Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Charlotte Katherine Rose Underhill was extremely privileged. She thought she understood that, but as she carefully made her way through the streets, she realized she knew nothing of poverty at all. The destitute were congregating near the cathedral, sprawled on the steps into the building. Her governess wrinkled her nose at the smell of unwashed flesh.

“Must we come here?” she said haughtily. “The smell is becoming unbearable.

“Miss Winters, you taught me that it is my duty to give charity to those in need,” Charlotte chastised. “As both a member of high society and as a Christian.”

“Yes, but must we do it in person?”

Charlotte sighed as she handed a blanket to a woman shivering against the April wind. “God bless you,” the woman sighed, leaning into the warm wool. Charlotte smiled at her, reaching into Miss Winters’ basket for an apple.

“Here, please,” she said, handing the apple to the woman. Her eyes widened and she happily took the fruit.

“And where did you find this then, being April?” she asked incredulously. Charlotte laughed, held a finger to her lips, and moved on to the next unfortunate. She gently wrapped another blanket around a child no more than three, shivering alone next to a lion statue. The child gave a sound of appreciation, and Charlotte kept her arms around him for a few more moments, feeling the boy start to relax. The smell made her eyes water, but she was determined to show him some love. His clothes were in tatters, clearly a combination of poorly kept hand-me-downs, and his feet were covered in dark dirt and debris from a lifetime of living on the streets. Charlotte looked around for the child’s mother.

“Where is your mother, dear one?” she whispered to the child. His eyes welled with tears, but he said nothing. Miss Winters sighed.

“Some mothers are known to leave their children here, to be cared for by the church,” she said quietly. “Not all children are blessings.”

“Then why is the church not caring for him?”

“There is no more room at the orphanages, miss. The ones who would care for him won’t take him without some sort of donation to offset the cost of another mouth to feed.” Miss Winters handed the child an apple from her basket, watching sadly as he bit into the red flesh and smiled. 

“We must ask Father to help,” Charlotte said, patting the child’s head and standing. “We have the means. It is our duty.”

“I will raise it with him when we return.” Miss Winters brushed some of the dirt off of the front of Charlotte’s dress, her sharp eye finding every crumb of filth. Once she was satisfied, she looked at Charlotte, cold blue eyes meeting Charlotte’s warm ones. “Now, may we leave? Your mother is expecting guests.”

“Of course. You may call the carriage,” Charlotte said dismissively, watching the small boy. He sat curled into the lion statue, the blanket pulled tightly around him, quietly munching an apple and watching the traffic as it passed him by. 

The carriage pulled up and Charlotte reluctantly pulled herself into it. Miss Winters followed, snapping the door shut with a finality that screamed her relief to be away from the place. They rode in silence, Charlotte looking out the window. A gentleman by the grocers caught her eye, his clothing quite medieval looking and bright purple with stars down the front. His hair looked as if he hadn’t ever owned a comb in his life and his beard was nearly down to his belt. He peered into the store before confidently striding into a door Charlotte hadn’t noticed before. Her thoughts were on the man the rest of the way home. He must be an actor, she decided finally as they turned onto the street that would take them to the West End. He must be preparing for a role. Shakespeare, perhaps. There was a particularly wonderful adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream she was dying to see, and the costume the man was wearing would suit such a comedy. He must have decided to pop out to get some lunch before afternoon rehearsals. Ignoring the fact that there were no theaters in walking distance, Charlotte happily imagined the man on a stage, giving a powerful monologue as the audience cheered.

“Miss Underhill?”

She shook herself out of her thoughts and noticed they had pulled in front of her family’s townhouse. A newer acquisition, the house was located in the popular Kensington neighborhood, though they could not see the palace from the front step. Charlotte had always loved the townhouse. She enjoyed thinking she was living so near to where the Queen had grown up, seeing the same things Victoria had seen from her window. That the Queen had been a prisoner in her own home did not deter Charlotte from wondering if perhaps the Queen had a soft spot for the area. She quickly mounted the steps and began to remove her hat and gloves, quickly smoothing down her curls to be as presentable as possible before entering the drawing room.

“Charlotte, my darling,” Mother said, smiling as she entered.

“Mother,” Charlotte replied, kissing her mother on the cheek. 

“I was just telling Mrs. Falburton about your charity work. Such a devoted child,” Mother cooed, pouring more tea for Charlotte and Miss Winters.

“Yes, pray, how are the poor darlings today?” Mrs. Falburton said lightly. 

“Still destitute, unfortunately. I saw a small child alone at the cathedral. Mother, we must try to send more aid.”

Mother smiled at Charlotte, wordlessly saying that further allowance would not be happening. Then, changing the subject, Mother gestured to the piano.

“Charlotte, dear, would you entertain us? She has a lovely voice and plays like an angel,” she said to Mrs. Falburton, who smiled tersely. Mrs. Falburton had three daughters, Charlotte knew, and none of them were half as accomplished as she was. Not for lack of trying; all three had been educated by the same tutors as Charlotte had been and it was a point of contention between their competitive mothers that the Falburtons never quite seemed to take to the instrument. Polite suggestions from Charlotte that perhaps they should take up another instrument and accompany her for variety were ignored, though the girls seemed more than eager to try harps. Charlotte settled herself on the seat before the piano and began to play an aria, singing along as she went, and soon the room was filled with music.

Charlotte wandered through the gardens, the tall man at her side and Miss Winters keeping a watchful eye from the porch. The flowers had just started to bloom, bright daffodils and tulips towering over the small snowdrops that were her favorites. The smell was divine, she thought, bending over carefully to smell a heavy bud.

“It is an exceptional garden. My Aunt must be very generous with the gardeners to have such lovely flowers.” Nathaniel, her cousin and the heir to the fortune her father held, brushed against the petals of a daffodil and brought his fingers to his nose. He smiled gently at Charlotte who returned it. 

“Yes. Father and Mother are very generous,” she agreed, standing straight. “They have brought in a new gardener from France to help revitalize the water garden. It’s been twenty years at least since someone has taken any real care with it.”

“Then it is time. Gardens turn over fashions very slowly, but twenty years should be the lifetime of any plot of land.” Nathaniel extended his arm for Charlotte, who happily took it, gently leading him to the fountains. They wordlessly watched the water flow out of dolphins’ mouths and down the figure of Venus emerging from the ocean fully formed. Carvings of sea nymphs and mermaids decorated the raised sides, the figures seeming to dance in the flickering light from the water.

“Miss Winters says you went to St Paul’s again today,” Nathaniel said quietly. “You must stop using all of your pin money on the poor, Lottie. It’s becoming too strange even for us.”

“There was a boy there, not more than three. He was covered in filth and his mother was nowhere to be seen. I can’t leave him unclothed and unfed,” Charlotte protested, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain. “What kind of person would I be if I simply ignored the needs around us?”

“A normal one,” Nathaniel countered, but he took her hand gently and sat next to her. “You’re nearly a grown woman. What kind of man will want his bride to be more interested in street urchins than himself and his children?”

“I’m not nearly grown,” Charlotte protested. “I’m only fifteen. I have another two years before Mother will let me debut.”

“Nevertheless, your parents are beginning to think of a husband for you.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows raised, but she said nothing. Then, as if she suddenly understood, her eyes narrowed.

“They have asked you, haven’t they?”

“I’m a natural choice, Lottie. I’m the heir, I can care for you, and I’d like to think I wouldn’t be a terrible husband.”

“I’m sure you’d be wonderful, Nathaniel, but I’m simply too young. And you’ve already said I would have to stop my charity work.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I adore your loving heart, Lottie. You are too kind and too generous for your own good. I simply worry you will get hurt.”

“That should be the least of your concerns. Instead, worry that I shall drain you of resources helping that poor child survive.”

Nathaniel chucked but made no reply. Instead, he offered his arm again and rising, they returned to the house.

“Has Father made advances to secure a marriage for me?”

Miss Winters looked up from her sewing. Charlotte was sitting in an overstuffed chair near the window, trying to complete the cushion set to her a year before. All work had stopped, however, and Charlotte’s eyes were instead on the garden outside and clouded with thought.

“I take it Mister Underhill said something to you, then,” she said quietly, returning to her work. 

“Yes, and I wonder why you didn’t warn me that it was happening.”

Miss Winters sighed. “Charlotte, you are only nine months from being sixteen. You will debut in only two years. Is it so strange that your father is working to secure your future?”

“Why does everyone act as if this was expected? What if I want to marry for love?”

“Charlotte, we’ve discussed this-”

“It’s not that I don’t love Nathaniel, I do,” Charlotte continued, ignoring Miss Winters. “But it’s not a romantic love. I’ve known him my whole life. He’s more like a brother.”

“But he’s not,” Miss Winters cut in sharply. “He is not a brother. Instead, your father was forced to name him the heir, while you were left with a large dowry that would remove a good part of the estate should you marry outside of the family.” She dropped her embroidery and gave Charlotte a withering stare. “Marriage has little to do with romance and love and everything to do with security. Those women we saw today? They have none. Many of them married for love and look where it led them- poverty, starvation, and begging for the scraps of their betters. You will not have that fate. Your father is securing a future for you. Nathaniel will make a fine husband. Any woman would be lucky to have such a kind and understanding man.” Charlotte noticed the slight flush on her governess’ cheeks and turned away. She had always suspected that Miss Winters, now in her twenty-ninth year and firmly a spinster, envied her for being so fortunate as to have a husband lined up, but this seemed like… more. As if Miss Winters was in love with Nathaniel. Rather than say anything, however, she nodded, dipped her head, and tried to focus on her stitched roses. The rest of the afternoon passed in silence.

Charlotte rushed upstairs to change for dinner. Her mother was very strict on maintaining proper decorum during the evening meal, and as Charlotte slipped on her soft pink gown, she fretted about her hair.

“Can we put it up tonight?” she asked the maid. The maid, a young woman named Marie, shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said with a slight French accent and a tone that clearly showed she was not at all sorry. “Madame says you are still too young.”

Charlotte made a face. “My hair is simply untamable otherwise,” she protested. 

The maid looked thoughtfully at Charlotte’s silvery blonde hair. “Perhaps Mademoiselle would enjoy a ribbon, to distract you.”

“Fine. But please, not the dark pink one. It makes my hair look darker.”

The maid shook her head and reached for a lighter pink ribbon. Tying Charlotte's curls into a beautifully arranged bundle, she made a perfect bow and stepped away to admire the result. Charlotte was always a beautiful girl, but the effect of the wider neckline of her dress and the lovely pink color made her seem to glow, radiant, and angelic. 

“You are finished,” she said softly, tapping Charlotte on the shoulders. Charlotte happily left the chair, walking quickly to the door before turning.

“Thank you, Marie,” she said softly with a smile. “You always take such good care of me.”

“It is my job,” Marie waved. “Do not keep your mother waiting.”

            As Charlotte entered the drawing room, Nathaniel turned to face her from the window.

            “Lottie,” he called warmly, “come quickly, there is a simply marvelous horse in the street.” Charlotte ran to look, only to fall under her mother’s gaze.

            “Charlotte, we do not run!” she chastised. “I shall have to speak to Miss Winters again.”

            “Aunt, please don’t,” Nathaniel replied. “I encouraged her, the fault is mine.” Then, to Charlotte, he pointed out the beautiful white horse outside of the neighbor’s house. “Who do you think it belongs to?” he mused. “Someone who can afford such a magnificent beast must be well off.”

            “Perhaps the prince,” Charlotte returned. “But what could he be doing next door? Surely royalty demands us lowly subjects travel to his palace.”

            “He does,” Nathaniel nodded. “So, not the prince then. Perhaps a duke?”

            “And what duke could afford such a beast,” came Father’s voice. He had leaned into another window, eyes twinkling as he took in the horse. “Surely it is a messenger from the Queen herself.”

            “Oh, what if they’re being asked to personally serve her!” Charlotte bounced away from the window, eyes aglow. “Is there an opening among her ladies?”

            “What is so wonderful about this horse?” Mother asked, standing and moving next to her husband. “Honestly, the whole town can see you gawking out of the window like commoners.” 

            “It is worth it to see that majestic horse,” Father retorted, pulling back the curtains to show Mother. “See how fine his neck is? And the gleam in his hair? That horse has fine breeding.”

            “Shall I send a servant to discover whose horse it is?” Mother teased, smiling. She clearly was also taken with the animal, so much so that her eyes never left his lovely figure.

            “Dinner is served.” The butler entered the room to all four occupants by the windows, staring down into the street. He had grown used to the family’s quirks, however, and said nothing.

            “Samuel, could you send a footman next door?” Nathaniel asked as they reluctantly moved to the door. “We simply must know who owns that wonderful horse.”

            “Of course, sir. Which horse?”

            “The white one outside. Take a look, it’s magnificent. We simply must know more.”

            “At once, sir.” The butler waited until the family had left the room to roll his eyes. All of this over a horse?

            As Charlotte began the third course, the butler entered to whisper to Father. Father nodded, then turned to Nathaniel.

            “The horse is the new property of our neighbor,” he said conversationally. “He is a recent acquisition for his daughter to ride.”

            “What a lovely gift!” Charlotte said happily. “A shame I have no use for another horse.”

            “What a lovely gift indeed,” Father said happily. “A horse such as that would need constant riding. I’m afraid you are too busy to justify such an animal.”

            “Alas. I shall endeavor to make my charity work more interesting in comparison.” 

            Father smiled fondly at his daughter but said nothing. Mother returned the conversation to the exploits of Mrs. Falburton’s daughters, both of whom were debuting early in the hope of securing wealthy husbands. Charlotte drifted off, her mind wandering back to the little boy at the cathedral and the beautiful white horse. She could imagine a world where a horse such as that required full-time care, allowing her to hire the little boy to train as a groom, and preventing his living on the streets. Perhaps if the horse was bred, she could hire other little boys to care for the other horses. And they would of course need fine saddles and blankets, so she would have to hire some women as seamstresses and some men as saddle makers. With luck, she could hire the whole town to care for her stable of fine horses, dropping the poverty around her and allowing her to feel of use to others. She barely noticed the meal was over, being dismissed to go to her room, and Marie preparing her for bed, instead remembering that poor child’s eyes when he saw the apple. When she drifted off, it was to dreams of horses, apples, and tearful blue eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

“What is this?”

Father’s voice reverberated through the halls, making Charlotte wince. She heard her mother replying but couldn’t hear enough to make anything out. She was in the library, curled on a sofa and reading yet again. Mother had scolded her for it, demanding she instead bring out her embroidery, but Charlotte knew her cushion was passable at best. Instead, she found a slim volume she hadn’t read before and fell into the story. 

Angry footsteps down the hallway broke her concentration yet again. The door to the library flew open.

“What is the meaning of this,” her father shouted, throwing a letter at her. Charlotte shakily picked up the letter, unfolding it against her book. The paper was thick, almost like the old parchment books she studied with her governess. The ink, a deep black that seemed to swallow the light, twisted around her name.

Miss Charlotte Katherine Rose Underhill,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.

Term begins on September 1st.

Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.

As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help you hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony. 

Yours sincerely,

M Weasley

Professor Weasley

Deputy Headmistress.

Charlotte looked at her parents. Mother was in tears, hands waving as she tried to control her wails. Father, on the other hand, looked livid. Charlotte had only seen him this way once before when a servant had taken advantage of the scullery maid. The man had been lashed severely before being turned out without a reference. The maid, for her part, was quietly dismissed, though Mother had slipped a few coins and a letter of recommendation to the girl as she left. 

“What have you done?” Father growled. 

“I’ve done nothing!” Charlotte cried. “I don’t know anything about this!”

“You were to be married,” Mother wailed. “We had so many plans for you!”

“I don’t have to go,” Charlotte said, but Father cut her off.

“We will not suffer a witch in this house,” he roared. Charlotte cowered from his rage. “You will pack and leave. Immediately.”

“But, where am I to go?” Charlotte was openly weeping, realizing what her father had doomed her to. As an affluent child, she had been privately educated by a series of governesses and tutors, but she held no real skills and no vocation to rely upon. Without her family’s protection, she would be destitute and vulnerable.

“I don’t bloody care!” Father shouted, louder than anything thus far. “You are a witch, whether you knew it or not. Asking to be admitted to this school proves as much.”

“I never asked! I never applied, I don’t know anything about this school!”

“George, perhaps… if she didn’t apply…” She saw Father deflate slightly. Mother placed a hand on his arm, wincing as he pulled away roughly. “You know what she’d have to do to survive, George, we can’t… our own daughter.”

Father turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Mother rushed to Charlotte, holding her and petting her silky blonde hair as they cried collapsed in a pile on the library floor.

“You will be allowed to stay until the first of September. You will restrict yourself to your room. Any magic is strictly forbidden inside the house. Do you understand?”

Charlotte was standing in Father’s office before his magnificent desk. Father’s eyes were downcast and did not meet her searching blue ones. 

“I understand, Father,” she said softly.

“As soon as you leave for this school, you are no longer a member of this family. Your funding will be cut off. There will be no governess, no debut before the Queen, and no dowry if and when you marry. Your children will not be welcome in this house. Do you understand?”

A single tear traced down Father’s face, but he was firm and resolute in keeping a solid wall in front of his only child, his beloved daughter. Charlotte was openly weeping, her voice clouded with tears.

“I understand, Father.”

“Return to your room. I want to see nothing of you.”

Charlotte sobbed as she ran to her room. It was worse than she had thought. She would be disowned and kicked out of the life she had led happily until this point. No matter what Professor Eleazar Fig could bring her, she doubted it would fill the void in her soul. She threw herself down on her bed, the soft sheets and warm blankets soon soaked with her misery. She could hear Mother down the hall pleading with Father, her wails of pain echoing off the marble floors. 

She was again on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral, surrounded by the poor. The little boy stood in front of her, arms looking skeletal as he reached out for the apple she had in her hands. Suddenly, the boy’s dark hair turned into her own platinum blonde curls, ragged and darkened with dirt, and when he looked up, her own eyes gazed back. The child ran as a man walked by, his steps dark with anger as he made his way past. 

“Please, sir, something to eat?”

“Get off of me, you witch!” the man snarled with Father’s voice. His blonde pointed beard and mustache twitched in disgust. “I do not suffer witches in my house.”

Mother wailed from the side, dressed as finely as ever, screaming for her child, but Father took no notice, instead pulling her along. Charlotte followed them, screaming for Father, only to receive a kick of derision. 

“You are no daughter of mine,” he snarled. 

“See where all that charity has left you,” came Nathaniel’s voice. He sneered over her shoulder, pulling at one dirty curl. “You’re no better than them.” 

Charlotte pulled away, running to the stone lions. The stone gave way under her hands, and she buried her face in their sides, sobbing about her parents and wishing she had been born a boy. 

“Charlotte, love, wake up.”

Charlotte opened her tear-filled eyes to Mother’s soft hands brushing her forehead. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying all night, but she seemed calmer in the morning light. Charlotte buried her face into her mother’s chest, releasing all of her fear and sadness, and her mother gently brushed her hair and back, singing a quiet lullaby. 

Eventually, Charlotte ran out of tears. Mother kept holding her, gentle hands tracing her spine and the sides of her face, giving her a physical feeling to hold on to. 

“I spoke with your father,” she said quietly once Charlotte had calmed somewhat. 

“He seemed angry with me.” 

“I know, my love, I know.” Mother pulled away slightly to look Charlotte in the eyes. “But you are still his beloved daughter, and he’ll come around. I promise.”

“What is to become of me?”

“You will continue to live here. For the moment, your meals will be in your room with Miss Winters; I convinced him that taking away your governess and your maid would be too cruel, so both will remain for now. I’ll speak to your professor about sending Marie with you, but that may be too much for your father.” Mother’s eyes brimmed with tears again, but she shook her head. “You will have your classes. Miss Winters will sit in to help you as needed. And once you go to school, we’ll… figure something else out.”

Charlotte sighed and leaned against her mother. She understood what her mother was afraid to say: once she left for school, she would be on her own.

“I will speak with him again, once you’ve left and everything has cooled down,” Mother said quietly. “I won’t let him take you away from me.”

“No matter what, I’ll be your daughter,” Charlotte promised. “Even if I’m in rags.”

“You won’t be in rags,” Mother promised, gently kissing her hair. “Nathaniel and I won’t allow it, and your father is not that heartless. It may not be the life you’re used to, but you’re my stubborn little rose. It will all work out.” Those last words seemed to be more for Mother than for Charlotte, but she held them in her mind regardless. It would all work out.

            Professor Eleazar Fig was quite like any other man Charlotte had ever met. His grey hair and wrinkled skin spoke to a lifetime of adventures, and his eyes sparkled with a secret joy. But his clothes were the best part. Wrapped in robes of blue and purple with golden stars on them, he looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale and onto the front porch of the townhouse. Charlotte watched as he spoke with the butler before disappearing into the hall. She frantically patted her hair and opened a book, hoping to seem industrious when the professor entered the room. Miss Winters started when Charlotte moved and quickly smoothed her skirts. 

            “Professor Eleazar Fig,” the butler announced, stepped to the side for the professor to pass into the room.

            “Thank you, Alfred,” Charlotte said clearly, standing and giving her best curtsy to her guest. “Professor, I am delighted to meet you.”
            “And I, you,” he returned, giving a short bow in reply. “And this is…”

            “Miss Henrietta Winters, my governess.” 

            Miss Winters stepped forward, giving a slight head nod. “Miss Underhill has been under my instruction for several years now. Her mother thought it prudent we meet to better discuss her… personality.”

            “Oh?” Professor Fig’s eyes sparkled even brighter. “Is she a difficult student?”

            “Not at all,” Miss Winters said, her cold facade cracking slightly. “She is bright and capable, quickly taking all manners of lessons. However, she is…” Miss Winters looked away, trying to find a way to kindly explain Charlotte.

            “Stubborn,” Charlotte supplied. “When I get an idea in my head, I will not rest until I see it done.”

            “Quite. And you will find she is also creative at filling her free time.”

            The professor laughed, a joyous sound. “That is an ideal student for our needs,” he proclaimed, giving Charlotte a wink. “I’m sure we will be able to work together without much trouble. Miss Winters, did you wish to remain?”

            “Yes, the family found it prudent for me to stay with her if only to better understand her homework.”

            “Then let us begin.” Professor Fig reached into a pocket and removed a long thin stick with worn spirals gently decorating the wood. He handed it to Charlotte who stared at it for a moment. “This will be your practice wand,” he explained. “You will, of course, purchase your own, but this will suit you for now.”

            “A… a wand?” Charlotte almost imagined the wood warming under her fingers. “Like in the stories?”

            “Yes, you’ll find your fairy tales have many pieces of the truth. They were often written about witches and wizards. There is a very interesting book showing an analysis of your Brothers Grimm and medieval wizarding practice. If you’re interested, I will happily bring it with me next time.”

            “Please do!” Charlotte cried, holding the wand close to her chest. “Miss Winters never lets me read such academic books. I have to sneak them after dark.”

            “That’s not true, Charlotte, and you know it,” Miss Winters protested from her perch on the couch. She had returned to her embroidery, listening closely to every word they said. “We had lessons last year on the new translation of the Iliad if you recall.”

            Charlotte laughed, drawing a chuckle from Miss Winters as well. Professor Fig smiled brightly. 

            “Let us begin with some basic wand work, to get you used to the feeling.”

            Three hours later, Charlotte had progressed to basic magic. She learned how to light up the end of the borrowed wand and promptly danced from excitement. Turning the light off brought squeals of delight. A softening charm, used on the overstuffed chair Charlotte both loved and hated, went slightly wrong, leaving a black scorch mark Miss Winters frowned at.

            “Please refrain from destroying the furniture, Miss Underhill,” she scolded. “You will have nothing to sit on if you don’t.” The damage was easily fixed with a wave of Professor Fig’s wand, causing Miss Winters to exclaim that she wished she could fix all Charlotte’s mistakes so easily.

            To end the session, Professor Fig pulled some large books from a small bag and piled them on the table.

            “Here are some books to get you started,” he said happily, watching Charlotte’s eyes widen at the assortment. “We have a general history of the wizarding world, a primer on magical creatures, and a magical theory book I think you’ll find most illuminating.” His eyes sparkled at her excitement to begin. “Magical theory is my subject, you know. I suspect you’ll enjoy it as well.”

            “I can’t wait to get started!” she cried, pulling the book on Magical Beasts to her chest and happily prancing off to her chair.

            “I expect a good three inches on everything you read, mind,” Professor Fig said sternly. “Not enough to cause any hardship, but enough that you think about what you’ve just learned.”

            “Three inches?”

            “Yes, three inches of parchment. That’s the standard measure for essays at Hogwarts. You’ll have to write far more when you’re in school properly, but this will get you started.” He placed a few rolls of parchment on the table next to the rest of the books alongside a quill and pot of ink. Miss Winters frowned.

            “We’ll have to work on penmanship, then,” she said slowly, noting the quill. “We can’t have an Underhill going off to some school without proper writing techniques.”

            “Then it’s settled,” Charlotte said happily. “I’ll work on my books, wand work, and penmanship until you return, professor.”

            Professor Fig smiled warmly, bid them a good day, and left the room. Charlotte could hear the servants in the hall directing him to the front door and quickly turned to the window to see what kind of carriage a wizard would have. Instead, the man popped into thin air, leaving no trace that he had been in the house at all. Charlotte gasped.

            “Miss Winters, Professor Fig just… disappeared!”

            “He is a wizard, Charlotte,” Miss Winters scolded. “Of course, he can disappear like that. It’s surely just what wizards do.”

            The next few months were filled with more books than Charlotte knew what to do with. As promised, Professor Fig returned with a slim volume detailing the truth behind the most common fairy tales, and Charlotte devoured it. She wrote a full twelve inches on that book alone, pouring out all of her thoughts and questions onto the parchment in perfect letters. The various texts on magical beasts were among her favorites, with at least ten inches each. She included sketches of more mundane beasts from her garden, describing the differences between a bowtruckle and a persevered stick bug Nathaniel brought back from South America alongside a long paragraph on the differences between horses, thestrals, and unicorns. The magical theory books were often the source of frustration, though Charlotte enjoyed the challenge they brought. 

            More than the books, though, was the idea of going to school. As a member of a wealthy family, Charlotte was given an excellent education at home. Unlike others in their class, her father insisted on some practical subjects, hiring tutors to help Charlotte master math and improve her rhetoric. Her governesses had focused on more feminine arts, including embroidery and manners while specially hired music teachers had helped her hone her piano and voice. She had, however, never attended an actual school. She had been jealous of Nathaniel when he was sent to Eton and later to King’s College Oxford, wishing she had been a boy so she could have adventures. The idea of living with so many people her age, sharing classes and homework, and even having a uniform was deeply exciting. Nathaniel’s letters had kept her apprised of some of his adventures, though she suspected the more interesting ones were considered too upsetting for her delicate senses. She counted down the days until she, too, could sneak out of the dormitories, find hidden nooks, and explore the area. She was afraid of being cut off from her family, especially her father’s sudden anger toward anything magic, but she trusted in her mother. Everything would work out.

Two days before they were set to leave, Professor Fig appeared on the front step out of thin air (apperating, he had called it, and promised Charlotte she would learn the following year) and was ushered into the hallway. Charlotte settled herself on her chair, expecting to have to explain why her essays were again three times as long as were asked for, but the professor never came into the room. Instead, Miss Winters quietly slipped into the drawing room, face stony.

            “Where is the professor?” Charlotte asked. Miss Winters put a finger to her lips and leaned against the door, ear resting on the wood.

            “He is speaking with your father,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Come, listen.”

            Charlotte raced across the room and placed her ear beside Miss Winters’. She could hear low voices grumbling in the hall.

            “Sir, I understand this isn’t what you planned for your daughter, but I implore you-”

            “You will implore me to do nothing. I barely tolerate her in this house, let alone you.”

            “Charlotte is a bright student. She will do well at Hogwarts.”

            “George, please, listen to him,” her mother pleaded. “She’s out only daughter. We can’t turn her out.”

            “You were supposed to give me a son!”

            This last line was shouted so hard, it startled Miss Winters and Charlotte off of the door. They stepped back, almost afraid of what would come next.

            “Instead, you gave me a daughter, and a daughter who cannot be presented in polite society. What do we tell the neighbors? That she’s off at some magic school, learning a trade, starting her life as a man would?”

            “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” came the calmer tones of Professor Fig. “Women in the magical world have far fewer restrictions on their lives than in the nonmagical world, but Charlotte will still marry, if she wants to, and have children. Many women do not work at all. Hogwarts is to learn to hone their magic, to train them to control it.”

            Silence filled the hall, and Charlotte felt tears at the corners of her eyes.

            “Does… does Father hate me?” she asked quietly. Miss Winters rushed to hold her.

            “My sweet girl,” she whispered, gently running her hands down Charlotte’s hair, brushing it out with her fingers. “Your father is a man used to getting his own way. He doesn’t hate you, he just… needs time.”

            Charlotte cried earnestly against her governess. “Do you hate me?”

            “No, Charlotte, I don’t hate you. I’m excited to see what you do next,” Miss Winters cooed. Then, taking a step back, she put her hands on Charlotte’s shoulders and bent slightly so they were face to face. “You are an extraordinary young woman,” she said seriously. “You are a beacon of light and chaos personified, and you have a magnificent chance to make something of yourself, more than a mere wife and mother.” Miss Winters looked slightly sad but pressed on. “You must grab this chance with both hands, even if it means leaving your family behind, understand me?”

            “Yes,” Charlotte whispered, eyes large. Miss Winters had never been so candid with her, always keeping a wall between them. She suddenly wondered what Miss Winters’ family had been like but decided against asking. Miss Winters smiled and released her.

            “Now, I believe we have a few more things to write for Professor Fig,” she said sternly, gesturing to the table. “We shouldn’t tarry.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Marie woke Charlotte, as she did every morning, but she was shivering with excitement. Marie looked by the window and saw a trunk filled with clothes for her new life as a student. 

“I didn’t pack your fine dresses,” Marie said, noticing where she was looking. “I’m not sure if your school will have formal dinners, and you can’t study in such frilly things.” Marie pulled a simple blouse and red skirt with a warm, practical coat. “I have selected some things for you to wear today,” she explained. “Since you are traveling alone, I did not want you to advertise that you are rich.”

“Thank you, Marie,” Charlotte whispered. “You have always been so kind to me.”

“It is my job,” Marie said, waving off the compliment, but her cheeks glowed pink from the praise. “Come, we must get washed.”

Thirty minutes later, Charlotte was washed and dressed. She was seated on her chair before the mirror while Marie played with her hair. 

“If you want me to,” Marie said slowly, “I will put your hair up for you.”

Charlotte smiled. “How about a nice ribbon instead?” she countered. Marie chuckled and pulled a navy blue ribbon out of the box. Then, thinking about it, she pulled several other ribbons and quickly put them in Charlotte’s pocket. 

“For school,” she said, putting a finger to her lips conspiratorially. Charlotte’s eyes watered.

“Promise you’ll write to me,” she said. “I shan’t know what to do without you to do my hair every day.”

“You will learn,” Marie said softly. “It is not hard.” She gently pulled Charlotte’s hair back, showing her how to bundle the hair and tie the ribbon. Charlotte’s bows were not as perfect as Marie’s, but they would suffice. Both of them were shedding silent tears by the end, and Marie pulled the girl into a fierce hug. 

“Be brave,” she whispered. “Be bold.”

Before Charlotte could answer, Miss Winters opened the door.

“Miss Underhill, Professor Fig has arrived. It’s time.”

With a final hug to Marie and a quick look around her room, Charlotte followed her governess to the stairs, down the hallways, and to the front door. She glanced around her home for what felt like the last time, tears again pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

“Will Father ever let me come back?” she whispered to Miss Winters, who was wiping away tears of her own.

“If anyone can change his mind, it’s your mother,” she replied. “And Nathaniel is incandescent with rage that you’re being turned out. It will all work out, you’ll see.”

Charlotte nodded, wiped her tears, and bravely stepped out the door to the waiting professor with a smile on her face. She didn’t look back, missing the dark figure at the window, watching his daughter leave for school and trying not to shed his tears. 

            “Ah, there you are!” Professor Fig cried happily. “All packed, I see.”

            “Yes, my maid made sure I had everything I needed,” Charlotte said with a smile. “I can’t promise I will look as nice without her.”

            “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Professor Fig replied. “And have you been practicing your wand work?”

            “Of course!” Charlotte snorted offense, tempered by her smile. “And I have the last of the essays for you in my trunk.”

            “Very good, very good. If only all my students were so diligent.”

            A man suddenly popped into existence, frightening Miss Winters. The man gave a sheepish smile.

            “Sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “I was in a rush. Gave some theater-goers a fright on the west end when I got the location wrong.”

            “George, it’s good to see you.” Professor Fig reached forward to shake the man’s hand. “I’m glad you could find us.”

            “Oh, I’ve apparated to more vaguely defined locations than this!” George chuckled. “And who are your traveling companions?”

            “Charlotte Underhill,” Charlotte quickly replied, holding out her hand. Receiving a firm handshake in reply gave her a thrill; she had previously only curtsied when meeting new people, and the gesture felt new and important. “And this is my governess, Miss Henrietta Winters.”

            “I won’t be accompanying, of course,” Miss Winters explained, also shaking hands with the man. “I’m simply here to see her off properly.”

            “Well, we should be going!” Professor Fig cried, turning to make sure the last of the bags had been loaded onto the coach. Charlotte turned to Miss Winters who gave her another fierce hug, pulling her close.

            “Be brave, be bold, and be yourself,” she whispered. Then, pulling back slightly, she added, “I will write all the news to you. Nathaniel promised to keep me informed and Professor Fig showed me how to post them so they’d get to you. You, however, must write me every week, and I expect pages and pages about your new classes and friends.”

            Charlotte smiled. “Of course. Shall I include the fashions as well?”

            “Cheeky girl.” Miss Winters pulled her in for another hug. “This one’s from your mother and Nathaniel. Be good.” With that, she dropped her arms, stepped back, and tried to hide the tears in her eyes. “Be. Good.” she repeated, more firmly. 

            Professor Fig stepped to her side and gently placed his hand on her back. “After you, my dear,” he said warmly. Charlotte took a deep breath, stepped up into the carriage, and looked out the window to look at her house once more. 

            “Goodbye, house,” she said fondly. “I shall visit you again.”

            Professor Fig and George climbed in to join her, and as the carriage jostled, Charlotte noticed something strange.

            “Professor,” she said slowly, “there aren’t any horses? How will the carriage move?”

            “You’ll see,” the professor answered with a wink, sharing a chuckle with George. With a snap, the door closed, and the carriage started to rumble down the street. Then, with a sudden woosh, the carriage lifted off of the ground. Charlotte’s eyes went wide.

            “We’re- we’re flying to Hogwarts?” she asked, slightly terrified.

            “No need to worry, it’s very safe,” George said. “And we can speak on the way.”

Once Charlotte was used to the sensation of being in the air, the two men relaxed.

            “I didn’t introduce you properly, did I?” Professor Fig said, feeling slightly ashamed. He gestured to his friend across from Charlotte. “This is George Osric, a friend of mine at the Ministry.”

            “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance,” Charlotte said, falling into the polite cadence Miss Winters had ingrained in her. 

            “And yours,” Mister Osric said, smiling. “Are you excited to be back at Hogwarts?”

            “Oh, this will be my first year,” Charlotte explained. Mister Osric turned to Professor Fig for an explanation, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

            “She’s starting as a fifth year,” the professor said. “I’ve never heard of anything like it, but she’s taking to magic very well.”

            “How very odd,” Mister Osric politely said. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything like it, either.” Then, turning to Charlotte, he asked, “And has Professor Fig been showing you things this summer then?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “You’re very fortunate, then. Professor Fig is an excellent wizard and wonderful teacher.”

            “Mister Osric, you’ll find, is prone to flattery,” Professor Fig teased. “It has served him well at the ministry.”

            “I’m sorry, what is the ministry?” Charlotte asked. She almost slapped her hand over her mouth for asking such a basic question, but Mister Osric took it in stride.

            “The Ministry of Magic, dear. It governs magical folk much like Whitehall does the muggle world.” Charlotte nodded, not wanting to offend by asking about muggles. From the context, she could guess it meant nonmagical persons, but she filed the word away for a later conversation. Mister Osric had turned from her to Professor Fig and pulled a newspaper out from his pocket.

            “Have you seen this?” he asked, opening to the front page. There, a moving photograph of a man with long ears and arms, a pointed nose, and dark burning eyes glared up at them. Charlotte had seen moving pictures in the various books Professor Fig had brought her but still gasped at the unveiled hate in the man’s eyes. The headline above and beside read “Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion: Truth or Gobledegook?”

            “I have,” the professor returned gravely. “There’s much debate on how dangerous Ranrok is.”

            “I believe he’s very dangerous,” Mister Osric pressed, returning the paper to his pocket. “It’s slow going convincing others at the ministry of that, but I’m still trying.”

            “A rebellion?” Charlotte asked, unable to stop the question from leaving her lips. 

            “Yes,” Professor Fig said. “You’ll remember a number of them from the texts on wizarding history. It seems we’re due another one.”

            Charlotte screwed up her nose, trying to remember the entries from her essays. “The others were about goblin rights, correct? Wanting to use wands and have equal status with wizards and the like.”

            Mister Osric smiled broadly. “Yes, you’re correct. My, Eleazar, she is bright. We haven’t found a cause or reason for this rebellion, but I believe it’s similar to those you stated.” Professor Fig gave a small chuckle at Mister Osric’s praise of Charlotte but said nothing. Charlotte pressed on.

            “If this is a recurring problem, would it not be better to grant rights to the goblins?”

            Professor Fig’s face fell slightly. “You’ll find the magical world is not all roses, my dear,” he said softly. “And you’d do better to keep those opinions on goblin rights to yourself. While I agree with you-” he nodded at Mister Osric- “and that is also Mister Osric’s position, most other wizards will not share your views.” Charlotte colored and fell silent. Professor Fig gently bumped against her shoulder as a sign of reassurance.

            “I wanted to speak to you about your wife, Eleazar,” Mister Osric said suddenly.

            “Miriam?”

            “Yes. I received a letter from her shortly before… before she passed.” Mister Osric looked uncomfortable saying as much, but he pressed on. “And then, right after I heard, I received this.” He pulled a small container out of his pocket. It was silver and glinted in the light. Two panels clearly meant to open sat on top with a swirl motif acting as a lock. Charlotte thought it was stunning, one of the most beautiful boxes she had ever seen.

            “There was no note with it,” Mister Osric continued.

            “How very odd,” the professor murmured, taking the box from Mister Osric. “And no explanation?”

            “None. I’ve tried, but I cannot open it. Whatever magic seals it is powerful indeed.” 

            “What is that glow?” Charlotte couldn’t help herself. The swirl was glowing silver and almost calling to her, willing her to touch it. 

            “What glow?” the professor asked. He looked to Mister Osric, who shrugged. Slowly, he handed the box to Charlotte, who gently touched the swirl. With a burst of magic, the box opened. Inside was a golden key with the same swirl on the end nestled in blue velvet lining. Charlotte felt the key call to her and reached out to touch it, only to have Professor Fig grab her wrist.

            “Wait,” he cautioned, “we know nothing about this.”

            The three stared at each other, sharing confused faces. The box opened for Charlotte- what could this mean?

            Suddenly, Charlotte heard a roar, and the back half of the carriage was ripped away. From all of her studies, Charlotte could identify the dragon, holding Mister Osric’s seat in its angry jaw, a faint red glow from the collar around its neck. With a sudden snap, the dragon crushed the carriage into splinters, and Charlotte screamed. She turned toward the front, hoping to climb somewhere away from the dragon, and saw two black, skeletal horses with wings appear between the floating reins. She screamed again.

            Professor Fig grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at him. “Jump!” he ordered, just as the dragon began to release a burst of flame. He dragged her out of her seat, falling into the empty air as the carriage was finally destroyed. Bits of burning wood came raining down around her as she fell. Charlotte closed her eyes. 

            She felt a small pull at her right hand and opened her eyes to see the key from inside the box falling below her. She could hear the dragon speeding after her and the professor and wordlessly pointed. The professor seemed to understand, grabbing her hand and pointing at the key with his wand.

            “Accio!” he shouted, and as soon as he had touched the key, Charlotte felt a pull behind her navel. Just as she was going to scream again, she hit solid ground.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

            Charlotte’s ankle was throbbing. She could feel the pain increase and decrease with the beat of her heart. Before she even opened her eyes, her hand was on her ankle, squeezing the swelling to try to hold it together.

            “Charlotte! Are you hurt?” Professor Fig’s voice was filled with concern. She felt his hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see the older man leaning over to look at her properly. She squeezed her ankle tighter, gasping from the stab of pain that ran up her leg as a result.

“Here, let me,” he said quietly, gently placing his hand on her ankle. Charlotte cried out in pain again as the pressure from his fingers probed her injury. His fingers were kind as he gently felt around for the damage.

“Sir, it must be broken!” she cried.

“No, no, only a sprain,” he said with a smile. His kind blue eyes twinkled at Charlotte. “Easily fixed, my dear, not to worry.”

Charlotte groaned. “Is this what life is like outside my world? Dragon attacks, teleportation, and sprained ankles?” She was starting to regret ever having left her house that morning and spent a moment daydreaming of sitting in the window in the drawing room, the light caressing the page of yet another magic theory book as she struggled to understand the concepts.

