sunnyrealist

In his short years, Sebastian had read many books and skimmed through many more, but none were capable of engrossing him so quickly as Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook. A single glance at its cover was enough. Even closed, it felt enthralling, as if the writing of the man himself pressed through the leather, and Sebastian could almost sense the pull of it.

One of the founding fathers of Hogwarts.

His book was of the legendary status and was sought by everyone alive.

And now it was held by his weakening hands.

Old books such as this contained unfathomable wisdom, he was sure of it.

He waited a few long days before he was able to plop with it on the floor in the Undercroft. On the off minute he wasn’t musing about what he was about to discover, he wondered if he should be doing this alone. Some tomes were dangerous, so dangerous in fact, that a presence of a teacher was required to even attempt a reading session. And some tomes were simply misunderstood and could bring only joy- and joy is meant to be shared.

But, with who?

Ominis hated the book – would disdain it once he recognised its potential!

MC found a similar book deep in the library – and did not share it with him!

It would be just Sebastian and the walls of the Undercroft – sole witnesses of the ancient wisdom!

Sebastian sighed and the book fell open to a random page as he placed it on his lap.

The parchment was ancient, heavy under his fingers, and yet stubbornly sturdy, though dry as bone, as if it had been waiting here for centuries. Thick, dark iron ink crawled across it in a language he barely recognized, familiar only in the shapes of its letters. There were smudges where a hand had dragged through the writing, and darker spatters of something long-faded in circular stains near the neat lines of initials that marked the ends and beginnings of passages. (Ancient pumpkin juice, aye?)

Text and imagery on previous and following pages looked the same. Nearly the same. No concise, pristine and short spells in sight.

Sebastian, chagrined but nevertheless deeply fascinated, opened the first page.

It is always like this with such books.

Wizards of the past used to write and write and just – interleave whenever they would run out of clean parchment only to write some few more pages of musings and preaching, intercepted by parts of spells. Sometimes a few pages long passage was the spell. Only the very old books were written in this fashion; Fig adored them, for whichever reason.

Sometimes, a spell was an entire ritual.

Sebastian feared anything like that could await him.

He was fascinated.

He caught himself thinking he was ready to replace all his schoolwork with this book.

Yet, he did not have time to remain enthralled.

He focused his gaze on a lavishly decorated opening page.

A whole menagerie of mythical beasts and creatures awoke as he looked at them.

They moved, frenziedly, within interconnected miniatures – like in tiny enclosures – that were lit with faint warmth of golden glow, as if the illustration had its own little Sun which, after centuries of waiting, came to shine within square environs at last.

Merfolk spooked the crow. The grey blanks stared, unfinished. A mischievous cat dropped from the top of the illustration onto a silver line so bright it looked newly laid. Where it landed, colour spread: a deep evening blue blooming across the parchment.

A knight from the left threw its headgear to the cat. That corner instantly tinted green, like it grew moss. The cat knocked it onto three maids sitting by the lake below, from which it had been kicked, with rich ochre following suit, the head landed on the turf of a large black dog.

It gave it a languid sniff. And then, escaping a forest environment, came a humongous boar.

As the remaining colourless part of the page turned blood red, outlines of landmasses came through as long squiggly lines outside the environs, roughly resembling Scottish, Irish, Welsh and English lands, placing each actor creature at what Sebastian assumed were more or less precise locales of homelands of each founder of Hogwarts.

No spells so far.

But that illustration – a truly magnificent work! – did it have any copies?

Had anybody else seen this?

A stray thought of eventually giving the book to Hogwarts library knocked at the back of Sebastian’s mind.

Not until he finds what he needs.

And not until he sees what’s in MC’s book.

“Where’s MC?” Sebastian asked after joining Ominis at the Slytherin table in the morning.

“Hmm,” Ominis replied dryly, refilling his cup. “How should I know?”

Sebastian scoffed and bitterly remarked, “Seemed to me like you two became awfully close yesterday.” He grabbed a piece of toast, spreading butter over it. 

As Sebastian used his knife to slather strawberry jam on top, the blond took a long sip of tea, frowning. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d want to get closer to you after what you did to her yesterday.”

Even though no one was sitting near them, the brunet’s eyes glanced left and right, checking for eavesdroppers. He lowered his voice, spitting out, “You know we didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. And you chose wrong.” Ominis’s voice was unwavering and critical. “You didn’t even apologize to her afterwards.”

Sebastian chose not to respond. Instead, he scowled, biting into the toast.

Ominis didn’t initiate any further conversation, quietly eating his porridge.

There was a roar of laughter across the hall, where Garreth Weasley was entertaining a handful of Gryffindors, telling a story accompanied by wild gestures. Sebastian rolled his eyes in disdain. He finished his toast, then loaded his plate with roasted potatoes, a scoop of baked beans, two fried eggs, baked cinnamon apple slices, and a blueberry scone. 

After several wordless minutes, Sebastian finally asked, “You know that special book MC has? Why do you suppose she keeps it so secret? I don’t understand why she won’t tell me anything about it or at the very least just let me look at it.”

Ominis pondered it, then was short. “She probably has a good reason. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Fine. I get it. You’re mad,” Sebastian noted, annoyed. “I’ll just shut up, I guess.”

Once again, Ominis didn’t answer, silently peeling an orange.

Sebastian shoveled food into his mouth, then stood abruptly. “Whatever. See you later.” He snatched an orange himself, tucking it into his robes, and then stomped away, not waiting for his best friend to respond.

He considered returning to the Slytherin dorms to study more of the spellbook, but he decided he ought to find MC. The library was the first place he checked, but there was no sign of her there, so he headed to the Undercroft.

The dimly lit space was quiet and serene. As he stepped out of the elevator, he immediately spotted MC. 

