Rose.

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, as if it would help ease the pain he was about to cause.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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 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.