“Very rarely,” he said, handing her a vile with a green liquid in it. “This is wiggenweld potion. It should make that ankle able to bear your weight, though I’m afraid it might not take all of the pain away.” Charlotte eyed it suspiciously.

“It looks like the fairy tale books’ descriptions of poisons,” she said cautiously. Professor Fig laughed but gestured for her to drink it anyway. It tasted minty, oddly, and had a refreshing chill as it coursed through her body to her ankle. She could almost feel the joint tighten again, forcing her to move her foot to a new position. She gently touched it again, feeling the lack of swelling and the strength it normally held.

“It’s like it never happened,” she said, full of wonder. What miracles could wizard kind perform if they could heal a sprained ankle in a second? Could they cure illnesses? Could disabilities fade away with a simple potion? Could they even reverse death? 

Remembering the dragon attack a few moments before, her face fell. “Is… Is Mister Osric…?” she murmured.

“I’m afraid he is,” Professor Fig said solemnly. Charlotte choked back a sob.

“He seemed such a nice man,” she whispered, “and he did not deserve such a death as a dragon attack.” She remembered Mister Osric’s kind eyes and broad smile as he praised her intelligence, as he extoled the virtues of Professor Fig, and as he handed the box to her, his face filled with curiosity. 

“No,” Professor Fig replied, his eyes misting. The two sat in silence for a moment, Charlotte trying to remember the prayers for someone who had just died. The words wouldn’t come, though, as the dragon’s snap and the sound of air rushing past as she fell repeated in her brain. She shook her head, trying to focus. Something about light perpetual? She would have to pull out the prayer book Marie had carefully packed in her trunk- and then she remembered that the trunk, like Mister Osric, had been destroyed by the dragon, along with all of her clothes from home and any trinkets Marie had tucked away inside. The loss of her things was almost as painful as losing Mister Osric; if she was never allowed home again, she no longer had things to remember it by.

“Charlotte.” Professor Fig was touching her shoulder again. “Would you mind terribly if we looked around? The Portkey must have brought us here for a reason.”

“Oh, of course,” Charlotte replied, scrambling to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her skirt. She finally looked around properly, noting the shallow cave, the light from the entrance, and the smell of the sea. She walked cautiously to the entrance then froze, staring at the ruins in front of her standing in the middle of the sea, wind whipping her hair across her face.

“Professor… Where are we?”

“Scotland, I’d imagine,” the professor replied, stepping past her and gazing down at the water. “Certainly, farther north than the carriage took us.” He leaned into the wind, eyes narrowed as he examined the terrain. “Let’s look at those ruins, see if there is any clue as to why the Portkey sent us here, of all places.”

“Portkey, Professor?”

“A magical object used to transport those touching it to another location.” He had started his way down the path and Charlotte rushed a bit to catch up. The path was mostly dirt with an occasion paving stone. At one time, it must have been quite stately, she thought. “Usually, when used for regular transportation, Portkeys are charmed so they will only activate at a certain time, to ensure people have a chance to grab hold. But there are private Portkeys made, that activate on touch alone.”

“Why would Mister Osric have one?”

“The more important question, my dear, is why did my wife have one? And why did the box only open when you touched it?” The two fell into silence again as Professor Fig led Charlotte down the path. Charlotte wondered about his wife but was too polite to ask. She had never asked during any of her lessons about his life, and she realized with a stab of pain that his wife must have passed this past summer. She couldn’t remember him seeming sad or dismayed, which confused Charlotte further, and she gave up on the entire exercise.  Finally, they paused at a large chasm between their location and the ruins. The professor sighed and reached for his wand.

“This charm isn’t one we’ve had a chance to look at yet,” he said conversationally, as if strange portkeys and the violent death of friends happened on a regular basis, “but I’m sure the other professors will cover it as soon as we make our way to the school. This is the repairing charm. I’m going to repair the bridge that once spanned this space.” Charlotte nodded, shivering slightly from the cold. The sea air whipped through her coat, seeming to seep into her bones. The professor raised his arms and shouted “REPARO” against the wind.

Slowly, stones that had fallen under the water flew into the air, holding in place until others could surround it. A partial banister lined the side of the bridge, indicating a stately walkway at one time. Charlotte gasped as, within seconds, a functional bridge had recreated itself in front of her. She had seen the repairing charm before, when Professor Fig would undo the damage she cast on her chair or the wall in the drawing room, but nothing as large or as complex as this. The professor laughed slightly and gestured for her to lead. Charlotte’s head buzzed with a million questions.

“Sir, does that charm have a limit as to the amount of damage that can be reversed, or a time limit after which the damage cannot be magically fixed, or-”

“Charlotte, your professors will be both pleased and terrified to have you in class,” Professor Fig laughed. “You are a treasure, to be sure. Miriam would have loved to meet you.”

“Miriam… your wife?” Charlotte had reached the other side of the bridge now and turned to face the professor. “I’m sorry, I’m being nosy.”

“Not at all, you have a valid interest. But yes. We had been married for nearly fifty years before she was taken from me this summer.” 

“Taken from you?”

The professor sighed, suddenly looking his age. “Miriam was a researcher. She was fascinated with ancient magic, a form of magic that has died out. She believed it similar to the ancient magic that built Hogwarts,” he said slowly, looking around the ruined walls surrounding the two of them. “She believed this magic had to still exist, however rare, and was always discussing the good it could do. She always believed the best in people, much like you.” Charlotte flushed slightly at the compliment, but said nothing, so the professor continued. “She was studying not far from Hogwarts when she was attacked.”

“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte whispered. “How horrible.”

“Yes,” Professor Fig said softly, his eyes misting slightly. “I miss her every day.” Then, looking around once more, he changed the subject. “Let us look at these ruins. Perhaps there’s some clue as to why we were brought here.”

The ruins were fairly sparse, any of the furnishings having been taken away long before they arrived. Charlotte paused by a carving of a man gazing into a crystal ball and a statue of a very similarly dressed gentleman (“Possibly our host!” Professor Fig had said happily) before wandering along a path to a rear area. There were fewer carvings and fine decorations in the stone here, indicating it was a more personal space, and Charlotte eyed the arches leading into what she presumed was once a fine garden filled with roses and lilies. As she looked through to the ocean, imagining a grand garden filled with statues and flowers and fountains, a glimmer caught her eye. She turned to face a plain stone wall, fairly unassuming, except for the ice, or something that looked a lot like it. The closer she got, the less like ice it looked. 

“Professor?” she called, and Professor Fig came running. She pointed at the stone and his eyes snapped to it, face suddenly filled with wonder and interest.

“Enchanted stone? Here? I wonder what it’s hiding…” he murmured, gazing around to find the extent of it.

“I thought it was ice, but the closer I came… Professor, there’s a room behind it.”

“A room? What room? Describe it.”

Charlotte swallowed. He had almost sounded rather sharp with her, but his eyes continued to twinkle. She figured he was simply taken with the puzzle of it all. 

“It has cream marble on the floor, matching pillars, and a chandelier,” she said carefully, but Professor Fig held out his arm.

“Do you see a swirl?” he asked sharply, and when Charlotte nodded, he grinned almost wolfishly. “I’ll take your arm. Once I’m settled, I’d like you to touch it.” Charlotte nodded again, the swirl calling her name as the professor nestled her hand in the crook of his arm. She hesitated, then touched the swirl, feeling the cold stone under her hand. She barely noticed the floor changing from rough dirt to polished marble until she looked down and gasped. The professor grinned wider.

“My dear, you have a rare gift,” he murmured, dropping her hand and making his way into the center of the room. “Miram would have loved you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Charlotte looked around the room. It looked much like how Nathaniel had described the bank after he and Father had gone to review the accounts. The polished stone gleamed under the lights from the chandelier as the crystals hanging on it shimmered and shone like diamonds. The effect was one of elegance and riches, making no mistake what kind of building they had appeared in. A small man sat at a podium at one end of the hall, snoring happily. Charlotte imagined they didn’t have many visitors here, as she saw no door to the outside world. She wondered for a moment how they had arrived in this place, but finally decided it had to be a Portkey, though she didn’t remember the pull behind her navel. Perhaps this was a different kind. Professor Fig stepped in front of the man.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, causing the man to jump awake. Now that she could see him properly, she noticed his long ears and nose. One hand with dirty fingernails grabbed the top of the podium. With a start, she realized he must be a goblin, remembering the hateful eyes of Ranrok on that morning’s paper. This goblin, however, had a kind face and smiled down at her with warmth and excitement.

“Sir! We were not expecting you, my many apologies,” he said hastily. Then, peering questioningly at Charlotte, he added, “You’re here for Vault Twelve, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Professor Fig returned. Charlotte couldn’t help but stare between them. There seemed to be a script she wasn’t aware of since Professor Fig had a ready answer. The goblin stared at the professor as if waiting for something. Professor Fig shifted uncomfortably, clearly waiting for the goblin to say something about what happened next. Perhaps not a script after all.

“The key?” he finally prompted, and Professor Fig started.

“The key!” The professor looked around, patting his pockets as if trying to remember where he put it. Charlotte leaned in.

“The Portkey?” she asked. Professor Fig nodded and produced the key, giving it to the goblin at the podium. 

“Then it’s all settled,” he said happily, jumping off of the stool he had been sitting on and leading the way to a cart settled on a winding track. “Hands in the cart, we don’t want any accidents.” He climbed onto the top of the cart and settled himself behind a number of levers. Charlotte looked at the gap between the cart and the floor and gulped. The cart was on a winding track, almost like one of the switchback railways Nathaniel described from his trip to New York the previous year. She was terrified of falling; the chasm under the rails seemed to go on forever.

“It’s all right,” Professor Fig murmured. “Here, let me help you.” He held out his hands, taking both of hers, and helping her move toward the cart. He took a seat and continued to hold her hands as she reached with one foot and then the other to the cart, feeling more and more unsafe by the second. She sat next to Professor Fig and nervously smoothed her skirt. She had never been to a bank before and wondered if this was the normal method of travel inside one, though Nathaniel never said. A brief image of Father and Nathaniel settled on a cart made her smile slightly. Perhaps this was normal for all financial institutions, and she was simply being silly by worrying. Surely a bank would be responsible enough to ensure the safety of its patrons.

With a tug, the goblin pulled a lever, and the cart shuddered as it began down the track. To Charlotte’s horror, it gained speed rapidly, beginning to move faster than a horse at full gallop, faster than she’d ever been before. To make matters worse, the tracks twisted and turned around a cave, narrowly avoiding plinths and walls as they sped past. Charlotte screamed as they flew past doors and caverns, Professor Fig holding her hand tightly and laughing as they went. The goblin joined in, his laughter higher pitched but no less merry. By the time they had reached the water fall (the Thief’s Downfall, the goblin told them, as it washed away all enchantments), her throat was raw. The cart slowed slightly, pulling alongside a platform where a second goblin dressed in a police uniform was waiting.

“Vault number?” he growled. Charlotte’s mouth snapped shut. While she had seen kind exuberance in the goblin driving their cart, this one gave her a cold, sinister look. An armband on his uniform glowed red, whisps of the color radiating into the dark air.

“Twelve! Momentous day!” the goblin driving the cart said cheerily. The guard’s eyes narrowed. Charlotte felt his eyes raking over her and noted an almost hunger in his eyes. Her back straightened. It was one thing to be scrutinized by a friendly goblin and to scream on the cart while her professor laughed kind heartedly. It was entirely another to be glared at by someone who felt entirely unfriendly, and she would not be found wanting. He snarled when he noticed Charlotte straightening herself.

“On your way,” he said finally, turning and waving off the cart. The cart moved much slower now, and Charlotte leaned over to the professor.

“That goblin, his armband… it glowed,” she said softly, and the professor nodded.

“Like the portkey?”

“Similar, but darker. Similar to what I saw on the dragon that attacked us.”

“I’m sorry?” The goblin smiled down at the two. “I missed what you were asking.”

“Oh, we were just wondering about that goblin back there,” Professor Fig answered, the statement omitting everything important. The goblin nodded, however, and didn’t seem to notice.

“He watches over the oldest part of the bank. Not many visitors here anymore, and security is always tight.” 

“Is Vault Twelve an old vault?” Charlotte asked. Her curiosity seemed to give her bravery as she looked up at the goblin herself, though the slightly slower speed of the cart helped her reach inside herself for courage. 

“Very old,” the goblin returned. “It was commissioned soon after Gringotts was founded. You’re the first person to visit it since it was created.” Charlotte looked at Professor Fig, who’s brow had furrowed. This was an unexpected turn of events, she could tell, and the professor was unsure what to say next. They stayed in silence as the cart slowly rolled to a stop in front of a round vault door.

“Here we are!” the goblin said cheerily. He jumped off the cart and offered a hand to Charlotte, who took it gratefully.

“Thank you, sir,” she said politely, and the goblin beamed. He helped her to cross to the platform (“I find it easiest to jump the way,” he said with a wink), and he led her to the doorway. Pulling the key from his pocket with a flourish, he placed it into the lock. With a gentle caress, he trailed one finger down the center of the door. Charlotte could hear the locks opening, most complaining bitterly about the use, and the door opened with a puff of dust. She peered inside, wondering what could possibly be in a vault like this, so deep in the caverns and so exciting for the goblin beside her. However, with the sweep of her eyes, the sense of disappointment bubbled into her stomach.

“There’s… nothing here?” Charlotte asked. The goblin chuckled but said nothing as she and Professor Fig made their way into the vault, looking for any trace of what they were brought there for. 

“I don’t see anything,” the professor said, before turning to the goblin. “Sir, if I may, could-”

“I’m sorry, the instructions for Vault Twelve are very clear,” the goblin interrupted, looking very sorry for having to interrupt. “I was to open the door for the one who had the key, and then close it again.” And with that, the door slammed shut, locks starting to close again. Charlotte started to breathe faster. It seemed she was almost destined to die today: first a dragon attack, and now locked into a vault by a goblin. She couldn’t think of anything else that could possibly go wrong.

“Professor,” she started, almost in tears, before Professor Fig placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Charlotte, you are completely safe with me, understand?” he said bracingly. He leaned over slightly so he could look into her deep blue eyes, his own paler ones kind and gentle as he tried to reassure her. “We will get out of this.” Then, looking around, he said to himself, “Revelio, I think.”

“Revelio?”

“Yes, a new charm for you. Pull out your wand, let’s work on the movement.”

Obediently, Charlotte pulled her wand from her pocket. This seemed like an odd time for a lesson, but the routine helped to ground her. The wand had tangled around a few of the ribbons Marie had given her that morning and she spent some time untangling it. Professor Fig chuckled at the sheer number of ribbons in her pocket but said nothing, helpfully picking up the few that floated to the floor in her haste to remove her wand. Finally, when it was freed, she turned to Professor Fig.

“It’s rather like a capital R,” Professor Fig said, moving through the movement. Charlotte followed, letting the repetitive movement anchor her in the moment. Trapped in a vault or not, she could do a lesson. “Now, the incantation is ‘revelio’, good Latin based spell. Let’s see you try it now.” Charlotte closed her eyes and moved through the movement once more before casting the spell. She caught a small glimmer at the far end of the room.

“Professor!”

“Yes, I saw it, too.” Professor Fig’s eyes sparkled and shone down at her. “Try it again, but this time, closer to the wall.” 

Charlotte moved closer to the wall and with deliberate effort, she cast the spell once more. This time, an entire doorway was revealed. The arch over the door seemed to be one better suited to a mirror, but the swirls and gentle curves of the lines reminded her of the swirls that called to her. She touched the blue shimmer, and it rippled out, like water. With determination, she stepped into it and fell into another room.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Charlotte looked around this new location. Mist covered the floor, giving the hall a sinister and ancient feel, and tall thick columns held up a ceiling she could barely see. It held the feel of a dwarven hall from one of her stories and she shivered with the idea that she had fallen into one of her fairy tales. 

“Professor,” she asked quietly, “where are we?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, lighting the end of his wand. Charlotte followed, smiling at the little light she created. That had been her first spell, and the twinkle of her little wand would never cease to please her. Professor Fig nodded and then led the way into the darkness, glancing this way and that as they walked slowly further into the hall. Charlotte mimicked him, more concerned with the type of architecture she was seeing than any danger. She could somehow sense that, in this place, she was relatively safe. Something caught the corner of her eye and she turned toward it.

“Professor, a light!”

“A light?” Professor Fig turned in the direction she was pointing and squinted into the darkness. “Is it another glow?”

“Perhaps,” she said, unsure of how to describe what she was seeing. “It’s on the floor, though, with whisps trailing into the air.”

“Then let us investigate!” he said happily, allowing her to lead the way. As they walked, he chatted a bit, hoping to keep her nerves at bay. “Miriam was the explorer. She loved traveling and exploring new caves and getting into trouble. I was much more interested in staying put and reading, but I daresay this is quite exciting.” His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps some of Miriam has brushed off onto us.”

Charlotte paused by the glow on the floor. The closer she got, the more of a hum she could hear, pulling her onward to the pool that appeared on the floor. The pool made a ripping noise as it popped into existence and had dark depths that called her into it. Without thinking, she reached down with her wand and touched the pool, pulling the substance up and into the air. She could feel a rush of something inside of her as the pool dissipated into the air, leaving behind a smooth, polished floor. She fell to her knees, breathing hard and trying to understand what just happened.

“Charlotte?” Professor Fig knelt beside her, grabbing her shoulders tightly. She could feel rather than hear the fear he felt and was suddenly ashamed for scaring him.

“I’m all right,” she said quickly. “There was a dark pool, and it was calling to me, and I pulled it up with my wand and-” She suddenly stopped, noticing a reflection in the polished surface. “Professor, what is that reflection?’

“Reflection? Where?” Charlotte pointed and Professor Fig straightened. He pulled out his wand and, lighting the tip, walked a few steps forward. “I don’t see anything,” he said quietly, touching the floor and looking around. Charlotte stood, watching the professor move around the space and explore. She noticed movement and initially thought it was the professor, only to have it happen again when she was looking directly at the professor. She shook her head, thinking perhaps the day’s events had started to play with her reasoning skills. The professor noticed and stopped before casting revelio on the space. With a glimmer, a statue appeared before them. It was a Knight holding a sword, and Charlotte shivered a bit looking at it. Professor Fig walked around the statue, holding his lit wand aloft. 

“Is this what you were seeing in the floor?” he asked quietly. Charlotte nodded and looked down to the floor. The reflection wasn’t in line with the statue, instead pointing in the opposite direction. She opened her mouth to say something, only to see the reflection move as Professor Fig walked back toward her.

“Professor! The reflection moves with the light!” she exclaimed, pulling out her own wand and lighting it. She moved past Professor Fig, full of purpose now that a puzzle was to be solved and watched as the reflection turned toward her wand. She stepped quickly to the front of the statue, lining the reflection with the statue, and gave a triumphant cheer when they matched. Then, without warning, the statue began to rise, pulling the sword up before dropping the point to the floor with a heavy thud.

Wind whipped around them, creating an oval space with the statue in the center. More knights fell from the ceiling, pulling their swords into a ready position, their sightless faces looking at Charlotte. She took a step back, stumbling over her own feet as she fell into a heap on the floor.

“Charlotte!” Professor Fig dove in front of her, pulling out his wand and casting several spells, destroying the statues as they came too close to her. He reached behind her and pulled her up roughly, grabbing her wand arm and pointing the wand at another statue stalking toward her. “Cast, Charlotte!” he cried, showing her the movement quickly as he took down another statue. She shivered from fright but did as she was told, sending a burst of red energy toward the nearest knight and watching it stumble. 

Somewhere in this, Charlotte found her courage. She cast a few more times, turning the statue into dust before settling on another. She watched as Professor Fig cast a shielding charm and tried to copy the movement when another came too close. A light blue bubble surrounded her, and the knight bounced off of it, stumbling several steps backward and allowing her time to destroy it. Between the two of them, the knights were quickly disposed of. 

“I did it!” Charlotte cheered, almost gleeful for finally having some sort of control over her situation. Professor Fig smiled and started to say something, only to have the darkness fall. Charlotte lit her wand, but the professor was nowhere to be found.

“Professor?” she called, looking around the darkness. “Professor?!” He made no reply and Charlotte started to shrink into herself. “I guess I have to continue alone,” she murmured to herself. “But I can do this. I destroyed those knights back there. I’ll be ok.” She took a cautious step, watching a wisp of bright light fly from her foot to her right. “That seems ominous,” she said with a chuckle, but she followed the lights. They led her deeper into the hall, pulling her along as she raced alongside them. The lights seemed kind, almost supportive, and she happily took any kindness where she could find it. 

She heard a familiar groaning as if the whisps were waking something, only to have a pool of dark waters appear at her feet, tearing into existence under her shoes. Once again, Charlotte felt rather than knew what to do, pulling the pool up and allowing it to reveal the smooth floor. She cast a revelio, just as Professor Fig had taught her moments- or was it years- ago, revealing three knight statues instead of the previous one. She aligned the reflections once more and battled to destroy the knights as they charged at her. She mistimed a shield, leaving her with a gash on her thigh, and she went down with a cry. Charlotte felt something inside of her begin stirring and on pure instinct, she reached into herself and pulled a thread of power out. The statues burst into pieces, falling heavily on the floor, and Charlotte panted from the effort. 

“That would have been helpful sooner,” she said to no one in particular. “I wouldn’t have had to do the shield spell if I knew I could do that.” The silence seemed less intimidating as she pulled herself along, following the lights that continued to flicker and dance around her feet. She decided they should have a name, and decided on “leading lights”, watching as each one puffed out once it passed a few feet in front of her, others rushing to replace it. Once again, the sound of a fierce wind pushed against her ears, a pool of dark magic tearing into existence at her feet, and she pulled the magic up, hoping against hope there wouldn’t be any knights to fight. 

Almost as if it heard her, the magic created a mirror for her, the blue interior shimmering with power as she peered into another room. This one had graceful pillars, lines dancing and swirling to the ceiling, and not a knight in sight. She stepped through, holding the frame for balance, and the room shimmered before settling before her. The mirror remained, the interior now red and showing the dwarven hall she had passed from. She felt something calling her, pulling her attention, and turned to a small birdbath in the middle of the chamber. A pendant floated in the air above it, the silver chased with engravings and fine metalwork. A stopper at the top seemed to keep contents inside while a door on the outside made of gold glistened in the eerie light. She couldn’t help herself; she reached out and grabbed the object, feeling the lightweight despite the size, and gently pulled it closer. The engravings were of swirls and stars, the light glinting off of the lines as she turned it over in her hands. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anything like it, but she immediately knew it was supposed to be hers.

A door opened behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. Professor Fig entered from the room behind the vault door, gazing around in wonder. 

“What’s all this?” he asked, his eyes wide. Charlotte stepped back and gestured to the bird bath, noticing for the first time it was filled with a silvery liquid. 

“It just led me here,” she said in a rush, “and there’s this birdbath and a necklace hanging above it.” She held out the silver pendant and Professor Fig took it, eyes narrowed as he inspected the object before turning to the birdbath. 

“I wonder…” he murmured, pulling out the stopper at the top and pouring what seemed to be pure molten silver into the bath, watching as it swirled into a dark pool. Charlotte thought she could see lights inside of it and stepped closer.

“Professor?” she asked quietly. 

“It’s called a pensieve,” he answered, understanding her unasked question. “One uses it to view memories, either your own or others’. You are meant to view whatever this memory contains.” He turned to look at her, eyes sparkling with the unknown. “Shall we?” he asked, putting his face down in the liquid. Charlotte followed almost in a trance, feeling the cool liquid against her face but feeling no wetness associated with it. And then, she fell.

The room was nearly ready. Two men stood in the center, directing pillars and decorations to sprout from nothing as they finished the chamber. The pensieve sat on its plinth behind them as they pulled magic from the ground, glowing with a pale whiteness. 

“We are finished,” said the shorter man. The taller one with a long white beard nodded. 

“It is all in place, then,” he said happily. “The trail is complete.”

“I wonder if it’s perhaps a bit too well hidden,” the shorter man protested. His face said he knew the taller man would disagree, but he seemed determined to speak his piece. “We may not get the student you desire.”

“That is a risk,” the taller man agreed, “but the path will be clearer to one with my ability.” The shorter man nodded, having heard this argument before, and watched as the taller man placed a wand to the side of his head. He was pulling a glittering silver strand from his temple while the shorter man pulled out a pendant to hold it.

Charlotte gasped as she pulled her head out of the pensieve. Professor Fig almost laughed beside her. 

“That glow, is that what you see?” he asked quickly, grabbing her shoulder. Charlotte nodded. “Ancient magic,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Miriam was right. All this time, she was right!” He turned to her, about to say something, when they heard the vault door opening.

“Sir, they had the key!” came the voice of the friendly goblin. “The rules were very clear!” A dark hand was held up, cutting him off, and Charlotte watched as the angry goblin from the paper came into the light. His eyes were black with red irises, glaring at her as if he was angry she dared to exist. The guard with the glowing armband stood next to him, glaring at her, and she shivered under the gaze.

“So. Someone has come to the vault,” Ranrok said, almost teasingly. “I was wondering if anyone ever would.” He sneered at Charlotte and Professor Fig pulled her behind him. She leaned out just enough to keep an eye on Ranrok and the guard and the professor put out an arm to keep her from stepping forward. His wand was already in his hand, she realized. 

“Ranrok,” he said. Charlotte froze at the icy anger in his voice. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for whatever you took from this vault,” Ranrok returned, his voice low and dangerous. “It belongs to the goblins. You stole it.” They glared at one another from across the room.

“Sir, I must protest!” the friendly goblin said, stepping in front. He seemed desperate to remove Ranrok from the vault and prevent the violence simmering just below the surface. “They had the key. You cannot be in here, the rules are-”

Ranrok cut him off with a hand. His black armor glowed red, whisps of magic floating into the air, creating the illusion he was on fire. With a gesture, the friendly goblin flew into the and crashed back to the ground. Charlotte thought she heard a snap of his neck and closed her eyes, feeling tears at the corners. She didn’t even ask his name, and now he was dead. 

“I have no time for traitors,” Ranrok said coolly, eyeing the body. He stepped around it, moving closer to Professor Fig and Charlotte. “Give me the pendant, and perhaps I won’t need to hurt your pretty charge here.” He leaned to look her in the eyes and smiled menacingly. “Would be a shame to damage that pretty face, after all.”

Professor Fig stiffened with fury before snapping his wand in the air. Ranrok stumbled from the wordless cast before pulling his own power, molding it into an angry red ball. Charlotte pulled her own wand, forming the shield just before the magic hit. She reached into herself, pulling power from deep inside of herself to support it, surrounding her and Professor Fig with the blue shimmering bubble.

With a rumble, the dais on which the pensieve had been sitting began to melt. Charlotte and Professor Fig stumbled, ending on the far side of the room from Ranrok. She watched as a knight, wrought in silver and holding a blue fire inside, appeared from the floor. His sword was the largest she had ever seen, and she cried out, her shield failing. Ranrok redirected his attacks to the knight who coolly brushed them side, using his sword to cut down one of the pillars. Charlotte looked around the room, trying to find an escape route, and found a mirror shining with a forest scene. She grabbed Professor Fig’s hand.

“I know a way out!” she cried, pulling him to the mirror and touching it with her hand. With a twinge of magic, she felt the transportation, pulling them away from the room with the giant knight, and away from Ranrok’s angry eyes. She let her hand drop as she started to look around this new place, wondering what new hell she had been brought to.

“Ah ha!” Professor Fig laughed, looking around at the trees that surrounded them. “It seems the men in the pensieve wanted someone with your ability to end up here!” Charlotte looked around herself, but only saw trees. The moon winked down at them through the gently waving branches and she felt a sense of calm fall over her for the first time since the dragon attacked that morning. Professor Fig grabbed her hand and pulled her to the edge of the forest, pointing up at a large castle on an island across the lake from them.

“Welcome, my dear Charlotte, to Hogwarts,” he said happily. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

It must have been the sheer amount of new experiences Charlotte had that day, but she never really remembered her first impressions of the castle. One moment, she was fighting Ranrok in a vault at Gringotts, and the next, she was standing before two tall wooden doors with exquisite carvings decorating the fronts. A repeating pattern of lions, badgers, snakes, and eagles decorated the small hall she was standing in. Professor Fig was standing in front of her, peering through the heavy doors.

“Excellent,” he said, “the sorting is still happening, we haven’t missed it.” He turned back to Charlotte and smiled broadly. “You’ll be sorted into your house,” he said, catching the confused look on her face. “You’ll be brilliant wherever they put you, I promise.”

“Is there a house just for muggle-borns?” she asked quietly. A place where she was surrounded by people exactly like her didn’t sound so bad. She would have friends who understood the transition and who could help her find her footing. Fig smiled warmly at her and shook his head.

“All the houses are based on your personality and values,” he said. “You’ll make a fair run for Ravenclaw, I suspect, but Hufflepuff or Slytherin would be good fits, too.” He peeked back out the door before hastily pulling back. His face had turned an angry pink, and his eyebrows were furrowed at an expected irritation.

“It looks like you’re about to meet the headmaster,” he said, though there was no respect in his voice for what Charlotte assumed was his boss. “Phineas Nigellus Black. Worst headmaster we’ve ever- Oh, hello, headmaster!”

A tall, thin man with a pointed nose and carefully sculpted beard appeared in the doorway. His dark eyes narrowed as he looked at Charlotte, who swallowed hard under the scrutiny. The man made a derisive noise before he turned back to Professor Fig. 

“You’re late,” he said, his voice cold. “You were to be here a full twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry, headmaster, there were complications.”

“Complications? You were simply asked to collect a student and bring them here!” Professor Black sounded angry, though he barely looked at Charlotte. “What complications could have-”

“We should perhaps get the student sorted,” Professor Fig interrupted, stopping Professor Black before he could continue his rant. Professor Black looked coolly at Charlotte before turning and opening the door once more, striding confidently up the aisle between two of the four long tables in the hall. 

“Go on!” Professor Fig said, pushing Charlotte through the door to follow the headmaster. The entire room was staring at her. The other students were all wearing a uniform and black robes, some even with black hats on their heads, and Charlotte felt very out of place in her torn and stained traveling clothes. She paused, took a deep breath, and held her head high, determined to show the grace and breeding she possessed despite the embarrassing circumstances. Professor Black made it to the front of the room, stepped up onto a raised platform, and barked at a witch holding an old hat and a stool. She seemed about to put them away before the professor spoke.

“Professor Weasley,” he said, sneering openly at her name, “we have one more student to be sorted. One very late student,” he added, glaring at Charlotte as if she had any control over dragons and knights with long, pointed swords. Professor Weasley, a plump witch with graying red hair and a kind face, smiled at her and replaced the stool in the center of the dais.

“Come along, then,” she said encouragingly. “Let’s get you sorted.” Charlotte rushed to the stool. With some directions whispered in her ear by Professor Weasley, she sat down and placed the tattered wizard's hat on her head.

Ah, yes, I wondered when we would see you. Quite an entrance, you know.

Charlotte started. The hat was speaking to her! It had a little whisper in her head, an old kindly voice that wasn’t entirely soothing but also not threatening. She sighed.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she whispered to the hat. “There was a dragon, and then we were at Gringotts, and then there was a knight…” She sighed.  “It’s been quite a trying day, so I’d rather get on with this.”

The hat laughed. Oh, but we have courage, don’t we? As scared as you were, you were able to fight back. Perhaps Gryffindor would suit you.

“Oh, no,” Charlotte replied. “I’d much rather not join people who run into danger. I’d much rather stay with my books indoors, where nothing dangerous could ever happen.”

But there are plenty of dangers indoors here, the hat returned, laughing again. Hogwarts isn’t exactly a safe school. But if you’re determined to learn, Ravenclaw would make a good house for you. Or- oh, what have we here? Quite a kind heart, I think. Hufflepuff is known for loyalty and hard work as well as kindness and friendliness, perhaps you would do better there.

“Oh no, I’d rather be with the smart people, thank you. I intend to be one of them.”

Quite ambitious as well. And your blood… Quite impressive for a muggle-born. As odd as it would be for someone from a muggle background, perhaps Slytherin would do well. Quite a puzzle, Miss Underhill, quite a puzzle indeed. The hat fell silent. Charlotte started to panic, thinking perhaps it was expecting a response that she didn’t have ready. Her fingers played with a tear in her sleeve. She didn’t even notice when it was made, she realized. The beautiful shirt Marie had dressed her in that morning, and she hadn’t even noticed when it was ruined. She would have to ask for a mending charm from Professor Fig in the morning. That would come in handy as it seemed the wizarding world was more dangerous than the stately townhouse she had lived in before. She may want to look into other household magic, to clean her clothes and take care of her things. Then, whatever servants were in the castle wouldn’t have to be overburdened with her things. She wondered if perhaps there was a class in cleaning and mending and maintaining magical equipment, or if she’d have to learn on her own from the library and other students. She was a fair sewer when it came to household mending and could always fix the shirt herself in a nonmagical fashion, but if it could be repaired with magic, that seemed the better choice.

The hat was listening, though Charlotte didn’t know it. It laughed at her train of thought, equally curious and kind, trailing off into daydreams about what classes would be like, what magic she would learn, how magic would compare to sewing a shirt by hand, and what Professor Fig would think of it all. The hat dove deep into her mind, teasing out her interests and passions, hearing her questions, and finding the secret list of hopes. It knew exactly where to put her now.

“The hat seems to be taking a long time,” came a soft drawn voice. The owner, a blonde boy with cloudy blue eyes, fiddled with his wand. The boy next to him, slightly taller and with tousled brown curls, nodded. 

“Yes, it’s been nearly ten minutes,” he replied, checking the watch on his waistcoat. “A hat stall, I guess. How embarrassing.”

“Only for those who don’t understand sorting is extremely difficult,” the blonde boy shot back, feeling somewhat irritated. He had been a hat stall, pleading with the hat to put him anywhere but Slytherin, anywhere but nearer his family. The brunette snorted but said nothing. 

“Describe her,” the blonde whispered. The other boy sighed.

“Blonde, but not like you. Yours is a bit darker while hers is almost white. She has a nice face. I can’t tell eye color from here, we’ll have to talk to her to get that. Fairly pale, but not unhealthily so. Her clothes are torn, though. Good quality from what I can see, but she had a time of it getting here.”

“I wonder what happened,” the blonde mused. “Surely she wasn’t attacked on the way.”

“Must have,” the brunette returned. “Or maybe a crash. Either way, she’s clearly in need of some new clothes and probably a bath. Maybe a calming draft, she was shaking when she first came in.”

“Shaking? I suppose Hogwarts can be a bit overwhelming… Muggle born, then?”

“Must be. She seems overwhelmed.”

The blonde placed a graceful thin finger on his chin, thinking. “You’ll have to be friends with her, then,” he said finally. “She will need friends to help her get through her first year.”

“Good thing you can’t see her,” the other boy retorted, “or I might think you have a thing for our newest student. She is certainly attractive in that aloof way you have.”

I know exactly where to put you, the hat whispered in her ear. It may have been easier to place you if you were 11, like they usually are, but no matter. You’re intelligent and value your book above all else, looking for new challenges for your mind rather than your body. Therefore, you are a 

“RAVENCLAW!” the hat yelled to the hall, and the students broke into cheers. The hat was removed from Charlotte’s head as Professor Weasley smiled down at her. 

“Here you are, dear,” she said happily, waving her wand over Charlotte’s clothes. They melted into something entirely new. A long light blue skirt, white blouse with matching blue tie, a blue jacket, and a long, warm, black cloak. Charlotte’s eyes went wide. 

“And blue looks lovely on you, dear,” Professor Weasley said, helping Charlotte off the stool to stand beside her. As Professor Black dismissed the other students, Charlotte studied the woman. She seemed more like Professor Fig than Professor Black, with kind blue eyes that twinkled like Fig’s. She had seemed to be dressed head-to-toe in black, but now that she was closer, Charlotte could see faint red piping along the contours of her skirt and jacket. 

“Thank you,” Charlotte said quietly, blushing slightly at the compliment. The day she had been too traumatizing for her to brush compliments off. Professor Weasley placed the hat on top of the stool. 

“Come, let’s get you to your common room,” she said warmly, placing a hand on Charlotte’s back as she steered her from the hall. “This is the Great Hall. You’ll take your meals here. The table over there,” she pointed to the second from the right, “is Ravenclaw’s, and that is where you’ll sit. At least until you make friends in other houses, at least. We’re not strict with where you sit, of course, so if you’d rather sit with friends at their houses’ tables, that’s perfectly allowed.” 

Charlotte followed the woman into the entrance hall. The walls were covered in tapestries and carvings. Professor Weasley led her to a stairway where the stairs were moving. Charlotte stood at the edge of one stair only to have the next slide into place as she stepped down.

“Fascinating,” she said breathlessly, testing the speed the stairs could appear. “Do they always move? Is this normal for wizarding buildings? Are they charmed to be perfectly safe and appear regardless of the person's speed, or are they in a set timing that we have to conform to?”

Professor Weasley chucked. “Professor Fig said you were inquisitive,” she said happily. “The stairs appear to time themselves to the person walking but don’t try to beat them. We’d rather not have injuries from testing the magic of the stairwell.” She walked off the stairs into a hallway with tall blue columns arching into the ceiling and then into another stairwell with emerald wallpaper. 

“Here are the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower,” she said. “These will not disappear but be careful regardless. The portrait over here has been known to try to scare new students and we’ve had a couple of accidents as a result.” The portrait she pointed to was of a young woman, laughing behind her hand as she winked at Charlotte.

“The portraits move!” she cried. “Do they all move, or-”

“Miss Underhill, I will happily answer your questions, but please, let us get you to your common room first,” Professor Weasley said. Charlotte flushed with shame. It had been a long day for the professor, judging by the hunched look of her shoulders. 

“Of course, professor,” she said quietly. Professor Weasley arched an eyebrow.

“A fifth-year who listens to me? Will wonders never cease? Please, teach that trick to my nephew. Merlin knows he could use it.” She winked at Charlotte, who giggled. They continued up the stairs to a golden statue of an eagle. The stone behind and below it was fine marble, showcasing the craftsmanship of the statue itself. 

“I thought you said my house was Ravenclaw,” Charlotte said slowly. “If we’re Ravenclaw, then why isn’t our sigil a raven?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Professor Weasley sighed. “I’ve always wondered that myself. You would have thought, with ravens being so enmeshed in magic, that they would have been the natural choice, but alas. The school founders had other plans, I guess.” Turning to Charlotte, she gestured to the statue. “You will have to answer a riddle to get into your common room every night. I would try to answer it with you, but I was never very good at riddles. Puzzles, perfectly capable, but riddles?” Charlotte looked at the statue, waiting for her riddle. The statue’s eyes blinked at her.

            “Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?” it squawked at her. Charlotte made a face.

            “You’re an eagle who should be a raven and you sound like a chicken,” she admonished. The statue laughed but made no reply, so Charlotte focused on her riddle.

            “Well, ghosts are the spirits of those who lived and have died, but poltergeists… they aren’t. They never lived. So, the ghost lived longer as the poltergeist never existed as a living being at all.”

            The statue squawked happily and opened its wings. Swinging forward, the door hidden behind it opened wide revealing a paired set of stairs going to the right and the left.

            “This is where I leave you,” Professor Weasley said. “Find me in the Great Hall tomorrow morning and I’ll finish your orientation.”

            “Thank you, professor,” Charlotte said with feeling. “I will see you in the morning.” She made her way up the stairs, winding through a tall tower. She eventually emerged into an open room in delicate shades of blue and white. There were tall windows to let the light in and a lovely fire in a circular fireplace surrounded by other students. 

            “Hey, new girl!” one of the girls exclaimed, rushing up to Charlotte. “Hi! My name is Samantha!”

            “Charlotte Underhill,” Charlotte replied, handing out her hand to shake Samantha’s. “It’s nice to meet you.”

            “Likewise!” The other girl was cheerful, her dark hair falling out of its bun after a long day of traveling. “We’ll be sharing a dormitory, so I agreed to show you your bed and all that. I’m sure you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s ok, so we’ll just get you settled.”

            Charlotte nodded, grateful. “A nice long bath and sleep sound like exactly what I need.”

            “Of course!” Samantha agreed, leading Charlotte up a stairway. “There were rumors that you were attacked by a dragon. I’m sure you’re desperate for a good long nap. Garreth Weasley sent over a dreamless sleep for you, so you can make sure you rest well tonight.”

            Charlotte thanked God for Garreth Weasley and Samantha, angels if she had ever seen some. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

            Samantha paused by a door with a large five beside it. Opening the door, she led Charlotte to a bed beside a large window overlooking the grounds. “Here’s you,” she said happily. “I’m just above you-” she gestured to the bunk “-and toiletries are here. The house elves left extra, probably because you lost yours. The bathroom is right across the hall, just hop in there and have a good soak. I’ll come check on you in a bit before we head to bed, just to make sure you’re ok.” Charlotte followed Samantha’s pointed finger, grabbing some soap and a lovely-smelling hair tonic along with a fluffy white towel. Samantha wordlessly handed her a pair of pajamas and left the room, leaving Charlotte to find her way to the bath.

            The bathroom was basic but serviceable. A deep copper bath sat in one corner, some bubbles foaming over the top. Charlotte undressed, carefully folding her uniform exactly as Marie had taught her and stepped into the water. It was hot, melting the knots in her muscles as she leaned against the back. The bubbles tickled her nose and she laughed, letting her body relax as she soaked. She stared up at the ceiling, tracing the lines between the painted stars. Had it been just that morning she had left home? 