She had clearly used a transfiguration spell to create a couch, its cushions made of dark blue velvet. Her head laid against a matching pillow. Her long hair, normally kept in a braid that fell over her shoulder, was undone and wavy. Her lips were parted, and he could hear her snoring. 

A smile tugged at Sebastian’s lips as he observed her, sound asleep.

She really was quite pretty.

It was endearing, though a bit strange, seeing MC in this state, when she was normally so serious, graceful, and put-together.

Her arm lay outstretched, off the couch entirely; on the floor, underneath her delicate hand, was a book. She had probably slipped into dreamland while reading… 

Wait. 

A book?

No. Not just any book.

The book.

The one she always kept hidden.

He couldn’t believe his luck – what an opportunity this was.

Sebastian crept closer, cautiously picking it up. His eyes were glued to MC’s face as he backed away slowly. When she didn’t stir, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The cover was made of worn brown leather. He could tell that it was very, very old and required special care. 

He delicately opened the tome, peering at the first page. The parchment was yellowed and blank. He flipped the page.

Blank.

Again, he turned the page – blank again.

What?

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Page after page – all blank.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered to himself.

He fished his aspen wand out of his robes. He peeked at MC; she was still in the same position with her eyes closed. He tapped the book and then cast “Revelio.”

Nothing happened. 

Was this a prank? His brows furrowed. Or… perhaps it is charmed to–

“What are you doing?” 

Sebastian froze as MC’s voice rang out.

“O-Oh, MC – y-you’re–” he stuttered.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, her voice even colder this time as she stared at the open book in his hands. 

“I– uh, it seems you fell asleep. I just got here,” he explained, trying to sound confident. “You– You dropped this book. I picked it up for you.” He hurried to her side, holding it out to her. “Here.”

MC stared at him for several seconds, not moving a muscle. Sebastian felt as though she could see right through him, and a flush came to his cheeks, knowing he had been caught – that she knew he was lying. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then he looked down to avoid eye contact. 

No, you idiot, don’t look at her–

His breath caught when he realized that her collared shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and he could see a great deal of her skin. What’s more, there was an angry, red, lightning-shaped scar that began on her chest and disappeared under her top. It was fresh…

Hold on – I’ve seen a scar like this before…

Ominis’s back…

The truth hit him as MC took the book from his hands. The blood drained from his face.

He had done this. In the Scriptorium.

“MC…” he began, his voice wavering. “The reason I’m here – t-the reason I was looking for you… is because I wanted to a-apologize. I’m… so sorry for what happened yesterday.” 

Sitting up, she held the tome to her chest protectively. “Sebastian, we had to cast the Cruciatus, and I consented to it…” She sighed. “But I will admit that I didn’t particularly appreciate your behavior towards Ominis in general – or how you acted towards me after you did it.” She glanced away, her eyes glassy. “It felt like you didn’t care about me at all.”

“That’s not true,” he murmured, feeling like a total dick. “I promise you – that isn’t true in the least.” He considered what else there was to say, inhaling deeply. “I… didn’t know what to do. It was… uncomfortable. I thought it might be best if I just got us out of there as fast as possible.” 

MC studied his face for a long time before speaking again. “I guess I can understand that. But… you need to apologize to Ominis.” 

He stared at his feet. “Alright... I’ll think about it.” 

When they maneuvered into the cramped elevator together, Sebastian’s mind was racing – but Ominis had nothing to do with it. He was still wondering about MC’s book. He had watched her read it, take notes, study its contents… The blank pages didn’t make any sense. Maybe it was charmed for security reasons…

“So, I have a meeting with Professor Fig,” she told him, touching his arm as they exited the Undercroft. “I’ll see you at lunch later?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Take care.” 

MC nodded, then started to walk away. Sebastian remembered the orange he had taken from the Great Hall, and he reached out to stop her.

“Hey, since you missed breakfast, I grabbed this for you.” He pulled the fruit from inside his robes and handed it to her.

MC stared at it for a long moment, then accepted it. “Thank you, Seb.” She opened her arms to hug him in appreciation, and he turned pink.

After she wandered off, Sebastian noticed that a stray hair had ended up on his robes. He moved to pluck it off, then paused.

An idea struck him suddenly.

Polyjuice Potion.

Circumstances had it that Sebastian saw himself alone in the Undercroft that evening. Ominis whereabouts were the common room, making first years cry after convincing them that mermaids were carnivorous and every Halloween, their fins turned into legs and they came into the school searching for prey.

And what were the odds? Halloween night was tonight. 

MC was somewhere in the Highlands, raiding poachers’ camps and making Goblins rethink their existence. Sebastian would’ve offered her the pleasure of his company, but he was still holding on to that strand of hair she graciously left on his clothes. He yanked open cabinets and cupboards, searching for the vials with the potions he had brewed  once upon a time, knowing that a day like today would come. He found the Polyjuice bottle in the back, the colour the most intense green he had ever seen, almost like troll vomit. But as Sebastian dropped MC’s hair in it, the potion became a beautiful pastel blue that smelled just like her: vanilla and horrible decisions. 

Sebastian threw his head back, drinking the thick contents until he sensed a sharp pain in the middle of his navel. The vial fell on the ground, shattering into a dozen pieces, while he felt as if he was shattering into a hundred. The magic zapped through him, the change nearly instant after. The first thing he noticed was the matter of the… well. 

Let it be said that Sebastian Sallow was a gentleman, first and foremost. So he would never look at a woman’s breasts without permission. The problem was, these breasts were Sebastian’s – technically. 

“MC is going to have my balls, as soon as I grow them back,” he thought to himself.

With that threat hovering over head – and his balls – Sebastian left the Undercroft with one destination in mind. The book he was so desperate to read had to be in The Room of Requirement, where MC had taken residency when she wasn’t terrorizing the magical community, because surely she would never bring it with her. In there, she had stuffed all of her multicolored outfits and trafficked animals. He couldn’t be sure she wasn’t a poacher herself with the amount of vivariums she had conjured; she even had bloody chickens in one of them. Not that he complained. The days where he woke up late and missed breakfasts, she made him fried eggs.

