedside table. Her breathing becoming unsteady again when—

                  “Lily,”

Sebastian’s voice was soft, low, calm…

And his hand was warm on her chin when he tilted her face to look at him.

                  “Let’s keep moving, alright?”

Elizabeth swore she felt her heart stop in that moment, felt the exact moment her lungs trapped the air inside of her and refused to let go of it—refused to let go of this moment.

She gulped silently—still not breathing—and nodded.

He nodded back and let his hand slowly slip away from her face and hands.

It was only when Sebastian turned away that she felt she could finally breathe again.

She shook her head before following him into the hallway.

They were just about to reach the stairs when—

                  Click.

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped.

She reached for Sebastian’s arm, pulling him back behind the wall as the front door swung open.

Sebastian stumbled back, catching himself on the wall with his arms over Elizabeth’s head. His body was mere inches from hers—but she couldn’t move. Not if she didn’t want to be heard—or worse—seen.

                  “Ma’am, I can assure you, we’re doing everything in our power to—” a voice called from the entryway.

Elizabeth knew that voice. He was a regular at the bakery her father worked at, his daughter was a former pupil at her mother’s nursery.

A policeman. Senior Inspector Carter.

                  “Are you?”

That voice… that voice was new. She hadn’t heard that voice before.

It was demanding.

A woman’s voice—older, perhaps—and regal. Like she’d spent her entire life being served by anyone and everyone who had the displeasure of meeting her.

                  “This house is still in disarray and I have received no correspondence from any of your constables in weeks.” The woman complained.

Inspector Carter sighed. “Ma’am, we have been overwhelmed with information, but I assure you, William and Áine’s return is our priority—”

                  “Your inability to manage your cases is none of my concern Mr. Carter.” The woman scoffed. “Nevermind them, what of the girl?”

The girl?

Sebastian peered around the corner, but Elizabeth pulled him back sharply.

                  “Miss Quinn is safe and accounted for, I can assure you. William—”

                  “So you have confirmed her presence at St. Magdalene’s?” She cut the inspector off again.

St. Magdalene’s… Elizabeth thought. That was the school her parents said she was attending when anyone from the village—save for Mrs. Bennet—asked where she’d gone.

                  “Our constables confirmed her attendance but a fortnight ago, Ma’am.” Inspector Carter reassured the woman.

                  “Is that so?” the woman stepped forward, her boots clicking on the creaky wooden floors. “How curious.”

                  “I beg your pardon?” 

                  “I said,” the woman’s voice sounded like silken venom, “how curious.”

Elizabeth stiffened.

As did Sebastian.

Neither of them liked the sound of this woman’s voice.

                  “Because when I went to collect my granddaughter from St. Magdalene’s just last week, the headmistress informed me they’d never had an Elizabeth Quinn in their care.”

Granddaughter…  No, no, no, no, no.

Elizabeth’s heart raced—her chest started heaving. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears as her blood ran cold.

Sebastian must have noticed. He pressed his finger to his lips—a warning.

                  “I- I don’t understand,” inspector Carter stuttered, clearly shocked. “My officers assured me that her enrolment was confirmed—”

                  “Your officers are either incompetent or have something to hide Mr. Carter. I suggest you find out which.” The Dowager hissed.

The Inspector choked on his words—spluttering and stuttering until the Dowager spoke again:

                  “See to it that all your resources are reallocated to locating my granddaughter, Mr. Carter. Her parents have clearly made their choice. I believe you have enough reason to consider Elizabeth abandoned—”

                  “Ma’am, I simply must protest—”

                  “You must do as I say, Mr. Carter!”

                  “Your son and daughter in law were clearly attacked—”

                  “My son,” the Dowager growled, “abandoned his family and his title for that girl’s mother and now he’s done the same to his own daughter. Look upon this room, Inspector. There are no portraits, no fresh flowers, nothing to suggest they were taken. My son left willingly. I see no reason to believe he behaved differently this time.”

Inspector Carter was silent at that.

                  “I expect your letter regarding my granddaughters whereabouts by the weeks end, Mr. Carter—Oh—” glass crunched under the Dowager’s foot. “I will see to it that Miss Quinn’s custody is forfeited to me. Do we have an understanding, Inspector?”

For a moment, it was silent.

Elizabeth’s heart felt as if it were clawing its way out of her throat.

                  “Of course, ma’am,”

Mr. Carter’s voice sounded forced. Elizabeth could hear it. The reluctance and fight in it.