            After she began to notice her fingers resembling prunes, she stepped out of the bath, dried off, and happily put on her borrowed pajamas. Making her way back to her room, she carefully laid her uniform on the trunk at the foot of her bed and climbed into bed. The crisp white sheets were scratchier than the ones she was used to at home, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and was asleep within minutes. 

She sat in her seat in the carriage, watching the cloud pass by as Professor Fig and Mister Osric talked. She couldn’t tell what they were saying. It sounded important, anyway, and she didn’t want to interrupt. She closed her eyes slowly, feeling the carriage sway from the horses as they flew north to her new school.

Suddenly, there was a crash. She was falling, a dragon chasing after her, calling out in Nathaniel’s voice. “Charlotte!” the dragon roared. “Charlotte, I’m coming! Don’t fall!” Charlotte didn’t feel it necessary to say that she didn’t have any control over her falling- that’s simply what gravity does when one’s carriage is destroyed by a dragon. The dragon opened its mouth again, fire mingling with her cousin’s words.

“Charlotte? Charlotte!”

“Charlotte?”

Charlotte jerked awake. Samantha was standing next to her bed, a worried expression on her face. “Are you ok?” she asked gently. Charlotte screwed up her face.

“Nightmare,” she mumbled, sitting up and trying to shake the sensation of falling from her body. 

“I figured,” Samantha said sadly. “Here, I forgot to leave it for you. It’s Dreamless Sleep, it’ll help you not have any nightmares tonight.” She handed a vial of a purple solution to Charlotte who eyed it carefully. “Garreth brewed it,” Samantha added, with a smile. “He’s good at potions. Figured you might get one anyway, but better to have one than not, especially with it being your first day tomorrow.” Charlotte opened the vial and smelled lavender and vanilla, like the tea her mother would make for her when she was a child. She drank the potion down.

“If only it tasted like it smelled,” Charlotte said, making a face. “That’s utterly vile.”

“He’s still working out the taste part,” Samantha laughed. “But it works just fine. Just needs some fine-tuning.” She turned to undress herself and climbed up into her bed. 

“Goodnight, Samantha,” Charlotte said quietly. Samantha returned the sentiment, and both fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

My Dear Nathaniel,

I arrived at school safe and sound, though the trip was difficult. I was sorted (to find the dormitories I will be staying in as well as my classmates) into Ravenclaw, a house that from all accounts is filled with wisdom and learning, which will suit me well. I was, however, a “hatstall”- it took over ten minutes to decide where I would be placed as the Sorting Hat, a very old and tattered thing rumored to belong to one of the medieval school founders, argued with me over my placement. I would have done well in any house, but Ravenclaw claimed me in the end. I have been directed to my dormitory; I share a room with several other girls, all of whom are lovely and wonderfully welcoming, and I shall begin classes in a few hours. I’m excited to see how the school lives up to the tales you told me!

I am afraid, however, that my belongings were destroyed in transit. A dragon, of all things, rudely attacked my carriage and ate the back half in what would surely be a joke if not for the nightmares I had last night. All of my clothes and my prayer book were destroyed. I hate to ask for things at all, but could I possibly have another prayer book? It seems the clothing here is entirely uniform, so I will replace my wardrobe as I am able, but a man was killed in the attack, and I find myself wanting to pray for his soul. He was very kind to me, even though we only knew each other for a short time. Happily, the ribbons Marie gave me were in my pocket, and therefore I still have something from home. If you are unable or unwilling to replace my prayer book, fret not: I’m sure I will replace it myself before too long.

Please give Mother my love and show Miss Winters my penmanship. She worked so hard to make my writing presentable. 

I am, forever, your loving cousin.

-Charlotte

            Charlotte leaned back in her chair, glancing over her page. She had woken early to a beam of sunlight over her eyes and cheerful birds singing good mornings to the dawn. She remembered nothing of the dreams she had, if she had any, and felt rested enough to dress and begin her day. She carefully folded her borrowed pajamas and made her bed before slipping out into the common area. Several other students were awake, all working on their projects, and Charlotte borrowed parchment and a quill from the pile by the door. She wanted to reach out to Nathaniel and let him know she had arrived, though she tried to gloss over the details of the attack. While she was still deeply disturbed by the previous day’s events, she didn’t want to worry Nathaniel or Mother. She was sure Hogwarts would be perfectly safe now that she had arrived and, eventually, the dragon attack would be a frightening but distant memory. Deciding her letter was acceptable, she carefully folded it, sealed the edge with wax from the stock nearby, and carried it with her to the Great Hall.

            Charlotte had noted the various portraits that lined the walls, all moving and chattering about the new school year, but she took time to carefully look at each one. There were a variety of styles, most depicting a famous witch or wizard. One woman by the Grand Staircase was shouting prophecies while a wizard rolled his eyes and told students to “move along, surely she doesn’t need an audience for her nonsense”. A strange furry creature with a duck’s bill sat on a mound of gold, happily placing the coins into a pouch on its belly as a thin wizard in robes yelled from above. 

            “Stop it, those aren’t yours!” he cried, trying to thump his frame, but the creature was undeterred. “Nifflers. Nasty, greedy little things.” 

            Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at the niffler, its pouch now overflowing with gold. It had sweet eyes and an adorably satisfied face, blinking out at her before running out of the frame, trailing coins behind it. She laughed watching it trapse through other pictures, leaving a few of its treasures behind in each one. Charlotte followed it down the stairs, watching it waddle as it tried to get away with its horde. She didn’t even notice when she ran into something, knocking the wind out of her as she fell a few steps. The boy she ran into cried with alarm, his wand knocked out of his hand. 

            “I am so sorry,” Charlotte started, standing and reaching out to help the boy up from the landing he fell on. “There was this creature with gold, and he was just so funny, so I was following him, and-”

            “Watch where you’re going!” the boy snapped, feeling around for his wand. Charlotte noticed with a start that he must be blind; his blue eyes were cloudy with no pupils, and his face was turned up, concentration on his delicate features.

            “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, grabbing his wand and placing it in his hand. He snatched it away, lighting the tip and straightening himself. He took a deep breath.

            “Are you hurt?” he asked finally. Charlotte had been looking at her feet but snapped her eyes up toward the boy again. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

            “No, no, I’m- I’m alright,” she stuttered. The boy seemed to let out a deep breath before offering his arm to her.

            “Let me walk you to wherever you’re going,” he said quietly. “Were you looking for breakfast?”

            “Yes, eventually. I wanted to send a letter to my cousin first, to let him know I’ve arrived. And… ask for a few things, since mine were destroyed.” She took the boy’s arm, turning with him toward a large statue of a man surrounded by four creatures. The boy hummed, then stopped.

            “You’re the new girl,” he said, understanding weaving around his words. “I had heard you were attacked by a dragon on your way here.”

            “Yes. It happened to take the half of the carriage with all my things and- and Mister Osric.”

            “I’m so sorry,” the boy said, squeezing her hand with his own. “How awful. And on your first day in the wizarding world, too.” He let the silence fall, gently leading her to a set of carved doors she remembered from the night before.

            “Oh, is this where we eat?” Charlotte asked, trying to keep her rising fear out of her voice. The boy smiled and nodded, leading her into the hall and the four long tables. 

            “Technically, you’re supposed to eat with your house,” he explained, his wand tip leading the way, “but it’s not uncommon for students to switch tables for more informal meals. I understand there’s a group of mixed house students who rotate tables, even.” He paused, dropping her hand from his arm and smiling. He gave a short bow and left to the far left table covered in green. Charlotte stared after him for a while before a large boy head to toe in red bounced up to her.

            “You must be Charlotte!” he cried, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m Garreth, Garreth Weasley. I was hoping you’d make it to breakfast!”

            “Hello, Garreth,” Charlotte breathed, trying to inhale against his strong arms. He pulled back and blushed. 

            “Sorry, Auntie’s always telling me that not everyone wants hugs,” he said quietly. Charlotte laughed and touched his arm.

            “I just wasn’t expecting such a welcome,” she assured him. “Next time, I’ll make sure to take a deep breath.” The boy laughed, his ginger curls bouncing with the sound. 

            “Come on,” he said, leading her over to a middle table covered in yellow, “we’re eating with the ‘Puffs today.” He sat down on the bench next to a tall, gangly ginger boy whose brow was furrowed as he looked at a textbook.

            “What does this even mean?” he moaned, closing the book with a snap. “I’m behind and it’s not even been a day.”

            “Lee, this is Charlotte. New girl. Charlotte, meet Leander Prewitt. He’s a prat, but he’s our prat.” The tall boy gave a small wave and Charlotte returned the gesture. “And this is Natty- Natsai Onai. She’s the Divination professor’s daughter.”

            A girl with dark skin and extremely curly hair waved from beside Leander. Her hair was free and unbound, creating a dark halo around her face. She yawned and propped her head up with an arm, picking at her plate. Charlotte smiled at her, though she wasn’t sure the girl had noticed. Garreth continued introductions, pointing out a taller Ravenclaw named Amit who cheerfully welcomed her to the table, and another Black student, a boy named Arthur, dressed in yellow and brown robes. Garreth helped her pile her plate up with delicious foods and she ate ravenously. 

            “So, how did you sleep?” the ginger boy asked, shoveling a mound of eggs into his mouth. The boy next to him rolled his eyes.

            “He’s the one who made that potion,” he said before nudging Garreth. Charlotte held back a laugh and reached for her teacup. It was a rich, dark color, shades of red and brown and gold streaming out from the teapot when she poured it, and it had a calming scent as she held the cup up to her nose. Almost like home, she thought, taking a sip and humming happily.

            “I slept well,” she said finally, placing her cup back on the table. “Samantha had said that you brewed it. The flavor needs some work, but it worked fine.”

            “Excellent!” Garreth’s face was triumphant. Leander’s face darkened slightly.

            “I was worried you’d have nightmares,” he said simply, ignoring his friend’s happy dance next to him. “Dragon attacks are rare, but I’ve heard about them. My father works for the Ministry, and he’s noted several attacks lately. You’re the first person to survive, as far as I know.” Charlotte shivered and instinctively picked up her cup again, letting it warm her.

            “Stop scaring the girl,” a heavily accented voice said. Natty had woken up, it seemed, and was working on a scone while glaring at Leander. Then, to Charlotte, she added, “Don’t mind him. He’s always such a downer.”

            “I am not!” Leander returned, face flushing scarlet. Garreth laughed. 

            “You are, and I know why,” he said tauntingly, reaching for another sausage. He waved it in front of his friend and said in a sing-song manner, “Someone has a crush on a Slytherin…” Leander flushed deeper, his face now resembling a tomato, and Charlotte giggled. Amit leaned over to her.

            “Garreth thinks Leander has a crush on Sebastian Sallow,” he whispered conspiratorially. Charlotte’s jaw dropped.

            “You- you can have those?” she stuttered. “Crushes on other boys?”

            Garreth blinked at her before laughing. “Oh, of course, you’re a proper muggle,” he laughed, while Leander glared at him. “Yes, you can have crushes on anyone. The wizarding world cares less about that than muggles do.”

            “Muggles… nonmagical people?”

            Amit nodded and gently patted her hand. “It will take some getting used to,” he assured, “but yes. If you wanted, you could even have a crush on a girl.” Charlotte flushed a dark pink and Natty jokingly batted her eyes at her. The boys roared with laughter.

            “What’s going on here?” Samantha asked, smoothly sitting next to Charlotte on the bench and reaching for her cup of tea.

            “The usual,” Natty said, straightening and pulling her hair back into a bun. “Leander has a crush on Sebastian, Charlotte is learning that homosexuality exists, Garreth is being Garreth…”

            Samantha laughed, taking a sip of her tea before turning to Charlotte. “Sleep well?”

            “I did,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Thank you.” Then, touching the parchment next to her plate, she added, “I do have to ask, how do I post a letter? I’d like to send this to my cousin, let him know I arrived.”

            Leander, who had finished his meal and was thoroughly disgusted with his friends, reached out to take the letter. “I’ll send it, I’m heading that way,” he said. “And it gets me away from this lot,” he added, glaring at Garreth, who was now making kissy noises at him. Charlotte smiled brightly and thanked him, and without fanfare, Leander was off. Garreth sighed as his friend stomped away.

            “That boy wouldn’t know romance if it killed him,” he said, almost wistfully. Then, turning to Charlotte, he asked, “What class do you have first?”

            Charlotte stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I don’t have anything to tell me.” Garreth’s eyes crinkled in confusion, but before anyone could help, Professor Weasley appeared at the end of the table. 

            “Miss Underhill, could I see you for a moment?” she asked. Garreth straightened suddenly and stopped playing with his potatoes while his aunt glared at him. “Behaving yourself, Mister Weasley?”

            “Always,” he replied with a smile, and Professor Weasley’s mouth tightened. 

            “Well, at least it’s not you in detention already,” she muttered, and Garreth’s eyes widened. 

            “Wait, who got detention already? It’s not even been a day!”

            “You, if you don’t behave,” she retorted. Charlotte was standing now, brushing any wrinkles out of her long plaid skirt. Professor Weasley smiled at her and led her from the room. “It seems I came at an opportune time,” she said happily to Charlotte. “I have your timetable here as well as a few things to help you catch up to the other fifth years.” She pulled a slip of parchment from her pocket. Charlotte looked at it.

Monday: Transfiguration

            History of Magic

            Charms

Tuesday: Herbology

            Defense Against the Dark Arts

            Potions

Wednesday: Transfiguration

            History of Magic

            Astronomy

Thursday: Herbology

            Defense Against the Dark Arts

            Potions

Friday: Care of Magical Creatures

            Divination

            Flying

            “There’s a class on flying?” Charlotte asked, eyebrows raised. “Whatever for?”

            “So, you know how to operate a broom safely,” Professor Weasley said, not unkindly. “It is a common mode of transportation in the wizarding world, so you need to be familiar with it.” Charlotte nodded, looking back down at her list. Professor Weasley stood, waiting for Charlotte to be ready. Finally, Charlotte nodded again and placed her timetable in her pocket.

            “Now, as you know, you’ll be catching up this year. You have your O.W.L.s at the end of the term, so we need to work fast to try to get you prepared. The other professors and I have created a sort of cheat sheet for you, to get a better idea of what you need to know.” Professor Weasley pulled a book from thin air and opened it to a random page. “You’ll collect pages from around Hogwarts with information about the history or lore attached to different locations. It will also track what you’re learning in classes, allowing me or another professor to get an idea of what areas you need more dedicated help in.” Professor Weasley grinned at her. “I wish I had something like this when I was a student.”

            “You were a student here?” Charlotte couldn’t stop the questions from falling from her lips and blushed at the rudeness. Professor Weasley laughed.

            “How old do you think I am?” she chided. “Yes, I was a student here, along with most of your professors. There aren’t many other magical schools left in Britain.”

            “There were other magical schools? Why did they-”

            Professor Weasley held up a hand. “That is a question better asked of Professor Bins, the History of Magic professor here. Let’s instead get you oriented so you can attend your classes today.”

            Charlotte clutched her history and lore book to her chest as she made her way down the steps to the Herbology greenhouses. She had always loved plants, but as her parents employed gardeners, she had never grown any herself, and the prospect made her slightly nervous. She reached the door to the glass enclosure her class would be held in and gingerly made her way down the steps. A young red-headed woman with long braids was handing out cotton balls to the students, her voice happily singing its way through the morning. She started when she saw Charlotte before beaming.

            “Class, please welcome our newest rose to our garden!” she said, placing a hand on Charlotte’s back. The other students waved or said hello, most smiling at her. The boy from the Grand Staircase sat on a stool, his face turned toward the light as he smiled. The professor stepped in front of her, interrupting her thoughts.

            “You’ll need these today,” she said, handing Charlotte a pair of cotton balls. “I know you haven’t gotten your new supplies yet, but we will manage. And here’s a seat for you!” The professor, whose name Charlotte managed to miss every time someone said it, led her to a stool beside the boy from earlier. He hummed happily as she took her seat and leaned over.

            “What is the professor’s name? I never caught it.”

            The boy chuckled, his face still turned oddly toward the light. “Professor Garlick,” he whispered back, “but don’t worry, she doesn’t mind if you forget or get it wrong. She is one of the nicest people here.”

            “Alright, class, let’s begin!” Professor Garlick said loudly from the front of the room, hands clapping together happily. “We are beginning our fifth year with a difficult plant, the mandrake root, or Mandragora. Can anyone tell me why this plant is so important for us to add to our mental gardens?”

            A hand shot up next to the boy. A tall, lean boy with messy brown curls and freckles decorating his skin answered calmly and with confidence. “The mandrake root can be used to restore patients of some curses and petrification. It’s also an effective weapon.”

            “And why would that be, Mister Sallow?”

            “Because its cry is fatal,” Leander supplied from across the table. The brown-haired boy made a face, but Professor Garlick smoothly gave both points for their correct answer and swept past the moment. Within minutes, all of the students had a potted plant before them, deep green leaves with a touch of pink at the bases rising from the soil. 

            “Please secure your cotton buds, and be careful: the mandrake’s cry is dangerous, though I doubt these will kill at this stage. Better safe than sorry, though!” 

            Charlotte put her cotton buds deep into her ears and turned back to the professor. While Professor Garlick was yelling, she could barely hear her next instructions. 

            “Place your hand firmly around the leaves, at the very base, and pull directly upward. Once you have it, place it in the new pot as quickly as possible. The new soil should wrap the mandrake in a dirty, warm blanket, and they’ll fall asleep quickly if you’ve done it right.”

            Looking around the room, Charlotte placed her hand as close to the soil as possible, wrapping her fingers around the leaves. She noticed Mister Sallow, clearly the Sebastian Leander had a crush on, gently showing the boy next to her how to grip the leaves, making sure his placement was correct before turning to his plant. She took a deep breath, looked back at her plant, and pulled.

            A wrinkled, brown baby came up with the leaves, little rootlets covering his arms and legs like long hairs. The baby began to scream, breaking the glass on the ceiling as he was joined by several siblings, all screaming bloody murder. Charlotte placed her free hand over her ear and shoved it down into a new pot, scooping soil around it and gently patting it down.

            The boy next to her was having problems placing the mandrake into the new pot, and Charlotte, without thinking, reached over and guided his hand down. The boy flushed and pulled his arm away, but Charlotte was distracted ensuring the baby was fully immersed into the new pot. The boy reached for the soil and patted it around the root gently, almost lovingly. Then, turning to her, he snapped, “Don’t touch me.”

            “I’m sorry,” she murmured, flushing. Class ended shortly after, and she rushed out of the room to her next lesson, wondering if her problems would be, in fact, with the other students rather than the subject matter.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

“Hey, wait!” 

            Charlotte turned, trying to shake the feeling that she had done something terribly wrong, as the brown haired boy ran up to her. He stopped and bent over, trying to catch his breath. 

            “How can you move to fast?” he said breathlessly. Charlotte didn’t think she had been moving especially fast but promised herself to take notice of her speed from then on. The boy, having mostly recovered, stood up straight and held out a hand.

            “Sebastian Sallow. I wanted to apologize for Ominis back there. He just… really doesn’t like other people touching him. It wasn’t anything personal.”

            “It’s the second time today I’ve touched him, then, so the frustration was understandable.” Charlotte looked down at her feet while the boy blinked at her. “I ran into him earlier on the stairs and knocked him down.”

            “That was you? He was more worried that you would be hurt! He said you fell down a few steps, but he wasn’t sure if you were injured. Are you alright?” 

            Charlotte shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “And I’m sorry for touching him in class. I just-”

            “You wanted to help. It’s not a big deal. Normally you’d be able to ask.” He turned and gestured for her to follow him as he made his way up the stairs. “He’ll calm down and apologize and then everything will be ok again, you’ll see.” He opened a door on the side of the staircase, leading her to an outdoor courtyard and over a bridge. His brown eyes were kind and his nose crinkled slightly when he laughed. Charlotte could see why Leander would be so taken with Sebastian, with his infectious laugh and cheerful smile. They talked on their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, laughing at jokes the whole way, and Charlotte certainly felt better when she sank into her seat under a hanging dragon skeleton. She looked around the room as the other students trickled in. Leander and Natty came in and immediately looked around. Finding Charlotte, they rushed over.

            “Are you ok?” Leander whispered, sitting next to her. “We saw you leaving Herbology looking upset.”

            “I’m ok,” she said. “I had… helped another student who apparently didn’t want it. I didn’t mean to upset them, and that upset me. But Sebastian walked me to class. He was very kind and helped me calm down. I can see why you like him, Leander.”

            Leander’s face turned several shades of red while Natty squealed with laughter. 

            “She’s got your number, Lee,” she said, holding her sides. Leander glared at Sebastian across the room. Standing, he stormed over to where he was sitting with Ominis, the boy who didn’t like to be touched.

            “Sallow, what the hell are you telling Charlotte about us?”

            Sebastian looked up and frowned. “What are you talking about?” he returned, just as much heat in his voice as Leander had in his. “I didn’t talk about you at all.” Charlotte noticed Ominis laughing into his hand, seeming to understand the situation.

            “Did you tell her I have a crush on you?”

            “Prewitt, what are you on about? I didn’t even talk about you. She was upset and I calmed her down and walked her to class, like a gentleman. You didn’t even seem to notice she had left!”

            “Upset because your friend hurt her feelings!” Leander roared. “You know she was just in a dragon attack, she’s sensitive and you Slytherins are making it worse.”

            “Leander, please, I’m fine-”

            “You’re not fine, we can all tell.”

            Charlotte flushed and felt tears in the corner of her eyes. Natty put her arm around her, gently reassuring her, and turned to both boys.

            “If you’re going to duel, get it over with,” she snapped. “No need to draw this out and upset everyone around us.” 

            Ominis stood and touched Sebastian’s arm, whispering something into his ear. Sebastian pulled his arm away roughly.

            “You started this,” he said, accusingly to Leander. “You want to fight me? Let’s go.”

            Without a word, Leander sent a flurry of red sparks at Sebastian, who turned away from Ominins and blocked them. The two boys danced around the room, throwing sparks and fire at one another while the other students looked on. Charlotte had expected to see the others worried or upset, running to find professors to put an end to the fight, but instead, they seemed excited or bored. Sebastian and Leander must do this fairly often, she realized, for everyone else to simply get out of the way.

            Leander sent more red sparks to Sebastian, backing into the stairs leading to the professor’s office. It was clear even to Charlotte that Sebastian was the better dueler, blocking every spell with ease.

            “Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, goading Leander on. He cast a spell at Leander who blocked, reflecting the spell upward to the dragon’s skull. It loosened with a crash and came falling toward Leander. Charlotte cried out and covered her eyes.

            “Would you two stop that?” came an older voice. Charlotte looked to find an older woman, bent with age, hovering the dragon skull above Leander and chiding both boys. “If you’re going to kill each other, do it on your own time. I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridean Black skull.” She gave a swish of her wand and the skull reattached to its body, once again hanging harmlessly above Leander. Both boys seemed to have shrunk slightly under the scolding they were receiving.

            “Take your seats. We’re beginning now, and then I will talk with you two about picking fights you can’t win-” to Leander, “-and rising to his bait-” to Sebastian. The boys took their seats, saying nothing further, and Charlotte patted Leander’s hand in comfort. He gave her a small smile. Across the room, she could see Ominis furiously whispering to Sebastian, who had a very sour look on his face.

            “Can’t trust those snakes,” Leander murmured. “They cheat. They always cheat.”

            “It was a fair fight, and you know it,” Natty whispered from her seat beside Leander. “Just kiss him and get the tension over with.” Charlotte chuckled quietly while the professor handed out feathers. 

            “Today, we will be reviewing a spell that has gotten me out of trouble more than once: levioso.”

            “A levitation charm?” Leander groaned. “What good is a levitation charm in a duel-”

            Suddenly, Leander was hanging in the air above their desk. Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the shock on his long face and the triumphant tone of the professor’s voice.

            “Care to defend yourself, Mister Prewitt?” she taunted. “No? Then sit down and let me do the teaching.” She dropped Leander, who retook his seat, grumbling. “Levioso is an excellent distraction. A distracted enemy, and one hovering in midair, is much easier to fight. It’s not always about overpowering your enemy, sometimes it’s about buying yourself the time you need to defend yourself or escape.” She showed the wand movement before setting the students on their feathers. Leander’s refused to rise multiple times, while Charlotte was able to levitate hers with little difficulty. 

            “Very good, Miss Underhill,” the professor said warmly. “I forgot to introduce myself in the hubbub of these two teenaged boys. I’m Professor Hecat.”

            “Like Hecate? The Greek goddess of magic?”

            Professor Hecat laughed. “Pronounced differently, but yes,” she said cheerily. “One of my ancestors had a sense of humor, I suspect.” She patted Leander on the shoulder as she turned back to the front of the class.

            “I think it’s time to practice on something a bit more exciting, don’t you?” She encouraged the students to stand up and waved her wand, sending the desks to the sides of the room. A long table rose from the floor and the other students started murmuring.

            “Duel,” Leander whispered. 

            “Let’s begin with Miss Underhill and Mister Sallow,” Professor Hecat said, pointing at the two students. Sebastian smirked and helped Charlotte onto the table. 

            “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” he said, winking before he gave a short bow. Charlotte followed his example, though she was slightly scared of being in a duel. Men died in those, which was why they were no longer legal. For the wizarding world to teach dueling was deeply concerning to her. What if she was hurt? Or worse, what if she hurt someone?

            “Now, I want a clean duel,” Professor Hecat said, looking up at both of them in the center of the table. “Only protego, levioso, and basic casts allowed. To win, you push the other duelist back until they fall off the table.” This last part was directed at Charlotte, who nodded. If she was just pushing Sebastian off of the table, there shouldn’t be too much damage done. She held her wand out in front of her body, readying herself for the fight.

            Suddenly, Sebastian swung forward, casting leviosos at her. Charlotte barely had time to think. Her body, however, knew what to do, throwing up a shield and then dropping it to quickly cast levioso at Sebastian. He hung in the air in front of her as she sent several basic casts, pushing him further and further from the center before he fell off the table entirely. The room went up in cheers, Leander pulling her off the table and jumping up and down. Sebastian stood, rubbing his sore behind. Ominis stepped next to him.

            “Did you see that?” Sebastian asked incredulously. Ominis laughed. 

            “Of course not,” he replied, “but it was the best duel I’ve seen in a while.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

            Charlotte was pulled along with the crowd to lunch. Samantha and Leander were chatting happily about Sebastian’s face when he fell off the table, Leander laughing at the memory.

            “At least someone brought him down a peg!” he cried, slapping Charlotte’s shoulders. “I would have myself if Hecat hadn’t stepped in.”

            “You mean, when she stopped the dragon’s skull from landing on your head?” Charlotte countered. She was proud of her duel but felt Leander was a bit too excited about her win.

            “Typical Slytherin trick,” he spat, suddenly frowning. “We Gryffindors fight with honor.” 

            Charlotte raised an eyebrow, but her retort was cut off by a dark-haired girl who suddenly charged forward.

            “You are an absolute prat, Leander,” she spat in an Irish accident. “Hecat saved your life, or at least the two brain cells you have left. And you started that fight.”

            “I did not!” Leander said hotly. “He was telling our naive friend here lies!”

            “The only things I was told were by your best friend, Leander, and I’ll ask you to stop fighting duels on my behalf.” Charlotte was flushed with frustration. Samantha and the new girl laughed.

            “She can fight her own, Lee,” the dark-haired girl chuckled. Then, turning to Charlotte, she added, “I’m Imelda. Dishonorable Slytherin, at your service.”

            “Charlotte. No word on my honor as a Ravenclaw as of yet.”

“So, Unknown Honor Charlotte, what do you know about Quidditch?”

As the group entered the Great Hall, Imelda made her apologies and walked to the Slytherin table instead of following the others to the Gryffindor table. Leander was still flushed and sputtering, but the girls had managed to have a lovely conversation about sports, and Imelda was still soaring on that high when she sat next to Sebastian.

“Your boyfriend is doing fine, thanks for asking,” she said smoothly, making Ominis snort his tea. Sebastian scowled.

“Why does everyone think we’re together?” he complained. “I don’t even like gingers.”

“Well, this one clearly likes you,” Ominis said cooly, putting his cup down. “And you’re both so repressed you refuse to admit it.” Imelda handed Ominis a roll, leaning across Sebastian to do so.

“I’m not saying girls have it easier, but at least when I like a girl, I’m not dueling her at the slightest provocation,” she said, glaring at Sebastian.

“It wasn’t my fault! He started it!”

“And you finished it,” Ominis retorted. He was carefully buttering his roll now, enjoying the fresh smell of the bread and the warmth in his hand. Then, to Imelda, he asked, “How’s the new girl? Charlotte, I think?”

“You know damn well what her name is,” Imelda laughed. “She’s great. Good sense of humor and she put Leander right back where he belonged. She’d be a good fit for the club.”

Ominis pondered the idea for a moment before nodding. “She actually would, and if she gets into any more dragon attacks, she’ll need the practice. You should ask her, Seb.”

Sebastian frowned. “You just want to avoid apologizing to her about Herbology,” he grumbled, but he kept his eyes on Charlotte across the room. She was laughing at a joke Garreth made, her voice tinkling with delight as her long blonde curls bounced from the movement. Imelda smirked. 

“Thinking of Charlotte? Or Leander?”

“Shut up, Reyes.” Sebastian got up from his seat, patted Ominis’ shoulder to let him know he was leaving and left the Great Hall. He wanted to have a moment to talk to Charlotte alone, so he headed toward Charms, hoping he could pull her aside when she appeared. In the meantime, he had some reading to do.

Charlotte’s cheeks hurt from laughing so much. Garreth was in rare form that afternoon and Leander’s sullen pout only helped to make the jokes that much funnier. She and Natty wheezed their way to Charms, still laughing at Garreth.

“I can’t believe he did that to his aunt!” Charlotte cried, holding her sides together. Natty joined her with a shriek of laughter.

“I’ve tried it,” she said, panting slightly. “If you cluck just a bit too loud by her, she turns a beautiful color of-”

“Hey, Charlotte, could I have a word?”

Both girls snapped their attention to Sebastian, casually leaning against the wall with a book in his hand. Charlotte nodded at Natty, who went to save them seats, and Charlotte moved closer to the boy. He smiled at her.

“You’re good,” he said quietly, gesturing her closer. “Give as good as you get in a duel.”

“It was good practice,” she replied, trying not to feel smug. 

“Practice? It felt like dueling an expert. Was that your first?”

Charlotte paused. Technically, it wasn’t, but her previous battles against the knights had been much more tense. She had been badly outnumbered and feared for her life, while this was a much more relaxed battle. 

“Yes. Beginner’s luck,” she lied, hoping Sebastian wouldn’t notice. He stared at her for a moment before smiling warmly.

“Not often a beginner takes down the school’s dueling champion. You must be a natural,” he said smoothly, feigning a thoughtful look. Charlotte waited for him to continue as politely as possible, but her hands gave away her impatience, clutching at her skirt and running her fingers over the fabric. “You know,” Sebastian said finally, lowering his voice, “if you wanted more ‘practice’, I might have a place for you to do it. It’s a dueling club. We meet in the clock tower after classes.” Then he winked at her, the gesture feeling awkward to Sebastian but looking confident and cool to Charlotte before he led her into the classroom. She took her seat next to Natty and noticed Sebastian immediately bending his ear to Ominis. The pale boy seemed insistent on something, and Sebastian’s cocky grin vanished as he listened. Then, looking at Charlotte, he took his chair. Suddenly, a jovial man came into the room from the office door at the top of the stairs. He made a silly face, danced down the steps, and greeted them warmly. 

“Hello, class, and welcome to your fifth year!” he said, holding his arms out wide. “We will start today with a new charm, but first, can anyone tell me the main difference between the color change charm and a switching spell?” The room fell silent, the students all looking at one another. Even Ominis seemed ruffled.

“Anyone? Anyone?” the man asked, before sighing. “Apparently, you all used the summer break to properly empty your minds! We are in dire need of review!” He grabbed a textbook from the table and held it up. “Gather into pairs, one textbook per group, Samantha, you do not need to continue studying.” Samantha, sitting in front of Natty and Charlotte, grimaced, but closed her book and stood. She was paired with Leander, who was looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Natty quickly took Charlotte’s arm and declared the two a pair before crossing the room to face her. 

“Now, let us review the wand movement for a summoning charm,” the professor said, bouncing on his feet as he demonstrated the simple movements. “And make sure to speak clearly,” he further warned, looking toward a boy Charlotte hadn’t met yet in Ravenclaw blue. “We don’t want a repeat of the great textbook fire of ‘89, do we?”

Charlotte turned to Natty, who held up the textbook. She closed her eyes, performed the movement, and clearly said, “Accio!” The book ripped itself out of Natty’s grip and flew across the room to Charlotte, who cheered slightly at her success. Natty cheered with her before summoning the book to her. They went back and forth, walking farther and farther apart to make the task more difficult, and Charlotte never tired of watching the book fly to her outstretched hands. The other students were slow to start but quickly caught their stride. Before long, the room was filled with flying books and laughter as students tried and sometimes failed to bring the books closer. Finally, the professor held up his hand.

“This is becoming too easy, even our newest player has mastered this game!” he cried, winking at Charlotte, who beamed back. “Let us try something else, outside of the classroom, away from your dusty books. Follow me!”

Charlotte walked beside Natty, laughing as they went.

“Is Charms always this fun?” Charlotte asked, clearly excited. Natty giggled.

“Usually. Professor Ronen likes his games and he's extremely competitive.”

“I think this may be one of my favorite classes then,” Charlotte declared. Professor Ronen gave her a fond look from the front of the group before opening the door to the outdoors. There, he conjured a platform with different colored zones and several brightly colored balls.

“Since you’re such a flatterer, Miss Underhill,” he teased, “Let us begin with you! Use your summoning spell on the balls and pull them to the zones. The farther the zone, the more control you require.” Charlotte stepped up to the platform and took in the playing field. She took a deep breath, held out her wand, and summoned a blue ball toward her. It rolled along the deck, bumping as it went until it paused in one of the middle zones. Cheers erupted from her classmates.

“Very good, Miss Underhill!” Professor Ronen said, patting her shoulders. “Now, try for one of the farther zones.”

It took Charlotte several tries before she was able to land the ball in the last zone. The control needed for the more precise movements was difficult to summon when she was enjoying herself so much, but she finally managed. Her friends and classmates erupted into cheers, Natty throwing her arms around Charlotte.

“You did it!” she cried. “Your first class and you managed a 50-point ball!” Charlotte beamed but said nothing. Instead, she stepped aside as Natty took her turn, putting all the balls into the last zone in quick succession. Leander fared much worse, only pulling one 30-point ball, and Samantha managed a score that matched Charlotte’s. Sebastian pulled his balls off of the edge, earning no points. Professor Ronen chastised him for having his mind elsewhere during the lesson, but it was clear he wasn’t paying much attention. Ominis managed a perfect score but made no comment and showed no signs of being pleased. Natty rolled her eyes.

“Cold as stone, that one,” she said. Charlotte went to reply when Professor Ronen interrupted.

“Now, let’s make things more interesting!” he cried, setting moving boxes on the playing field and giving a smirk to the students. “Miss Underhill, since it’s your first day, why don’t you pick who you’d like to play against.”

Charlotte paused. She should play against Sebastian or Leander, whose scores were lower than hers, but she felt that might be too cruel for her first day. Picking Natty would lead to accusations of cheating, since she was so friendly with the girl already, but would give her a good challenge. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, making her choice.

“I would like to play against Ominis, professor.”

Professor Ronen’s eyes widened. He covered his shock quickly, smiling wide and calling Ominis closer to the platform.

“It seems Miss Underhill would like a challenge, Mister Gaunt,” he crowed happily. Ominis scowled but said nothing, stepping up to the plate. Charlotte stood beside him and smiled.

“May the best blonde win,” she said, hoping the joke would crack his stony facade, and Ominis’ mouth twitched slightly. She counted that as a win.

“Ladies first,” he returned, giving a slightly exaggerated bow. Charlotte chuckled and focused on her ball, pulling it neatly to the 50-point zone. Ominis followed with his first 50 points.

“Excellent. I’d hate to think you’d just let me win,” Charlotte said with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. The smirk on Ominis’ lips grew.

“Of course not. I have to defend my place as the premier blonde,” he retorted. Another 50 points each, and the class had become deadly quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on Charlotte as she pulled her last ball. At the last minute, she ended the spell early, pulling only 30 points, though the ball was extremely close to the line. Ominis frowned.

“Well, guess I can’t win everything my first day,” Charlotte joked, turning around to rejoin her friends. Ominis sighed, cast his spell, and pushed Charlotte’s ball into the 50-point zone to join his own. As he left the platform, he hissed into her ear.

“I don’t need a pity win.”

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. She turned to face Ominis, but he had already passed her and joined Sebastian, who seemed to be angry with his blonde friend. Professor Ronen smiled broadly, trying to diffuse the tension in the group.

“It appears we have two excellent blondes! Mister Gaunt, what fine control!” 

The class dispersed soon after. Charlotte sat on a rock by the playing field, trying to soak in her first full day of classes and the mercurial moods of Ominis Gaunt. The sun was shining down, giving warmth and comfort, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze. For the first time that day, none of her new friends rushed to bring her along or asked for her opinions on things. She had homework but looked forward to completing it later that night. None of it felt too pressing at the moment, anyway. She opened her eyes to see a group of owls fly toward a large tower and thought about the letter she had sent Nathaniel that morning. Hopefully, he would get back to her soon, and she could move forward with her life. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” She looked up to see Sebastian Sallow picking his way up to her perch. She smiled, but internally she frowned at the interruption. She would have preferred to have some time to herself. 

“Just soaking in the day,” she said finally. Sebastian frowned and sat next to her, but said nothing, instead looking at a butterfly on a bush nearby. Charlotte closed her eyes again. If she concentrated, it almost felt like she was alone, able to pick through her thoughts carefully and decide how she felt about everything that had happened. 

“I hope you’re not too upset about Ominis.”

Charlotte sighed. Quiet contemplation was not to be. “He’s… rather peculiar,” she said finally, choosing her words carefully. “Or, rather, he’s mercurial. One moment he’s laughing along and the next he’s snapping at me. But I’m sure I’ll figure him out eventually.” She turned to Sebastian, who was studying her face carefully. “I do love a good puzzle.”

“He will give you a challenge,” Sebastian warned. Charlotte shrugged.

“You know, I’ve never been to school before,” she said, trying to explain better her position. “I don’t know exactly if you’re supposed to have other students you don’t like. I’m sure it happens, but I’d rather Ominis like me than not. I can’t please everyone, but I’d like to.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you just fine,” Sebastian said, turning his face to the sun again. They sat enjoying the warmth before Sebastian stood, brushed off his breeches, and held out a hand. 

“Professor Weasley asked me to come find you,” he explained. “You need supplies, as I understand it, and I was tasked with bringing you to Hogsmeade to get them.”

Charlotte frowned. “But surely, a girl would be more suitable. Going with a boy, and without a chaperone…”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sebastian said bracingly. “We will always be in view of other people. I can’t imagine we’ll get into too much trouble getting your books.”

Charlotte pursed her lips before nodding. She took Sebastian’s outstretched hand and brushed off her skirt before following Sebastian out of the gates. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

            Charlotte loved the country around Hogwarts. The day was sunny and warm, the sun’s rays gently gilding the bushes as they left the gate and set off toward Hogsmeade. She almost wanted to remove her cloak, until she remembered she was walking away from school with a young man. She didn’t want any rumors of her being improper circulating.

            “So, Muggle-born, yeah?” Sebastian’s brown hair bounced slightly as he walked. He asked the question without any pretense or sign he thought this was a bad thing. Charlotte sighed.

            “To be frank,” she said wearily, “I didn’t know magic actually existed until this last April. I thought it was only in stories.” Sebastian laughed. 

            “You have a posh accent,” he teased. “Like Ominis. You grew up with money.”

            “I did.” She tried to say it without any pride and nearly succeeded. “I’ve never even been to school until now.”

            “Don’t Muggles have schools? Did you just not have an education at all?” Charlotte laughed, shaking her hands.

            “No, no!” she cried. “I was privately educated. The schools are mostly for boys. Girls have a very different experience in the nonmagical world, I’m coming to understand.”

            Sebastian frowned. “What does a private education entail, then? And how is that different?”

            Charlotte started to open her mouth when a shout went up behind them. She turned to see Natty running up the lane, apologizing to the other students she accidentally pushed as she went. Charlotte broke into a wide smile.

            “Are you coming to Hogsmeade, Natty?” she asked when the girl caught up, panting hard. She nodded, still out of breath. 

            “All right, Natty?” Sebastian asked smoothly. She straightened and smiled, but her eyes remained wary.

            “Yes,” she said finally. “My mother heard that you were going to Hogsmeade and thought it would be a good idea for me to accompany you.” Natty brushed a hand over her hair and looped an arm around Charlotte’s. “Please, don’t let me disturb your conversation.”

            “Charlotte was just going to explain what a muggle ‘private education’ is, and why she had never been to school before,” Sebastian explained, seeming to not care that Natty had joined at all. Charlotte felt far more relaxed with another person present and opened up a bit more.