On the way to the seventh floor, he saw Everett Clopton carrying a pile of books bigger than his head. The Ravenclaw seemed to be struggling to open the door into a classroom, and their eyes met while Sebastian purposely strode through the corridor.

“Hey, MC.” Clopton panted. “Could you get the doorknob for me?” 

Sebastian made a grimace. “No.”

Clopton seemed irate, his body shifting to face Sebastian, who didn’t stop walking. “Rude. Did you sit on the wrong side of a broomstick today?”

“Yeah, on your mother’s side.”

Sebastian threw over his shoulder without dignifying the Ravenclaw with a stare, before hurrying up the stairs. When he reached the empty wall, the door into the Room of Requirements was already open for him. A notable change from the fact that most days, Sebastian had to beg to come in – no pun intended.

“Is this what it feels like to be a celebrity?”, he thought to himself.

However, when he marched inside the chamber, he found something he didn’t see every day: Deek was weeping a river, a book held in his tiny hands. The book Sebastian had wanted to study. Alarmed, he ran to the elf.

“What has happened?” He asked, staring awkwardly at the way Deek used his rags to wipe away tears. Sebastian patted the top of his head.

“M-miss…” The elf cried, offering the book to him with a shaky pulse. “Miss told me not to read the book, and Deek did. Deek was curious about it.”

“You did?” Sebastian said with eagerness, remembering who he was supposed to be. So he cleared his throat and tried again, accepting the old tome. “Bad Deek.”

“Deek must punish himself.”

“Later, later… First tell me what you found in there that is making you so upset.”

The elf sniffled so hard, he nearly choked. “Deek read some sort of spell off one of the pages, out loud. Deek didn’t realize what it was until Deek looked outside of the window, and saw them coming towards the castle.”

“Saw what?”

“The zombies.” Deek hid his face in his hands, weeping again. “Deek has raised the zombie apocalypse.”

Let’s just say that Sebastian was in a panic.

He was inside the body of the girl who he fancied, and said girl's house elf friend had opened the very book he wanted to read. Now there were zombies marching on towards the castle. It was turning into an eventful Halloween afterall. Where was MC when Hogwarts needed her most?

Grabbing the book from Deek’s hands, Sebastian set it aside as he sat in front of the sobbing house elf. He needed answers. “Focus. How were you able to read the book?” That sounded like something MC would say in this kind of situation. Right? But it only made Deek sob harder, his wails echoing through the ROR. Sebastian groaned. This was no help at all. “Deek, please, I can’t fix this if you don’t answer my questions.” At last, something had managed to elicit a response.

“Deek has heard Miss whisper a password before opening the book. Deek is sorry for eavesdropping and going against Miss’ wishes!” A password? Of course, how could he be so stupid? Of course MC would have a super secret password to a super secret book, with a spell to raise bloody undead. Deek sobbed again and began to run away in shame. “Wait, Deek? What’s the-” But it was too late, Deek had disappeared. “...Password. Well, shit.” Hogwarts was screwed.

No scratch that, Sebastian was screwed. 

Not only did he have a zombie problem to deal with, he would have to deal with a furious MC. He’d be better off trying and failing to not get turned into a zombie. No one survived when the fifth year had set her rage on you. ‘Kill me now,’ Sebastian thought, ‘kill me now.’ Well he better get started on trying to stop a zombie apocalypse. And see if he can find a way to do it before MC gets back to see what happened. The last thing Deek needed was the fury and rage of the girl.

Welp, the zombie apocalypse in fact, was not a zombie apocalypse at all. 

Sebastian had learned that the hard way as he was flying over the hoard. They weren’t deathly pale or rotting. No, it was far different. They were past the point of rot, with black skin and bugs crawling over them.

They were Inferi. It was a hoard of bloody Inferi.

Sebastian supposed this might be better than zombies. Inferi were easier to deal with than zombies, and way less contagious. And all he had to do was set them on fire, without starting a forest fire. That would be the hardest part. But he would for sure need MC to help with this one. Sebastian groaned at the thought. How was he even going to explain this without pissing her off. ‘Hey MC, you know that book of yours that you never let anyone read let alone touch? Yeah your house elf friend did and now there’s a hoard of Inferi heading toward the castle. Up for another adventure with possible death? -Your Very Charming Friend Who Is Very Sorry, Sebastian’ wasn’t exactly a casual thing to say. Even in his charming voice that MC somehow never grew tired of.

But so be it. Sebastian loved Hogwarts, the only home he was welcome in, and he would do anything to protect it. Even if it meant invoking the wrath of the most powerful student in his year on a house elf. He’d let the guilt and shame wallow later. He had a letter to send. And hopefully a form to wear off before MC arrived in a huff.

“HE WHAT?!” 

See, that is the voice of a scary woman. A rightfully angry woman whose belongings had been looked through, and summoned a hoard of Inferi. Sebastian couldn’t talk though, he had been the one to plan to read her book while she was away.

MC had come flying on the back of a Hippogriff, her hair ruffled and her clothes covered in bits of blood. She had clearly had some ‘fun’ in the Highlands. As soon as Sebastian laid eyes on her, he knew that poor Deek would be lucky to survive the stern talking he was in for. As he explained the situation to her in full, MC’s expression had morphed from fury to just plain old wrath. 

“So yeah, I thought it’d be best if you helped me do this.” Sebastian finished, grimacing as she sighed heavily. Hopping off the Hippogriff and putting it in a magical bag, she paced around in thought. Then she finally spoke. “Do you have my book with you? I need it.” Sebastian was confused at her sudden calm. And how the hell could her book help them burn all the Inferi? “What are you going to do, unraise the dead?” It was a sarcastic question, but MC just stared him down.

“Yes.”