She knew Mr. Carter; knew that he liked her father—respected him.

And this… this willingness to undermine his character like this… the betrayal stung.

                  “Good,” the Dowager replied sharply. “I expect this house to be cleaned and prepared for new tenants as soon as possible, Mr. Carter. It is clear that William nor Áine will be returning.”

                  “Ma’am, the property would belong to—”

                  “Why do you think I am preparing it for tenants, Mr. Carter?” she turned, her voice breathy and almost… offended. “My granddaughter—wherever she may be—will need money; a dowry. This income is assuring her future, Inspector.”

Elizabeth’s face paled.

A dowry…

Sebastian looked more... confused; like he didn't know what it meant.

                  “Forgive me, ma’am, it was not my place.” The inspector moved to open the door for the Dowager as they turned to leave. “I can assure you that everything will be taken care of.”

                  “I should hope so, Mr. Carter. I do not wish to be disappointed again.”

The Dowager stepped out the door, her boots clicking across the worn stone path as she left.

When the door clicked, Sebastian rushed back inside Elizabeth’s parents’ room.

                  “Sebastian—” Elizabeth fell into the space where Sebastian had been before scrambling after him.

He crouched by the window facing the front yard, peeking through the glass when he caught a glimpse of the Dowager’s carriage as the Inspector followed her inside.

                  “Is that the Quinn family crest? There, on the carriage door.” Sebastian pointed to it subtly.

She crouched beside him, ensuring to stay hidden.

Elizabeth’s eyes thinned. “I- I don’t think so,” she responded, trying to get a closer look when Sebastian pulled her back by the wrist.

Their eyes locked for a moment.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, turning back to the carriage before it could roll away. “The Quinn family crest—to my father’s description—doesn’t have any flowers on it. I think he said it was a horse.”

Sebastian turned away from her to look at the crest again. “Why would she be in someone else’s carriage?”

                  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth said softly—almost defeated.

                  “Perhaps she remarried?”

                  “She would have no reason to.” Elizabeth shook her head, stepping away from the window. “My grandfather had wealth beyond even my comprehension. She needn’t worry about money.”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest.

Elizabeth bit her lip again.

                  “Lily,”

                  “Hmm?” Her head jerked up to the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

                  “Are you alright?”

Elizabeth shook her head—no. “She can’t do this. Surely she cannot do this.”

Sebastian’s expression dropped.

                  “They were taken! The Inspector knows they were taken but he just stood there!” Elizabeth panicked. “They didn’t leave me! They wouldn’t—”

Elizabeth sobbed as Sebastian engulfed her in a tight embrace. She clung to him for dear life, but Sebastian said nothing. He just let her cry.

She didn’t know how long they were standing there, but she appreciated his patience, his presence—his warmth.

                  “Do you think you can keep going? We can leave if—”

                  “No,” Elizabeth pulled away slowly and wiped her eyes, “no, I can keep going. There’s only one room left.”

                  “Your bedroom?” Sebastian asked.

Elizabeth only nodded and shoved her hands into her pockets as she turned to lead Sebastian into her bedroom.

When she opened the door, she expected the same scene. The same perfection she’d found in every other room, only… her room seemed untouched. The white, floral patterned sheets on her bed were slightly ruffled—just as she liked them. Her pillows weren’t fluffed to perfection, there was still dust on her window-sill…

She walked inside slowly—carefully.

                  “They didn’t touch a thing.” Elizabeth whispered. “It looks exactly the way mother leaves it before I arrive for the weekend.”

Elizabeth ran her hand over her books in the case beside her bed. Alice in Wonderland, The Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen, Little Women—

                  “Oh—”

Sebastian fumbled with a music box on Elizabeth’s dresser. One he’d almost dropped—clearly.

                  “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing the box back down with care.

Elizabeth stood, though her hand lingered on the wooden bookcase. A small half-smile curling her lips at Sebastian’s fumble.

                  “I- I think we should go,” she said softly, patting the wood twice before stepping away.

Oh, how her heart ached.

                  “Of course,” Sebastian followed her out of the room, though she didn’t miss it when he took a final glance at it before closing the door—like he wanted to stay in there and investigate it.

Typical. She smiled to herself as she walked down the stairs.

They were approaching the kitchen through the archway past the stairs when—

                  Creak.

The pair of them froze. Their eyes wide and horrified when.

                  “Elizabeth Áine Quinn.”

Oh, dear Merlin have mercy—

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