            “In the upper classes, being privately educated is how they refer to girls being taught at home with tutors and governesses,” she explained. “My parents hired tutors for all of my subjects that my governess couldn’t teach or that I needed more advanced work in. Girls simply don’t go to schools, that would be too crass.”

            “So, what did you learn then?” Sebastian pressed. Charlotte smiled.

            “Math, science, lots of history, French, Italian, and German, piano and voice…” She trailed off, trying to think of more subjects she had taken. “Oh, we did study some literature and rhetoric, on my father’s advice. He wanted to make sure that, no matter what I did in life, I would be well-read and well-spoken in all things.”

            “So, how is that different from going to a school?” Natty asked, her hand a comforting presence on Charlotte’s arm. 

            “The schools are more for boys,” Charlotte explained. “My cousin, Nathaniel, went to Eton and Oxford and received an education there. Girls are more educated at home.” She turned to Natty, eager to change the subject. “Was the education much different where you’re from?”

            “Oh yes,” Natty said happily. “In Uganda, there are fewer restrictions on what each gender can do, and there aren’t many schools yet for nonmagical people. I was taught at home by my parents until I was old enough to join Uagadou.”

            “Is that the Hogwarts of Uganda?” Sebastian asked. His eyes were sparkling at learning something new. Natty nodded. 

            “It’s much bigger than Hogwarts,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes, “and it’s built out of the side of the mountain. When it’s misty out, it looks like the school is floating in the clouds.”

            “I’ve never asked about it before,” Sebastian said, feeling somewhat guilty. “Is magic the same, or do you have different techniques and visualizations and the like?”

            “Sebastian!” Charlotte scolded, but Natty laughed.

            “It is a bit different,” she conceded, patting Charlotte’s arm to reassure her no offense was taken. “We normally use wandless magic and some things are encouraged where here they are not. Self-transfiguration is a big one. Everyone can do it in Uagadou, but here, it is considered too dangerous.”

            “And what about something like Dark Magic?” Sebastian pushed. “Are the rules there different?”

            “No. What is forbidden here is also forbidden there. Dark Magic is not accepted anywhere.” There was a finality in her tone that made Sebastian drop the subject. Charlotte flushed slightly, embarrassed to have been between the two. Her brain scrambled for an acceptable topic. 

            “You said they mostly use wandless magic,” she prompted, and Natty smiled. 

            “We do! It is much more instinctual, I find, but I am enjoying my wand. I find it more dramatic.”

            “It is rather satisfying,” Charlotte agreed, and the pair fell into giggles. Sebastian watched the two girls feeling a bit uncomfortable. They were fairly close already, while he had hoped to become better friends with Charlotte during this trip. Natty was, frankly, cramping his style. Eventually, he threw out an arm to stop the girls and pointed through a ruined building in front of them.

            “Charlotte, right through there is Hogsmeade,” he said. Her eyes grew wide. 

            “I’ve never heard of it before,” she said happily. “Is it a large town?”

            “Larger than anything else around,” Natty supplied, leading them on. “It’s one of the few all-wizard communities left in Britain.”

            Charlotte cocked her head as they climbed the hillside. “I wonder if that’s because of the witch trials,” she said thoughtfully, and Sebastian nodded.

            “It was safer, at a certain point, for wizards to live among their own kind,” he explained. “The Hogwarts Valley was a natural point for people to congregate, so there are quite a few hamlets here. It’s less of a problem now that, you know, Muggles don’t burn us alive.”

            “I imagine that would put a damper on relationships,” Charlotte quipped dryly. Then, turning to Natty, she asked, “Were there witch trials in Uganda?”

            “Yes,” Natty replied. The tone she used made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it, so the two others fell into silence until they saw the bridge leading into the village. 

            “Ok, I have to do some shopping for my sister,” Sebastian said, looking around the streets of Hogsmeade like he was unsure of where he was going. “Do you have a list of what you need, Charlotte?”

            “Yes, and a little map. Professor Weasley is very thorough.”

            “I need to step away and pick up some things for my mother,” Natty apologized. Charlotte smiled and held up her map.

            “Good thing I’m prepared since both of you are abandoning me.” 

            Both Sebastian and Natty laughed before giving their goodbyes and walking away. Charlotte turned to her map, checked the streets in front of her, and headed confidently in the direction of Olivanders.

            An hour or so later, Charlotte had dittany seeds, a small pile of spellcrafts, a few quills and parchment rolls, some potions ingredients, a mound of textbooks (and a few extras that the proprietor insisted she would need for a smooth transition to the wizarding world), and her very own wand. She sat on a bench in the town square turning it over in her hands, feeling the smooth wood. Mister Olivander, a very kind if eccentric man, had told her it was made out of willow wood with a phoenix feather core. 

            “Willow wands are rare,” he said with a sparkle in his eye as he boxed the borrowed wand for her. “They like wizards who have potential. And phoenix feathers give powerful magic. You have far to go, my dear, and the wand can tell that.” 

            She ran her fingers down the delicate rings, feeling the bumps and grooves. It felt different, somehow, to her borrowed wand. Both more powerful and more right, as if it completed her arm. She looked up to see both Natty and Sebastian making their way across the square toward her.

            “All done?” Sebastian asked cheerfully, holding a small bag of his own. Natty held a series of bags almost as full as Charlotte’s and looked down at Charlotte’s wand.

            “Oooo!” she squealed, dropping her bags to look closer. “What wood is it?”

            “Willow,” Charlotte said proudly. Sebastian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

            “Willow wands are great for advanced magic and nonverbal spells,” he said, eyeing the wand eagerly. “You’ll have to get working on those skills right away.”

            “What is it with boys and power?” Natty asked, but her smile gave her away. “You always think about the power of the spells and not the finesse it requires to cast!”

            Sebastian was about to retort when he paused, looking behind them. “Did you head that?” he asked, but Natty had already drawn her wand, eyes narrowed at a house across from them. Charlotte realized she could hear it, too: a low rumbling, like rocks falling. She stood behind her friends, holding her new wand in her hand, and waited. The house their eyes were glued to trembled slightly. 

            Suddenly, the house fell, stones flying into the square. The trio ducked to avoid being hit by a brick as it went sailing across the pavement. Charlotte looked up to see a troll in the house’s place, roaring in anger and wearing glowing red armor. She whimpered slightly. Sebastian heard her and stepped in front, holding one hand against her arm to keep her there. Natty shared a look with Sebastian and they steeled themselves. 

            The troll let out a roar and came bounding across the square toward them. Natty and Sebastian let loose a string of basic casts, trying to convince the troll to stay away. A woman in a police uniform came running toward the troll, shooting her own basic casts. The troll finally turned its head toward her, letting loose a roar before following the new annoyance. 

            “Lead it out of the village!” she yelled at a group of shop owners and shoppers behind her. As a group, they moved to the bridge leading out of town, continuing to cast at the troll. The troll, seeming to be as stupid as the name would imply, followed them, roaring as he went. Charlotte let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and relaxed. 

            “Thank God it left,” she started, but a crash much closer cut her off. Another wave of stones caused the group to duck, and when they stood, a second troll, much larger and angrier than the earlier one, was charging. Sebastian pushed Charlotte out of the way, and she rolled instinctively. Natty and Sebastian scattered, dancing in front of the troll and casting spells as they distracted it. Charlotte stood, paralyzed, as the troll swung its club at Natty, who jumped out of the way. 

            “Cast something!” Sebastian yelled at her, dodging a thrown rock. “Don’t tell me that duel earlier was just bluster!”

            “I told you, it was beginner’s luck!” Charlotte shouted back. She drew the troll's attention with her cry and started casting as well, trying to keep the club in the troll’s hand away from her. She cast levioso on instinct, her wand making the swishes without her trying to, and the club levitated above the troll’s arm. Natty gave her cry and slammed the club into the troll’s face, though it seemed to do little damage. In angry revenge, the troll turned to Sebastian and charged. Sebastian was backed against a wall and had nowhere to run, and the troll seemed to know it. Charlotte felt something deep inside of her building. She pulled her hands to her chest, making claws with her fingers to ball the energy. The world seemed to disappear except for the troll, the energy in her hands, and the sensation of pulling. She pushed the ball toward the troll and the troll gave a final roar as he disintegrated into ash. 

            “Charlotte!” Natty cried. “What the hell was that?” Sebastian had covered his in an attempt to protect himself from the troll and stood up straight at Natty’s cry. Charlotte stood frozen, not fully understanding what had just happened. Natty ran over to her and shook her shoulder. 

            “What just happened?” Sebastian asked, joining the girls, but they were interrupted by the uniformed woman from earlier. 

            “A second troll?” she asked. Then, eyes narrowing, she added, “Did you three just take down a troll on your own?”

            “It was marvelous,” a shopkeeper said, who had apparently been keeping watch from his store windows. “They did a magnificent job. An Auror in the making, I believe!” The woman frowned at the trio but said nothing. Instead, she turned to the people she had led out of the village to defeat the first troll.

            “Let’s get this cleaned up,” she shouted. Whipping her wand, she repaired several buildings and carts. Sebastian and Natty also joined in while Charlotte watched, gathering their belongings from where they had fallen on the ground. She reached for a book but found someone had already grabbed it and was holding it out to her. 

            “Here,” the shopkeeper said, a pleasant smile on his face. Charlotte smiled back and took the book, examining it for any damage. A History of Hidden Albion had been recommended to her by the bookshop’s owner, who had slipped it along with several others into her bag with a wink. The shopkeeper laughed when he saw her face.

            “A book lover, I see,” he teased, helping her up from the ground. “And a Ravenclaw, judging from your blues. Just like a Ravenclaw to worry more about her books than herself.” Then, on a more serious note, he added, “If you’re going to get into more fights with trolls, I might have something for you.” He led her to the door of his shop, happily painted in lavender. Charlotte paused to catch Natty and Sebastian’s eyes, and both nodded before she stepped over the threshold. 

            “Trolls in Hogsmeade! What’s next, dragons in the closets? Mermaids flying?” The man seemed completely disgruntled as he rummaged through a chest behind the counter. Charlotte looked around the small shop. Several mannequins stood in the windows, periodically shifting positions. They were dressed in a variety of Hogwarts uniform styles and everyday wear, including one dress suspiciously like one Miss Winters would wear. Clearly, some of the designs were based on nonmagical fashions. Charlotte smiled as she felt the fabric on a cloak similar to her own. It had a rich black cotton fabric instead of her wool and featured several ribbons running down the sides. 

            “Found it!” the storekeeper cried triumphantly. He pulled out a cloak made of the same cotton fabric as the one Charlotte was eyeing and smiled. “This cloak has some defensive spells cast on it,” he said, holding it out for her to see. “It’s not much, so if I get more items like this in stock, I will let you know, but this at least gives you some protection. And,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “it’s far more useful than an Order of Merlin.” Charlotte giggled. She went to reach for her coin pouch but stopped when she realized it had been in her trunk. All of the previous items had been paid for by the school.

            “I’m afraid I’m a bit poor at the moment,” she said softly. The man smiled broader.

            “Oh, no, you misunderstand. This is yours to keep, free of charge. Consider it payment for defending the town.”

            Charlotte flushed. “Oh, sir, I could never-” she started, but the man held up his hand, already turning to package the cloak.

            “It’s Mister Hill, dear, and your money simply isn’t accepted here at present.” He handed her a perfectly wrapped bundle and smiled again. “Perhaps one day it will be, but for now, this is entirely yours, and I will not hear any more protests.” Charlotte’s eyes watered as she took the parcel and thanked Mister Hill. As she stepped out of the shop, Mister Hill was happily humming as he unpacked new clothing.

            “What was that about?” Sebastian eyed Charlotte’s new package and snorted. “Typical girl, getting more clothes,” he teased, and Charlotte’s tears vanished. She gave him a withering glare and placed the package in one of her bags. Natty chuckled softly. 

            “Three Broomsticks?” she asked, handing some of the bags to Sebastian. “We deserve a bit of a treat after that.” Natty lead the way, turning out of the square toward a large pub. The three laughed and teased one another as they walked down the street, completely unaware a man in a large top hat was watching them closely, eyes narrowed at his missed opportunity.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

            Victor Rookwood was a rare thing: a person who was truly and completely evil. Most people wandered the world a mix of good and bad, and even convicted murderers had some redeeming qualities. Rookwood, however, had none. He was foul-tempered and had a hair trigger, flying off the handle at underlings for any number of imaginary infractions. He had only one friend, Theophilus Harlow, who could more realistically be described as a workplace associate. Even his alliance with the equally wicked Ranrok was tenuous; Rookwood despised goblins, finding them beneath his notice at best and vermin to be exterminated at worst, but he needed Ranrok for the time being.

            None of that made him feel remotely better about his life as he snuck through the back alleys of Hogsmeade, making his way to Ranrok. The goblin had messed this up yet again, and Rookwood wanted nothing more than to destroy him. The only thing that stopped him was the goblin’s power.

            “You said all you needed was a distraction,” the goblin spit, venom dripping from every word. “I gave you a distraction and still you failed. Just like you failed to grab her in London.”

            “I told you I would get the locket,” Rookwood hissed, equally livid. “You were the one who destroyed her fucking carriage with a dragon, and you were the one who threw trolls into this. I just needed a few more minutes and you cocked it up!’

            “Do not tempt me,” Ranrok growled. Rookwood’s hair stood up on end as he felt rather than saw the power Ranrok was drawing to himself. “If you want to remain my partner-” he spat the word with complete disdain, as if it was a curse, “-you will bring me the child. Or I will do it for you.”

            With that, the goblin stormed away, the bodyguards that followed him as useless as ever. Rookwood sighed angrily before slamming his fist into a wall. The pain brought with it a fresh wave of anger and he turned on Harlow, who had been standing silently in the shadows. 

            “WHERE IS SHE?” he roared. Harlow smirked. 

            “Heading to Sirona’s,” he said smoothly, knowing Rookwood could do nothing more than bluster. “I think they said they were going to celebrate.”

            “Come on,” Rookwood snarled, turning to make his way to the pub. He would get this girl, whoever she thought she was, and Ranrok would pay for his insolence.

            The only reason the group stopped was that Sebastian dropped a shrivelfig. He had been trying to reorganize the small bag he carried, making sure the fruits weren’t crushed by the heavier bottles of healing potions, and one small purple fig fell. 

            “I’ll get it,” Natty said, dropping her bags to chase after it. Charlotte followed, leaving her bags with Natty’s, while Sebastian rushed after the girls. They were mostly silent, laughing quietly as the fig danced between their fingers and rested at the top of a small alley. Charlotte finally caught it, her face flushed with the exertion and her hair falling out of its neat styling. Sebastian took it from her and started to tease her when they heard an angry shout. 

            “You said all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction and still you failed. Just like you failed to grab her in London.”

            “I told you I would get the locket. You were the one who destroyed her fucking carriage with a dragon.”

            Charlotte froze. She knew the first voice. Her eyes widened as she picked out the shadowy figure of Ranrok standing a bit before her, radiating crimson power as he glared at a tall wizard made even taller with his ridiculous top hat.

            “Rookwood,” Sebastian breathed, and he pulled both girls back onto the main streets. 

            “What is Victor Rookwood doing here?” Natty asked, shooting the alley a dirty look. “Isn’t he supposed to be on the run?”

            “I heard the Aurors were getting close,” Sebastian agreed. “Rookwood was holed up in his castle last I heard, waiting for them to come get him.”

            “Ranrok… He’s the one who destroyed my carriage,” Charlotte whimpered. Natty and Sebastian looked at her, finally noticing that she was shaking. Natty grabbed the bags and Sebastian wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, feeling her tremble. They led her to the door of the Three Broomsticks quickly, wanting to get her inside.

            “So, that was Ranrok,” Natty said thoughtfully as they opened the doors. “I wonder why he was with Rookwood.”

            “And he’s after Charlotte,” Sebastian added, helping the girl onto a stool. Any further musings were interrupted by Sirona Ryan, the owner and proprietor of the pub, giving Sebastian and Natty warm greetings. 

            “Had a good day shopping, have we?” she said, nodding at their bags and pulling two glasses out off the shelves behind her. “And what was it this time, Mister Sallow? Books? Forbidden potions?”

            “Potions ingredients,” he laughed back. “Better to make the forbidden potions myself.” Sirona turned and saw Charlotte in between the pair. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

            “And here’s a new face,” she said happily, pulling another glass down. “I’m Sirona, it’s nice to meet you. Did you get caught in that troll attack?”

            “We did, and this one finished him off single-handedly!” Sebastian nudged Charlotte, but she seemed too shocked to join the playful banter. Natty chuckled. 

            “After freezing, of course. Poor girl has a case of stage fright,” she teased. Sirona placed a tall glass of an amber liquid in front of Charlotte and smiled.

            “Drink this, dear,” she said kindly, “It will help. And you did a good thing, taking down that troll. I was about to go after it myself.”

            “Was anyone injured, do you know?” Natty asked, throwing a look at Sebastian. He had dived head-first into his glass and was sporting a foam mustache, trying to make Charlotte smile again. Sirona shook her head.

            “Easy to cure injuries only. Everyone will be right as rain by now. I’m going to check in on them shortly, though, just to make sure.”

            Charlotte took a hesitant sip of the drink in front of her. It had an odd warming sensation, bringing feeling back into her numb limbs, and she found herself drinking deeper and deeper. The sweet flavor made her think of summer afternoons in the garden with Miss Winters and Nathaniel, sucking on the sweets Nathaniel brought her from his favorite store in Paris. She only half listened to the conversations between Sirona, Natty, and Sebastian, focusing instead on her lovely memories and the warmth and comfort she got from them. 

            “So, you’re the new girl?” 

            Charlotte started. Sirona was looking right at her with a piercing look that made Charlotte feel like Sirona could read all her secrets. She nodded as she put down her glass.

            “Yes. First time going to school, actually. It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

            “I’d imagine so. I remember my first year at Hogwarts. It was all a bit of a blur, really, but I made some good friends. I imagine you will, too.” Sirona nodded at Natty and Sebastian. “You have a good start already with these two.”

            “Sirona,” Sebastian cut in, as if suddenly remembering things, “did you know Rookwood was in town?”

            “Rookwood?” Sirona spat the name out. “He’s supposed to be in hiding. What’s he doing here?” Then, to Charlotte, she added, “You want to stay clear of him, dear. Most wizards are kind and generous, but he gives us all a bad name.”

            “He’s working with Ranrok,” Charlotte said softly. Sirona sighed.

            “Not surprising. Dark people tend to find each other and make each other worse.” 

            The door creaked open and in stepped Rookwood, complete with top hat, and Harlow following close behind. Sirona straightened.

            “Nope, clear out, both of you,” she said, starting to come around the bar. “We don’t serve you here.”

            “Oh, Sirona, don’t tell me you have standards all of a sudden.” Rookwood teased, though the words felt more like a warning. “I saw a goblin leaving your establishment just this morning. Your clientele isn’t what it used to be.”

            “You’re right,” Sirona agreed. “Once you two leave, it will greatly improve, so if you’d kindly-”

            “We’re just here for her.” Rookwood pointed a finger at Charlotte. Sebastian took a step in front of her, holding his wand out in a defensive posture. Natty followed him. Charlotte noticed the rest of the pub was looking at her, though she didn’t entirely understand what their eyes were saying. 

            “My friend here is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer,” Sirona said casually. “I’m afraid she’s too busy to talk to you.”

            “We’ll just be a moment,” Rookwood said, stepping closer to Charlotte. The entire pub was soon on their feet, wands drawn. Charlotte marveled at it. None of them knew her or what Rookwood was after her for, but their unspoken support was overwhelming. 

            “I’m afraid you didn’t hear me,” Sirona said as if she didn’t know the entire pub was pointing wands at the newcomer. “She is busy, and it is time for you to leave.” There was a steel under her voice, but she hadn’t brought up her wand. She stared at Rookwood until he put his hands up in surrender.

            “Fine, fine, I get it,” he conceded. Pointing at Charlotte, he said, “You can’t hide in this pub forever, girl.” Then, with a dramatic turn, he left the pub, Harlow following him closely having not said a single word. Sirona deflated slightly and sighed. 

            “What have you done to get him after you,” she asked Charlotte, but before Charlotte could answer, she continued. “He’s dangerous. You need to be careful.”

            “We’re watching her back,” Sebastian said, and Natty nodded. Sirona smiled at the three. 

            “Better bodyguards you could not ask for,” she said warmly before handing out a second round of Butterbeers. 

            It was late before Charlotte felt ready to leave the pub. Sirona fussed over her, insisting on brushing her hair and retying her ribbon before they left (“Can’t have you looking a fright when you reach the school, can we?”) and Sebastian and Natty walked with Charlotte to the fireplace, bags in hand. 

            “Have you ever traveled by floo before?” Natty asked, and Charlotte shook her head. 

            “Easy enough to do,” Sebastian said bracingly. “I’ll put the powder in the fireplace, you step in and shout ‘Ravenclaw Common Room’ and then you’re there!”

            Charlotte watched as Sebastian pulled a small pouch from his pocket and threw some gray powder into the flames. The flames roared emerald green. Natty helped Charlotte load her bags into the fire and laughed when Charlotte was surprised, they didn’t burn up immediately. She stepped in, giggling slightly at the tickling sensation, and gave her destination as clearly as possible. Within seconds, she opened her eyes to find she was in her common room, slightly sooty but otherwise fine. She carried her bags back to her dorm, putting away her books and supplies carefully before crawling into her bed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

            Charlotte was alone in the darkness. Soft red glows surrounded her, but before she could take comfort in their light, she realized they were the glows of dragon collars. She was surrounded by giant dragons, all breathing fire at once, and she screamed. The little boy next to her screamed with her, joining his terror to hers and throwing himself into her skirt. He was covered in dirt and rags like he had never had a good meal in his life. She knelt and pulled him into her arms, trying to protect him as the dragons’ fire got closer and closer. She heard a troll roar in the distance and screwed up her eyes, afraid to meet her death. And then, she was falling and falling and-

            “Charlotte? Charlotte, wake up!”

            Charlotte’s eyes shot open. Samantha was leaning over her bed, hair in a messy braid. The room was dark and quiet as her roommates looked at her with concern.  “Charlotte, are you ok?” Samantha asked. “You were screaming in your sleep.”

            “Bad… bad dream,” Charlotte managed, her throat raw. One of the girls behind Samantha handed her a glass of water and she took it gratefully. Samatha sat on her bed and gently touched Charlotte’s arm. 

            “The dragon?” 

            “Yeah. And some new terrors. The wizarding world isn’t good for my sleep, it seems.”

            The other girls giggled a bit and returned to their beds. Samantha’s eyes narrowed.

            “That’s right, you were attacked by the troll,” she said, remembering the state Charlotte had arrived in that night. Her hair was still neatly in its ribbon, but her clothing was dirty and torn in places, her purchases spilling out of the bags in her hands. “I’ll take you to the nurse in the morning. See if we can’t get you some dreamless sleep until you’re better able to handle everything.” Then, turning away from Charlotte, she muttered, “What a nightmare.”

            “You’re telling me,” Charlotte said. “What time is it?”

            “Nearly six in the morning. I was going to get up soon anyway.” Samantha gave Charlotte a final pat on the arm before rising to pull her clothes out for the day. “The house elves left some extra clothing for you. I put it in your trunk so it would stay clean. You may want to bathe before getting dressed, though.”

            Charlotte yawned as she took her seat at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast. Garreth, ever the early riser, was already seated and deep in discussion with Samantha. Charlotte gave him a sleepy nod before piling her plate with eggs, toast, and sausages. She ate in silence as her friends discussed things around her until Sebastian slipped into the seat beside her.

            “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” Garreth asked. “Finally here to proclaim your undying love for Lee?”

            “Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian returned. Then, turning to Charlotte, he murmured, “I need to speak to you if you can get away from this lot.”

            “After classes,” she said softly, already starting a headache imagining explaining everything to him and Natty. Natty sleepily looked up from her cup of tea and nodded at Sebastian. 

            “Quidditch pitch, after classes. Don’t forget,” he said, aiming his last remark at Natty, who rolled her eyes. 

            “Sorry Lee isn’t up yet,” Garreth said, eyes sparkling with mischief as Sebastian rose from his seat. 

            “Don’t be, I’m here for you,” Sebastian returned, making kissy noises with his lips as the table erupted into laughter. He did an exaggerated wiggle as he walked away, getting cat calls from the girls around Charlotte as Garreth roared with laughter. The emotions at the table reaching record highs left Charlotte feeling lighter, and she hummed to herself as she made her way to her first class of the day. 

            “I love History of Magic, I just don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to enjoy it,” Charlotte complained to Samantha as they left the classroom. “I love history, it’s fascinating, and there’s so much of it at Hogwarts. Professor Binns is just…”

            “Boring as hell?” Samantah supplied. “I guess it’s a good thing you like it, though, because the rest of us are doing terribly.”

            “Stealing the new girl’s notes already, Dale?” came a smooth, aristocratic voice. “You know the rules. You’re only allowed to do that if you share with the rest of us.” Charlotte turned to see Ominis Gaunt behind them, wand alight and a wicked smile on his face. 

            “And who said I’d let you copy?” Charlotte complained, but Ominis chuckled. 

            “If Sebastian is any authority, you’d bend over backward to help your poor, sad, uneducated friends,” he said teasingly. Charlotte laughed and nodded. 

            “You’re right, of course. I would never leave my friends in the lurch. However, whether you receive my notes depends on if we’re friends or not.”

            “It’s blackmail then!” Ominis cried with fake outrage. “Never would I have thought a woman of such breeding would stoop to such lows!” Samantha rolled her eyes.

            “You’re so dramatic, Gaunt,” she said, taking Charlotte’s arm. “You know perfectly well that Sebastian will get the notes to you whether Charlotte is your friend or not.”

            “And who said Sebastian was my friend?” Charlotte cut in, making Ominis laugh again. 

            “You saved him from a troll, my dear. If that’s not the start of a deep and lasting friendship, I don’t know what is.” Then, lowering his voice and stepping closer to her, he murmured, “Professor Fig wants to see you. I’ll let Sebastian and Natty know you’ll be late.”

            “Thank you.” Charlotte turned to Samantha. “I have an errand to run quickly. I’ll see you at dinner?”

            “I look forward to it!” Samantha beamed at Charlotte before making her way down the corridor. Charlotte hummed again as she made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, climbing the stairs to Professor Fig’s classroom. She pushed open the heavy wooden door to find the room empty and faint strains of music coming from the office at the top of the stairs. When she reached the doorway, Professor Fig was happily sorting through books and papers; it looked almost like he was clearing his office of clutter, though she knew the professor too well to know that was the case.

            “Professor,” she called softly, and Fig’s head shot up.

            “Charlotte!” he responded happily, “Come in, come in! How have your first days at Hogwarts been?” He offered her a chair which she eagerly took. 

            “Interesting,” she said truthfully. “I’m learning a lot and have some friends.”

            “Excellent! And what is your favorite class so far?”

            “Oh, I love them all, Professor,” she said, making Fig chuckle. “I couldn’t possibly pick one. All of my professors are wonderful and helpful and I’m enjoying the work.”

            “Splendid. Now, tell me about the troll in Hogsmeade.”

            Charlotte blinked. He said it in a tone that suggested he was asking nothing more than what the weather was like or what her latest lecture had been on. He was waiting patiently, hands clasped over a messy pile of papers on his desk.

            “You’ve heard about that, then,” she said softly. He laughed.

            “My dear Miss Underhill, you will find that at Hogwarts, word travels very fast and rumors travel faster. There’s no real way for anyone to keep secrets here.” Then, more seriously, he asked, “Are you ok? What happened?”

            “Two trolls came out of nowhere and attacked us,” Charlotte said, whimpering at the memory. “I was able to destroy the second one. The first one was lured out of town by a uniformed woman and some townspeople.”

            “How did you destroy a fully grown troll?” Fig breathed. His eyes searched her for injuries she was concealing.

            “I don’t know,” Charlotte wailed. “One minute I was frozen and the next, I felt something gathering inside of me. I balled it in my hands and threw it at the troll and he just… disintegrated, I guess.”

            Fig leaned back in his chair. “Your ancient magic, then,” he said at last. “Did Mister Sallow and Miss Onai notice?”

            “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Charlotte nervously played with a curl of her hair hanging over her shoulder. “But they definitely noticed Ranrok and Rookwood talking about me later.”

            “They were in Hogsmeade?!” Professor Fig shot out of his chair and began to pace. “What did they say?”

            “Rookwood was yelling at Ranrok for destroying the carriage and Ranrok was yelling at Rookwood for not getting me. They’re after me, Professor. I’m putting everyone in danger.” Tears Charlotte didn’t even realize she had begun to flow down her cheeks and her breath came in ragged gasps. “Sebastian and Natty could have been hurt because of me.”

            Professor Fig came around the desk and put his arms around Charlotte. She fell against his chest and sobbed. All of the fear and anxiety and weirdness coming into the wizarding world had thrust upon her came out in a wordless cry, and Professor Fig rubbed her back in soothing circles. 

            “I’m so sorry, my dear. This is too much to ask of you, but I’m afraid we have no choice,” he murmured. She pulled herself closer to him, letting his comforting embrace help wash away her thoughts. He held her until her tears had run out, and then smoothed her hair back, letting her simply exist in that space. 

            Charlotte eventually pulled back, sniffing loudly. “What do I do?” she asked, and Professor Fig took a seat next to her. 

            “We will figure out what’s happening together, ok? You’re not alone in this.” Then, he smiled. “I did find something about the locket, if you’re willing to see it today.” Charlotte nodded and he chuckled at her eagerness. “Here,” he said, holding out a piece of parchment. On it was a map of Hogwarts. “There was a word engraved into the locket,” he explained as her eyes raked over the map. “When I spoke it out loud, this map appeared. It appears whatever we’re looking for is here, at this school.”

            “In the library,” Charlotte breathed, running her finger over the slightly glowing letters. Professor Fig smiled broadly. 

            “I figured you’d see something. We’ll go together, then.” Then, before he could fully stand, the office door slammed open.

            “Fig,” came a whiney voice, “I need you. Come.”

            Fig made a face that made Charlotte think he was suddenly in the presence of something disgusting, like a filthy pig or an especially odious rodent. She turned around to see Professor Black. That would do it, the less polite part of her brain thought, but she stamped down the feeling before it showed on her face.

            “I am with a student,” Fig spat, gesturing to the recently crying student in front of him. Professor Black rolled his eyes. 

            “And I am impatient. Now, Fig.” The headmaster twirled and stormed out of the door, muttering under his breath. Professor Fig sighed.

            “And who am I to deny his whims,” he muttered. Turning to Charlotte, he added, “It looks like whatever we’re after is in the Restricted Section, and I must accompany you to retrieve it. When I come back, we’ll go, I promise.” He gave her a warm smile, patted her shoulder, and went after the headmaster.

            Charlotte thought for a moment alone in Fig’s office. She wanted to obey Professor Fig’s wishes, but something about the locket called her. The Restricted Section sounded like something she would have to get permission to enter, but she was sure someone knew their way around it. She started to leave Professor Fig’s classroom, deep in thought, when she ran into Sebastian and Natty. She cried out as she hit the floor, pain blossoming in her hips.

            “Charlotte!” Sebastian cried, bending down to help her up. “We just came looking for you. Ominis said Professor Fig sent for you and we were worried you’d be in trouble.”

            “No, not in trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her backside. That would be another bruise, she was sure of it. “He had a task for me, but I can’t do it until he’s back.”

            “Why?” Natty asked, leading the group to some benches nearby. Charlotte gave an angry sigh.

            “Because it’s in the Restricted Section and Professor Black ordered Professor Fig away, so I have to wait for him to come back before we can go.”

            Natty gave Sebastian a look. “No,” she warned, “Don’t you dare, we can’t let her get roped into your nonsense.”

            “I didn’t say anything!” Sebastian protested. 

            “You were thinking it,” Natty said, now glaring at Sebastian.

            “So? You were, too, or you wouldn’t have yelled at me,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “You know that’s the only way she can do it before Fig gets back.”

            “That doesn’t make it a good idea!” Natty cried, but her face seemed less convinced. 

            “What are you two talking about?” Charlotte cut in. Natty sighed.

            “Sebastian is quite good at sneaking into the Restricted Section,” she explained as Sebastian’s eyes glittered from the praise. “He could probably get you in. But he shouldn’t be, because it will get you in trouble, and he’s been in enough trouble already this year.”

            “So, you’re the one who got detention before school started,” Charlotte breathed, and Sebastian’s smug face fell. 

            “It’s not my fault Madame Scribner put all those books right beside the door,” he protested. “It’s like she knew I was down there.”

            “Which she did,” Natty pressed. “Peeves tipped her off.”

            “How would you know?” Sebastian spat. Natty looked slightly superior.

            “My mother told me, of course.”

            “Can you get me in or not, Sebastian,” Charlotte cut in again. She felt whatever it was pulling at her, tugging at her soul and crying out for her to obtain it, even if it meant getting into trouble. And, she figured, how much worse could detention be compared to trolls and dragons? Sebastian’s eyes sparkled again.

            “Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Charlotte was greatly regretting asking Sebastian to sneak her into the Restricted Section. She pretended to be working on some homework for Professor Sharp (she had, in fact, finished said essay earlier that day) as her friends bade her goodnight and went to their beds. Once the common room was empty, Charlotte grabbed her heavy wool cloak, quietly opened the door to the dorms, and slipped into the empty hall. She tried to be as quiet as possible, a novel experience for her, and she nearly succeeded until she found Sebastian waiting in Central Hall.

“Hi!” she started, but Sebastian clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Have you never snuck around before?” he hissed. “You need to be quiet and stay out of sight.” Charlotte looked slightly abashed as she mumbled her apologies. Sebastian sighed. 

“It’s fine,” he said, feeling guilty. Then, pointing at a couple of older students, he continued, “Those are prefects. Older students watch the corridors to make sure we aren’t out of bed and getting into trouble. We need to sneak past them.”

          “Ok.” Charlotte straightened her back and let out a breath. “I can be sneaky.”

            “Not so fast.” Sebastian grabbed the back of her cloak and pulled her back. 

Charlotte squeaked at the unexpected pressure around her neck and Sebastian choked back a laugh. With her silvery hair and wide eyes, she almost looked like a mouse caught by a cat. “I need to teach you a spell first.”

            Charlotte was a wonderful student, Sebastian decided by the end of their impromptu lesson. She was eager to learn, picked up spells quickly, and endlessly marveled at the magic she had just produced. He started making a mental list of other spells to teach her, starting with confringo. Maybe, if he could get Ominis to let him show her the Undercroft… Instead of ruminating on this, Sebastian cast his disillusionment charm and pulled Charlotte’s invisible arm along with him. They made their way past a pacing prefect at the top of the stairs and slipped past the fountain to the doors leading to the library. Once inside, safely hidden behind a bookcase, he lifted their spells.

            “Now, all we need is to get over to that gate and-” Sebastian stopped, hearing footsteps. Heeled footsteps. Like the ones Madame Scribner makes. He peeked his head around the shelf to see the librarian stalking down the main aisle. He let out a low hiss. “Blast. Madame Scribner is still here.”

            “You said she’d be gone by now.” Charlotte was definitely regretting this outing. What would Nathaniel say if she got in trouble her first week at school? Sebastian threw her a look.

            “I said usually. And it’s not a problem. We just need to be creative.” Charlotte gave a slight “humpf”, like she didn’t entirely believe Sebastian, but he brushed it off as first-time rule-breaking nerves. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make a distraction, and when Scribner comes out to check on it, you slip around the desk and grab the key from the top drawer.”

            “A key? Can’t you use magic to get in?” Charlotte was smarter than Sebastian had given her credit for and he gave a low chuckle.

            “You used to be able to, but Scribner caught me trying that last year and has since cast an anti-alohomora charm on the lock. The only way in is a key, which she keeps in the top drawer of her desk.” 

            Charlotte sighed, then nodded. “Fine. Don’t get caught.” Sebastian gave her what he hoped was a charming grin before disappearing again. Charlotte watched him from the shadows as he crept over to a chair in the middle of the room and set it on fire with a loud bang. She turned her head to watch Madame Scribner’s head shoot up.

            “Peeves? Is that you?” She stood and walked toward the chair, muttering about poltergeists and their pranks. Charlotte tried to be as quiet as possible, slipping around the desk and gently easing the drawer open. Inside was a clutter of quills, ink bottles, random scraps of parchment with notes written on them (“Ask if Black can make library magic-free zone” said one in shimmering purple ink), and a single glimmering key. Charlotte grabbed the key and slipped back around the desk, heading toward the gate leading into the Restricted Section. 

            “Hey, did you get it?” Sebastian appeared again, hiding behind a chair. Charlotte lifted her own charm and held up the key. He grinned broadly at her.

            “Brilliant,” he said, taking the key from her. “Now, let’s get inside.”

            “You never did say why you keep coming to the Restricted Section,” Charlotte said. They had descended low enough to lift their disillusionment charms and speak in slightly louder tones. She trailed a single finger along the spines of books, looking at the titles. Most of the titles seemed to be simply advanced magic books, some controversial histories, but her finger fell on a book covered in blood stains and she jumped back. “Is that one…?”

            “Oh, yeah, that’s blood,” Sebastian replied, pulling her away from the book. “It’s not as helpful as the cover makes it seem.”

            “Not as- Sebastian, what are you doing down here?”

            “Looking for a cure for my sister.” Sebastian pressed on, but Charlotte grabbed his arm and pulled him back, looking into his dark eyes with her deep blue ones. He sighed. “She was cursed this summer,” he said quietly. “We took her to St Mungo’s, even. No one can find a way to help her. She’s… wasting away in front of me.”

            “I’m so sorry.” Charlotte reached out again and touched Sebastian’s shoulder. “I forget that magic can’t fix everything.”

            “That’s just it, we haven’t tried everything,” Sebastian said hotly. “My uncle insists there’s nothing more to be done. He’s just given up. But if I can understand the magic that cursed her, maybe I can find a solution.” He looked into Charlotte’s eyes. She seemed less convinced but didn’t say anything. “I’ve been breaking in to try to figure out what happened to her. And I won’t stop until I can help her.”

            “It’s lovely that you want to help her, Sebastian. Just be careful, please. I can already tell the books here aren’t meant for us to be reading.”

            “You sound like Ominis,” Sebastian chuckled. He shifted slightly before gesturing for Charlotte to go ahead of him. They descended a set of stairs and came into a cluttered room filled with old armor, globes, and boxes. Charlotte peered into a few, finding an interesting antique wand grip and a few loose pages that seemed to have been taken from a book, though the book was nowhere in sight. Sebastian brushed a few cobwebs off a helmet he found in a pile by the door. 

            “Hey, look at this,” he called to Charlotte, “This helmet has some weird engravings on it.”

            Charlotte was not the being who came, however. Instead of the blonde, a multicolored being popped out of the pile of armor, causing Sebastian to throw the helmet at him. The being chuckled nastily.

            “And what’s this?” he said in a high, whining voice. “Little Sebastian Sallow and his new friend out for a nighttime stroll? Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty…”

            “Peeves,” Sebastian started, but the poltergeist flew through the ceiling. He could hear him yelling as he floated. “Damn! Peeves, ruining another perfectly innocent evening.”

            “We aren’t exactly innocent,” Charlotte said from behind him. Then, quieter, she asked, “What will Madame Scribner do to us?”

            “Nothing, because I’m going to get to that damn poltergeist before she does.” Sebastian threw a wicked smile behind him as he ran back up the stairs. “You get your book and I’ll see you outside!”

            Charlotte shuttered to be suddenly alone in the clutter. She picked her way to another door leading to yet another staircase, this one spiraling downward into the dark. “Why are there so many stairs?” she muttered as she started down. “What a nightmare. How does Professor Hecat do this every day?” She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she only vaguely noticed the whisps of magic leading her lower, gently lighting the way. She came down into a small round room with an arch in the middle. Instinctively, she pulled out her wand. A small pool of magic ripped into existence at her feet, and without thinking she pulled it up and out, exposing a portal inside of the arch. She stepped through it to the other side, praying that there weren’t any knights this time.

            She came out into a long hall, similar to the room where she found the locket in Gringotts. She stepped carefully down to the floor, wand out and ready for whatever jumped out at her. Nothing did, however. She made her way to a large arched door, which opened at her slightest touch, and out into another room. Here, a few large statues of knights seemed to vibrate as she got closer. Charlotte crouched into a fighting stance, wand outstretched, as the knights came toward her.

            The next day, Charlotte cheerfully sat down at the breakfast table. She had obtained the book from the night before, though she tore her favorite blazer as a result, and she had a plan to move forward. The first order of the day was to apologize to Sebastian, who had gotten into trouble as she was leaving the Restricted Section, book in hand. She was impressed he didn’t throw her under the bus, instead taking all of the blame and therefore all of the punishment. Second, she needed to find Fig. She filled her teacup, shooting glances at the Slytherin table to make sure she didn’t miss Sebastian. Ominis was seated in his usual spot, his usual small breakfast on a plate in front of him, sipping his cup of tea, but there was no sign of Sebastian.

            “And who is it you’re gazing at longingly?” Garreth pulled Charlotte back to the present moment, laughing at her slight flush. “Imelda, perhaps?”

            “Can you see our Ravenclaw with a quidditch player?” Leander teased. “No, when our princess falls for someone, it will be someone with class.”