Sebastian could only stare at her in mild disbelief as she looked at him with a completely serious expression on her face. Then she rolled her eyes and sighed.

“No, of course I don’t intend to unraise them. It’s impossible, and you would know this if you spent more time studying than casting Crucio on your friends.”

She was still pissed at him about the Scriptorium escapade (not that Sebastian could blame her). But there were more pressing matters than her being hurt and Sebastian being guilty (well… adding this to his long list of things he felt guilty about).

“Then what? And why do you need the book?” he demanded, and she shot him a glare.

“What kills Inferi, Sebastian?”

“Fire.” 

“Ten points to Slytherin,” she said sarcastically. “And what is the most powerful fire spell?”

“Confringo,” his reply was just as quick. She shook her head, and Sebastian felt his heart sink somewhere to his stomach.

“No. No fucking way, MC. You are not going to cast Fiendfyre!”

“You have better ideas?”

Actually, Sebastian had plenty of better ideas. Flee to America and start a new life. Turn himself and MC into Inferi to join the marching horde. Snog (or more) with MC in the pre-apocalypse “we’re all going to die” desperation. Pretty much any idea was better than her casting Fiendfyre.

But it didn’t seem to interest her in the slightest, because the next second, she yanked the book from his hands and started violently flipping through the pages.

“Not this, not that… Oh. Here it is. The incantation is…” she looked at Sebastian with suspicion. “Never mind.”

He almost growled at this. Seriously? She wasn’t trusting him with the incantation? As if things could possibly go more wrong.

Without sparing as much as a glance, she put her book away in her robes, got the Hippogriff from her enchanted bag (who in Merlin’s name is walking around carrying a bloody magical zoo in their bag?), and was gone, leaving Sebastian with nothing but to watch her fly away.

Sebastian wisely decided that there was nothing he could do at this point, so he found the best watching spot (Astronomy Tower), uncorked a bottle of Firewhisky, and just watched. He couldn’t see the Inferi from here, but he sure as hell could see the fire when it started. A giant-arse fire ring encircled Hogwarts, undoubtedly burning every single Inferius down. Sebastian was surprised by the tranquillity he felt at this moment. He knew how dangerous Fiendfyre could be; he knew that it was probably powerful enough to burn down Hogwarts and the Highlands should MC lose control, but it strangely didn’t bother him. Dying in a fire was preferable to dying to Inferi, if he had to choose. Especially in the fire created by MC.

He regretted many things in his life. Not spending every waking second with his parents when they were both alive. Not stopping them from going to the cellar on the day they died. Casting Crucio on MC. And, most of all, at this moment – never telling her how he felt.

That, for him, she was the Fiendfyre – fierce and relentless and all-consuming. Because from the moment he landed on his back in DADA class, his thoughts had been occupied by nothing but her. That he was morbidly curious about what her peculiar book meant, and about all the other secrets she kept from him, but truth be told, it didn’t bother him much. Even if she ended up being Ranrok’s double agent, or an Ashwinder in disguise, or, hell, even a Ministry-assigned assassin tasked with clearing up the Highlands – it didn’t matter. Because she was her, MC, and this was the only thing that mattered to Sebastian.

The fire started to die out slowly. Sebastian smiled to himself. The witch was powerful – just the way he liked it. If he were completely honest, the thought that she was even more powerful than him was slightly arousing. Only slightly, of course – he was not weird. But it wasn’t what he wanted most from her. The thing he wanted most was for her to trust him, accept him, and… and love him.

Sebastian took another sip from the bottle and took the Floo to the Hogwarts gates. He expected MC to arrive shortly, and he fully intended to talk to her about his feelings. After all, they survived an Inferi invasion and a Fiendfyre today – so could this talk really get things any worse?

It turned out that yes, it could in fact make things much worse. 

MC appeared in front of him, a smear of smoot on her check, but otherwise looking as though she did nothing more strenuous than going for a light run.

“The inferi are all gone, I assume?” Sebastian asked, more as an acknowledgment of her arrival. He knew she was careful and would not have left if she was not confident they were eradicated.

MC huffed. “Of course I did.” Suddenly her face morphed from annoyance to anger. “And now that I am done fixing Deek’s mistake, let’s talk about yours.”

Fear spiked in him. He had thought that he was getting away with his own mischief after she barely said anything earlier, choosing instead to focus on the very dangerous problem of inferi. 

Between the drunken haze from imbibing Firewhiskey and his odd attraction when she was being “bossy”, he found himself word-vomiting a mix of nonsense and the truth.

“I hate mysteries and that book of yours was so enticing that I had to know what was in it. Of course, you are also enticing. You’re so hot when you’re angry and powerful. And what else was I supposed to do but drink Polyjuice potion to pretend to be you when -”

MC had her wand against his chest. “What did you say?” she whispered dangerously. 

“Uh,” his mind went blank. He was not even sure what he revealed her to just now, but he was pretty sure he told her she was hot. “Are you angry that I have feelings for you?” he pouted.

MC’s eye started twitching; a dangerous sign indeed. “Why did you drink Polyjuice potion to become me?”

Oh…right…. He did reveal that. Oops.

“I needed to look like you in order for your book to let me read it,” he gulped. The wand was still against his throat.

MC dropped her arm and stared at the ceiling as though it would somehow explain the inner workings on Sebastian’s mind.

“And did it perhaps ever occur to you to ask me about the book instead of crossing an insane boundary and stealing my body?!” Her voice reached a high pitch that only dogs could hear by the end.

Wincing slightly, he tried to find some way to explain it in a way that wouldn't sound creepy.

The long silence, unfortunately, made it worse. She let out a disgusted gasp. “You didn't do it because you claim to like me, surely?”

His jaw fell open. The audacity of this woman! To both insult his gentlemanly intentions and to insinuate he didn't like her was a bridge too far.

“Well I did like you. But perhaps now I don’t after that rude comment,” he crossed his arms.

The eye twitch returned. “I can’t handle you tonight. I’m going to wait until tomorrow when you are less drunk to find out the truth.”

That was fine by Sebastian. The floor was swaying a bit too much for him at this point and really, all he wanted to do was sit on the ground.

And that was what he did, until MC returned (when had she even left?) with Ominis by her side.

Together they hoisted him up and began the long journey to the Slytherin common room.

“MC! MC! Wait!” a voice came from behind them.

MC twirled around so fast that it caused the duo to drop Sebastian on the ground. He let out a little moan of pain which MC ignored.

“Thank goodness I found you!" 

The voice was entirely too cheerful for the situation at hand. Sebastian cracked an eye open, and through the haze of firewhisky (and mild pain), he caught a pair of boots with Gryffindor-red trim skid to a halt.

Of course. 

“MC! Ah—Perfect!” Garreth proclaimed, his satchel clinking with the sound of what Sebastian could only assume was poor judgement, bottled and sealed for distribution. The red head seemed utterly, blissfully unaware of the tableau before him: MC, vibrating with rage so potent it was practically visible; Ominis, who looked ready to compose a sonnet about his own suffering; and Sebastian, currently attempting to merge with the castle’s foundation.

“I've done it!” Garreth continued, catching his breath. “Finally cracked the formula.”

MC, who had spun on her heel so fast Sebastian half expected her to start casting, lowered her shoulders slowly. The twitch in her left eye, however, remained. “Cracked what, Weasley? I was…busy.”

“Oh, that Inferi thing? Heard about it on the way down, brilliant stuff!” Garreth waved a dismissive hand as if the undead horde was only a minor inconvenience. “No, no, no, this is much better, much bigger. I've stabilized the Explosive-Mint-Tonic!” 

She stared at him with a look that said you've got to be freaking kidding me.

“It's a beverage, you see, but it also doubles as a—”

“Garreth.” Ominis cut it, his voice as flat and cold as the floor Sebastian was still on. “We are occupied.”

“Oh,” Garreth said, finally noticing Sebastian. “Right. Hullo, Sallow. Fancied a kip on the flagstones? Can't say I recommend it, bit of a draft this time of night.”

Sebastian made a noise that sounded like half burp, half word. “Weasley…go…’way.” 

“He's drunk.” MC said plainly, her voice void of all emotion. Sebastian, despite his state, found it was more terrifying than her earlier yelling.

“Drunk?! Brilliant!” Garreth started rummaging through the satchel, loudly pushing around vials. “ That's even better, your inhibitions are lowered! You'll be the perfect unbiased tester!”

Before anyone could protest—not that Sebastian was in any state to—Garreth had produced a small corked vial filled with liquid that pulsed a rather sickly orange shade.

“Now, the last batch made Clopton’s tongue swell to the size of a bludger, but I am 99% sure I've fixed that,” Garreth said cheerfully as he thrust the vial at MC.

“Ominis,” she spoke quietly, staring at the tiny bottle glowing in her palms. “Get him up. Now.”

“With pleasure.” Ominis, sounding anything but pleased, grabbed one of Sebastian’s arms and hauled him to his feet, making the latter’s world cartwheel.

His knees buckled and he found himself lurching forward, only to be caught by MC who grabbed his robes to keep him from face planting.

He was painfully aware of how close he was to her. He could smell the ozone and the smoke from the Fiendfyre on her robes, mixed with wisps of vanilla. His brain, though thoroughly pickled in alcohol, bypassed all common sense.

“You smell…” he slurred, beaming at her as he grabbed her. “...like a bonfire. A reeeaaaally enticing bonfire.”

The eye twitch came back.

“If you don't let go of my robes, Sebastian,” she whispered, “I will use Garreth’s potion to glue your hands to the ceiling.”

“Oooh, kinky,” Sebastian mumbled, just before Ominis yanked him backward by his shirt collar. “GAH gentle! I’m a delicate flower!” 

“You're a drunken idiot.” Ominis snapped, propping him up. “And you,” he said, turning his gaze in Garreth’s direction, “an interruption.” Garreth somehow still missed the entire forest of tension for the trees; capping his potion he lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head. 

“Well, I can see you're all busy. I'll just... go find Professor Sharp! He's always up for an adventure.”

The three wordlessly watched him trot away, whistling to himself. A profound, heavy silence descended, broken only by Sebastian's hiccup.

MC sighed, her foot tapping an exasperated rhythm. Her anger seemed to have cooled, but in its place was a glacial exhaustion. “Just get him to bed. Please.” She glanced at Sebastian, swaying in Ominis’s grip. “I can't look at him right now,”

“And tomorrow?” Ominis asked.

She paused briefly, pulling conviction from the depths of her soul. "Tomorrow," MC said, her eyes locking onto Sebastian's, "he's going to be sober. And he is going to explain- in very small, simple words- why he thought it was acceptable to brew Polyjuice Potion with my hair.”

She didn't wait for an answer, stalking off towards the staircase, her loose, lopsided brain swinging behind her.

Sebastian leaned back on Ominis, a fuzzy feeling spreading that wasn't solely the lingering warmth from the Firewhisky. “She's … she's so passionate.”

Ominis let out a long groan and began the arduous process of dragging his friend through the dungeons and to the Slytherin common room.

"You are, without a doubt, the stupidest, clever man I have ever known," Ominis muttered, navigating Sebastian around a suit of armor. "But Ominis," Sebastian whispered, leaning his head, "I think she likes me.”

“She literally threatened to glue you to the ceiling, Sebastian.”

“EXACTLY! Banter!”

"You're sleeping in the armchair outside," Ominis declared, as they finally reached the entrance to the common room. "I am not listening to you snoring, and I am certainly not cleaning up your sickness when the firewhisky decides to make a reappearance.”

"Fine by me," Sebastian murmured, already half-asleep on his feet. 