            “Would you two stop it,” Charlotte protested, which only encouraged the boys further. 

            “Old family?” Garreth asked Leander, who put his finger to his chin as if thinking hard on the idea.

            “Yes, of course,” he said finally, “The Princess must have a prince!”

            “If you two were as funny as you think you are,” Samantha said, rolling her eyes. Then, to Charlotte, she added, “Don’t worry about them. They’re boys. And worse, teenaged boys.”

            Charlotte laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t know anyone well enough yet to have any crushes,” she admitted. “It’s not like anything would come of it. Surely your parents arrange matches for everyone anyway.”

            The three stared at Charlotte. “No,” Garreth said finally, “no. They don’t.”

            “Was that a thing where you’re from?” Samantha asked. Charlotte nodded.

            “My parents had entered discussions to marry my cousin, Nathaniel. I wasn’t pleased with the idea, but it makes sense. He’s the heir to my family’s fortune, so marrying me keeps me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed and keeps the family together.” She took a sip of her tea and looked up at three dumbstruck faces.

            “What the hell are the muggles on about?” whispered Leander, who looked slightly green. “Marrying your cousin? That’s Gaunt nonsense.”

            “Gaunt? As in Ominis?”

            Garreth answered this time. “The Gaunts are known for marrying within the family,” he said quietly. “Cousins, uncles and nieces, that sort of thing. Ominis’ parents were half-siblings, according to my parents.”

            “Not sure why he turned out relatively normal,” Leander muttered. “His brother was a nightmare. My older brother still has scars.”

            “My brother has some, too,” Samantha said sadly. “But Ominis has never attacked anyone that I know of.” The small group looked over at the Slytherin table as Ominis pushed his plate away and got up to leave the table. Charlotte looked around but still couldn’t find Sebastian.

            “I’ll see you in class,” she said, pulling her bag up from under the table and running after Ominis. She caught him in the entrance hall, his wand tip glowing red with impatience.

            “Can I help you?” he asked coolly.

            “Ominis, hi,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Where’s Sebastian? I needed to talk to him.”

            “So you can get him into more trouble? I think not.” Ominis turned to walk away, but Charlotte stopped him.

            “He volunteered,” she said softly, her hand just grazing his arm. She dropped it quickly, knowing he didn’t like to be touched. Ominis’ face softened just slightly. “I was getting a book for Professor Fig, and Peeves caught us. Sebastian went to cut him off, stop him from telling Madame Scribner while I got the book, and by the time I caught back up to him, Madame Scribner was yelling at him. He didn’t tell them I was there, he took all of the blame, and I wanted to thank him. I know he’s been getting in a lot of trouble lately and I shouldn’t have asked him to go, and I’m sorry. I should have done the right thing and just waited for Professor Fig, but the book was calling to me and-” She was rambling, but Ominis found her profuse apologies and gratefulness almost charming, in a way. He placed a hand on her arm to quietly stop the flow of words and nodded. 

            “He’s not in much trouble,” Ominis said. “My father is friends with the headmaster, and I was able to pull some strings to get him out of the worst. I’m afraid his absence at breakfast has more to do with me. I kept him up rather past curfew telling him off.”

            “I’m glad he’s not in serious trouble. I’d hate if he was punished severely because of me.” Charlotte looked up and down the hall, seeing only a few students stumbling to breakfast. “I’m sorry you had to use your connections. From what I gather, your family isn’t a pleasant sort, and I’m sure you hate having to use them.”

            Ominis’ head shot up. He knew from Charlotte’s accent that she was from a similar, high-status background, though he hadn’t asked Sebastian anything about her family. Her comments seemed to be well-meaning. The reminder of his family, however, was highly unwelcome. He pulled away from her, nodded curtly, and made his way toward the dungeons, quietly fuming.

            Charlotte sighed. She had once again upset Ominis, which seemed to be her favorite pastime, no matter what she did. She turned and headed to her first class, trying not to think about Ominis, his family, the horror of her friends when they realized her family married relatives, and how cut off from everyone she felt. She admitted she might as well be a princess, like Garreth and Leander called her, since her life experience was so unlike everyone else’s, and that didn’t seem a gap she could cross easily. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

            When the owls found her, Charlotte was working on extra homework for Charms class. She had found a quiet corner of the courtyard and was enjoying the feel of the sun on her face while describing the spell block that formed the repairing charm when, suddenly, several owls landed on the bench next to her. They stomped on her homework and shoved at her hands until she acknowledged them.

            “All right, all right!” she cried, putting her quill down and petting the first owl. It was a proud-looking Eagle Owl holding a large package and letter. She untied it from the owl, who happily hooted before taking to the sky. The next two owls were much smaller, almost pygmy-sized, both holding thick letters and chirping happily at her. She pulled the letters from them and gave them both kisses on their fluffy heads. The last owl, a lovely snowy owl, held a small note and didn’t wait for any reward before returning to the skies. Charlotte huffed as it pushed one of her rolls of parchment onto the ground.

            She looked at the letters first. The note was from Professor Fig, asking her to come visit him later that day. Easy enough to comply, as she wanted to show him the book. The two thicker letters came from Miss Winters and Mother, and she smiled at the lovely calligraphy on both envelopes. The package was from Nathaniel, and since she thought she knew what it contained, she took the lot to her common room to read.

            My dearest cousin, Charlotte,

            I am thrilled you made it to school safely. I am concerned at the mention of a dragon attack, however. How did a dragon, of all things, find your carriage and destroy the back half of it? Is this a rite of passage for young magic users? In any event, I have sent a few items along for you; I hope they will help you adjust to your new surroundings while also being positive memories of home.

            Your father and I have had some very deep discussions. Suffice it to say, I understand now why he reacted the way he did the day you got your letter. I do not agree with it, but I assure you, there is a reason. I fear sending any more via letters, which can be read by anyone snooping, so I will let you know when you return home for the summer. He has relented, due to the constant badgering of your mother, Miss Winters, and myself, to allow you home, and I am elated that we have been able to convince him. 

            Please send all of your favorite stories from school. I am looking forward to comparing mischief! If you’re anything like I was, you will have some wonderful ones. I expect, however, that you will be too busy charming your professors, making friends, and writing perfectly scored essays to be in too much trouble. Give Professor Fig my regards- the man promised to give me updates on your progress, but you’ve been there a whole week and I’ve heard nothing! You can’t tell me that you haven’t mastered the entire curriculum already, I know you too well to believe you’re taking it slow.

            I remain, your faithful and everlasting servant,

            Your loving Cousin,

            Nathaniel Underhill

PS: I’m not sure if I trust this owl. He came bearing your letter and did not leave me alone one moment until I wrote your letter and gave him the parcel. Perhaps a more independent owl next time? 

            Charlotte’s face broke into a wide grin. Nathaniel convinced Father to let her go home! She could return to her house, with her window overlooking the street, and her little bed! She opened her parcel. Inside were several items of clothing, clearly purchased specifically for her, including two nightdresses with ruffles and frills, a comfortable sweater she recognized as Nathaniel’s from several seasons ago, and a neat bundle of hair ribbons and brushes. Underneath all of them was a sleek black book with gilded pages. The stamped cover read Book of Common Prayer. She could pray for Mister Osric’s soul now, and she felt the tears brimming over and trickling down her cheeks. She stood to put away the clothing when a small bundle fell out and onto the floor. Charlotte picked it up. In a small cloth bag was a set of beads and a note. She opened the note first, wondering what jewelry Nathaniel could have sent.

            Ma Petite Chère:

            This is my mother’s rosary. Mister Underhill said you were attacked on your way to school, and we wished to send something to keep you safe. Keep it close.

            -Marie Dubois

            Charlotte ran the beads through her fingers. They were small blue cut glass strung on pieces of wire into a linked chain of glittering gems. The rosary was small, but still of a good weight, and she felt it warm in her hands. Marie was still taking care of her, even though she had been reassigned to a new lady. As Charlotte went to put the rosary back into its pouch, a small pamphlet fell out, explaining how to pray the rosary. Charlotte tucked it into her prayer book and set both aside, promising herself she would look at them more closely later. 

            The letter from Mother was rambling, full of gossip from her group of friends and the latest fashions. She meandered from topic to topic, never asking how Charlotte was, though Charlotte supposed she wanted to distract her from whatever mental anguish her mother imagined she must be in. In the end, Mother signed off promising more letters and asking for her own in return with all of the friends and fashions and lessons she was learning. Charlotte chuckled as she set it aside beside Nathaniel’s. Mother was always a bit flightier than the rest of her family, but she knew Mother loved her more fiercely than anyone else in the world. The fact that Mother had been fighting for her still proved that.

            Lastly, Charlotte read the letter from Miss Winters. The paper wasn’t nearly as fine as Mother’s or Nathaniel’s, but it still felt lovely under her fingers as she unfolded it. The penmanship was very fine; Miss Winters practiced what she preached, and Charlotte knew that the woman had a strict daily life to ensure the best possible results.

            My dear Charlotte,

            Nathaniel passed on your letter, and I have to say I am appalled you were attacked! And to have a poor man lose his life- simply dreadful. Please right back urgently, we both must know how you are handling things. As you doubtless noticed, Nathaniel has sent on a few things for you to make up for the items you lost to the dragon. I slipped in an old sweater of his for you. It smells lovely, like a warm hug, and I know you desperately need one at this time. If only your school was closer so we could all confirm you were well and thriving!

            We have been working diligently on securing permission for you to return home this summer, and I believe Nathaniel has obtained it, finally. He is currently in a discussion with your father that has lasted several hours, and I can hear some shouting beyond the door. I fully believe Nathaniel will succeed, but if he doesn’t, know that we have a backup plan for you. You will return to London regardless, and we are all eagerly awaiting your return. I assume your school will have a break for Christmas, so please send back your dates so we can arrange things for that time as well.

            How are your classes? I trust you are studying appropriately and not reading every book you can get your hands on in the library. Your wandwork was impeccable, of course, but your grasp of basic charms was a weaker point due to the rushed nature of your magical education. I trust I will not have to write to Professor Fig for daily reports, though I shall if I do not hear directly from you.

            As you are no longer at home, my presence is no longer needed. However, your mother and Nathaniel couldn’t bear to leave me to find a new situation, and thus I am now staying with your cousin as a companion to you, whenever you return. So far, there have been no rumors about your disappearance, thankfully, with Nathaniels’ quick wit and sharp tongue to defend you. You are currently away at finishing school, according to him, though what kind of finishing you will obtain is kept strictly secret. 

            We all dearly miss you. Your mother has thrown herself into novels to pass the time. She discovered your set of Jane Austen’s books and has decided to emulate you, reading most hours of the day and becoming quite grumpy when disturbed. Your father has been very quiet, and I know he misses your bright spirit deeply. Nathaniel speaks of little else to me, happily discussing your various exploits as a child and asking questions about your schooling to this point. We all eagerly await your next letter and your return.

            Be safe. Be good. Be bold.

            -Miss Henrietta Winters

            Charlotte wiped away her tears. She didn’t realize how empty the hole in her heart had been until those who usually filled it sent their love. She ached with how much she missed her mother and the quiet moments after dinner when the men were in the billiards room and they were alone, chatting about nothing and everything. And Miss Winters… Miss Winters was always there, always present with a quick sharp word. It seemed that she and Nathaniel had become quite close in the week she had been away, which was a relief. She hated to think of the pair adrift and Miss Winters sent away. Miss Winters would scold her for crying, of course, when there was so much else to be done. There were mysteries to solve, letters to write, and homework to be completed. She dried her eyes, placed the letters in a small drawer on her bedside table, and gathered her things. It was time to return to classes, after which she could write to her family. 

            “There’s our princess!” 

            Charlotte groaned as Garreth pulled her onto the bench beside him that evening, hugging her close. He gave good hugs, she admitted reluctantly, smoothing her skirts. “I am not a princess,” she protested, but Leander cut in smoothly.

            “Your parents had an arranged marriage for you. You’re a princess.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes. Natty sat on the bench next to her, across from Amit, who was frantically trying to finish a Herbology essay. 

            “If we’re going by blood,” she said, handing Charlotte a Yorkshire pudding from the platter in front of Leander, “you both are more royalty than she is.”

            “I can’t be muggle-born and a princess,” Charlotte added, gratefully taking the pudding and adding some roast beef to her plate. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

            Garreth sighed. “Why did I ever explain blood purity to you,” he whined. “Now you fight back. It’s not fair.”

            “What’s not fair is letting the poor girl get trampled by you,” Samantha added, sitting next to Leander and smiling at Charlotte. “Leave the girl alone, Gar.”

            “How come I have to leave her alone and Leander doesn’t?” Garreth’s pout was overplayed, but it made them all laugh. Amit looked up from his homework just quickly enough to throw a piece of crumbled paper at Garreth, which fell into his mashed potatoes. Garreth pouted further, protesting they were all bullying him.

            “Bullying Weasley? How come I never thought of that?”

            Charlotte looked up to see Sebastian smiling wickedly down at the table. She smiled back and gestured to an open seat by Amit. He shook his head and leaned in.

            “Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, one hour. Be ready to spill.” 

            Charlotte nodded and turned back to her meal. Natty leaned in.

            “Meeting up with him to tell him what the hell is going on?” she hissed, and Charlotte nodded.

            “Yeah, he’s tired of being in the dark. Which is going around, I’m sure.” Natty’s eyes glimmered with excitement. She had cornered Charlotte that morning after Potions, insisting that Charlotte tell her the truth. She had seen the blast that destroyed the troll in Hogsmeade, and the revelation that Charlotte could use a form of ancient magic had been thrilling to the other girl.

            “It would be nice if you could, you know, tell us more about it,” Natty mused. “But I suppose we’ll have to test to see how far you can push it, what your actual abilities are, things like that. I feel like wandless magic would be a good thing to work on since ancient magic seems to be more intuitive.”

            “I’d be interested in trying, but let me get through telling Sebastian first,” Charlotte replied, finishing her roasted vegetables and sighing happily. “God bless the house elves,” she said louder, garnering assent from her friends. “What a lovely meal.”

            “Off to do homework?” Amit asked, finally finished with his essay on dittany. His neat handwriting covered the full ten inches requested by Professor Garlick, smaller than Charlotte’s more flourished script.

            “Yes, I’m meeting with Sebastian to work on some defensive magic.” Charlotte stood up and stretched slightly. “I’d rather go to bed, to be honest, but I don’t dare cross Professor Hecat.” She waved to the group as Arthur Plumley took her seat, happily beginning to chat to Natty about a map he found in the library. Charlotte turned and left, making her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, dodging the angry ghost couple as she went. The woman chased her husband with a cleaver in what had been a shocking display at first, but now, Charlotte merely rolled her eyes. 

            “It was an accident!” the man cried as he flew ahead of his wife, and Charlotte chuckled darkly.

            “Sleeping with the neighbor’s wife was an accident?” she muttered, turning the last corner to find Sebastian leaning against the wall.

            “Wasn’t sure if you were coming,” Sebastian admitted, looking decidedly cheerful at her approach. “Now, what I’m about to show you is a secret, and you’re not to tell anyone under pain of death, understand?”

            “Of course, I won’t tell. There’s no reason to threaten me.” Charlotte said coolly, but Sebastian shook his head.

            “It’s not my secret to share, really,” he explained, taking her through a passage to a clock behind the stairs. “Ominis told me about this place. His family used it for generations. It’s a quiet place to think or practice forbidden spells, which is why I’m showing it to you. It’ll be useful to work on some magic down here.”

            “If it’s Ominis’ secret, shouldn’t he know you’re showing it to me?”

            “Only if I want to lose my head,” Sebastian admitted. You can just never tell him or anyone you know about this place, understood?” Charlotte nodded, and Sebastian smiled again. “Ok, take out your wand and tap the clock just here-” he demonstrated with his finger, “-and the door will open.”

            Charlotte followed the instructions, leading to a very old-fashioned lift beyond the doorway. Sebastian led her into it, throwing the leaver once he was sure she was secure. The lift shuttered and jolted, but slowly descended deeper underground. Eventually, the doors opened into a large space filled with thick pillars. Charlotte shivered to think that the large walls of the tower above them rested on the pillars, and she reached out to touch one in thanks. 

            “Now, spill. What did you do to that troll? Sebastian sat on an upturned crate and gave her a piercing stare. Charlotte swallowed.

            “So, apparently, I can use and see a form of ancient magic,” she started, but Sebastian held up his hands. 

            “Nope, back to the beginning. Why were you late to school?”

            “Whatever this magic is, it manifests late according to Professor Fig.” Charlotte sat on a crate next to Sebastian, anxiously smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt. “I didn’t know I was a witch until this past April. Professor Fig came to my house a few times to show me basic skills, and to help me get caught up to the rest of the fifth years. But when we got into the carriage to head to Hogwarts, we were attacked by a dragon wearing a glowing red collar.” She shivered at the memory and Sebastian frowned.

            “I thought that was an exaggeration,” he admitted. “You were actually attacked by a dragon?”

            “Yes. It destroyed my trunk and ate Mister Osric, the kind man traveling with us. It was awful.” She swallowed hard, then continued. “There was a portkey Mister Osric had brought with him, but none of us realized it was a portkey. We used it to escape the dragon and it took us to Gringotts. There, we found out the truth. I can use and see an ancient form of magic that few others can. The whole thing has set us on a sort of quest, and the book I got was part of it. I’m sorry you were caught.” Sebastian stood up and began to pace.

            “So, the trolls, they were after you because you could use this magic?” he asked. “And why is Ranrok after you?”

            “Ranrok can use this magic, too, but his is darker. He was controlling the dragon and the trolls. He wanted the portkey, then the locket we found at Gringotts, and now he’s after me. Rookwood is helping him, for some reason.”

            “You’re in a lot of danger, then. We’ll have to make sure they can’t get you.” Charlotte looked up to see Sebastian looking at her, his eyes filled with resolve. “Come on, let’s work on some spells, see if we can’t give you a fighting chance.”

            Some hours later, Charlotte boarded the lift to return to the school. Sebastian had put her through dueling drills and pushed her to the very edge of what she could do, though she felt stronger for it. She smelled slightly of smoke, she realized, and she decided to go back to her dorm and wash off. A nice hot bath sounded lovely. She could soak her aching muscles and quiet her mind in the water, and perhaps after, she would be able to sleep. She stepped out of the clock, barely aware of her surroundings as she dreamed up that glorious bath.

            “Hello, Sebastian,” came a cool voice. She turned toward the sound and saw Ominis standing in her way. She looked around, trying to find a way to escape, but just before she decided to dive back into the undercroft, Ominis’ face screwed up in anger.

            “You’re not Sebastian,” he said sharply. “Who are you? How did you find the undercroft?”

            “This is called the undercroft?” she asked in a too-high voice. “I didn’t know. I was exploring and-”

            “You’re a terrible liar,” he cut in, his tone sharp as a knight. “Sebastian showed you, didn’t he?”

            “No, not at all! I found it on my own!”

            “So, he did! You smell like smoke, he’s been teaching you magic in there, hasn’t he? That rat. When I get my hands on him…”

            “Please, Ominis, I know that this was supposed to be your secret, but don’t blame Sebastian. He’s a good friend.”

            “If you speak a word of this place to anyone, I will make you regret coming to Hogwarts.” He stepped closer, his height towering over Charlotte as she shivered in fear. “My father knows the headmaster, and I won’t hesitate to have you expelled.”

            “I won’t say a word.” She hated that she was crying during this. How utterly pathetic she must seem. “I promise, I won’t say anything.” She pushed past him, running down the steps and openly crying, hating that Sebastian had put her in this position, and worried she would never make friends with Ominis after all this. Maybe she didn’t even want to anymore.

            Ominis watched her go with a heavy sigh. He hated that he used his family as a threat, especially since word of how awful his parents were had to get around to Charlotte. He went too far, and he knew it. He opened the lift to yell at Sebastian and started planning an apology gift for the poor girl who got caught between the two boys.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Charlotte woke up to something rapping against the glass of her window. Something insistent. She rolled over to try to catch another few minutes of sleep, to no avail. The tapping would not be ignored and only became louder. 

“Charlotte, let the damn owl in already,” came Samantha’s sleepy voice from above her. “It’s too early for this nonsense.”

Charlotte groaned and reluctantly opened her eyes. A snow-white owl with large red eyes stared at her, its eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Then it cocked its head to one side as if to ask, “Aren’t you going to let me in?” Charlotte felt she had no choice but to obey. The owl fluttered into her room, settling on her bed, and gave a calm hoot as it raised its leg for her to remove a small parcel. 

“Aren’t you a lovely gentleman,” Charlotte cooed, petting the bird. It cooed softly and rubbed its head in her palm, enjoying the petting. “And who do you belong to?”

Samantha’s head popped down from her bunk above. “Oh, that’s Ominis’ owl,” she said, yawning. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard its name, but they’re lovely, aren’t they?”

“Albino owls must be fairly rare,” Charlotte mused, continuing to pet the owl. “I wonder where he got it from.”

“No idea.” Samantha was climbing down her ladder and gave a sleepy groan. “Better see what he wants with you.” Charlotte gave the owl one last pat before it took flight out of her window and into the winds. The small package it had delivered was in her lap, nearly forgotten. A letter was attached, and to be polite, she opened it first. 

Charlotte,

I realized after you left last night that I have been incredibly cruel to you. I have a hard time making friends, mostly because of my family. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about what they’re like, as my brother only just left Hogwarts himself and had a large number of victims of his cruelty. Whatever you’ve heard, I assure you, I pride myself on being nothing like them, though you may not be able to tell from my recent behavior. I have sent a small apology gift, which I hope is enough to help you forgive my outbursts. 

I find I communicate better through letters, ironically enough. It’s easier for me to put my thoughts down on parchment, even if I do have to dictate them to my quill. Please feel free to write back to me. My owl, Persephone, is always happy to carry things wherever they should be taken; I have quite a problem getting her back sometimes when she finds someone she thinks is especially lovely and has her favorite treats. From Sebastian’s descriptions of you, I’m sure she will find you wonderful and will happily carry letters for you regardless of the distance. She may even try international if you happen to have sardines. 

-Ominis 

“Who’s it from?” Samantha asked. She had dressed while Charlotte was reading and now leaned over the bed to see the letter herself. “Ominis?”

“Yes, he… he made me cry last night. So, he wanted to apologize.” Charlotte picked up the small package and unwrapped a small brooch. It was a shining silver thing made of interlocking rings with delicate flowers engraved on them. Samantha gasped.

“That’s what he sends for making you cry?” she asked. “What will he do if he fancies you?”

Charlotte looked at her friend. “It doesn’t seem to be that valuable,” she protested, placing the brooch on her bed and reaching for her clothes. “And presumably, if he wished to court me, he would announce his intentions through flowers.”

“Flower?” Samantha snorted with laughter, then paused and looked more thoughtful. “Actually, that could be very sweet, depending on the flowers used…”

“Of course, the flowers would have to be specifically chosen for their meanings. I’m sure the wizarding world has something similar, it’s an old art. There are florists in London who specialize in bouquets that send a particular message, so the gentleman who doesn’t have time to read up on it will be able to properly woo their intended.” She shook out her hair and reached for a light blue bow that happened to match her uniform perfectly. She tied it around her head, holding her hair away from her face but allowing it to otherwise flow free. Samantha smiled. 

“I love that idea,” she said happily, taking Charlotte’s arm and leading them to breakfast. “We’ll have to come up with the wizarding equivalent.”

The two discussed the message dittany and shrivelfigs would send all the way to the Great Hall, where they joined Garreth, Leander, Natty, and Amit at the Hufflepuff table. 

“That’s a lovely brooch!” Natty exclaimed, fawning over Charlotte’s new jewel. “It’s very becoming to a Ravenclaw uniform, with the color matching the fabric just so. And it suits you.”

Charlotte blushed, but before she could say anything, Amit interrupted. 

“What were you two so eagerly discussing on your way over?”

“The meanings of magical plants,” Samantha said. “Apparently, in the muggle world, flowers mean different things, so you can send a bouquet to send a very specific message. I think it’s a lovely idea, so Charlotte and I were discussing the meanings of magical plants. Does a shrivelfig say more utter contempt for one’s existence or enduring love?”

“Contempt,” said Garreth, laughing. “Have you tried to cut one lately? Beastly things, they roll everywhere.”

Breakfast passed with a lovely conversation. They had nearly finished classifying honking daffodils when Charlotte felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Professor Fig’s smiling face.

“You stood me up yesterday,” he playfully chided. Charlotte blushed. In the bustle of receiving her packages and being proclaimed a princess, and then Ominis yelling at her, she had completely forgotten to visit the professor. As she stumbled for words to apologize, he smiled happily around the group. 

“Professor, maybe you can answer this,” Leander said boldly. “Does asphodel mean ‘sweet dreams’ or ‘die’ in a bouquet?”

Professor Fig’s eyes shone with mischief as he replied, “I rather think it depends on the rest of the bouquet.” The table roared with laughter and Leander put the new meaning down on his parchment, keeping track of the decisions they had made. Charlotte picked up her bag and stood from the table, bidding her friends goodbye and following the professor as he left the Great Hall.

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Professor Fig said happily. “Though I was never really concerned for you. You have a happy disposition as to make friends wherever you go.”

“Miss Winters used to call me ‘Jane’, from Pride and Prejudice. She said I was full of light and smiles, like the character, and everyone would instantly fall in love with me. I rather think she was exaggerating.” 

Professor Fig laughed again. “It is an apt comparison,” he agreed. “And you’re both blondes, which completes the picture.” He gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her shoulders. “And you’ve certainly bewitched Misters Weasley and Prewitt. I’ve never seen them so animated discussing anything other than potions and dueling.” Charlotte blushed and made no reply. They mounted the steps to his office, where he closed the door behind them.

“Professor, I’m sorry, but I went to the Restricted Section on my own a few days ago,” Charlotte started, pulling the book she found from her bag. “It was a book we were after. I have it here. And it came with two more memories.”

“How did you- You know what? It’s probably better that I don’t know.” Fig’s eyes twinkled. “Though, given Mister Sallow’s recent detention, I have my suspicions.” He took the book from her hands and flipped through it. It was old, the handwritten script a type Charlotte had only seen in religious books. The text was accompanied by a series of beautifully painted illuminations.

“How lovely,” she murmured, and the professor nodded.

“Medieval, if I’m judging the script correctly. It’s all done by hand. Hours and hours of some poor scribe’s life was poured into this book.” Turning to the center pages, he cursed quietly. “Someone has removed pages!”

“What does that mean?” Charlotte asked, looking at the jagged edges left behind. 

“It means I will have to study it closely, but someone has gotten to it before us. They likely removed the pieces we were supposed to have for the next step.” He put the book down carefully but followed the gentle movement with a slam on the desk. “Blast. And I have to leave.”

“Leave?” Charlotte felt she was barely keeping up. “Sir, what’s going on?”

“Professor Black is insisting I talk to the Ministry about Mister Osric’s death personally. I leave for London later today.” He sighed, then picked up the book once more. “I will take the book with me, to give it further study. It will give me something to do while I’m bored out of my mind in meetings. You said you also saw two memories?”

“Yes, the first one was of four wizards reinvigorating a hamlet during a drought. A little girl watched them, and they seemed to acknowledge her somewhere. The second memory was of the girl at Hogwarts talking to the wizards. She had started in her fifth year, like me, and could also see and use ancient magic.”

“Did you catch any of the names?” Professor Fig was scrambling for a quill and some spare parchment. Charlotte nodded.

“The girl was named Isadora, I believe. The others were…” She trailed off, trying to find the names in her memory. “Rookwood was one, I know that. The woman was Fitzgerald? I can’t remember the others.”

“No matter, that’s enough to go on. I will look up those names while I’m away and see what I can find out about those people. Maybe learning more about them will help with this path they seem to have set for you. You, meanwhile, should focus on your studies.” He gave her a stern look that seemed incongruous with his earlier playfulness. “You do not need to get into trouble while I’m gone, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Charlotte shifted slightly from one foot to the other, then looked up to see a broad smile on his face.

“I’ll also meet with your cousin. Nathaniel, I believe?” Charlotte’s face lit up and the professor chuckled. “He has been adamant that I should be sending regular progress reports. Hopefully, seeing him in person will help wipe away his concerns.”

“He has always been a bit overprotective,” Charlotte chuckled. The professor laughed.

“That’s one way of putting it!” Then, turning to the door, he gestured that Charlotte was free to go. “Enjoy your classes and have fun with your friends.” Charlotte smiled warmly at the professor before ducking out of the door. She came down the stairs to find Ominis standing at the back of the room, deep in thought. She crept closer, trying to slip out the door without disturbing him, but Ominis seemed to rouse himself just as she touched the doorknob.

“Charlotte,” he called, reaching for her wrist. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t in any trouble.” Charlotte blushed at the contact and swallowed hard.

“No,” she said finally. “Professor Fig has been helping me with my magic, to make sure I’m caught up with the other fifth years. He wanted to discuss an assignment.”

Ominis cocked his head. “You are a terrible liar,” he chucked, dropping her wrist. “Sebastian told me about your special abilities. He’s also a terrible liar, at least when it comes to me. I hope you don’t mind.”

Charlotte felt that she very much did mind, but she swallowed again and shook her head. Then, realizing he couldn’t see the gesture, she said quietly, “No, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t, and you needn't lie to me about that. But I wanted you to know.” Ominis took a step forward. “Is Professor Fig helping you? With the…?”

“Yes.” Charlotte stared at the boy, trying to decide how much he knew, before giving in. Sebastian must have told him everything since there didn’t seem to be many secrets between the two. “He was the one who brought me to Hogwarts. He saw how it all started for me, so he’s been helping. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, you know.”

Ominis smirked. “Never fear. In some circles, I’m not considered anyone, so your secret is safe with me.” He then offered his arm to Charlotte. “Shall we head toward Potions? I hear we are making another healing draught today, which will come in handy if you’re exploring ruins for ancient magics.”

Charlotte hesitated. She remembered the times he had yelled at her for touching him, his anger and frustration burned into her head. However, he was offering, and he wanted to make amends for his earlier behavior. She hesitantly took his arm, and he smoothly glided the pair down the hall to the dungeons. They walked in silence, completely unsure of what to say, until they reached the classroom doors. Garreth bounded across the room to Charlotte as soon as she entered.

“There you are, we were worried you had been taken away for something,” he said happily. He then turned to Ominis and, loudly, proclaimed: “You found our lost girl! Thank you, kind sir, for returning her to us, her loving friends and minders.”

“Garreth, I’m not a dog,” Charlotte protested, blushing deeply. Garreth gave her a pitying look slightly ruined by the broad smile on his face. Ominis chuckled next to her as she pulled her arm free from his. “And you,” she said, turning on the blonde, “would do well not to laugh at his terrible jokes.”

“He has a point,” Ominis argued. “You do get into a lot of trouble already. We may have to put a leash on you so we know where you are and can help get you out of trouble.”

Charlotte’s response was decidedly unladylike. As she walked away from Garreth to an empty station, Ominis caught her arm. He whispered in her ear, “The brooch looks lovely on you, by the way. Thank you for accepting my apology.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Over the next few days, Sebastian, Ominis, and Imelda were added to the lively group eating meals together. It began slowly, with Charlotte sitting at the Slytherin table and discussing Herbology, one of Sebastian’s weakest subjects, with him over lunch. Ominis began asking questions about potions, causing Charlotte to ask Garreth to join them sometimes. With the addition of Garreth came Leander, who began to soften toward Slytherins as a whole when Nerida Roberts caught him in an hour-long discussion about mermaids and their language. Samantha joined Amit, both diving into mermaid studies with Nerida and Leander. Grace Pinch-Smedly (of the Bath Pinch-Smedlys, which was not impressive to Charlotte or Ominis as both were from London) began asking Samantha about plants and family history, while Imelda began debating the finer points of Quidditch with Garreth, who was an excellent player himself. By the end of the week, there were standing broom races, study groups, and an expanded ring of friends. 

Ominis, for his part, enjoyed the lively discussions but found it difficult to keep up at times. He had grown used to quiet meals with Sebastian more interested in a book than any conversation. However, his consolation was that, at every meal, Charlotte made a point to slip him a piece of folded parchment, and he would return the gesture. Her letters, however brief her studies required them to be, were always filled with delightful stories of her family, questions about wizarding life he had never considered, and ramblings on her homework problems. He returned them with fond anecdotes of his life with Sebastian during the summers and endless complaints about the colder temperature of the Slytherin common rooms. None of the letters held anything especially personal. 

On Saturday, Ominis found, oddly, only Charlotte. She was sitting quietly at the Ravenclaw table, sipping tea and writing a letter. She looked up and smiled at the boy as he slipped onto the bench next to her.

“Early riser, too?” she asked cheerfully. “Samantha threw a pillow at me this morning when I asked if she was coming to breakfast.”

Ominis poured himself a cup of tea, smelling the leaves as they unfurled into the dark liquid. “Sebastian is never up before 10 on weekends,” he explained. “I’ve learned it’s better to just let him be. I’m surprised you’re awake, though. I could have sworn you were a late riser, too.”

“Miss Winters, my governess, had me on a strict schedule. Up and dressed by 7 every day.”

“Sounds like a sensible woman,” Ominis replied. He reached out to feel the various foods in front of them, only to have Charlotte quietly whisper the names of the dishes to him. It was surprisingly helpful, even if he did have to swallow his pride slightly. Finally supplied with poached eggs, toast, and some kind of pastry, he settled into a filling breakfast. Charlotte scribbled next to him, sipping her tea and occasionally sneaking a piece of a scone from the platter in front of her. 

“Who are you writing to?” Ominis wanted to repair this relationship, and he knew it started with being polite and interested in what Charlotte was doing and thinking. She hummed for a pause before answering.

“My cousin, Nathaniel. He sent me a letter yesterday and insists I write him back immediately.” She snuck another bit of scone, smiling broadly at the bits of sugar baked into the top. 

“Are you particularly close to your cousin? Is that… normal? For muggles, I mean.” 

“Not necessarily,” Charlotte said, resting her quill on the table and taking a sip of her own tea (black with floral notes, from what Ominis could smell). “He’s my father’s heir since I wasn’t born a boy. Nathaniel was practically raised in our house once it was clear Mother wasn’t going to have any more children. He’s always been more of a big brother to me.”

“I hope he’s a better brother than those I know,” Ominis muttered darkly. Charlotte flushed with embarrassment.

“Of course, your family… Nathaniel is nothing like that. He’s always been supportive and kind and loving. While my father is… being convinced to allow me back home, Nathaniel has been taking care of me, making sure I have money to cover my school expenses and replace my clothing and such. He’s been asking after stories from being here, to see how they compare with his nonmagical school stories.”

“A very wonderful person, then, to have in your corner.” Ominis smiled at her brightly. “And with Garreth and Sebastian as friends, I’m sure you’ll have lots of stories to share.”

Charlotte hummed her agreement and finished her letter with a flourish. “Now, I need to find an owl to send this,” she said quietly. “Do you know where I could find one?”

Before he could answer, a lovely small owl landed on Charlotte's shoulder and dropped a letter into her lap. “Thank you, friend!” she said happily, giving the owl a bit of bacon to chew on. “If I give you a letter for London, could you take it for me?” The owl hooted happily, gobbling down the bacon and holding out a leg. Once ladened with the letter, it hooted a last time, brushed its head against Charlotte’s cheek, and took to the sky.

“Another letter from Nathaniel?” Ominis asked, but Charlotte shook her head.

“No. Mister Olivander.” She tore open the seal and read quickly. “He has an errand for me and asks I come visit him today.”

“Well, I’d better finish my breakfast,” Ominis said, reaching for his toast. Beside him, he felt Charlotte stiffen slightly and he braved a smile, hoping it looked kind and supportive. “I would never allow a lady to appear in public without a chaperone.” 

The pair walked down the road to Hogsmeade in companionable silence. Charlotte would occasionally describe a flower or another group of students, but otherwise, they remained silent until the first bend. At that point, Ominis had gathered his courage.

“You said your father needed to be convinced to let you back home. Is it because of the magic?”

Charlotte sighed heavily. “Yes. When I got my letter, he was furious. Nathaniel and Mother and Miss Winters have all been working on convincing him to let me come home, but Nathaniel assured me I will still have a home, wherever that is, when I leave for the summer. Miss Winters is trying to allow me a place for Christmas.”

“You can always stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. I do it every year. It’s better than going home.”

“I may end up staying, too. I’d feel awkward if Father doesn’t want me home.”

“Do you know why he reacted the way he did? If Nathaniel has hope, surely there’s a reason more than anti-magic sentiment.”

“Nathaniel said there was, but he wouldn’t tell me via letter.” Charlotte paused and Ominis felt his heart sink. 

“It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly. “I know families can be difficult.”

Charlotte gave a little laugh. “I would have argued against that sentiment until recently,” she said sadly. Ominis sighed at her downturn in mood.

“You do have a large and varied friend group,” he said, trying to distract her. “I know the Weasleys take in odd strays when needed.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Garreth’s already offered. And Samantha, and Leander, and Grace…”

“Oh, imagine having to spend the summer with the Pinch-Smedlys,” Ominis said, laughing. 

“Grace is a very sweet girl,” Charlotte protested, “just… very proud of her family.”

“After a number of dinners with them, I promise you, she comes by it naturally.” 

“Oh, they socialize with your family, then?” Charlotte seemed more at ease now, Ominis thought. Her voice sounded more relaxed as they made their way up the path. Ominis sighed.

“There’s a few pure-blood families we don’t socialize with, like the Weasleys and the Potters, but most of the others have been to the manor at some point.” 

“Why not the Weasleys?” Charlotte asked. Ominis gave her a smirk in reply.

“They’re blood traitors. They’ve been marrying cousins off to muggles for years. The Potters are generally more careful, but it’s a common enough name in muggle circles so we keep away from them. My father would have a conniption if he knew I was friends with a Weasley, let alone a muggle-born, no matter how high your birth was. The scandal alone would be enough for them to finally leave me alone.”

Charlotte chuckled but made no reply. As they reached the bridge leading into Hogsmeade, she paused, touching his arm to stop his walking. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” Ominis smiled and simply offered his arm, leading her toward Olivanders shop.

As they left the shop, Charlotte seemed confused. “So, a few decades ago, a student named Jackdaw stole their family wand, and they've waited until now to ask someone to find it?”

“We don’t know that they haven’t asked people before,” Ominis said smoothly, offering his arm again to Charlotte. It felt good, showing her the little courtesies he had been taught as a boy and felt even better knowing she would find comfort in the gestures. She took it and followed along, letting Ominis take the lead.

“Well, at least we have a starting point. That will make looking a bit easier.” Ominis nodded but said nothing. Instead, he led Charlotte further into town toward Honeydukes. 

“Let’s get some candy for the adventure, shall we?” he asked when she paused in front of the door. He could feel her smile as a beam of sunlight. Inside was chaos, with students and townspeople filling nearly every nook of the shop. Charlotte dropped Ominis’ arm and took his hand instead, leading him through the crowd toward a display of sweets. Ominis fought against his natural urge to pull away from the contact, instead letting himself relax into the gesture. 

“I’m getting some butterscotch,” Charlotte said, close to his ear so he could hear her clearly. “Nathaniel always had some to slip to me. Is there anything you would like?”

“I’ll take some of the chocolates,” he replied, hoping she was still close enough to hear him. A few minutes later, they left the shop. Charlotte paused outside to adjust her bag in her left arm so she would take Ominis’ with her right, popping a butterscotch into her mouth and humming with pleasure.

“May I try one?” Ominis asked quietly and was happily presented with a small wrapped candy. He popped it into his mouth, enjoying the warm flavor. He offered Charlotte his arm as they made their way back to Hogwarts, happily chatting about school and homework as they went. By the time they arrived at the Owlery, several butterscotch and chocolates had gone missing. 

“So, this is the Owlery,” Charlotte said when they arrived. “Mister Olivander said Jackdaw was often here.”

“I assume he’d be at the top,” Ominis added, opening the door for her. “Watch your step. It’s rather slippery.” Charlotte immediately slipped in some droppings and clutched at Ominis’ shoulder to keep upright.

“I see what you mean,” she said, straightening and smoothing the new wrinkles in Ominis’ shirt. They carefully climbed the tower, Charlotte trying to warn Ominis of slippery patches as they went until they reached the top. Someone had put down straw recently, making it easier for them to move safely. 

“What do you see?” Ominis held up his wand, but the information he got from it would inevitably lack the same understanding as someone with sight. Charlotte was silent for a good while, and he heard some scraping on the stones.

“I think it’s a puzzle,” she said finally, returning to his side. “There are several niches for statues, but some of them are missing. I think there must be more statues hidden that I have to put back into place.”

“Statues of what?”

“The ones in the niches are owls, but…” she trailed off, pulling on a hook covering a niche in the wall. It popped off with a loud sound and out fell-

“Ominis, it’s a jackdaw! The other statues are jackdaws!”

“Interesting. Either clever or full of himself. Or both.” With Charlotte’s guidance, they placed the statues back in their niches. When they finished, they stood in the center of the room, Charlotte looking over their handiwork. 

“Now, if we’re correct, something should happen. Like a trap door or hidden compartment or something.” She had just finished speaking when Ominis felt a cold rush of air and shivered. Charlotte shrieked from beside him, but before he could reach out to grab her, a new voice called from the window. 

“Oh, so someone finally figured out my puzzle!”

Ominis sighed. “I take it you’re Jackdaw?” he asked pointedly. The ghost must have bowed, because he heard Charlotte curtsy, her one knee cracking slightly as she dipped. “I am! Pleased to meet you…?”

“Charlotte. And this is Ominis.” Ominis gave a nod vaguely in the ghost’s direction. 

“Wonderful! I had hoped someone one day would find my secrets. Anything in particular you’d like today? A secret passage, perhaps?”

Ominis sighed again. The ghost sounded young. Far too young, he thought, for a ghost to be. “We’re looking for a wand you were accused of stealing from the Olivanders.”

“Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Where did you leave it? Is it here?” Something about the ghost reminded him of Sebastian, though he sincerely wished his friend a long and happy life rather than an eternity at Hogwarts. 

“Not exactly…” the ghost said. “I took it to get into a treasure cave. I wanted to impress Apollonia, but nothing I did caused her to so much as raise an eyebrow. I hoped the treasure would do the trick. I found the map among Peeves’ things, though what he was doing with it I can’t say, and I followed it to this cave in the forest and- “

“The Forbidden Forest?” Ominis asked sharply. “A cave in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Yes, of course, keep up.” Ominis clenched his fist in anger, but he felt Charlotte gently touch his arm and forced himself to relax. “As I was saying, I went to the cave, and then the next thing I knew, I was a ghost.”

“Something in the cave killed you? A creature from the forest, maybe?” Charlotte’s voice trembled slightly, but Jackdaw had already moved on.

“No, not a creature. I felt a rush of wind and then, poof, I’m see-through and floating.”

“Did you leave the wand there?” Ominis asked, rubbing his temples. This was looking to be a more involved trip than he had expected, but if there was fatal danger involved, he couldn’t abandon Charlotte. 

“Yes, I had it with me when I died,” the ghost said impatiently. “And I left the map there, too.”

“Where did this map come from?” Charlotte asked. The ghost gave a long-suffering sigh.

“I told you, I got it from Peeves.”

“And where did he get it?” Charlotte asked. Ominis was very close to losing his temper; Jackdaw was simultaneously a copy of Sebastian and the most annoying creature in existence. Charlotte touched his arm again, trying to calm him.

“I think he got it from a book. I tried to find it, but it didn’t seem to be anywhere, including the Restricted Section, so I have no idea what book it was.”

Ominis and Charlotte both straightened. “You said pages were missing from your book,” Ominis said, turning toward Charlotte. 

“Could a poltergeist get to it, I wonder?”

“This may be the best chance we have of finding those pages,” Ominis pressed. “If Jackdaw couldn’t find the book in the library, it was either a private tome owned by a professor or- “

“Oh, Peeves said it was from the library,” the ghost cut in. “I looked high and low but couldn’t find it.” 

“That must be the missing pages, then.” Charlotte sounded resigned, and Ominis reached out for her. “Can you show us the cave, Jackdaw?”

“Richard, please.” Something in the ghost’s tone made Ominis stiffen, while Charlotte chuckled. “And of course I can. Forbidden Forest tonight? It’s only accessible at night, I’m afraid.”

Charlotte reluctantly agreed and soon the pair were making their way back to the castle. Charlotte was suddenly very quiet after a day of joyful conversation. 

“We have some time to make a few wiggenweld and do some last-minute studying of defensive spells,” Ominis said finally, opening a door for Charlotte. She stopped in the doorway.

“You don’t have to come with me,” she said quietly. “There’s no sense in both of us risking our lives.”

“Nonsense. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you face the cave alone?” Ominis risked a smile, and Charlotte softened slightly. “Let’s grab our potion supplies and do some brewing. I’ll bring any dueling texts Sebastian has squirreled away. Then, after dinner, we can head toward the forest and recover that wand and your map.”

Professor Sharp seemed to be watching Ominis and Charlotte closely, though he accepted the lie of extra potions practice readily. Charlotte, though entirely new to the subject, had shown this far a talent for potions, while Ominis was abysmal. The pair managed a few vials of wiggenweld that met Professor Sharp’s approval and stowed them carefully in Ominis’ school bag. Ominis had borrowed a defense book from Sebastian’s collection (“He has so many, he surely won’t miss one or two”) and the pair poured over it in the Undercroft before dinner, practicing a number of spells to make sure they would cast them when under pressure in the cave. By the time they made their way to the crowded dinner table, they felt as prepared as they could be. 

“Oi, where have you two been?” Sebastian demanded, mouth full of meat pie. Garreth nodded, though chose not to open his own full mouth.

“Studying,” Charlotte said smoothly, slipping into a seat beside Garreth with Ominis beside her. “We wanted to practice some potions work and then we were working on Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“You realize it’s Saturday,” Natty pointed out. “A day of rest. One of our few, I might add.”

“I wish you had told me,” Samantha said mournfully. “My defense work is sloppy. I could have used the tips.”

“Next time, we’ll come find you,” Charlotte promised. She filled her plate and, without thinking, made one for Ominis, too. To everyone’s surprise, he stifled the angry reply he would normally give and settled for a quiet “thank you” before eating.

“So, what were you up to today?” Charlotte asked Sebastian and Garreth, who launched into long, complicated descriptions of the various naps, research, and dueling practice they had been working on.

“Leander nearly knocked Sebastian down! He’s doing much better now that we’re working as a group.” Garreth beamed at his friend, who flushed a dark red. Charlotte sent him a kind smile.

“I’m glad it’s working out,” she said happily. Leander smiled hesitantly, seemingly worried about any jokes Charlotte and Ominis would make at his expense, but none came. The table gently fell into silence until Imelda walked up to Garreth in full Quidditch gear. She threw a broom at him.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said impatiently. Garreth made his apologies as he finished his pie.

“What are you two doing?” Ominis asked. Imelda was pacing impatiently.

“Broom race. Black won’t even let us do friendly one-on-one matches, so the best I can do is beat Weasley at a race.” 

“I believe you mean ‘be beaten by Weasley at a race’,” Garreth said smoothly, getting to his feet. Imelda snorted but did not comment, instead pulling Garreth by his sleeve out the door as he waved goodbye to his friends. Leander sighed.

“She’s like this all the time,” he complained. “If it’s not broom races it’s help with potions homework or wanting to gossip about the latest Quidditch news.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Imelda is a passionate person,” he said, turning back to his plate. “When she finds someone who can keep up with her, God help that person.” 

Ominis touched Charlotte’s arm, who nodded and stood. “We should get going, too,” he said to Sebastian. 

“And where are you two off to then?” asked Leander, eyes narrowing. “You can’t leave me here with Sallow unattended.”

“Alas, it is unavoidable,” Ominis replied without any sense of remorse. “Charlotte has four years of school to catch up on and we have a standing date with the library.”

“I can come, if you’d like,” Sebastian said, he and Leander both standing. Charlotte held out a hand to show she would prefer they not.

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s better with it’s just Ominis. We stay on topic better without you two,” she said, teasingly. “Besides, he can’t see me roll my eyes at his terrible jokes.” With that, Ominis offered Charlotte his arm and the two made their way to the doors to the Great Hall.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Charlotte paused in the entry hall, thinking. “We should perhaps change into more durable clothing,” she said slowly, looking down at her uniform skirt. “Though I’m afraid I don’t have much else. I haven’t replaced my walking skirts yet.” Ominis tilted his head, deep in thought.

“I can always lend you a pair of trousers,” he said slowly. “They’ll be far more durable and functional than a skirt anyway.”

“T-trousers?” Charlotte squeaked. “Like a boy?” Ominis laughed.

“Do they not wear pants in the muggle world?” he asked. 

“We have new split skirts for riding on a bicycle, but those are still skirts,” Charlotte protested. “I’ve never worn trousers in my life.”

“Then we should save that experience for another time,” Ominis said sagely. “You need to be comfortable in the cave, especially if we face danger.” He took her arm again and opened the front doors, heading out into the grounds. “Let’s see what Mister Jackdaw has in store for us tonight.”

            They walked mostly in silence to the forest. Charlotte was trembling slightly, but Ominis kept her hand tucked into his arm, walking as close as possible to give her a sense of security. A few other students were out enjoying the last rays of the sun before returning to their books, playing with balls, or strolling the Herbology gardens. Charlotte almost envied them; how lovely would it be to spend the evening strolling through manicured gardens with Ominis and nothing more pressing to discuss than the weather? Ominis seemed to share her thoughts as they reached the bridge into the forest.

            “I’ve never been here,” he said quietly, leading her over the stone cobbles to the dirt path leading deeper into the trees. Charlotte gave a small laugh.

            “It is called the Forbidden Forest rather than the Only-Mildly-Disallowed Forest or the Everyone-Is-Welcome Forest,” she said. He laughed.

            “Very true. Let us see if it lives up to the name.” 

            As soon as they stepped into the shade of the trees, Ominis felt something watching them. A tingle up his spine gave him an entirely unsettled feeling, like something was very wrong. Charlotte shivered beside him, clearly feeling the same thing.

            “I don’t see anyone,” she said quietly, “but I know someone’s watching.”

            “Hopefully it’s Jackdaw, and we can be done with this business quickly.” He allowed her to lead now, her small hand gripping his tightly as she helped him around tree roots and leaping toadstools. Finally, she paused by a fork in the road.

            “Well, the signs say spiders to the right,” she said quietly. 

            “And to the left?”

            “More spiders.”

            “Lovely. Any sign of where Jackdaw is?”

            “Did I hear someone calling my name?” Charlotte jumped, bumping into Ominis and nearly sending him sprawling over a tree root. Charlotte glared at the ghost.

            “That was unkind,” she scolded. “Ominis could have hurt himself because of you.”

            “I am sorry, but your faces!” The ghost laughed merrily as Ominis scowled in his direction. Finally, the ghost took a wheezing breath and cleared his throat. “Sorry, some habits die hard, as they say, and I always did enjoy a good scare.” 

            “We are not amused,” Charlotte said hotly. “Where is the wand, Jackdaw? I’d rather not be here all night.”

            “Pushy, pushy, aren’t you?” the ghost teased. “Fine then, I’ll show you to the cave. It’s just this way, there’s a waterfall and a lake and a birdbath.” The ghost floated on, and Charlotte gently pulled Ominis behind him. 

            Charlotte was astounded by the forest. Deer seemed plentiful, dodging about the trees as they fled, and the last sunbeams of the day filtered through the trees to give a misty feel. The trees themselves were old gnarled things with huge trunks and lifted roots, making the way difficult for Ominis, but Charlotte felt they had stories to tell if only she could understand Tree. However, the feeling of being watched persisted, though she tried to push it to the back of her mind. 

            Without warning, Charlotte passed through the ghost of Jackdaw and let out a screech, Ominis pulling her closer in case it was an attack. Jackdaw frowned.

            “Sorry, it’s just that… the closer I get to the cave, the more I remember.” His voice no longer was joyful and teasing, taking instead a tone of sorrow and pain. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take you to the cave itself. I’m remembering more about my…”

            “Death,” Ominis supplied, and the ghost nodded.

            “Yes. I was only 17, you know. Ready to graduate in a few months and madly in love with Apollonia Black.” The ghost shook his head, unwilling to go any further.

            “Can you tell us the way?” Charlotte asked, far kinder than Ominis thought the ghost deserved. 

            “Of course. You’ll come to a waterfall, and then a lake. Turn left at the lake and you’ll find the birdbath. The password is Intra Muros, whisper it to the bird bath and you’ll find the entrance.”

            “Intra muros,” Charlotte repeated.

            “Yes. It’s Latin. Or maybe Greek. I didn’t pay much attention in school.”

            “Latin,” Ominis said gruffly. The ghost laughed. 

            “I was right!” he cheered. Then, whisking his ghostly hat off his head, he bowed low to Charlotte. “I will bid you adieu, then, my fair lady. Wait… is that Latin? Or Greek?” He floated off before Ominis could tell him that it was French and ask exactly what did he did at school. Charlotte sighed and tightened her grip around Ominis’ hand.

            “Let’s go. I can hear the waterfall up ahead.” They continued in silence, Ominis and Charlotte clutching each other’s hands as lifelines as they walked. Eventually, they came to the lake. It was shrouded in the blues that came with dusk in this part of the forest, and Charlotte saw a couple of deer running alongside the water. Turning to her left, she could just make out a birdbath and gave a small cheer.

            “Ominis, we found it! There’s the birdbath!”

            “Excellent,” Ominis replied, stepping carefully around a root. “Let’s hurry up and get inside.” As he stepped up to the birdbath, however, he heard the whooshing of several beings magicking their way next to them. He straightened his wand out, placing his free hand on Charlotte’s arm and gently stepping between her and the three goblins now in the clearing.

            “I think it’s time we put an end to this nonsense,” one said, his voice dripping with disdain. “What’s in that cave belongs to goblins and no wizard is coming near it, not if we have anything to say about it.”

            “I’m afraid this isn’t up for debate,” Ominis said smoothly, feeling Charlotte pull her own wand and sink into a defensive pose. “Perhaps if you come another time, we can discuss this.”

            “There will be no discussion, filth,” the goblin spat. “It’s ours, and we will take it.”

            “Over my dead body,” Charlotte muttered.

            “That’s the idea,” the goblin said, chuckling with its friends. Without warning, one of them sent a shot of magic that barely missed Ominis. He returned fire, Charlotte joining him, leaving the goblins on the ground unconscious in mere minutes.

            “Quickly, let’s get inside before they awake,” Charlotte said, and Ominis leaned over the birdbath. He murmured the password and heard the grinding of rocks from off to his left. Charlotte gasped.

            “It’s a door! Ominis, a door just opened in the wall!” She grabbed Ominis’ hand and ran to it, carefully pressing herself into the opening. She came out in a dark and damp space covered in massive cobwebs. 

            “It smells like decay,” Ominis said, casting his wand around for information. “Are those spider webs?”

            “Yes, but not from any spider I’ve seen. They’re enormous.”

            “Wonderful,” Ominis muttered. “Giant spiders, murderous goblins, and a corpse. What a lovely ending to our day.” Charlotte chuckled lightly and led him deeper into the caves. 

            By the time they reached the first magical door, Charlotte had spider webs in her hair and Ominis had fallen on the damp earth at least twice. His usually pristine jacket had a large mud stain on the side and Charlotte apologized profusely for ruining his clothing. 

            “It’s not an issue,” he assured her, wiping his hands on his pants. “It’s just mud. The house elves have removed far worse from Garreth’s clothing.”

            “I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” she said sorrowfully. “If you get hurt, it will be my fault.”

            “Nonsense.” Ominis took her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I invited myself, and I would never let you go alone. Of the two of us, I have survived much, much worse.”

            Charlotte nodded, then turned to the door. It held the same swirl motif that she had found on the other ancient magic objects, but this door did not open at her touch. She looked around, trying to find some clue as to how the door worked.

            “It doesn’t open just with my touch,” she said softly, looking at the walls. “There must be some kind of mechanism to open it…” Ominis cast his wand around, trying to help as best he could. His wand showed some kind of flat round object on the wall next to the door, and he cocked his head.

            “Maybe this?” he asked, gesturing to the disk. “It’s too high to touch, but perhaps-” Charlotte cut him off with a basic cast to the disk. It lit up in the center, a pair of unseen hands rotating behind it. Charlotte cheered. 

            “You’re brilliant,” she said happily. “It must be the disks. See if you can find any more of them.”

            Between the two, they were able to open the door and venture inside. A large space greeted them, and Charlotte started to relax as she walked into it. Suddenly, Ominis pulled her back.

            “Do you hear that?” he asked quietly, but the question was unnecessary. Charlotte could see exactly what Ominis was describing: a giant, angry spider. More spiders descended from the ceiling. The two beat them back with a flurry of fire spells, only to find more spiders waiting for them. Bigger spiders. Charlotte felt the tug of her ancient magic again, pulling it from her depths and throwing it down her wand. The spider at the end of it was pulled toward her, shrinking in size, and Ominis stomped on the now-tiny spider with relish. 

            “Do that again,” he cried, casting a shield as another spider rushed toward him. Charlotte nodded and reached for her magic again. This time, it felt far above her, and she pointed her wand to the sky. A crash of thunder boomed through the cavern, and she slammed her wand down, striking the largest of the spiders with a lightning bolt. Ominis could smell the ozone it created and grinned. “Sebastian is going to love that one,” he called, warding off a spider with confringo. “He loves all fire magic.”

            “Lightening isn’t fire,” Charlotte returned, throwing a spider into the wall with her wand. “It’s a different phenomenon altogether.”

            “I doubt he’ll care to split hairs.” Ominis threw a final confringo as the last spider and sighed as it burned. “Electricity isn’t that far away from fire when it comes to magic anyway. And calling down lighting on your enemies is a fairly intoxicating spell.” He pushed his loose hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Can you tell how close we are?”

            “No.” Charlotte sounded exhausted. He touched her shoulder and felt her lean into him. “I don’t think I can use that much of the ancient magic,” she murmured. “Not at once. I’m exhausted.”

            “Let’s rest a minute, then we’ll continue.” Ominis led Charlotte to a convenient rock and gently sat next to her. She leaned into him again, resting her head on his shoulder, and he could suddenly smell her flowery shampoo. He brushed his hair back again. 

            “I’m going to need a different hairstyle,” Charlotte said. “My hair keeps getting into my face when I’m fighting. Not exactly practical.”

            “No, I imagine that would be frustrating,” Ominis agreed. “I’d offer to help, but I’m afraid I have no experience with that.” Charlotte laughed.

            “I’ll ask Samantha to help me when I get back to the dorms,” she said happily. “She should be able to help me. Or maybe Imelda.” She sighed deeply, then picked up her head. “I feel a bit better, and we need to keep moving. We need to be back by curfew.”

            “I’m more worried about you,” Ominis admitted, but he stood and took her hand anyway, following her as they continued deeper. They found a number of spiders and several more doors before finding a bridge made out of the same blue shimmering magic Charlotte saw in the room at Gringotts. They crossed it carefully, looking from side to side in case spiders decided to ambush them as they walked. The bridge led to a columnated room with statues of knights that made Charlotte shiver. 

            “I have an idea of what killed Jackdaw,” she said, kneeling by the skeleton on the floor. “You’re not going to like it.”

            “More spiders?” Ominis asked, taking the map and splintered wand fragments from Charlotte as she removed them from Jackdaw’s remains. He heard her whisper a quick prayer before standing.

            “Nope. There are knight statues here. I’ve seen them before. They-”

            “-Come to life and try to kill us?”

            “Right in one.” Charlotte sounded exhausted, but he felt her ready her wand. “Once I step forward into the room, they’ll wake up. Be ready.” Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped onto the marble floors. 

            The knights immediately came to life, one after another, attacking the pair for disturbing their rest. The knights were, happily, easier to fight than the spiders had been, though Ominis found confringo had little effect on their stone skin. The two were beginning to fight together like a well-oiled machine, seeming to understand where the other was and what direction they were sending their magic in. Ominis smiled at Charlotte when the knights were all destroyed and she took his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. The two walked toward the door at the back of the hall.

            “We really will need to talk about that ‘lightning is fire magic’ nonsense you said earlier,” she teased as she pushed open the doors. 

            “What? Why?”

            “Because it’s wrong and you know it.”

            Ominis’ retort was cut short by the rushing of water. The room was flooding, his wand told him, and he stumbled back to the door, pushing on it. Charlotte looked around, trying to find any solution, when she noticed the water pushed away from her feet.

            “Ominis! Stand right next to me, the water isn’t touching my feet. I think I’m safe.” She pulled Ominis to stand directly beside her, forcing him into the magical bubble. When the room was completely flooded, they stood in the void caused by her magic in awe before slowly making their way to the door at the other end. The bubble allowed them to enter the room completely dry, and Ominis marveled at Charlotte once the door was closed behind them.

            “This magic,” he said breathlessly. “This is amazing, Charlotte.”

            “It must be impressive if you’re so in awe,” she teased. “You’ve been around magic your whole life.”

            “I have, but there’s something about this that feels… I can feel some magic, with my wand,” he explained, following her up the stairs. “This feels different. I can’t explain it, but it’s nothing like I’ve felt before.”

            “Sebastian and Natty both want to run trials, to see what it can do and what my limits are.”

            “Not a bad idea. We can do the trials in the Undercroft. It’s far enough from the rest of the school that there should be little danger to anyone else.”

            At the top of the stairs, Charlotte held out a hand to stop Ominis. A large room with four floor-to-ceiling paintings and a polished floor greeted them. She slowly stepped into the room, looking around at the blue marble pillars and swirled silver banisters. 

            “This room is filled with your magic,” Ominis said softly. “It’s everywhere, in everything.”

            “I feel it, too,” she replied, just as quietly. She felt like she was in a library, or an equally sacred space where her voice would disrupt others. She stepped onto the shining floor and started when a man entered one of the massive paintings.

            “Hello,” he said happily. “I see you have found our path!”

            Charlotte looked at Ominis, whose face was averted from the portrait to allow him a better sense of hearing. She looked back at the portrait. The man depicted was older, with a long, flowing gray beard and medieval cap. His robes were fine, though perhaps a bit old-fashioned. He stood in front of a crystal ball and had a kind twinkle in his eyes. Charlotte couldn’t help but feel she knew him from somewhere…

            “Your house!” she cried, suddenly remembering. “The portkey took us to our house, on the sea!”

            “Yes indeed!” the man cheered. “And how is my old pile?”  

            “In ruins, I’m afraid,” she said, stepping closer. “One of your statues was still intact and a mural of you reading cards and crystal balls.” The man frowned, then shrugged.

            “Such is the way of time, I’m afraid,” he said, seeming to be unbothered, though his eyes were dimmer than before. “It has been a long time since I lived there, at any rate. My name is Professor Rackham.”

            “A pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said, dipping into a smooth curtsy. “I am Charlotte Underhill, and this is my friend Ominis. He was helping me explore the cave.”

            “Wonderful. I’m afraid, though, what we have to discuss is between you and myself. If your friend could wait outside?”

            “In the water?” 

            “No, no, the upper entrance. At the top of the stairs.” Charlotte took Ominis’ hand and gently led him to the stairs. Before she turned back, Ominis squeezed her hand.

            “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said quietly. By the time Charlotte had returned, Ominis had slipped through the doorway and was resting against a wall.

            “There, now we will not be disturbed,” the portrait said happily. “This magic that you wield is dangerous in the wrong hands. We must be careful that no one knows about it but you and us.”

            “I discovered your portkey with the help of one of my professors, Professor Fig,” Charlotte admitted. “He knows everything that I do.”

            “And your friends?”

            “Nothing,” Charlotte lied. She felt the guilt settle on her heart, but if Rackham noticed, he said nothing. 

            “Then all you need to do is place the book on the pedestal and we’ll get started.”

            “The… the book?”

            The professor crinkled his forehead in confusion. “Yes, the book you found that contained the map,” he said. “The one you followed to get here.”

            “The map was removed from the book. Someone else tried to follow it and was killed. I recovered the map from his body. The book is with Professor Fig in London.”

            The portrait sighed. “We cannot proceed without it,” he said earnestly. “To continue, we must have the book. When your professor returns, bring it here and we will start again.” Then, in a softer tone, he added, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I hope the person in question had a quick and painless death.”

            Charlotte found herself looking down at her mud-covered shoes. What Miss Winters would say about her uniform! “Yes, he did. However, it isn’t the first dead body I’ve seen on this path, and I have a feeling it won’t be the last.”

            When Charlotte opened the doors a few minutes later, Ominis straightened from the wall. “And?” he asked, his eyes seeming to bore through her. 

            “I need the book,” she said, slumping against the doors and sliding to the floor. “The book I recovered from the Restricted Section with Sebastian. Professor Fig has it in London.”

            Ominis joined her on the floor. “I can’t say I’m disappointed,” he admitted quietly. “Hopefully we get a few days of rest before we have another adventure.” They sat quietly, gathering the strength to walk back to the school and leaning their heads against one another.

            Eventually, Charlotte and Ominis decided to brave the walk back to school and took off down the corridor. After another door, this one wooden and much heavier, Charlotte gasped to see a Hogwarts torch stand. They climbed a few stairs and found themselves in the dungeons of the castle. Together, they slipped down the hallway and back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

            “And here I leave you,” Ominis said gallantly, gently pulling his hand out of Charlotte’s and taking a step back. 

            “Thank you for coming with me today,” Charlotte said softly. “I would like to do this again, but with less flaming spiders.”

            “Of course. We’ll let Sebastian handle the spiders,” he agreed. Then, with a last sigh, he turned and climbed back down the stairs.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

            Charlotte shuddered awake. She groped around her, trying to find anything to anchor her into this reality. The spiders from the day before had seeped into her dreams, carrying their webs and scuttling legs to join with the dragons and knights who already haunted her. Amidst it all was the poor boy from St Paul’s steps, crying as his stomach growled for the food she couldn’t give him. 

            The sun was peeking over the hills around the school, and Charlotte sighed. It was unlikely she would get back to sleep after a nightmare. Instead, she crawled out of bed and chose some clothes from her trunk. True to Ominis’ statement, the house elves had cleaned and mended every piece of her clothing, returning them to her looking brand new. She wasn’t sure he had the funds to replace uniforms in addition to purchasing some personal items, so the house elves’ inventiveness gave her comfort. By the time she was finished dressing, the sun was up in earnest, and she crept down to the Great Hall for breakfast. A blurry-eyed Sebastian sat next to Ominis, munching on toast with little enthusiasm. Equally tired were Garreth and Leander, sitting across the table. Garreth was staring into the middle distance, his expression completely blank while Leander had given up entirely, resting his head on his arms. Charlotte gave the group an appraising look.

            “And what happened here?” she asked. Ominis smiled.

            “They were dueling last night, which then became a class in spells Leander and Garreth didn’t know yet, which then became a practice session, which turned into the early morning.” His voice, long-suffering, had a hint of amusement behind it. “How are you feeling?”

            “Better,” Charlotte lied. The tired boys all seemed to perk up, picking up on the falsehood.

            “What exactly were you two doing last night?” Garreth asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Sebastian, refusing to be outdone, stood and began checking her over for injuries. 

            “Nothing that I can see,” he muttered. “But that long skirt and jacket both cover so much I can’t really see anything.”

            “For good reason,” Charlotte said hotly. “I will not have my honor besmirched by you three ogling me daily.” She poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip, letting it warm her soul. 

            “There’s four boys here,” Leander countered. 

            “Well spotted,” Ominis said coolly. “You can finally count. I, however, am blind, so whatever ogling is done, it isn’t from me.” Leander colored and fell silent. Garreth yawned loudly.

            “We should probably head to our beds,” he said diplomatically, pulling Leander to his feet. “Leave the royals alone for their morning teas.” Sebastian looked like he wanted to protest, but Garreth glared at him, and the boy stood up at last. They trudged wearily off to their dorms as Charlotte watched them disappear through the doors.

            “Royalty? Why would we be royals?” Ominis muttered. Charlotte laughed.

            “Because we both come from families that practice arranged marriages,” she said. She placed her teacup back in its saucer and grabbed a scone. She was adding jam when Ominis’ voice finally began working again.

            “You- you have an intended?” he asked, stumbling over the words. Charlotte paused. There was a kind of desperation in his face she had never seen before. 

            “I did,” she said quietly. “Father intended that I’d marry Nathaniel. It made the most sense, from an inheritance viewpoint. That is, of course, now off the table, as far as Father is concerned.”

            Ominis let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. What had gotten into him today? “I do not have any idea of what my parents are planning,” he admitted. “I shudder to think what family they’ll tie me to. It certainly won’t be someone as pleasant as you.” Charlotte flushed and said nothing. They continued eating in silence, occasionally humming with satisfaction at a bite of egg or the blissful sweetness of blackberry jam. Slowly, as the morning progressed, Natty and Amit joined them, making plans for a lazy Sunday. When Charlotte, however, mentioned she had work that had to be done, all three immediately offered to join her.

            “What homework do you have?” Amit asked, grabbing a few rotis to add to his plate. Natti’s mouth watered at the food, grabbing a roti for herself to try. Charlotte sighed.

            “Professor Weasley gave me this book. It is supposed to track my learning, and there are pages all over the school,” she explained. “I need to cast revelio at various statues and paintings and the like, things that are important to wizarding history and my education here, and then add the page to my book. I’m woefully behind.”

            “A morning spent finding pages for your book sounds lovely,” Natty said happily. Amit nodded, his mouth full of potatoes. Ominis gave a slight sigh, almost resigned to his fate.

            “Are you going to take all my weekends?” he teased Charlotte, who, unexplainably, blushed.

            “If you’re busy-” she started to mumble, but Natty cut her off.

            “Of course she is,” she said. Ominis gave another, more dramatic sigh, before smiling widely. 

            Once they were all finished with breakfast, they set about roaming the castle, looking for noteworthy locations and objects. Amit was pleased to say he found several statues of import, including a delightful, waving knight in the entry hall and a stone dragon, curled into a ball, nostrils smoking slightly from his snores. Natty explored every classroom, finding hidden gems among the assorted displays the professors curated. Ominis, sadly, found none, but enjoyed the search regardless, adding histories from the family stories he heard growing up to supplement the official descriptions. They were heading back to lunch when Natty tripped down a flight of stairs and landed, hard, on the wall, pushing open a secret door none of them had ever seen before. It opened into a corridor lined with columns and statues of wizards and werewolves. Charlotte shivered. The lights behind the statues left the werewolf’s shadow draped over the door to the next room, ominously menacing. Ominis, without thinking, placed his hand on her shoulder, somehow able to detect her unease. 

            Without fear, Natty pushed open the door and stepped in, holding her wand aloft to light her way. She called out to the group, urging them to join her.

            “It’s a bunch of tapestries!” she cried. Amit rushed forward to examine them.

            “Very old,” he pronounced, feeling the fibers. “Fine craftsmanship. Not sure of the dating, of course, but I’d say far older than most of our professors.” Charlotte and Ominis wandered, looking at the tapestries as they went. 

            “I recognize some of the motifs,” Charlotte said to no one in particular. “I feel like I’ve seen them before…”

            “Maybe in an art class?” Amit asked, turning toward her. “They’re familiar to me, too.” Natty stepped forward, holding her hand to block out parts of the tapestry as she tilted her head. 

            “I feel like if this was a unicorn…” she muttered, blocking off a different part of the tapestry. The word “unicorn” slammed into Charlotte’s memory, and she cried.

            “That is! Natty, you’re a genius! They’re based on the Unicorn Tapestries!”

            “That’s right!” Natty and Amit said together, both breaking into wide smiles. 

            “We can give it a date of later than those, then,” Charlotte said, starting to talk faster. “I believe those were from the 15th, maybe 16th century? And we can assume they’re trying to tell a story, like the originals do.”

            “Describe them,” Ominis said suddenly. The three jumped into a jumbled mess of a description, giving the placements and colors of each character. Charlotte held Ominis’ hands, giving him a kind of spatial description as she moved them to show where the figures were as Amit and Natty argued over the color blue used (royal, said Natty, while Amit insisted it was closer to a deep blue). By the end, Ominis felt more confused than ever. 

            “So, all of the tapestries have the same woman, correct? She’s seen with a hunting party, holding her child, smiling at her husband…” He trailed off, thinking. “Natty, could you get a closer look at the child?”

            Natty lit her wand and stepped closer, only to gasp when the tapestry changed. No longer was the hunting party chasing a hart; instead, they were chasing the woman. The group fell silent as they moved from tapestry to tapestry, watching the changes. The woman had been a werewolf, forced to leave her daughter and hunted by her friends and neighbors. 

            “She was a werewolf,” Charlotte said quietly, and Ominis let loose a sad note. The four cast a revelio and were rewarded with a single sheet of parchment. The page confirmed their analysis: the woman was a werewolf, forced to leave her child behind for her safety, and added one final twist of the knife in their hearts: the girl had fallen asleep to the sound of howling for years to come. Together, they left the room, entering back into the school and making their way to the Great Hall.

            “And what’s gotten into you?” Garreth asked when they sat at the table. Leander and Sebastian were presumably still sleeping, but Garreth looked completely refreshed. Natty sighed.

            “You know that tapestry with the large K on it? In the one stairwell? It’s a door.”

            “What’s inside?” Garreth asked, getting excited. 

            “Tapestries telling the story of a witch who was bitten by a werewolf and lost her family,” Amit said mournfully. “They’re beautiful, but that poor woman…”

            Garreth’s mouth dropped. “So, what you’re saying is, there’s a hidden room none of us knew about just with tapestries on the wall?” he asked, making sure he had the story correct. “Perfect place to brew if you ask me.” Natty gave him a look bordering on disgust as she grabbed her lunch. 

            “Have some respect,” she snapped. “This woman’s story was tragic!”

            “Yes, and I’m very sorry for her, but hidden rooms no one else knows about are rare in this castle,” Garreth replied practically. Natty threw her hands up in defeat. They continued bickering good-naturedly, neither one really as cold or cruel as they claimed, while Amit, Charlotte, and Ominis watched, laughing periodically. 

            As their friend group had become so varied, Charlotte had suggested they spend time together outside of their common rooms and in the library or empty classrooms instead. Amit, Ominis, Garreth, Natty, and Charlotte picked a sunny spot near the Charms classroom, spreading out their books as they worked together on various assignments. Charlotte was finishing an essay for Professor Sharp under Garreth’s tutelage while Natty and Amit worked on astronomy. Ominis, unable to take astronomy due to his blindness, curled into a ball on the floor and slept, occasionally whimpering in his sleep from nightmares. 

            “Done,” Charlotte declared, blowing on the ink of her essay. “Now, what’s next?”

            “We can try the questions over a shrinking potion,” Garreth said, thinking. “Or, we can finish astronomy and then go fly around.” Natty sighed happily. 

            “I have not spent enough time on my broom this year,” she moaned. “Come help us with this, and then we can have fun.”

            Amit, not a flyer, seemed less than pleased with the turn of events, though he followed the others as they made their way outside. Garreth retrieved his broom from the broom shed outside the Quidditch pitch and held it out to Charlotte.

            “Ever flown before, Charlotte?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. Charlotte shook her head. “Come on then, I’ll show you.” He placed the broom on the ground for Charlotte to call, which she did, successfully, almost immediately. However, when Charlotte tried to climb onto the broom, her skirt prevented her from sitting comfortably and keeping her modesty.

            “What I wouldn’t do for a split skirt,” she mumbled, trying and failing to keep her legs covered by the fabric now bunching around her thighs. Garreth laughed.

            “You need trousers, my dear,” he said, teasing her. “Skirts will get in the way.”

            “Can’t I just ride sidesaddle, like you do with horses?”

            “Absolutely not,” said Natty, sitting on her own broom in red plaid trousers that came to her knees. “Sidesaddle will get you falling off your broom.” Amit and Garreth both nodded sagely at Charlotte, and she sighed. 

            “Fine, I’ll get some trousers,” she said hotly. “But you can’t breathe a word of this to my family. The shock alone would kill Miss Winters.”

            It was still light when the group made their way back to the castle for dinner. Charlotte clutched a bag with a few new pairs of trousers, having been bullied into buying more than one pair by the rest of the group. She sat at the table, still pouting slightly at Natty. Sebastian and Leander looked up from their plates. 

            “What did you get me?” Sebastian asked Charlotte, batting his eyelashes comically. Charlotte rolled her eyes as she sat down.

            “Trousers. For me,” she muttered. Sebastian leaned in.

            “Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said smoothly, making Garreth and Natty laugh. 

            “Our Princess here had never been on a broom before,” Garreth said. He was piling his plate high after an afternoon of mirth. “Turns out, long skirts aren’t meant for broom riding.”

            Sebastian laughed. “So, you had to get something else to ride?” he asked Charlotte. Her face flushed. 

            “Trousers,” Ominis said for her. “I insisted she get multiple pairs. She’s now dying of shock.”

            “Do women not wear trousers in the muggle world?” Leander asked. “They’re not uncommon here.”

            “Maybe they do,” Charlotte admitted, before adding, “but none that I know. You simply don’t do such a thing in my circles. My mother will murder me.” She slumped down in her seat, head resting on her arms while Ominis gently rubbed her back.

            “You will get use out of them,” he said bracingly. “With all the things you’re doing now, riding a broom and having a larger range of movement will be very helpful.” Leander, Sebastian, and Garreth nodded in agreement, while Natty smiled.

            “If I could, I would never wear skirts again,” she said happily. “Life is much better with trousers.”

            The following weekend, Charlotte found a need for her new clothes. Sebastian, in an attempt to cheer up his sister, invited Charlotte and Ominis to come with him. Wanting Charlotte to have more practice on a broom, he suggested they fly. Ominis, who was unable to fly safely, sat behind Sebastian on his broom, while Charlotte borrowed one from the school. It was an older broom, the tail bristles bent in a few places, but she was able to keep her balance well enough. She was surprised at the improvement the trousers made; she was much more comfortable as they flew through the autumn air, and she almost enjoyed herself. They landed softly outside Sebastian’s house. He held a finger to his lips and crept inside. A brown-haired girl sat at a table, working on something hidden from Charlotte’s view, and she jumped up when Sebastian grabbed her sides and yelled. 

            “Sebastian!” the girl cried, her fright changing quickly to delight as she threw her arms around him. He picked her up and twirled her, making her laugh. When she was on the floor again, she turned to Ominis, giving him a warm hug.

            “This is Charlotte,” Ominis said, breaking apart from the girl. Charlotte gave an awkward curtsy. The girl laughed. 

            “I’m Anne, the better twin,” she said happily, giving an exaggerated glare at Sebastian, who held up his hands innocently. “I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”

            “Of course,” Charlotte beamed, “but it turns out, I give as good as I get.” She gave Sebastian a pointed look and they all burst into laughter again. Ominis pulled out a chair for Charlotte at the table, and they all took their places. Anne picked up her supplies and tucked them away, making room for conversation.

            “I wasn’t expecting anyone today. I was making lace,” she explained, showing Charlotte the threads she was knotting into shapes. Charlotte’s eyes went wide. 

            “I’ve heard of this!” she said excitedly. “The Queen has quite a bit of it. I’m not old enough to wear it, of course, but Mother has some lovely examples.” She held out her hand and brushed the soft lacework, feeling the knots as she went along. “This is beautiful, Anne.”

            “Thank you,” Anne said blushing. “It keeps me busy. And all the books Sebastian sends me.” She turned to Ominis and gently touched his hand. “Thank you, by the way, for the novels you sent. It was nice to have something other than textbooks to read.”

            “You like the textbooks!” Sebastian protested, but before Anne could retort, the front door opened. A large man with black hair and a bushy beard entered the cottage, his eyes narrowed at the sight of Charlotte, Ominis, and Sebastian sitting with Anne.

            “So. You came back.” The man spoke in a growl that hit Charlotte wrong somehow. She stiffened and Ominis placed a hand on her arm to steady her. “And what ridiculous cure did you bring her this time?”

            “Nothing,” Anne said quickly, cutting Sebastian off. “He brought his friends instead to cheer me up. Isn’t that kind of Sebastian, Uncle?”

            The man growled. “Sebastian is not a kind man, and the sooner you realize it, the better.” He stomped over to the kitchen and opened a cabinet to reveal a bottle. Sebastian and Anne both tensed when they saw it. The man left the cottage, bottle in hand, and Sebastian let out a breath.

            “He’s worse,” he said quietly. Anne nodded. 

            “He’s always angry. The drinking is picking up, but that’s not the problem. The anger is.”

            “Are you safe?” Ominis asked softly. Anne nodded, though Charlotte thought she seemed hesitant. Ominis held up his wand to read the movement and seemed to relax when he understood Anne’s movement. 

            “We need to cure you,” Sebastian said suddenly, slamming his hand on the table. Charlotte jumped. “We need to cure you so you can be back in school. With me. Away from him.”

            “Sebastian, it doesn’t work like that,” Anne started, but Sebastian cut her off.

            “It does, and I’ll figure it out. I have a few leads, if Ominis will finally let me know where the-”

            “Does anyone want a game of exploding snap?” Anne cut in nervously. Ominis had gone still, the blood draining from his face. “Or we could-”

            “You can’t be serious, Sebastian,” Ominis said suddenly. “You know as well as I do that Salazar Slytherin was a Dark wizard. Nothing from him will help Anne. It will only hurt.”

            “You can’t know that!” Sebastian yelled. Charlotte stood up and stepped away from the boys as they continued fighting. Anne started yelling herself, trying to break the boys apart before she fell to the floor crying in agony.

            “Anne!” Charlotte rushed to her side, the boys both turning to see what was happening. Sebastian pushed Ominis aside as he dropped to his knees. 

            “Anne, can you hear me?” he said, as Anne rolled on the ground groaning from the pain. “Anne, come on, you have to fight it.”

            “She needs to do no such thing.” Charlotte looked up to see the man from before, his face reddening with anger. “You will leave this house at once, Sebastian. You’ve upset her for the last time. I won’t have you causing her pain.”

            “She needs help,” Sebastian cried, and his uncle reached down to grab him. Charlotte held on to Anne, trying to ignore Sebastian's fight with his uncle above her. Ominis came to her side, gently steadying Anne. She began to breathe slower, crying out less often. Charlotte looked up to see Sebastian gone, his uncle glowering by the door.

            “Is she ok?” he asked gruffly. Charlotte nodded.

            “She’s breathing easier,” she whispered. The man nodded, then opened the door.