Sebastian sank into the armchair like it was made of Devil’s Snare trying to swallow him. In his inebriated state, he could hear the shuffle of Ominis’ feet as he stepped away. He was still cursing him under his breath.

“Forcing your blind mate to carry your drunk ass back to the dungeons is a new low, even for you, Sallow.”

“You can see just fine,” Sebastian grumbled. “Only fell three times.”

“Because you kept grabbing at my wand and throwing off my navigation charm. It answers to me, not you,” Ominis fired back with a heavy sigh. “If MC manages to forgive you for this, you’re going to owe her. Big time.”

Sebastian waved his hand lazily and smiled at the mention of her name. “She’ll forgive me,” he said with too much confidence. “I didn’t look at anything. Wanted to, though. Books were more important than breasts in the moment, you know.”

“You really need to shut up, Sallow,” Ominis ran his fingers through his hair and his cloudy blue gaze drifted up towards the ceiling, towards the sound of hundreds of students in the midst of both celebrating Halloween, and spreading gossip about the ring of fire that had erupted in the highlands too close to the castle.

“MC will forgive me,” Sebastian repeated firmly, still slurring his words. 

Ominis pressed his lips together into a thin line, because despite Sebastian’s arrogance knowing no bounds, he knew that he was right. MC would forgive him, but she would also make him work for that forgiveness. And that was something he could work with. 

Ominis hovered another second, as if he was debating whether to hex Sebastian into unconsciousness for everyone’s peace.

“MC will forgive you,” he confirmed finally, too softly to be kind. “But that doesn’t mean you deserve it. 

Before Sebastian could reply, Ominis turned on his heel and walked away towards the dormitories, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the dungeons.

Sebastian sagged deeper into the armchair, the common room tilting gently as if Hogwarts itself had taken a sip of firewhisky. Above, the castle roared with Halloween. Down here, it sounded like judgement disguised as laughter. He told himself he hadn’t looked. He told himself he hadn’t meant it like that. He told himself a lot of things.

And then the air changed.

Sebastian blinked, lifting his head. MC stood a few paces away, soot streaked across her cheek, robes singed at the hem. She held something against her side.

The book. Not hidden. Not protected. And not blank and harmless.

“Hi,” he tried.

She didn’t answer. She just said, very evenly, “I went back.”

His stomach rolled. “To the Room of Requirement?”

“To clean up your mess,” she continued, and stepped closer. “And to make sure Deek didn't punish himself into an early grave.”

She lowered her gaze to him, pinning, precise. “Also because … my book isn’t the same anymore.”

Sebastian swallowed. “What do you mean it-”

She brought it into the green light and set it down hard on the arm of his chair. The sound was a dull thud, like something older than paper and leather should be. 

“It wrote something,” she said coldly. “All by itself. After you… after you said what you said.”

Sebastian stared at the cover as if it might bite. “MC-”

“Open it. Now,” she ordered.

And before he could decide whether fear or curiosity would win, a mild voice behind them said, “Mr Sallow? MC?”

Sebastian’s blood went cold.

The voice was mild. That was the problem.

Professor Fig stepped into the green-tinged corridor as if he’d simply been out for a quiet stroll, hands folded neatly behind his back. His eyes moved once, slow and thorough, taking inventory of the scene with the calm precision of a man who had seen far too much to be surprised by anything within the castle walls.

MC, singed and soot-smudged, standing like a drawn blade. Sebastian, slumped in an armchair like a poor decision. And the book on the armrest, old leather catching the dungeon light as if it enjoyed attention.

“Out late,” Fig said pleasantly. “On Halloween, no less.”

Sebastian tried to swallow and discovered his throat had turned to parchment. “Professor,” he managed.

MC didn’t speak. If she was holding herself back, it wasn’t with effort. It was with discipline.

Professor Fig’s gaze drifted, landing on the book again. His expression remained gentle, but something sharpened behind his eyes. “That is not standard issue reading material,” he observed.

“It’s mine,” MC said, voice even. Not defensive, just factual, like she was stating the weather.

Fig gave a small, thoughtful hum. He stepped closer, and Sebastian’s stomach dipped as though the corridor had grown a slope. Professor Fig’s attention moved from MC’s singed hems to Sebastian’s flushed face, and then to the faint smear of ash still lingering in the folds of MC’s robes.

“MC,” Fig said, and it was the smallest change in tone that made Sebastian’s spine itch. “There was a ring of cursed fire near Hogwarts tonight.”

MC’s jaw tightened. “The castle is intact.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to interject something helpful, charming, entirely false, and only managed: “It was… contained.”

The Professor's eyes flicked to him. “Mr Sallow,” he said lightly, “you smell like you’ve been contained in a bottle of firewhisky.”

Sebastian’s cheeks heated. “Just… celebrating, sir. Halloween and all that.”

“Mm.” Professor Fig’s gaze returned to the book. “Inferi were reported near the grounds.”

Silence.

The castle above them seemed suddenly louder. A cackle echoed down a stairwell. Someone yelled “Boo!” and another voice shrieked with delighted terror. It all felt grotesquely inappropriate.

Professor Fig’s attention lingered on the book’s clasp, and Sebastian could swear he saw it glimmer, like a cat’s eye catching torchlight.

“Would you mind,” Fig said gently, “handing me the book?”

MC didn’t move.

Sebastian felt the air in his lungs turn to cold soup. He could feel MC’s control beside him like pressure in the walls. She was deciding. Weighing. Calculating what Fig could take from her if he got his hands on it.

Fig waited, patient as stone.

Then, without anyone touching it, the book made a sound.

A soft, dry click.

Sebastian’s eyes snapped to it. The clasp, which had been resting shut, unlatched itself with a deliberate little motion, like a lock deciding it had had enough of secrecy.

MC’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not…”

The cover lifted on its own accord.

Sebastian didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. The firewhisky haze in his skull cleared in one cruel swipe of adrenaline.

Pages began to turn.

Not fluttering, not accidental, but with purpose, each heavy sheet dragging against the next like a tongue tasting the air. Ink gleamed on the parchment, wet-looking despite the centuries, and Sebastian’s stomach dropped with the certainty that it had not been there seconds ago.

Professor Fig’s eyebrows rose, the first visible crack in his calm. “Now that,” he said quietly, “is highly unusual.”

MC’s fingers twitched, as if she was restraining the instinct to snap it closed again. Sebastian saw it, the moment she nearly moved and chose not to.

The pages stopped. The parchment was blank for half a heartbeat. Then ink bled across it. Not written by a hand, not scratched by quill, but seeping into place from nothing, letter by letter, as if the page was remembering something it had always known.

Sebastian’s mouth went dry.

A single word formed slowly, luxuriously, like the book wanted everyone present to watch.

THIEF.

Sebastian’s heart lurched.

Underneath, a new line unfurled, darker, as if the ink had thickened with spite.

THE THIEF WORE HER FACE.

MC’s breath hitched once. It was the only sign she gave that the words had landed like a slap.

Professor Fig’s gaze moved, very slowly, from the page to Sebastian.

Sebastian felt suddenly, violently sober.

“That’s…” Sebastian croaked, then stopped. There was nothing useful to say. Nothing that wasn’t going to detonate.

The book turned its own page again.

Blank.

Then, with the inevitability of a verdict, new ink slid into place.

Sebastian stared, pulse thundering in his ears. The letters trembled once, and then shifted, the final line rewriting itself in a quick, sharp motion that made his skin prickle.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW.

His stomach dropped so hard he thought he might actually be sick.

MC’s head turned slowly toward him, and for the first time since she’d arrived, her calm broke. Not into anger. Into something colder.

Professor Fig inhaled, and the sound was quiet but decisive. “Mr. Sallow,” he said, mildness thinning into steel, “I am going to ask you, very plainly, what you have done.”

Sebastian’s hands were suddenly too heavy. The book sat there, open and smug, like it had just introduced him to the world.

MC’s voice was razor-flat. “Professor Fig,” she said carefully, “this isn’t the place.”

Fig didn’t look away from Sebastian. “On the contrary, it is precisely the place, I’m afraid. Because that book has just marked him.”

Sebastian’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could feel MC’s gaze on the side of his face like heat. He could feel Professor Fig’s expectation like a wand pointed at his throat.

And somewhere in the castle above, someone cheered, oblivious.

Professor Fig took a step forward and held out his hand, palm up.

“Hand me the book MC,” he said softly. “Now.”

The clasp snapped shut.

A pulse of cold magic rolled out from it like a breath.

Sebastian watched, horrified, as the leather cover darkened beneath his fingertips with a faint new imprint, as if something had pressed from the inside.

“What do you mean, it marked him?” MC asked, her voice lifting at the end despite her attempt at control. She had seen too much danger to assume anything but the worst.

Professor Fig regarded the book with open fascination, a faint, almost indulgent smile curving one corner of his mouth. “This, my rather foolish students,” he said mildly, “is known as the Book of Requirement. Some call it the Book of Many Things. Others, more whimsically, the Come-and-Go Book.”

MC and Sebastian exchanged a look before turning back to him.

“You mean…” MC ventured, brow furrowing, “like the Room of Requirement?”

Fig inclined his head. “The names appear to spring from the same source. No one can say who created either, or whether Hogwarts itself conceived them both. The castle has always had a talent for responding to need.” His smile softened further, touched with something like nostalgia. “But this book has a story of its own.”

Sebastian and MC waited, increasingly bewildered, but Professor Fig had fallen silent, his gaze lingering on the worn leather cover as though it were an old friend. For a moment, it seemed he had forgotten them entirely.

“Eh… Professor?” Sebastian prompted gently. “The story?”

Fig blinked, as if returning from a great distance. His eyes cleared, though the warmth remained. “Ah. Yes. Forgive me.” He hesitated, then said, “It is said that Helena Ravenclaw enchanted this book herself after growing tired of being relentlessly pestered by one of her fellow students.”

His voice drifted again, quieter now. “I came into possession of it many years ago. Found it tucked away in the Hogwarts library shortly after Miriam and I began courting. I was a coward then,” he admitted softly. “Too afraid to speak my heart aloud. But this book…” His smile turned rueful. “It helped me find the courage I lacked.”

Sebastian and MC exchanged another glance, both utterly lost as to how this sentimental recollection explained the book’s sudden fixation on Sebastian.

“It is called the Book of Requirement,” Fig continued, his tone sharpening into that of the scholar once more, “because when a witch or wizard is truly in need of something, it appears and offers what is required to bring that need to fruition. Tell me, MC,” he asked, keen-eyed now, “what did it show you?”

“Spells,” she answered without hesitation. “Dozens of them. Some… uncommon.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Sebastian. “That’s why I placed a password on it. In case someone tried to steal it.”

Professor Fig chuckled. “It would not have shown Mr. Sallow the same things regardless.”

Sebastian scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Then how did it help Deek unleash an army of Inferi on us?” he asked. “Because I’m fairly certain that wasn’t anyone’s need.”

“I fear I have no satisfying answer for that,” Fig said apologetically. “Though,” he added, eyeing MC’s singed robes and soot-streaked cuffs, “judging by your current state, it seems the book also provided the means to end the crisis.”

She flushed scarlet. Sebastian, despite everything, couldn’t help thinking how striking she looked like this, battle-worn and incandescent.

That was when the book shuddered in Professor Fig’s hands, its pages rattling as though stirred by some unseen breath. He hesitated only a moment before extending it toward Sebastian.