            “Then get out.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

            Charlotte held up her hand against the setting sun, looking around the area for Sebastian. There was something familiar about Feldcroft, she decided, but Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. She looked at the various houses around the small grassy square, the old well in the center, and the fences falling apart, trying to remember where she had seen this before. She didn’t realize she had stopped until Ominis banged against her. She turned to grab him before he fell.

            “Sorry,” she said, holding onto his arms to let him ground his feet. “There’s something familiar about this place. I was trying to place it.”

            “About Feldcroft?” Ominis straightened, then cocked his head slightly, thinking. “You’ve never been here before, have you?”

            “Not that I’m aware of,” she replied. She looked back out at the well. A few birds, some magical and some not, congregated around it, pecking at the dying grass and worn cobblestones. Almost on instinct, she looked to the left and saw a similar well on an outcropping. Suddenly, it hit her. “Ominis!” she cried, rooted to the spot, “I have seen this place before! In the memories!”

            “Which memories? The ones from the-”

            “-the trials, yes! Isadora was from here! That was her house on the hill!” 

            “Sebastian said there was an almost legend about a Hogwarts professor who lived there,” Ominis said slowly, thinking. “Was she a professor then?”

            “I’m not sure,” Charlotte admitted, “but that was her house.” Then, deciding, she pulled on his hand to follow her. “Come on, let’s see what’s there.”

            The two trudged up the hill. The closer they got to the house, however, the more evidence of goblins they found. Bits of rubble, goblin mining tools, and firepits dotted the sides of the road. As they crested the hill, they started to find the bodies. Goblins, mostly dead though a few were unconscious, lay strewn around the yard of the ruined house, and Sebastian sat on a bench looking over it all.

            “Sebastian!” Charlotte cried, running to him. Ominis came slower, checking on the fallen as he went. “What happened?” 

            Sebastian didn’t answer, his teeth grinding in anger. Instead, he stood and pointed at the ruined house. “That’s where Anne was cursed,” he said darkly. “We saw a fire and Anne ran out of the house before we could stop her.” He looked at the goblins on the ground and gave a low curse, turning away to look back toward the town. Ominis came up behind Charlotte and sighed.

            “She heard a high voice. ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ And then…” He trailed off, but Charlotte nodded. 

            “I’ve heard that before. It’s a popular saying in some circles. But, Anne isn’t a child anymore.”

            “The wizarding world disagrees,” Sebastian said. “And the goblin who cursed her disagrees, too.” Then, suddenly, he turned and looked back at his two friends. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you both here? I thought you were staying with Anne.”

            “Your uncle asked us to leave,” Charlotte said, trying to be diplomatic. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed further, and he flushed in anger. Before he could say anything, though, Charlotte cut him off. “When we came out into the square, though, I realized I’d seen this place before, in the 

memories I saw about ancient magic. The girl, Isadora, lived here.”

            Sebastian’s eyes grew large. “You mean, the girl who could also see magic?” he asked, looking around. “Maybe there’s something left here, then. We should check the house.” Ominis gently touched Charlotte’s arm, and she took his hand without thinking, carefully picking over the fallen stones as they made their way into the house. If Sebastian noticed the gesture, he didn’t comment on it, instead gently lifting a fallen timber to find a portrait underneath.

            “Isadora,” Charlotte breathed, looking down at the woman. Several large burn marks had taken away her face, but the bun at her neck and the clothing clearly marked her. Sebastian bent down to look at it closer.

            “Irreversible, I’m afraid,” he said, standing. “Too bad, too. She could have helped us cure Anne.”

            “Why would someone damage her portrait?” Ominis wondered. “Did she know something the others didn’t want her to share?”

            “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Sebastian moved on, but Charlotte stood, transfixed by the ruined picture of her predecessor. Ominis squeezed her hand in support.

            “Is this what will happen to me?” she whispered, and Ominis took a step closer to her, gently rubbing her back with his free hand. 

            “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let that happen. We won’t let that happen.” 

            “Guys, there’s a basement!” Sebastian called. He had managed to wiggle into another room of the ruins. Charlotte and Ominis both turned to the sound. “It seems to be intact!” Charlotte and Ominis crawled over the rubble to join him, looking down into the dark hole. Vines slithered from the wall and Sebastian stepped back. 

            “Devil’s Snare,” he said, lighting his wand. “It doesn’t like light, so keep your wands lit.” With that, he stepped down into the dark, the vines squirming away from him everywhere the light touched. Charlotte followed suit, with Ominis staying close by and clutching her hand like a lifeline. His wand with its glowing red tip moved across the room as they walked.

            “There’s some parchment here,” Sebastian called, and Charlotte came to his side, holding out her hand to take the letters.

            “They’re from Isadora,” she breathed. “The writing is very old. Maybe 1600s?” Ominis reached out to feel one, gently taking it from Charlotte’s hands.

            “I’ll read, you guys keep looking,” he said, holding his wand over the parchment. Charlotte nodded, moving in large circles around him to keep the vines at bay, while Sebastian continued digging through a pile of old books in poor condition.

            “C'est ma deuxième semaine au camp. D’autres arrivent chaque jour. Les médecins moldus et même certains de nos propres guérisseurs font tout ce qu'ils peuvent pour eux.

Le chagrin est palpable. Ceux qui ont survécu à la peste sont à jamais blessés par leur perte.

La fièvre peut passer, la peau peut se réparer et laisser des cicatrices, mais le chagrin dévastateur demeure. J'ai vu un homme, un peu comme mon père, qui avait perdu un enfant. Je ne pouvais pas le supporter. J'avais envie de lui apporter un peu de soulagement.”

            Charlotte froze, looking at Ominis strangely. “It’s in French,” she breathed. She and Sebastian exchanged a look. 

            “If it’s in French,” he said slowly, “and she’s talking about a plague… Could it be…?”

            “The Black Death,” Ominis agreed, looking back over the parchment. “That makes this far earlier than we thought. There’s a bit more, but this seemed the more important part.” Sebastian came back to Ominis’ side, looking over the parchment again. Charlotte, however, saw a glimpse of something in the back of the room. She quietly picked her way over a fallen bookshelf, careful to keep her wand lit, and found a mirror reflecting quietly in the low light. Except-

            “There’s a passage here, through the mirror. I see the Undercroft!”

            “Where? I don’t see it,” said Sebastian, moving to the mirror to stare at it. Ominis snorted.

            “You wouldn’t be able to, would you,” he said calmly, taking his place by Charlotte’s side once more and clutching the parchments to his chest. “If Isadora could use ancient magic, then surely her secret passageways would require it.” Then, turning to Charlotte, he gestured for her to lead the way. She reached out and grabbed both boys’ hands before leaning into the mirror. 

            Suddenly, they were back in the Undercroft. Ominis, still clutching the parchments, waved his wand around the room to regain an understanding of where he was. Sebastian laughed.

            “There was a secret passage to the school this whole time only a few steps from our house, and I never knew about it?” he said incredulously. “Anne won’t believe this.”   

            “My family has known about this place far longer,” Ominis said, “and even we didn’t know about this. Charlotte, you are a marvel.” 

            Charlotte flushed under the praise. She gently took the parchments from Ominis and laid them on a crate, spreading them out. There were three letters, all in Old French, along with several what looked like drawings and alchemical recipes. 

            “We’ll need to study these,” Sebastian said, leaning over the crate. “I’ll have to brush up on my Old French.” Ominis snorted, shaking his head. He knew full well that Sebastian learned languages like a sponge takes in water. Though he didn’t realize Sebastian had learned Old French, he was not entirely surprised. 

            “If you can handle the letters, Sebastian, I’ll work on-”

            “No, you won’t,” Sebastian said, cutting Charlotte off. “You have a lot of back work. I’ll handle this.” Then, shooing Charlotte toward the door, he settled in on the crates, excited for the work ahead. Ominis smoothly took Charlotte’s arm and led her to the lift, smiling once they were alone.

            “He’ll have them translated and understood by tomorrow,” he said bracingly as Charlotte looked back toward Sebastian. “Never fear. It’s all in good hands.”

            Charlotte made her way through the Great Hall two days later, heading toward the sound of yelling. Sebastian had learned everything he needed to from the letters, providing fully translated copies for Charlotte and Ominis as well as breaking down the more interesting pieces from the other papers. He presented them during dinner before dragging Ominis away to discuss something more personal. She finally pushed through to find Ominis standing rod straight, face pale and breathing hard, while Sebastian was flushed with anger.

            “Why won’t you? Do you not want Anne to get better?”

            “Of course I do,” Ominis yelled. “Do not put words into my mouth. Anything to do with Slytherin is dangerous Dark magic and I will not tread that path. Not even for you, not even for Anne, not for anyone.”

            “It’s worth the risk!” Sebastian cried, hands clutching at Ominis’ arms now. “Please, she’s dying, Ominis.”

            “This would be worse, trust me. Dark magic is dangerous, Sebastian. It destroys everything it touches. I won’t help you destroy yourself or Anne. I’m sorry, that’s my final word.”

            Sebastian stormed off, pushing through the crowd of students and slamming the door behind him. Charlotte stepped toward Ominis, but he held up his hand.

            “Please, Charlotte, not now,” he begged. “I can’t have you angry at me as well.” He turned and walked away, trying to hold his pain in. Charlotte moved to go after him only to find Natty holding her back.

            “Leave him be,” she said softly. “He’ll come back when he’s ready to talk.” 

Natty was, of course, correct. She very rarely was wrong about her friends, and even with the limited amount of time she had known Ominis, she could tell he needed his space. Charlotte quietly ate her dinner, glancing at the door periodically to see if Ominis had returned. When he hadn’t before dinner was finished, she packed up a few items from the table to give him “in case he’s hungry”. Natty gave Leander and Garreth a look and they both nodded, smiling. Charlotte left carrying her bundle, the Gryffindors chuckling at the clear budding romance between her and Ominis.

            Charlotte tried to think of where Ominis would go to be alone. The Undercroft was nearly always occupied by Sebastian as he worked on curing his sister and studying the documents they had found on the various memories Charlotte had seen. Perhaps he was in his common room or his dorm? She set off to the dungeon, trying to walk as if she belonged in the cold dark corridors. She found the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, but students coming out said they hadn’t seen Ominis. Imelda, taking pity on the poor girl, pointed her to a corner of the corridors rarely traveled where Ominis would often sit. When she found him, he was pacing across the stone floor, muttering to himself. 

            “Ominis?” she called softly, and he paused, tilting his head in her direction to hear her better. “I brought you some things from dinner. I was worried you’d be hungry.” He sighed deeply and gave her a tired smile.

            “Thank you,” he said softly, allowing her to come closer. She opened her bundle to reveal a few rolls, some slices of sharp cheddar, and some cold sausages. She placed it on the floor as he sat, reaching for the cheese first. 

“I won’t ask what Sebastian was saying that upset you so,” she assured him, watching him deflate a bit. “Please know, though, that I support you in whatever you choose.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to tell you,” he decided. “Sebastian found a reference in one of his texts to hidden rooms in the castle.”

“Like the tapestry room,” she said softly, allowing him time to chew. He nodded. 

“Except, some of the rooms are… dangerous. There’s one associated with Salazar Slytherin, the founder of my house.”

“How fascinating,” she said, thinking of a secret room for Ravenclaw. It would, of course, hold books and maps and fascinating charms to study. Ominis sighed.

“If it were any other founder, I would agree with you,” he said heavily. Then, taking a bit of sausage, he asked, “What do you know of my family?”

“The Gaunts?” Charlotte seemed confused by the change of subject. “I only know what I’ve been told, really. There are rumors of intermarriage and abuse, but nothing solid that I’ve heard.”

“It’s all true,” Ominis said quietly. “Every bit of it.” He picked up a bit of cheese before dropping it again and sighing. “My family are descendants of Salazar Slytherin,” he continued. “He was a blood purity fanatic. Supposedly, it’s what drove a wedge between him and the other founders. He wanted to keep magical education strictly to the old, ‘pure’ families. Families like mine, which no muggle relatives.” He sighed again. “Most families keep their blood pure by marrying within the community, but the Gaunts took it a step further, insisting on only relatives to preserve the blood of Slytherin as much as possible. My own parents are half-siblings, and my grandparents were cousins. It has its benefits, of course. The money was kept in the family instead of being spread across the whole wizarding community, and women rarely had to change their names upon marriage. It has its downsides as well, as I’m sure you know.”

“Madness,” she breathed. “Your brother tortured students here. Oh, Ominis…”

Ominis nodded sadly. “My family has been attacking muggles for sport for generations. Torturing them. They are terrible people, Charlotte, and I’m… I’m one of them.”

“No,” Charlotte said sharply. “You are nothing like them. You are kind and considerate. You’ve welcomed me with open arms. You would never hurt me.” Ominis’ cloudy eyes filled with tears, but he sniffed them away. Charlotte gently touched his arm to assure him she was still there. “You’re a good person, Ominis, whatever your family is,” she pressed. Ominis sniffed again.

“Anyway, there is a hidden room associated with Slytherin, here, in the castle. And I know where it is because my aunt, the only other member of my family who thinks as I do, found it. She disappeared into it, and we’ve never seen her again. I can’t let Sebastian fall into it, too, or you.” He placed his hand over hers and fell into silence.

Eventually, he sighed and resumed his meal. Charlotte looked into his face and saw only grief and fear. 

“I’m so sorry, Ominis,” she said softly. “How awful to lose someone you love and know nothing about where they went or how they died. I can’t believe Sebastian would press you on this, knowing your history.”

“It’s not entirely his fault,” Ominis replied. “Sebastian lost his parents at a young age and he and Anne went to live with their uncle Solomon. You have seen how that went. Anne is his only relative left who loves him. I’m sure I would do the same in his place.”

“Could the room have something for her?” Charlotte wondered. Ominis shook his head.

“The scriptorium will have nothing that can cure,” he said heavily. “There will only ever be pain behind that door.”

“Why did your aunt enter, then, I wonder?”

“She wanted to change our family.” Ominis had stopped eating again. “She believed that there was more to Slytherin than what is currently practiced. He was friends with Helga Hufflepuff if the history is to be believed, and she was such a gentle soul that Aunt Noctua insisted there had to be good in him.”

Charlotte swallowed, thinking out loud. “Could she have been right? The founders were powerful wizards, after all, and if he was friendly with Hufflepuff…?” 

Ominis smiled thinly. “I see what you’re doing,” he said, almost laughing. “You’re trying to convince me. Sebastian put you up to it, didn’t he?”

“I am offended you would think such a thing of me!” Charlotte cried, making Ominis laugh in earnest. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t seen him since he left dinner. I simply wanted to make sure you had something to eat.” 

“Well, whatever your plan, I’m reconsidering,” he said. “Hufflepuff was a healing expert. It’s possible, however unlikely, that Slytherin and she worked on spells together.” He sighed before nodding to himself. “Find Sebastian. I’ll take you to the scriptorium. I can’t let Anne suffer when I possibly could save her.”

Within the half-hour, Sebastian, Charlotte, and Ominis stood in front of an open doorway in the corridor. The door led down into an inky blackness, giving Charlotte goosebumps as she peered into it. Ominis gripped her hand tightly. 

“I hope I don’t regret this,” he moaned, starting to lose his nerve. Sebastian stepped into the darkness, casting lumos so Charlotte could see.

“I don’t know, I happen to like dark, ominous corridors,” he said jokingly. Ominis sighed.

“No comment.”

“Come on, that was a good one.”

They came to a stairwell and slowly descended, going deeper and deeper under the school. Finally, they came to a door. In the twinkling light of their wands, Charlotte could see rubble around it and a number of snakes as decoration. 

“Slytherin liked snakes, then,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt. Ominis laughed.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” 

Sebastian looked at the rubble, turning over a few pieces before standing again. “This is carved on one side,” he said to the others. “I wonder…” He waved his wand and the pieces few together, settling themselves on the wall beside the door. It was a carving of snakes speaking to a person who seemed terrified of the thought. Ominis shook his head, covering his ears, and Charlotte raced back to his side. 

“Ominis, are you ok?” She gently touched his shoulder, trying to see his face to better find what was wrong. He shook his head again.

“I hear them,” he muttered. “I think… I think the door is controlled by Parseltongue.” Charlotte looked back at Sebastian, who shrugged at her. She turned back to Ominis.

“What is-?” she started, but he cut her off. 

“It’s the ability to speak to snakes,” he said impatiently. “It’s a gift Slytherin had, and most of his descendants have it, too. Including me.”

“That’s incredibly useful,” Charlotte said bracingly, trying to lift Ominis’ spirits as he scowled at the floor. “Imagine being able to determine what a snake needs to heal, or to be able to ask a snake for directions.”

“It’s rarely useful,” Ominis said darkly. “It’s associated with Dark wizards and Dark magic. I would much rather not have it.”

“Surely the ability itself isn’t dark,” Charlotte argued. “It’s simply another language you can speak and understand.” Ominis smiled at her but did not reply. Instead, he shook off her hand and turned to the door. He began to hiss, terrible cold sounds that made her shiver despite herself. The snakes on the door began to slither their way upward, leaving the door unlocked for the three to pass through. 

“I haven’t spoken it in years,” Ominis said slowly. “I never wanted to speak it again.”

“You never have to,” Charlotte said, trying to get rid of the coldness at the bottom of her spine. Ominis must have realized she was disturbed by the hissing language as he gently took her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s rather useful. And between the two of you, I’m feeling rather left out,” Sebastian said jauntily. Charlotte glared at him, and he shrugged again. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, Charlotte. You’re both far too gloomy for this adventure.”

They passed into a maze. There were several gates and dials with snakes on top. Charlotte studied the dials closely before looking at the gates. 

“I think you have to match the symbols,” she said quietly. Sebastian, looking over her shoulder, agreed.

“I think you’re right,” he said happily. “Look at us go. Three heads are better than one, I always say.”

“The saying is two heads, Sebastian,” Ominis said wearily, listening to them solving the dials and opening gates. 

“And three heads are better than two. Keep up, Ominis.” 

Charlotte peered into another room, finding more dials and more gates. “I think Slytherin was playing games with his visitors,” she said. She was trying to be brave, trying to support Ominis as he descended into his trauma, but her voice was thin. Sebastian laughed.

“Must run in the family,” he said, nudging Ominis’ shoulder. Ominis glared in his direction.

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian,” he said coolly. 

Charlotte finished the last dial, opening the gate to show a short corridor. Torches lined the wall that burst to life as she entered. The door at the end had a series of screaming, tortured faces and she shivered uncontrollably.

“I don’t like this,” she said, and Ominis squeezed her hand tighter. “Sebastian, maybe we should-” She turned to find the gate slammed shut in their faces and she gave a small cry of alarm.

“We can’t give up now,” Sebastian said bracingly. “Let’s look around and see what clues there are. Maybe it’s another Parseltongue door?” Charlotte looked at the faces, their mouths open in silent screams and felt a cold heavy sensation in her stomach. She inched closer to Ominis, who gave up on propriety entirely and wrapped his arm around her waist. Sebastian moved closer and examined the door.

“Ominis,” Charlotte said, looking past Sebastian to the corner, “I… I think I see a skeleton…”

Sebastian turned and looked at it, checking the bones and rags of clothing for any notes. “How long ago did Noctua go missing?” he asked. Ominis swallowed, his arm shaky around Charlotte. 

“It was my second year,” he said quietly. Sebastian nodded.

“I think we found her,” he replied, just as silent, and Charlotte looked up to see tears tracing down the blonde’s cheeks. Sebastian sighed, then stood. “I know what we have to do, Ominis,” he said finally, stepping closer to his friends, “but no one’s going to like it very much.”

“What is it?” Charlotte asked, her voice small. Ominis shook beside her, deep in grief, and she gently rubbed his back. Sebastian gave Ominis a look.

“It’s the Cruciatus Curse,” he said, watching Ominis’ horror stretch across his face. 

“No!” he cried, falling to his knees. Charlotte fell with him, holding him close to her chest and looking between him and Sebastian, who looked devastated. 

“What is that?” she breathed. Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but Ominis cut him off, muffled by Charlotte’s neck. 

“It’s a torture curse,” he said, swallowing against her skin. “It’s pure torture.”

“It’s an Unforgivable curse,” Sebastian added. “It causes unbearable pain, from what I’ve been told.”

“Why would Slytherin require it to get into his scriptorium?” Charlotte asked, aghast at the knowledge that such a spell existed. Ominis gave a watery laugh.

“Because he’s a Dark wizard, Charlotte,” he said sharply. “This is how my family tortures muggles. This is why I have no family left. Slytherin was evil, through and through, just like my family is.” He pulled away from Charlotte and lifted his shirt slightly. On his pale stomach, Charlotte could see several scars. They crossed his body in pink welts and Charlotte couldn’t help but reach out to feel them. They were puffy, the skin reflecting the light of the torches at different angles than the unscarred skin, and he started when he felt her gentle touch. “They tortured me,” he said softly. “I was seven, and they wanted me to torture a muggle boy. I couldn’t cast the curse. You have to mean it, really want to hurt them, and I couldn’t do it.” He dropped his shirt and stared past Charlotte, lost in memories. “They cast the curse on me instead, again and again, until I was able to hurt that child. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

Charlotte breathed out, pulling Ominis close to her and letting him feel her. “You were never to blame,” she said softly. “You were never, never to blame.” Ominis shook his head, but she held fast, refusing to let him go, repeating the words over and over again. Finally, he pulled back.

“If that’s the only way out,” he said, “one of you will have to cast it. I can’t. I won’t.”

Sebastian kicked at a rock and gave a frustrated grunt. “As if dying in here is better than casting a damn spell,” he said angrily. Charlotte gave him a sharp look.

“He has good reasons,” she argued, “and you will respect them, Sebastian Sallow.” She stood and dragged Sebastian away to a far corner.

“It comes down to this: either I teach you the spell and you cast it on me, or I cast it on you,” he said seriously. Charlotte stared at him.

“You didn’t say you knew how to cast the spell!” she hissed. “You could have saved Ominis a lot of pain-”

“-I don’t! Well, I do, in theory,” he cut in. “I think I can cast it.”

“Then you cast it on me,” she said. “I will not cast that on you. I could never mean to hurt you, and I certainly won’t be the cause of Ominis’ nightmares.”

Sebastian nodded and stepped a bit away. Charlotte took a deep breath and let it out. She had to do this. She must do this. She will do this.

“Crucio.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

She was so, so tired. The only feeling she had, once the pain had subsided, was the irresistible urge to sleep. She closed her eyes, thankful for the cool stone under the head, ready to fall into a deep slumber and uncaring if she awoke again.

            “Don’t sleep, please don’t sleep. Stay awake.”

            Her eyes snapped open, looking up at the boy standing over her. His sightless eyes roamed, betraying how anxious he was. His fingers gently touched her face, feeling for her eyes to make sure they were open. They were also cold, feeling wonderful against her hot skin. 

            “Please stay with me,” he said quietly. “Don’t sleep. Sebastian’s gone to get help.”

            She barely remembered the name and didn’t respond. Moving was too hard. She half expected the pain to come back, return to the aching spot in her gut that claimed her entire being. Her eyes closed again. All she wanted was to sleep.

            “Please, Charlotte, stay with me,” the boy pleaded. He searched out her hand, gently taking it into his own, rubbing circles as he pulled it closer to him. His other hand touched the side of her face, thumb resting just below her eyes so he could check her status. “Please, don’t leave me. Don’t let this be the last thing I remember of you.” His voice was so insistent, so filled with pain, that she forced her eyes open again. His hand resting against her face caught the movement of her eyelashes and he sighed in relief. 

            “Sebastian went to get Professor Sharp. He has more experience with Dark Magic than anyone else. They’ll be here soon. Please, just hold on.”

            Vibrations on the floor made her wince as two figures came running up to them. The taller of the two pushed his long hair out of his face as he reached out to her. His hands were warm, almost too warm, and she cried out.

            “Can you hear me?” the man asked. His hands had moved to her far arm, checking her wrist for a pulse as she spoke. She tried to say yes but couldn’t, instead letting out a low moan hoarse from screaming. The man turned to the figure next to him. 

            “Tell Nurse Blainey we’re coming. Spell damage. Tell her that specifically.” The figure moved to dash away before the man grabbed his arm. “And don’t think you’re getting off your punishment, Mister Sallow.” The figure nodded before running away, his steps sending vibrations to her aching head. She groaned again and tried to move but couldn’t. 

            “I’m going to carry her,” the man was saying. The boy beside her gripped her hand tighter. “Can you follow?”

            “Yes,” the boy said, squeezing her hand before dropping it. He stood, his wand out in front of him, tip glowing red. The man sighed, then gently, picked her up off of the floor, cradling her head against his shoulder. Once she was secure, he took off, moving quickly through the rest of the dungeon. She couldn’t stand the light and hissed slightly in pain, closing her eyes. 

            “Miss Underhill, you must stay awake,” the man rumbled. She tried to open her eyes and couldn’t, the light too bright and the blur of colors too much to handle. The man picked up his pace, moving up the stairs even faster than before. She heard the boy behind him fall back, unable to keep up with the pace the man set. 

            “Miss Underhill,” the man said again, but she was too far gone. She slipped into darkness as he continued to call her name. She heard nothing as he ran into the hospital wing, the nurse rushing to a bed to begin treatment. The boys cried as the man yelled until the nurse kicked them out of the hospital wing. She remembered none of the careful potions tipped down her throat, none of the gentle salves rubbed into her skin, and none of the bandages wrapped around her small injuries. She fell into a dreamless sleep, unmoving when the boy was allowed back to her bedside, gently taking her hand and asking her to come back as his sightless eyes leaked tears of pain.

            “Explain.”

            Sebastian stood in the Potions classroom facing Professors Sharp and Hecat. From the grim looks on their faces, he could hide nothing. He shivered slightly, aware of the magical power of the two adults before him.

            “We were looking for information to help Anne,” he started. Hecat’s eyes hardened and Sharp sighed deeply. “She was cursed by Dark Magic, no one can help her. She’s dying in front of me, and I can’t…” Sebastian trailed off, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

            “This doesn’t explain why you used an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow student. A student, I might add, who is your friend.”

            “Ominis’ family knows about a… it’s Slytherin’s Scriptorium. Though that’s a stupid name for it, it’s not actually a scriptorium, and you’d think a medieval wizard as powerful and educated as Slytherin would know the difference-”

            “Mister Sallow,” warned Sharp, his voice low and dangerous.

            “Right. So… Charlotte… She talked to Ominis. Ominis wouldn’t listen to me, he kept arguing that it was too dangerous and he-” Sebastian couldn’t hide the sob he let loose. “-he was right. We went in together. Slytherin had traps and puzzles. Ominis’ Aunt Noctua had gone in a few years ago and… we found her. The last door had to be opened using the Cruciatus Curse on someone, and she was alone, so she…” Sebastian once again trailed off, tears now flowing freely down his face. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

            “You had to use the curse to escape,” Hecat said softly after a while, turning to Sharp. “Something tells me Miss Underhill volunteered.”

            “Ominis has the most experience with the curse, but he wouldn’t... That left Charlotte and me. I offered to… to teach her the curse and she could cast it on me, but-”

            “And how is it that you know how to cast the curse?” Sharp asked suddenly, heat coming back into his voice. “It is not taught anywhere in our curriculum, and I believe any texts containing instructions have been fully removed from the library, including the Restricted Section.”

            “I- I read it. In a book I got when I was in Diagon Alley. Uncle Solomon wasn’t watching, and I slipped down a side alley and found a bookstore.”

            “So, you taught yourself how to cast a dangerous and extremely forbidden curse? Why?”

            Sebastian wilted under the glares of his professors. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I had never cast it before tonight, I wasn’t sure it would even work.” 

The professors exchanged a look. The silence dragged on, leaving Sebastian shifting uncomfortably. His professors seemed to be having a silent discussion, arguing with one another before agreeing at last.

            “Mister Sallow, you will have detention every single day you remain at this school,” Professor Sharp said, finally. “You will serve it with either myself or Professor Hecat. Leaving you to your own devices during your free time is dangerous to those around you and yourself.”

            “I’m not being expelled?” Sebastian looked up, almost afraid to hope.

            “Not today,” Professor Hecat said softly. “But you will do well to remember that it is only the specific situation you found yourself in, entirely of your own making, which is keeping you in this school.”

            “Back to your common room, Mister Sallow,” Sharp said gruffly. “I will inform Nurse Blainey that you are allowed to see Miss Underhill tomorrow afternoon when she is more recovered.”

            Her pillow was soft and comfortable, but the light from the windows told Charlotte she was probably late for class. She sighed, turned over, and tried to go back to sleep. She pulled her arm up to cover her eyes and brought with it a hand that didn’t belong to her. 

            “Charlotte…  Thank Merlin, Charlotte, are you awake?”

            She mumbled and opened her eyes. The world was blurry. A blob with yellow on the top swam into view and she squinted, barely making out Ominis sat beside her.

            “Ominis? Where… Where am I?” She turned to drop his hand, but he held on harder. 

            “Charlotte, you’re…” His voice cracked and he surged forward to hold her, pulling her head onto his shoulder and letting tears of joy settle in her hair. “We thought… You were out for so long…”

            Vague memories came back to her as she pulled away. Ominis showing them the Scriptorium’s entrance, his use of Parseltongue, the snake statues… Then, nothing.

            “What happened? I… I remember the Scriptorium but…”

            “Don’t worry about that right now, please,” he pleaded. “You’re supposed to keep calm, keep still, while you heal.”

            “Where’s Sebastian?” She remembered him, his messy curls and freckles as he pleaded for her help. His voice as he praised both her and Ominis for special abilities he didn’t have, the edge of jealousy in it.

            “He is… with Professor Sharp,” Ominis said slowly. He reached for her hand again, taking it as he quietly pushed her back against the pillows. “You need to rest. I’ll make sure they know you’re awake.”

            She allowed Ominis to fuss over her, gently pulling her blankets to cover her shoulders and fluffing the pillows around her. She knew whatever had happened was terrifying and deeply upsetting to him. If caring for her helped him feel better, then she would allow it, enjoy it, and behave. Once he was satisfied that her bed was sufficiently comfortable, he gently brushed her hair away from her forehead and sighed. 

            “You scared me,” he whispered, unsure if she could hear. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever awake.”

            “I’m sorry,” she replied, but he swiftly placed a finger on her lips. 

            “You are not the one who needs to apologize,” he assured her. Then, moving his hand from the intimate location, he opened a book. “Shall I read to you while you rest?”

            “That sounds lovely,” Charlotte replied, smiling. She settled into her fluffy pillows and warm blankets as Ominis began to read. Soon, she was drifting off into clouds of dreams.

“Charlotte, I am so, so sorry.”

            Sebastian stood in front of her bed, unable to look her in the eye. Charlotte was propped up in bed, Ominis at her side holding her hand. She was sure it was more for his comfort than hers but had decided not to say anything and allow him this gesture of care.

            “Sebastian, I… I don’t even remember what happened,” she started, but the boy at the end of the bed was faster.

            “That’s for the best,” he said quickly. “Please, don’t rush to remember. I’m… not sure I want you to.”

            “Why?”

            He fidgeted, shifting from one foot to another before blurting out, “I don’t want you to think of me differently.”

            Charlotte was stunned. Ominis’ grip tightened around her hand. Clearly whatever had happened was awful if it had left this mark on her friends. She swallowed, then nodded to show her understanding. 

            “Nurse Blainey said my memory may never come back,” she said softly, trying to reassure Sebastian, but his face blanched instead. “Whatever happened, let’s just agree to move forward.”

            “Professor Sharp would agree with you,” Sebastian replied. “I’m not sure I deserve forgiveness.”

            “It’s not forgiveness if I don’t remember what happened,” she said tersely. “It’s simply agreeing to move forward. If I remember at some point, that’s a bridge we’ll cross then.” Sebastian nodded, still looking at the floor. Ominis relaxed his grip and began rubbing the back of her hand. 

            “We’ll try to move forward then,” he agreed, and with his words, Sebastian visibly relaxed. He looked up at Ominis, his clever eyes skating over his hand covering Charlotte’s and his rumpled clothes. Sebastian felt a deep wave of shame but was determined to move past it. He sat on the end of the bed, his thigh brushing Charlotte’s through multiple blankets. 

            “Professor Sharp has me in detention until I graduate,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll help my potions grades,” he added, trying to find the silver lining.

            “You’re lucky it’s just detention,” Ominis said. His tone was careful, but his grip tightened again around Charlotte’s hand.

            “He said I need supervision. Being on my own brought us here.”

            “He’s not wrong.”

            “I know, I… I’ve messed it all up, haven’t I?”

            Ominis was careful in his reply. “It certainly won’t be what it was,” he said finally. “You hurt Charlotte. You hurt me.” He sighed deeply. “But we’re still young. Hopefully, this stays a single event, and we can move past it.”

            “Thank you, Ominis. I will never be able to thank you enough for being willing to stay my friend.”

            “Don’t expect any slack if this happens again, mind. And I reserve the right to remind you as often as you need your head deflated.”

            “My head isn’t inflated!”

            “Charlotte, do you feel that? It feels like a load of hot air from Sebastian.”

            Charlotte smiled. Her friends seemed like they would be ok, though it was clear things would never be the way they were. They continued bickering as she leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, happy that they had reconciled past whatever had happened in the scriptorium. 

            Charlotte groaned at the pain in her abdomen. It felt as if she had strained it working too hard, the soreness more like muscle strain than an injury. She looked over to the empty chair beside her. She had fought with Ominis the night before, pushing him to return to his dorm so he could rest, change clothing, and take time for himself after so devotedly staying by her side. It was only with Nurse Blainey threatening to kick the young man out of the hospital wing entirely that he reluctantly left. His absence, however, left a cold void on her side. She hadn’t realized how much she had depended on him the last few days. In his place, however, was a vase of flowers, and she vaguely could make out their meaning as she looked at them. 

            “Miss Underhill, how are you feeling?”

            Charlotte smiled at the nurse peeking around her curtain. “Much better, Nurse Blainey,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Some soreness, but I’m hungry today.”

            “Let me get a look at you.” The nurse pulled back the blankets, gently prodding at Charlotte’s middle. Charlotte hissed as she pressed a sore spot, trying to pull away from the pain. The nurse made no sign that she noticed, continuing to prod and poke. Satisfied, she took the girl’s wrist to check her pulse.

            “You should be ok to eat something more substantial today,” she said slowly, “but I’ll make sure it’s still bland, so it doesn’t upset your system. I’ll be back with your potions.” With that, Nurse Blainey disappeared around the curtain again, her footsteps trailing off as she wandered to her office. Charlotte leaned back against her pillows. She didn’t want to show how much pain and discomfort she was in for fear she would be considered a burden, but her core was aching with every breath. The nurse’s footsteps returned quicker than expected and Charlotte struggled to sit upright again.

            “Sit back, I know you’re in pain, you don’t fool me,” the nurse said wearily. “I’ve seen more than a few actors in this ward, but your insistence that you’re not in pain is the most convincing I’ve seen.” She handed Charlotte a potion and left a bowl of porridge on her bedside table. “Once you have this in you and you’ve eaten, let’s try for a bath. I’m sure you’d like to get that dusty Scriptorium off of you.” 

The potion tasted of rotten bananas and cold. Charlotte made a face, thoroughly disgusted, and Nurse Blainey laughed. 

“Oh, so you can pretend not to be in pain, but a bit of pain potion is too much?” the woman scolded fondly. Then, handing Charlotte her porridge, she wandered back to her office. Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder what the nurse did when she wasn’t treating patients; did the school require paperwork on every student treated, or did she simply relax and read novels? If she did read, what kind of novels would the nurse read? Charlotte went through the possibilities before deciding to ask Ominis for his thoughts.

She looked at the flowers again. A small book lay on the bedside table, and she picked it up, looking at the dark green cover and embossed gold print. The Language and Poetry of Flowers. She smiled and opened it up, looking up at the flowers in the vase. The pink carnations were fascination and new love, while the lavender sprigs were long life and calm, but nestled in between them both were a few large daisies. According to the book, those meant cheerfulness. The book added that the irises included meant royalty, which made Charlotte laugh. She knew exactly who had sent the flowers now, and she was pleased with the sentiments he had chosen.

“Good morning, Charlotte.”

“Good morning, Ominis!” Her voice was bright and clear, though he could hear her careful movements, showing she was still in pain. “Help me decide, what kinds of novels would Nurse Blainey read?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I was trying to decide what Nurse Blainey does when she has no patients to care for, and I thought maybe she was a voracious reader, but what kind of novels would she be interested in? I can’t imagine her reading Dickens happily, but perhaps something foreign…”

Ominis sat in his chair beside her bed, listening to her happily chatter about books. “Does Poe not feel correct?” he asked when she finally paused. “She seems like she would enjoy a good horror now and again.”

“Oh, I adore Poe!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Have you read much of his work?”

“I can’t say that I have,” admitted Ominis slowly. “It was more my brother’s preferred author, though he hated anything to do with Americans.”

“They are quite brisk, aren’t they? I’ve only met Father’s business partners, and then only briefly, but they seemed quite willing to say anything that came to their minds.” Ominis handed her a cup of tea from the table beside him, feeling her gently shake the cup so he would know that she had it in hand. “I would so love to see America, though. I hear the magical schools there are very different to Hogwarts.”

“Well, the two of you are quite cozy.”

Ominis started. He hadn’t realized the nurse had come up behind them, causing Charlotte to giggle at his startled face. The nurse chuckled slightly.

“Here, I’ll take that bowl. Mister Gaunt, would you like some tea as well, since you are so eager to care for Miss Underhill?”

“Oh, if it’s a problem-”

The nurse’s smile was audible. “Not a problem at all. Keeping her relaxed and comfortable is just as important as the potions for spell damage of this kind.” Then, dipping into a softer tone, she added, “And, with no disrespect to Mister Poe, I am quite fond of Jane Austen’s work.” 

The two students sat stunned while Nurse Blainey moved down the aisle away from them, before bursting into laughter.

“A romance novel reader! I would never have guessed!” Charlotte said delightedly. “And Jane Austen, too, what a wonderful choice.” Leaning closer, she whispered to him, “I’ve been enjoying the book on flowers you left me.” Ominis’ face turned pink, and he smiled as she took his hand, squeezing it. 

The sound of water being poured into a bath interrupted their conversation. Charlotte sighed wistfully. 

“A proper bath,” she groaned. “I can’t wait to be clean again.”

“You haven’t bathed since the…?” Ominis couldn’t finish his sentence, but Charlotte didn’t seem to mind.

“No, and I’m sure I’m covered in dust and grime from that horrible man’s lair.” A pause, then, “Will you stay until I’m back?”

Ominis nodded and hummed his agreement, listening to the nurse help Charlotte into a wheelchair, and later down the hall, into the bath. Ominis blushed slightly at the thought of Charlotte so near and completely undressed, but quickly cut off those thoughts. He was raised to be a gentleman, after all, and he desperately wanted to remain one, even if his hormones raced when he smelled her perfume in passing. 

He had no idea where these thoughts and emotions had come from. He had never thought of any other woman in his life in those terms, and he didn’t have them at all until after Charlotte had broken through his cold exterior with her cheerful “good mornings and “good afternoons. She had so politely and quietly taken up residence in his heart and he could barely remember when it started, and now, he had been so bold as to declare his intentions. Through flowers, but still. 

The sounds of splashing water and murmurs pulled Ominis from his thoughts. He straightened himself, ready to help aid Charlotte back into her bed. Once she was settled under the blankets and her pillows properly fluffed, he gently took her hand once more.

“How do you feel?”

“Tired. Washing was… difficult. But I feel clean again.”

Another hand rested on his shoulder. Nurse Blainey handed him a book before turning away. Charlotte giggled.

“I asked if we could borrow some Jane Austen,” she explained. “

Ominis smiled. “Of course. Shall I begin?”

Charlotte hummed her assent, and Ominis opened the book, holding his wand over the page and saying out loud the words it sent to his brain.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

            “Charlotte!”

            “How are you?”

            “What happened?”

            “You missed the best Charms class!”

            “Are you going to be alright?”

            Charlotte grinned as her friends piled around her bed. Natty, Leander, and Garreth chose seats on her left side, while Samantha and Imelda sat on her bed, reaching for her hands. Grace and Nerida stood beside the curtain separating her bed from the others, holding flowers and chocolates, and Ominis, her ever-present shadow, reached to take them and add them to her growing collection. 

            “One at a time, please,” Charlotte chuckled. Natty reached forward to take one of her hands and patted it fondly.

            “You have scared us, my friend,” she chided, and Charlotte smiled.

            “That wasn’t my intention,” she protested, but Ominis placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to quiet her. The Gryffindors noticed the gesture but did not comment.

            “What happened?” Leander said, leaning forward.

            “Spell practice gone awry,” Charlotte lied. Garreth’s eyes narrowed.

            “What kind of spell leaves you in the hospital for several days?” he asked, but Charlotte waved away his comments.

            “What happened in Charms?” she asked Grace, who squealed.

            “We were working on color change charms,” she started, and Charlotte relaxed into her pillows, enjoying the story.

            It took several hours for her friends to be convinced she was going to mend. Garreth and Leander both narrowed their eyes when Charlotte winced, but neither said anything out loud. Charlotte knew from the looks in their eyes, however, that they were dangerously close to guessing what actually happened. When they finally filed out, heading to dinner, Ominis took her hand again and squeezed it tightly.

            “I don’t like lying to them,” she said softly.