“It appears that since it has now imprinted upon you, Mr. Sallow, it desires something in return,” Fig said gently. “When it was mine, it demanded honesty. Perhaps it seeks something similar from you.” His smile was kind, but knowing. “I suggest you both find somewhere quiet and open it together.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving no space for further questions.

They did not speak as they walked. MC led the way up the familiar seventh-floor passage, Sebastian followed half a pace behind, the weight of the book tucked under his arm feeling heavier with every footstep, as though it were learning him.

They passed the blank stretch of wall at the end of the Astronomy Tower once, and the Room of Requirement welcomed them. MC had thought it only fitting to open the Book of Requirement within its namesake chamber.

And at the center of it stood Deek.

The house-elf wrung his long fingers together, ears drooping low, eyes glassy with guilt. “Miss - Deek is so, so sorry,” he babbled the moment he saw them. “Deek did not mean to bring doom upon Hogwarts. Deek would never -”

“Deek,” MC said gently, and the room itself seemed to soften at her tone. “You didn’t.”

He sniffed hard. “Deek should have listened. Miss said not to read the book, and Deek read it.”

Sebastian shifted, the leather cover pressing warm against his ribs. “Deek,” he said, quieter now, “when you opened it… what were you thinking?”

The elf froze. His eyes flicked up, unfocused at first, as though he were peering backward through memory. “Deek was bored,” he admitted softly. “Very bored.”

“Deek had just finished watching a moving picture with the other house-elves in the kitchens,” he continued. “A muggle film. Very frightening. Very exciting. There were dead people, but they walked, and everyone screamed.”

Sebastian frowned. “That sounds… deeply unsettling.”

“Yes!” Deek nodded enthusiastically. “It was called… Night of the… Living… Something. Deek cannot quite remember.” His ears perked briefly before drooping again. “But when Deek saw the book, Deek thought… Deek thought how dull his life had been. Same polishing. Same cleaning.”

His voice lowered, almost ashamed. “Deek thought… it was Halloween. Deek wanted something exciting to happen.”

MC and Sebastian exchanged a look.

Need, the book had said.

MC inhaled slowly, then smiled, soft but resolute. “Thank you for telling us, Deek.”

He brightened at once, hope flickering. “Deek can help fix it! Deek can punish himself properly -”

“No,” she said firmly. “You’ve done enough.” She hesitated, then added, “Could you give us some privacy for a little while?”

Deek bowed so deeply his forehead nearly brushed the floor. “Of course, Miss.” He glanced once more at the book, then vanished with a soft crack, leaving the room hushed in his absence.

MC exhaled. They crossed the chamber together and sat at one of the enchanted tables. Its surface rearranged itself beneath their hands, smoothing, steadying, as if it, too, were preparing.

Sebastian broke the silence first. “So,” he said carefully, “the book doesn’t care who opens it. It cares why.”

MC nodded. “It answers the need. Desire. Want.” Her fingers hovered just above the cover, not touching. “Deek wanted excitement. I wanted knowledge.” Her gaze lifted, meeting Sebastian’s. “You wanted answers.”

Sebastian swallowed. “I wanted… more than that.”

The book gave a faint, resonant tremor - quiet, expectant, as though it had learned patience long before either of them had learned restraint.

MC was the first to touch it. Her palm rested atop the worn leather with care, not reverence. “Professor Fig said it wants something from you now.”

Sebastian hesitated, then placed his hand beside hers. The contact steadied him more than he cared to admit.

He opened the book.

Ink surfaced across the page, spreading with unhurried certainty.

HELLO, THIEF

Sebastian winced. “Right,” he muttered. “That seems earned.”

MC’s lips curved faintly, though her attention never wavered from the page.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked. His voice held, even if his nerves did not. He had faced goblins, Inferi, and magic older than the castle’s stones, but this felt different. This felt personal.

The letters shifted, reforming with elegant precision.

TRUTH

Sebastian’s throat tightened. He turned to MC.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The words emerged low and unembellished. “I wanted to look at the book. I shouldn’t have. I knew better.”

She did not respond, but she stayed.

“I used Polyjuice,” he continued, color rising in his face. “But I didn’t look. At you. Even though it was technically my body at the time. Transfigured.” His mouth twisted. “I swear I tried to behave like a gentleman.”

MC leveled him with a look sharp enough to wound.

He hurried on, words tumbling over each other. “I just - after the Scriptorium, after what I did to you - I felt shut out. Like I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. And instead of doing the sensible thing and talking to you, I did something stupid and invasive and - ” He exhaled sharply. “I regret casting the curse on you. Every day. I regret it more than I can explain.”

The book’s page rippled once. New words appeared.

GOODONE LAST TRUTH REMAINS

Sebastian frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

MC didn’t glance at the book. She studied him instead.

“What did you mean,” she asked, her voice measured, “when you spoke to me last night?”

Heat flooded his face. “I don’t remember.”

The book answered instead.

LIAR

Sebastian stiffened. For a fleeting instant, he considered deflection - humor, indignation, anything easier. Then he abandoned the thought entirely.

“I like you,” he said.

The words felt insufficient for their weight, but they were the truth.

“I have since the first day you walked into Hogwarts like it was daring you to keep up,” he continued. “Like you were going to tear the world apart and rebuild it better. You became… the reason I made it through this year. The reason I tried to be better.” He laughed once, breathless. His voice softened. “The reason I still am.”

He fell silent.

MC watched him, her expression unreadable.

They both looked to the book.

Nothing changed. No new words formed. No judgment followed.

The silence felt intentional. Complete.

MC spoke at last. “I forgave you,” she said quietly. “For the curse. Long ago.” She met his gaze, unwavering. “And you should know - you help me endure it too.”

Something in Sebastian’s chest loosened, warm and aching all at once.

The book’s pages stilled completely, the leather cover gently closing itself as if the conversation no longer concerned it.

The Room of Requirement responded in kind, its light mellowing, the space easing into stillness.

No further truths were demanded.