            “I know,” he replied, “but it’s for the best. As much as Sebastian deserves to be thrown to the wolves for what he did to you, it won’t help him if all of his friends abandon him now.” He then looked up, cocking his head in the way Charlotte knew meant he could hear something. “You have another visitor, I believe.”

            “Indeed, she does,” came a strong, deep voice. Professor Fig, still wearing his traveling cloak, came around the curtain and gave her a serious look. “I leave you for a few days and you end up here, of all places, with spell damage?”

            Charlotte sighed. “Professor, I-”

            “Ominis, would you mind terribly if I spoke to Charlotte alone?” Professor Fig interrupted. Ominis squeezed Charlotte’s hand before standing. 

            “I’ll join the others for dinner,” he said. “If you need anything-”

            “I’ll ask Nurse Blainey because that’s her job,” finished Charlotte, smiling. He gave her an exasperated sigh before leaving.

            “Rather a dedicated young man,” Professor Fig murmured, “and rather attached to you.”

            “It has been a difficult few days,” Charlotte admitted, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. Professor Fig sat in Ominis’ chair and sighed.

            “I’ve spoken with Professors Sharp and Hecat,” he started. “I know about the scriptorium, about the curse, and that Sebastian was the one to cast it. Is there anything more?”

            “It wasn’t his fault, Professor. Not entirely.” Charlotte sighed when Professor Fig raised his eyebrows. “He wanted to help his sister. He says she’s dying.”

            “Anne Sallow is suffering from a very difficult curse,” Professor Fig explained, “but that does not excuse an Unforgivable, especially against someone he calls a friend.”

            “We know. Professors Sharp and Hecat have discussed in detail with him his various other options. He’s in detention from now until we graduate.”

            Professor Fig gave a heavy sigh and leaned back against the chair. “It is, perhaps, for the best that this happened,” he admitted. “From what I understand, Mister Sallow has been treading a dangerous path for months, possibly even years, and now that we know we can take action. I am, however, very upset that it took you being so gravely injured.” He cleared his throat before changing the subject. “The book you recovered with Mister Sallow, an excursion that now has… different connotations than before, yielded a few interesting points. There is quite a bit in it about ancient magic, though I’m not sure how much of it will be of use. No indications on what the missing pages hold, however.”

            “I may have found them,” Charlotte said, bracing herself for another scolding, but Professor Fig just sighed.

            “Please tell me that’s not why you were in that terrible man’s lair,” he said quietly, and Charlotte chuckled.

            “No, no, it was in the Forbidden Forest,” she said, her words causing more alarm.

            “When were you-?” Fig spluttered, making Charlotte laugh in earnest.

            “We didn’t exactly plan on it,” she said carefully. “I got a letter from Mister Olivander about an errand he wanted me to run, and Ominis came with me. When we realized it involved a bit more than simply fetching supplies, we practiced our defensive spells and made some potions. A student had stolen the pages from Peeves, who seems to have been the one to remove them from the book in the first place. The student then died following the map on the pages, but he had gotten nearly to the end.”

            Fig rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “And what did you find, when you and Mister Gaunt inevitably reached the end?” he asked wearily. 

            “A large room under Hogwarts. There are portraits hanging there, and at least one of them is of one of the men from the memories, Professor Rackham.”

            “Why do I have a feeling you will continue rushing into danger and dragging your friends along with you?” Fig sighed again before smiling. “The idea of practicing your defensive spells before rushing into danger was a good idea, and I encourage you to continue that at least. Though perhaps not with Mister Gaunt.”

            “Ominis is a fine dueler,” Charlotte argued, “and he held his own well.”

            “I wasn’t arguing his proficiency,” Professor Fig backtracked. “Merely that you may wish to practice with someone like Natsai Onai or Leander Prewitt, both of whom are accomplished duelists. Mister Sallow, is, of course, the school champion, though it may be some time before Aesop lets him practice combative magic.”

            “Yes, he and I have dueled before,” Charlotte said softly. “He’s exceptionally good, though according to Leander and Garreth, he lacks defensive magic.”

            Professor Fig chuckled, then went to stand. “When you are recovered, I expect to see you and Mister Gaunt in my office. I want to make sure we know exactly what we’re getting into and what our next step is before we leap.” He turned, then paused and looked back at Charlotte. “Actually, bring Mister Sallow and Miss Onai as well. I have a feeling they’ve seen more of your magic than I have, and their input would be helpful.” His eyes sparkled as he gently touched Charlotte’s shoulder before making his way out of the hospital wing.

            “Ominis, everyone is staring at me.”

            “You’ve been gone for a while now. I’m sure they’re just glad you’re alright.”

            Charlotte sat at breakfast piling her plate with food. Now that she had been released from the hospital wing, she felt entitled to eat more than the bland offerings the nurse had given her. Ominis sat beside her at the Ravenclaw table, sipping his tea while she filled his plate. The stares the other students were giving her made her more and more uncomfortable. 

            “Ominis, they seem… unfriendly,” she murmured. “It’s not normal staring, it’s…”

            “I know,” he said quietly, touching her hand under the table. “It’s a side effect. They’re not upset with you or angry with you. It will pass.”

            Three students in red came rushing to join them; Natty, Garreth, and Leander all gave her bone-crushing hugs, choosing seats across from her. Within minutes, they were all leading a riotous conversation about the latest gossip, lessons Charlotte had missed, Imelda’s most recent meltdown over quidditch being canceled, and all of the meals Leander lovingly demolished. Amit joined them, quietly handing Charlotte her missed schoolwork and laughing at Garreth’s lovingly exaggerated description of his aunt. Imelda joined later, standing behind the group and pretending she wasn’t relieved to see Charlotte up and about and laughing. Ominis reveled in the sound of her laughter after so many days of silence and quiet, laughing himself as Natty described Garreth’s latest potion explosion (purple smoke and green sparks that left scorch marks on Sharp’s robes as he yelled at Garreth).

            Sebastian circled on the edges, trying to avoid the glares from Charlotte’s friends. While no one knew exactly what happened, it was now common knowledge that Sebastian had hurt her and hurt her badly enough that she was in the hospital wing. Charlotte finally looked up to see him and happily waved him over, scooting closer to Ominis so he would have a place to sit. Natty stiffened when Sebastian said a cautious hello, but Charlotte refused to allow for awkwardness.

            “We have agreed to move on,” she said firmly, looking at Garreth and Leander’s murderous faces. “Everyone play nice. He’s being punished enough.”

            “Not so sure about that,” Leander murmured, glaring at the Slytherin. “You were in the hospital wing for a while.” Garreth nodded, looking concerned at Charlotte. She sighed, her face falling when she realized peace among her friends would be more difficult than simply saying it was all in the past. Ominis gently touched her hand, head turned, and listened to her breathing for any signs of distress. 

            “I know you all won’t forgive me so easily,” Sebastian said slowly, “but I’m willing to put in the work if you’ll let me.”

            Silence fell over the group before Natty gently touched Sebastian’s arm. 

            “I’m sure you will,” she said bracingly. “But I don’t think Garreth and Leander are going to make it easy on you.”

            “More than a few duels that you’ll have to lose on purpose, I’m afraid,” laughed Imelda.

            “Hey, I will beat him fair and square,” Leander protested. Sebastian laughed with them but said nothing. He meant what he said: he was willing to put in the work to return his friend group to the lively, varied, and welcoming state they were in before the Scriptorium, and they all knew it. 

            Eventually, Charlotte stood with the help of Ominis. She was still unsteady on her feet at times and her body shook with the effort of being upright and pretending she was fine.

            “Right, I’m off to class,” she announced as Sebastian held her bag aloft. Before she could grab it from him, Garreth reached across the table to snatch it away.

            “Oh, no, you’re not carrying a thing,” he said teasingly to Charlotte, who rolled her eyes.

            “What class is up, potions?” Leander asked, pulling up his and Garreth’s bags and throwing them both over his shoulders. 

            “History of Magic,” Ominis corrected, holding Charlotte’s arm at the elbow to support her as she stepped over the bench. “So, extended nap time.” Natty stepped in to take Charlotte’s other arm, and with her new entourage, she left the Great Hall.

“Mister Sallow. Today we will be reviewing why, exactly, the Unforgivable Curses are named Unforgivable.” Professor Sharp glared into Sebastian’s soul, causing him to shiver and cast his eyes to the ground. “We will also be covering some counter curses,” Sharp continued, “as your interest in combat magic and research into more esoteric forms of casting will doubtless bring you into contact with the Dark Arts again.”

“You’re… you’re teaching me magic?” Sebastian stammered. Sharp gave him a sharp glance.

“You have been researching on your own for far too long. Without the wisdom and guidance provided by an adult who has experience in such things, you have fallen into common fallacies. Such a curse caused by the Dark Arts must have its solution in the Dark Arts themselves. I and Professor Hecat will be working with you to make sure you understand the danger of this practice. In time, we may help you with some of your… tamer interests.”

Sebastian’s mind whirled. “You’d help me learn forbidden magic?” he blurted out, and Sharp’s face made him immediately wish he hadn’t.

“No. We will, however, help you to understand why those spells are forbidden.”

Sebastian swallowed and made no reply. Sharp finally sighed.

“Your parents died when you were young, correct?”

“Yes, sir. We were 7.”

“And you moved in with your uncle after that, if I recall. Solomon was never a bad man, at least not when I knew him, but he was never the cuddliest person.” Sharp stood and moved to lean against the front of his table, eyes never leaving Sebastian. “I imagine you don’t have much support from him emotionally, and since your sister was cursed, I also imagine you’ve been drowning in emotions you don’t know how to process.”

Sebastian blushed at the frankness but made no reply. He had felt like a swirl of thoughts and emotions and wants and needs had taken over his entire being with no way out or to calm the storm. He knew he had acted rashly when he asked Ominis to let them into the scriptorium. He knew he had acted rashly when he grabbed the spell book before rushing to get help. He just didn’t know how to stop.

“I’ve been there,” Sharp said softly. “The Dark Arts are seductive. They whisper promises to you, seem to hold answers, and even seem to make life easier. It is all a persuasive ruse. The Dark Arts hold nothing but suffering and destruction. The purpose, Sebastian, of these detentions is not to punish as much as to educate before you go further down that road. That Charlotte volunteered for you to cast the Cruciatus curse on her is the only reason you are allowed this opportunity. There is a reason that curse is Unforgivable.”

“Is she going to be ok?” Sebastian whispered. “She doesn’t remember it happening.”

“The mind is a powerful thing. She may remember, or she may remain blissfully unaware of the extent of what happened. But Miss Underhill is a remarkable young woman, as I’m sure you know. She will recover.” 

Sharp reached behind him to a book waiting beside his seat and handed it to Sebastian. The leather covering was worn, soft leather that felt delightful under his fingers. He traced the embossed title and felt the worn gilt pages.

“We will begin with this,” Sharp said, now returning to his seat. “Read the text. I expect a reflection of no less than 10 inches on my desk when you complete it. You will begin here, under my supervision, but I’m sure you will continue after our sessions.”

“What is it, sir?” Sebastian looked again at the title, searching for some clue as to what kind of text it was. The gold letters proclaimed “Luminous”, with smaller letters underneath so worn he could no longer read them.

“It is a memoir of a wizard who dabbled in the Dark Arts,” Sharp said. “He will tell his story better than I could, but he managed to break free after the cost became too high. It’s well written and this particular copy has been passed around the Auror division I was a part of for generations.” He turned back to his papers, dismissing Sebastian without a word. 

Sebastian took a seat at one of the potions stations and opened the book. The front page had delicate words printed across it, the quality of the printing dating the book firmly to well before even the professor’s time as an Auror. The book felt heavy for its size, almost as if the contents were weighing it down. 

Luminous

Escaping the Grip of Dark Magic

By 

Eamon Ravenscroft

Before he had thought about it, Sebastian had fallen into the book, engrossed with the writing. Ravenscroft managed to make what was essentially a long sermon into a thrilling, fully engrossing tale of danger and excitement. When Sharp sent him back to his dorm, he rushed to bed, eager to continue reading. While Ominis slept, gently snoring, Sebastian remained fully transfixed in Ravencroft’s world. 

Sebastian placed his reflection on Sharp’s desk three days later, slightly over the 10 inches requested. Professor Sharp noticed, nodded at Sebastian, and began his lecture on Thunderbrew. Sebastian slumped in his seat, trying to stay awake. He had been enjoying his assigned book so much that he had not slept well in several days, rushing to finish it before pouring his thoughts onto the parchment. He barely heard Sharp’s dismissal to begin brewing until Garreth shook his shoulder.

“Seb, come on, we have to get ingredients.”

Sebastian looked around, puzzled as to why he wasn’t with Ominis as usual. Garreth rolled his eyes and left, coming back with his arms full of ingredients. 

“Ominis is with Charlotte. She’s still having problems standing for long periods and you know how overprotective he is.” Garreth rolled his eyes again, spreading out the ingredients on the table and grabbing the shrivelfig to begin slicing. “Afraid you’re stuck with me today.”

“Just don’t… make it explode, please,” Sebastian muttered, grabbing the cauldron to fill with water. “I rather like my eyebrows.”

“Please. That only happens after we’ve finished brewing,” Garreth said breezily. When Sebastian returned, the shrivelfig was properly sliced and the Stench of the Dead (“What even is this?” Garreth had asked when they opened the jar. “It smells like death.” Sebastian had given him a look in return.) had been obtained from the selection Sharp put out on his table. Between the two of them, the boys were able to brew a passable version, the color slightly too purple to be perfect. Ominis and Charlotte had, of course, brewed the best potion of the day, Charlotte’s vast experience making up for Ominis’ abysmal but improving skills. Before they left for the day, however, Professor Sharp handed Sebastian another book. 

“The Weaver’s Ward: Mending the Tapestry of Life?” Garreth read over Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’re getting extra assignments now?”

“Yeah, it’s part of my punishment. For Charlotte.” Sebastian colored slightly, stuffing the new book into his bag and rushing out of the dungeon. Garreth followed him.

“So, your punishment for putting her in the hospital wing is to read?” he asked incredulously. “You nearly killed her and you’re doing book reports?”

“I…” Sebastian started, but Garreth pulled him into a closet. Pulling the door shut and lighting his wand, Garreth glared at Sebastian.

“What exactly happened?” he demanded. “And don’t ‘it’s all forgotten now’ me, I see her, I know something happened.” 

Sebastian looked at his shoe and stayed silent.

“Are you going to make me make you talk? Because I will,” Garreth warned, his hands clenching into fists. Sebastian shuttered. He knew Garreth was a decent fighter, both with and without magic. Garreth had been a regular in the hospital wing for defending younger students from bullies and more than one of those bullies had come off worse. Sebastian had no choice; he had to tell Garreth everything and pray he wouldn’t tell a soul. 

 “Ominis… Ominis’ family is descended from Slytherin. He had a… well, he called it a scriptorium, but that’s not really what it is, it’s more like a secret study, and Ominis knew where the entrance was. You know Anne…” Sebastian’s voice broke and Garreth sighed.

“You went in to find answers for Anne,” he said quietly, watching Sebastian’s face closely. “And something happened because Slytherin was a right git.” 

Sebastian nodded. “She… took the brunt of us for us.”

“Of course she did,” Garreth laughed sarcastically. “She would die if it meant keeping Hobhouse alive. I’ve never met anyone so self-sacrificing.”

“It was my idea to go in. So, I’m the one being punished. Sharp and Hecat are… well, they’re giving me extra assignments to work on, to try to undo the damage I did to myself in pursuing that to begin with. So, reading.”

“Something you’re good at. Let me know how this one is.” Garreth opened the door, then paused. “Do you want me to leave you here? So, you can, you know… clean yourself up?” 

Sebastian laughed. He hadn’t even realized he was crying, but he quickly brushed the tears away. 

“No, I’m good. I’m just tired. The last book they gave me was amazing, I stayed up all night two nights in a row reading it.” He followed Garreth, who had softened considerably towards him. 

“I’m gonna need that one, then,” the ginger said lightly. “Auntie’s always on me to be reading more, but our textbooks are so boring.”

“Maybe if we find a book on transfiguration that isn’t awful, she’ll get off your back,” Sebastian joked, holding open the door as they walked toward Charms class. “Or a potions one, then you’ll stop blowing things up.”

“Shut up, Sallow,” Garreth said with a grin. “You love my explosions, admit it.”

“That one the other day with the sparkling pink smoke wasn’t too bad,” Sebastian admitted. “Until it started smelling like vomit.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to smell like you, but I guess it’s close enough.” Then, more seriously, Garreth added, “Look, I know you’re being punished, and the teachers have it in hand, but if you ever, ever, hurt Charlotte again, I will come for you.”

Sebastian nodded. He had expected as much. Charlotte made fast friends with everyone around her, and he knew the ginger was just as loyal to her as he was to his own family. As he followed Garreth into the Charms classroom, he felt fortunate to simply be watched. 

“Hi, you’re Charlotte?” 

Charlotte started and looked up to meet a pair of warm brown eyes and a cheerful smile. She had been focused on her puffskein, brushing the tangles from his hair until he shone, and hadn’t noticed the small girl sneak up on her.

“Yes, I am,” she said, smiling. “Charlotte Underhill.”

“Poppy. Poppy Sweeting.” The girl sat beside Charlotte and nodded toward the puffskein. “You’ve done a great job brushing him. Gerald doesn’t usually like being brushed for so long, but you managed it without him protesting at all.”

“We had several dogs at our country house,” Charlotte explained, rubbing Gerald the Puffskein between his eyes as he made a purring noise. “Most of them were for hunting, of course, but there was one beagle who was terrible at chasing things. I used to steal him away from the kennels and play for hours when I was little.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to meet a proper, regular dog,” Poppy said. “I love beasts of all kinds, even nonmagical ones.”

“Well, if you’re around this summer, perhaps I’ll introduce you.” Charlotte’s barrage of questions about magical beasts was cut off by Professor Howin beginning the class, and Charlotte dove headfirst into the material. They were discussing the difference between kneazles and cats, something Charlotte found fascinating, and she could tell the small girl beside her was just as enthralled. As they dispersed to perform practical work, Poppy insisted Charlotte share a kneazle with her.

“Her name is Persephone,” Poppy explained, gently untangling the creature’s fur. “And her mate, over there, is Hades.”

“What lovely names for lovely kitties,” Charlotte cooed. Persephone purred loudly.

“She knows a good egg when she sees one,” Poppy glowed. “You must really love animals.” Her deft fingers found a small snag in the kneazle’s fur, and she quietly worked to untangle it. Charlotte smiled broadly.

“I’m glad to hear I have approval, Miss Persephone Queen of the Dead,” she said lovingly, distracting the queen from the slight tugs on her fur. “Such a powerful queen, too. And so regal.” 

Poppy laughed. “You’re exactly right,” she said happily. Then, softer, she added, “I know of someone else who would like to meet you if you can after class.”

The rest of the class passed smoothly, with Charlotte enjoying every moment of her time with the kneazles. Gerald, feeling rather left out, curled into her lap as she gave treats to Persephone, stealing a few bites with his long tongue and making the girls laugh. When Professor Howin dismissed class, Charlotte gathered her things and followed Poppy to a meadow beside the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s just here. I have to call her, so be ready,” Poppy said before whistling. The sound of flapping wings came with a bust of wind, and Charlotte was staring at the strangest creature she had ever seen. It had the body of a horse, but the taloned front legs and head of an eagle. It blinked at her, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Bow,” Poppy instructed. “Hippogriffs are very proud, and they demand the proper respect.” Charlotte followed her instructions, falling into a low formal bow and waiting until Poppy said she could release it. The movement felt weird to her having spent her life with curtsies, but she persevered. To her surprise, the hippogriff fell into an unmistakable bow itself, dipping its beak low to the ground. 

“You did it!” Poppy cheered. Charlotte rose and smiled at the beast, which seemed to be smiling back at her. “Come, I think she’ll let you pet her.”

The cold beak felt smooth and polished under Charlotte’s hands, and the beast closed its eyes lazily as she moved her hand to its long, feathered neck. Charlotte gave a small laugh of surprise when the creature swung its neck around, rubbing its face on her side. Poppy laughed.

“This is Highwing,” she said quietly. “She’s my only friend. I usually come here to feed her and let her know the latest gossip. She doesn’t look it, but she’s a terrible busybody.”

“Oh, no, that’s ok, Highwing,” Charlotte cooed. “You’re allowed to know all the gossip in Hogwarts. You’re far too regal not to.” Poppy giggled and dug into her pocket for treats. Charlotte sighed before turning to the small girl.

“You said Highwing is your only friend?” she asked softly. Poppy nodded.

“People are hard,” she explained. “Animals are just easier.”

“Well, luckily for you, I know a group of people who would love to be your friend,” Charlotte said happily. Highwing swung her head around again and Charlotte laughed as she was gently nudged for more pets. “And you too, Highwing,” she chuckled. “Everyone would love to be your friend.”

The two girls left after Highwing grew tired of pets, deciding instead to take flight and circle the castle before streaking off into the forest. Charlotte linked her arm with Poppy and led her into the Great Hall, both sharing silly stories of animals they knew and laughing as they went. Once they entered, instead of letting Poppy slink off to her usual hidden place to eat, Charlotte boldly brought the girl to the Hufflepuff table, where her friends were deep in conversation about books.

“Everyone, this is Poppy,” she said happily. “We’re her friends now.” Natty smiled broadly and made space for Poppy between herself and Garreth while Leander reached over to pass various plates of food to the girls. 

“So, you know Charlotte,” Natty said to the new girl, who seemed a bit overwhelmed. “I’m Natty, and this is Garreth. The other ginger is Leander, the blonde beside Charlotte is Ominis, Amit is down there beside Nerida and Grace, Imelda is… somewhere, and that,” she pointed at Sebastian, eyes narrowed slightly, “is Sebastian, but we’re currently angry with him, so you can ignore him for now.”

“Hey,” Sebastian protested, drawing laughter from the rest of the group. Poppy looked around at them with wide eyes. 

“There’s certainly a lot of you,” she said softly, making Natty laugh.

“Charlotte kind of brought us all together and now we’re a huge messy group,” she admitted. “But don’t worry, we don’t bite. Except Sebastian.”

“I didn’t even bite her,” he protested again, giving rise to more laughter. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Charlotte left the lunch table to meet with Professor Weasley, leaving Natty, Garreth, Sebastian, Leander, Ominis, and Poppy in her wake. Natty frowned, her eyes distant. Poppy was staring at her meal, willing it to give her answers. Ominis, however, was humming quietly as he brought his sandwich to his mouth.

“I wonder if we could help take down Rookwood, make things easier for Charlotte,” Natty mused. The others stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

“Beg pardon?” Garreth said. Natty looked at him before realizing he had not been told about Charlotte’s magic.

“Oh, she upset him in Hogsmeade the day we went to get her supplies, with Sebastian. He’s been coming after her in retaliation.”

“That’s a terrible lie,” Imelda said from the other side of Garreth, taking a bite out of her apple. “But I’ll let it stand.”

“You want to go after Harlow,” Sebastian said quietly, finally understanding. Natty nodded.

“Rookwood is funded by a few families and his extortion racket. Harlow runs the extortion ring. If we collapse the ring-”

“-we cut off the funding,” Leander finished, starting to smile. “And if we cut off the funding-”

“-we weaken Rookwood,” Ominis finished. 

“It’s a good idea,” Sebastian said, but before he could continue, Poppy interjected.

“There’s only one problem. Harlow doesn’t just run the extortion ring. He also has his hand in poaching.”

“How do you know that?” Leander asked, and Poppy flushed.

“Never mind,” she said softly, before adding, “It would be best if we took both down simultaneously.”

“I’ll talk to Officer Singer about the extortion ring,” Natty offered. “See what we have to work with to get Harlow arrested.”

“I’ll come, too,” Leander insisted. Poppy nodded at the two of them.

“I’ll see what I can get about the poachers,” she said. Sebastian gave her an appraising look before sighing.

“I guess I need to come along, make sure you don’t die,” he said. Garreth gave him a look.

“First of all, that’s rude,” the ginger said, making a face. “Second, you’re in eternal detention, so I’ll go with her.”

“I’ll come, too,” Imelda said quietly. Poppy gave them a look.

“Are you sure?” she asked, but Garreth and Imelda both started gathering their things from the table. Sebastian and Ominis remained at the table, watching the two groups leave the Great Hall. Ominis sighed.

“I guess I’ll rotate, then, as needed,” he said, shrugging. Sebastian chuckled.

“I think we both know where you’ll be,” he said, nudging his friend in the ribs.

“You’re being crude,” Ominis spat, before standing up to leave the table himself.  

            “Professor Weasley?” Charlotte called. She had received an owl earlier in the day asking her to meet in the Astronomy tower, across from the tapestry of dancing trolls. Charlotte paused to stare at it: three trolls in pink tutus, twirling under the direction of Barnabus the Barney. It made her laugh to think of seeing an entire troll ballet in person. What would they be performing, she wondered, before deciding the newer ballet Swan Lake would fit the performers extremely well. 

            Tearing her eyes away from the tapestry, she pulled the note out of her pocket to examine it again. She had the place, date, and time all correct. Professor Weasley had mentioned she’d find a place to study, and Charlotte began to pace, thinking about what such a room would have to hold. A large library, of course. Many soft couches and chairs, tables, good lighting… Perhaps space for potions and growing plants would be useful. She turned back, picturing it in her mind. It would have a lovely marble floor, perfect for cleaning up after potions spills and herbology accidents, with curved wood walls and vines hanging from the ceiling. It should be pink, she decided, and space for her friends to study. Perhaps it would have braille books for Ominis and diagrams he could touch to better understand the material, and Sebastian could have a corner to work on his various projects. 

            Suddenly, Charlotte heard a scraping noise, like stones grinding against one another. She froze, staring at the wall opposite the tapestry, frozen in place as she watched a door appear. It seemed the door was being carved out of the stone in front of her, only to appear made of wood with metal decorations. She took a step closer, and the door opened in front of her.

            “Ah, you made it.” Professor Weasley turned the corner and smiled broadly. “And you called the room. Excellent.”

            “Professor, what-”

            “I’m sorry I was late. Our headmaster has been very… Well, needless to say, he kept me busy.” Professor Weasley gestured for Charlotte to lead the way into the room and followed her closely. “This is the Room of Requirement or the Come-and-Go Room. It only appears to a student who has a need. You did a magnificent job calling it and crafting it with your thoughts, though it’s usually much harder. Students usually have to be told how to mold the room before they can accomplish that.”

            Charlotte walked into the center of the space, now a large and lush botanical space filled with long potting tables across the marble floor. The walls, a blush pink, were studded with selves overflowing with potting tools, plants, seeds, and fertilizer. A corridor led down to a room filled with cozy couches and chairs as well as a library with tables and materials for study. Another room was filled with potion stations and every ingredient anyone could possibly need. Charlotte wandered over to one of the desks, feeling the smooth wood under her fingers and the plush velvet of the seats. One bookshelf was filled with braille books and resources for blind students while another held various anti-dark arts and defense texts. Charlotte sat on a couch, looking around in awe.

            “Now, this will be your private study,” Professor Weasley said. “You can focus on your lessons and catch up with your classmates. And it appears you thought of others when building the room; my nephew will enjoy those potions texts very much, as will Ominis with the braille books.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at Charlotte, smiling broadly. Then, she clapped her hands and turned.

            “There is one other thing, however,” she said, leading Charlotte back up the hall to the herbology room. “I have to introduce you to a good friend of mine.” Next to the door, a house elf stood. He looked very kind, Charlotte decided, with his gray hair and tartan tea towel. Charlotte gave him a small curtsy, and the poor elf’s eyes nearly bulged from his face.

            “Pleased to meet you,” Charlotte said. “My name is Charlotte Underhill.”

            “This is Deek,” Professor Weasley said. Deek took a step closer and took Charlotte’s hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

            “Oh, Deek likes this one,” he said happily to Professor Weasley.

            “Deek has been a friend since my second year,” she explained. “We found this room together. He and I both thought you would do well with it.”

            “I look forward to working with you,” Charlotte said, and the little elf beamed up at her.

            “The only thing I will ask,” Professor Weasley said, her voice suddenly serious, “is that Deek supervise any study sessions you have with other students. I trust you, of course, as do the rest of the professors, but-”

            “-propriety,” Charlotte finished, nodding. “Never fear, professor, we shall never be alone.”

            Charlotte stood outside of the room, waiting on her friends. Ominis came first, taking her hand and murmuring that he had missed her that day, before allowing Sebastian, Natty, and Garreth to greet her. Leander and Poppy came up behind, while Imelda refused to join them, citing a broom race. Sebastian shook his head.

            “That girl is obsessed,” he said, making the others laugh. Charlotte couldn’t wait any longer and pushed open the door, letting them all explore her new space. Sebastian immediately found the library and refused to leave, sitting on the floor to begin searching through the new books. Natty wandered, looking at the statues, while Poppy and Garreth explored the potions area. Leander walked back and forth, unsure what to focus on first. Ominis, however, held Charlotte’s hand and sat on one of the couches with her, simply enjoying the time he could spend in her presence. Finally, they all gathered around her, spread out over chairs and the carpets on the floor, talking about the things they had discovered. 

            “All right let’s settle down,” Natty called, making them laugh with how similar to her mother she sounded. “We have things to talk about.”

            “I did some scouting for the poachers,” Poppy said, diving in. “They’re gathering all kinds of beasts and caging them. Some areas are completely empty. Something’s happening for sure.”

            “I talked to Officer Singer,” Natty added. “She couldn’t add anything to what we already knew but did have the name of a man who’s been testifying against Harlow. I plan on going to see him this weekend.”

            Leander raised his hand. “I’ll come with you, Natty,” he said, “and we’ll send Garreth or Imelda with Poppy.”

            “Or both,” Garreth added. “That way, no one is alone.”

            “We’ll focus on the ancient magic, then,” Sebastian said, gesturing to himself and Ominis. “Get Charlotte through whatever’s next.”

            “Well, I’ll be with Charlotte. You’ll be in detention,” Ominis said. Sebastian shifted uncomfortably before Charlotte interjected.

            “This is all wonderful, but why are we going after Harlow?”

            “Oh, we didn’t tell you,” Garreth said, laughing. “Harlow is Rookwood’s second in command.”

            “He runs the poaching and extortion rings,” Poppy added. “Big funding sources for Rookwood.”

            “If we take down Harlow, Rookwood will be crippled,” Natty said happily. “And the area is safer.”

            Charlotte nodded. “That would certainly help,” she said, thinking. “I wish there was some way we could cripple Ranrok as well.”

            “Another reason to go after Rookwood,” Leander pressed. “Cutting off the funding to one means we can figure out what Ranrok is up to. There’s bound to be evidence lying around. Criminals just aren’t that smart.” He looked rather pleased with himself while the others nodded.

            “The idea is that taking Rookwood down will make things easier for you,” Sebastian said quietly. “Then you just have to focus on the ancient magic piece. Have you discovered what comes next?”

            “No. We have to bring the book down to the chamber under the school Ominis and I found, but Professor Fig wants to do that this weekend. He wants to interfere with my studies as little as possible, apparently.”

            “Ominis, I know you’re not close with your family, but do you know if anyone in that circle could be giving money to Rookwood or Ranrok?”

            Ominis thought for a moment. “I doubt it,” he said finally. “Rookwood is from an old family that runs in the same groups as mine, but he himself has been cut off from society for a while now. Once the extortion rings became more well known, I believe. We could ask Grace and Nerida to reach out to their families, though, to get an idea of what the landscape is like. Ranrok, of course, would never accept money from wizards and certainly not from us. The Gaunts fought against goblin rights quite vigorously. I believe the last major rebellion had three Gaunts die in service to wizardkind.”

            “That’s a relief,” Charlotte said. “Having connections like the Gaunts would protect Rookwood from whatever we plan to do.”

            “Then that’s settled,” Natty said, nodding finally. “Leander and I will go after the source for Officer Singer, and Poppy, Garreth, and Imelda will scout poacher camps for information. I say we all meet back here Sunday evening to report in.”

            With all agreed, the group splintered to work on homework, Deek watching closely. He wondered if he should tell Professor Weasley about their plans but decided against it. Poor Garreth was in enough trouble as it was, and so far, nothing especially dangerous was planned. He would keep an eye out, though, just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind spending time with them.” Charlotte’s hand was still in Ominis’, swaying as they walked toward Ravenclaw Tower. “It’s nice having others to talk to sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Ominis assured Charlotte. “They’re not terrible company, though Garreth lacks refinement.”

Charlotte laughed, her voice sounding like a flute as it cascaded on his ears. “He does at that,” she agreed, “but he’s not all bad. I heard he threatened Sebastian after Potions the other day.”

“Good. Sebastian should know that your friends are watching him, just in case.”

“Our friends, Ominis. You’re one of the group now.”

“When you say ‘our’, it makes me think of couples.” The words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He heard her breathy laughter again. He felt the heat on his cheeks but could do nothing about it.

“As in, the two of us?” she asked. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“No,” he agreed, “it wouldn’t.” He leaned over, gently brushed his lips over the back of her hand still holding his and paused for just a moment. “Good night, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Have pleasant dreams.”

“And you,” she breathed, before she disappeared into her common room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

            Charlotte was in a daze. She sat on her bed, holding her hand and staring at the opposite wall. She didn’t even notice Samantha coming in. 

            “I know that look,” she said, laughing. “You and Ominis are official?”

            “He kissed my hand,” Charlotte said, dreamily. Samantha laughed.

            “Is that all?” she teased, sitting beside the other girl. “You know, most of the girls here would have firkytoodled with him by now. Most of the boys, too.”

            “I’m sorry?” Charlotte’s eyebrows furrowed.

            “Kissed.”

            “Oh!” Charlotte flushed a much deeper pink. “Oh, no, that’s simply not proper.”

            “Charlotte, my dear, when you like a guy, being improper is the point.” Samantha stood and pulled her pajamas out of her trunk. “Besides, it’s fine when a guy does it. Why not when we do it, too? Who are all these guys having fun with if not girls whose honor has been besmirched.”

            Charlotte flushed a deeper color as she pulled out her nightshirt. She gently touched the ribbons, smiling as she thought of Nathaniel and Miss Winters. Samantha left to bathe and change, leaving Charlotte alone in the room with her thoughts. Miss Winters would, of course, die of shock if Charlotte were to kiss a boy, especially without an engagement in place. Nathaniel would have to duel Ominis to regain her honor and she really didn’t like Nathaniel’s odds. No, she’d much rather move things along at the proper speed, regardless of what Samantha said, and spare her family the drama. 

            Making her choice, Charlotte crawled into bed and closed her eyes. Before she drifted off, however, she heard a faint tapping from her window. Sitting up, she found Ominis’ owl, the ethereal Persephone, waiting on the window ledge. She opened the glass and let the owl in, who settled on her hip while she dug out the small bag of treats Ominis had given her. Satisfied, Persephone flew to the stand beside her bed and closed her eyes. Charlotte turned to the letter, opening it slowly to preserve the snake wax seal on the back.

            My dear Charlotte,

I realized as soon as you left that my conduct may not be as genteel as you are used to. I apologize if I’ve caused any confusion or discomfort. That was not my intent.

I intend to court you, Charlotte Underhill. You are kind and gentle in a way that I have never seen before and that touches my heart. You have helped me through a dark time, and with everything happening, I want to make those intentions known.

I know that the nonmagical world, especially the set in which your family circulates, has very different rules about what is and is not allowed. In my family’s circle, courtship begins with a letter to the father, or oldest male relative if the father is indisposed. With your estrangement from your father, I would assume Nathaniel would be the man I need to speak to. However, your mother may be more appropriate. 

I’m sure we will speak on this quite a bit as we figure out the nuances of how to make this official but rest assured: my affections are entirely yours. It is only the details that need to be worked out.

-Ominis

Charlotte squealed into the letter, reading it again and again until she fell asleep with dreams of love and soft, clouded blue eyes. When she woke up, reality started to sink in. She was only fifteen and already had one suitor. How would Nathaniel react to this news? How would Miss Winters? She sighed heavily as she rose from the bed, noting Persephone had stayed through the night and now had her head tucked under her wing. Did Ominis want a message back? What would she even say?

She pulled on her skirt and blouse without much thought and left for the Great Hall and breakfast. She grabbed a blue ribbon on her way out of the room and shoved it in her cloak’s pocket. Imelda had been kind enough to help braid her hair some days; though the Slytherin mostly made sarcastic comments, she could tell the girl enjoyed the closeness it offered. Amit was waiting for her in the common room and smiled when she crested the stairs.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” he said happily, joining her as she made her way down the stairs to the front door. “I trust you slept well.”

“I did, thank you.” Charlotte felt her pocket where Ominis’ letter resided and colored slightly. Amit, thankfully, didn’t notice.

“I did have a question to ask you,” he said as they walked. “Professor Shah, the astronomy professor, has mentioned something about astronomy tables scattered around the valley. They were built by the ancient celts, you see, and may help me discover new constellations.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Charlotte replied. “I assume you would like my help in finding them?”

“Or one of our other friends,” he said, coloring slightly. “Maybe Poppy would enjoy coming along?”

Charlotte smiled broadly. “I’m sure she would love to come with you,” she said honestly. “Any of us would. Let’s ask at breakfast, so you can fix a set time to go.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said honestly, coloring further. “It helps to know you’re helping me ask for help. I’m afraid I simply don’t dare to ask on my own.”

With that, they walked into the Great Hall in silence, joining Ominis and Sebastian at the Slytherin table. Ominis poured Charlotte a cup of tea without asking, adding the bit of sugar she preferred and stirring quietly. Sebastian’s head was resting on the table as he looked over an essay due that morning.

“Is that astronomy?” Amit asked, looking over Sebastian’s shoulder. “The essay on the Perseids?”

“Yep,” Sebastian managed. His eyelids looked heavy. “I’ve been working on it all night. I just couldn’t write, nothing came out.”

“You should have said something,” Amit chided. He reached over and took the essay from Sebastian and began looking it over. He barely noticed when Garreth bounded over to the table, looking every bit like an eager beagle as he practically vibrated with energy.

“Good morning!” he yelled cheerfully, grabbing a spoonful of eggs to plop onto his plate. Ominis raised an eyebrow.

“Why must you be so cheerful, Weasley?” he asked, refilling his cup. Charlotte giggled as she added another pastry to her plate.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day!” Garreth said, slightly too loud, and Charlotte giggled again. Natty dragged herself to the table in Garreth’s wake and poured a large cup of juice for herself to wake up to. 

“It’s too early for this,” she complained, pushing Garreth away. “Stop it, or I’ll tell Imelda on you.”

Garreth gave a dramatic gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“She doesn’t have to,” came from Imelda, looking fairly refreshed but glaring at the ginger. “I’m right here.” She planted a small kiss on Garreth’s cheek and pushed him further down the bench, taking a seat between him and Sebastian. Charlotte gave a small gasp and Imelda gave an uncharacteristic giggle.

“What? He’s cute,” she protested, blushing a slight pink. “And he beat me yesterday in a time trial, so…”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Charlotte protested, but Garreth chuckled.

“You didn’t need to. Your face said everything.” He handed Natty an apple across the table and Natty hummed her thanks, biting into it with little fanfare.

“Amit was asking me if anyone would be interested in visiting some of the astronomy tables in the valley,” Charlotte said, trying to change the subject. Amit looked up from Sebastian’s essay.

“Yes, I’m hoping they help me find some lost constellations,” he said, putting his quill behind his ear. The others considered for a moment before agreeing.

“It would be a good study opportunity,” Natty said finally. “And it gives Imelda some flying practice.”

“I’ll see if I can find any old maps that detail where they are,” Sebastian said, taking his now-marked essay back from Amit and glancing over the proposed changes. “I’m sure there’s something in one of the books I looked at last year.”

“I’m afraid I would be useless,” Ominis started, but Charlotte cut him off.

“Nonsense. We enjoy your company.” She touched his hand under the table gently, and he grabbed it and smiled, nodding silently.

“It’s settled, then,” Imelda said. “Shall we say Friday after classes? Then we have time to enjoy it before going about our plans this weekend.”

“I’ll tell Leander and Poppy,” Garreth volunteered, looking at the doors to make sure he didn’t miss them. Amit smiled and nodded his thanks, turning to his plate of food happily. Natty leaned over to Charlotte, who was fussing over Ominis’ lack of appetite in the mornings.

“Do you wish to have your hair done today?” the girl asked. “I know Imelda usually braids it, but I had an idea for you.” A few moments later, Charlotte’s hair was done up in a graceful bun covered in braids and bound with her blue ribbon. She felt the bundle of hair and smiled.

“I’ve never had my hair up before,” she admitted, which made Natty laugh.

“Let me guess: it’s a muggle thing?” she teased, and Charlotte nodded.

“You only wear your hair up when you’re of age,” she said. “Miss Winters never allowed me before. Only braids, if I was determined to keep my hair out of my face.”

Ominis leaned over and gently felt along the braids, enjoying the silky texture of her hair with the perfect bow beneath it. “It seems a very complicated hairstyle, Natty. Well done.”

“It’s different with Charlotte’s hair,” Natty shrugged. “But the idea came to me last night and I thought it would suit her. We’ll try it for more aggressive pursuits this weekend, but for now, you can get used to the feeling.” She pulled her own hair back, pulling it into the twisted bun she usually wore while talking, enjoying the feel of her curls after Charlotte’s silky smooth hair.

The bell rang to indicate classes were starting, and the group rose as one to head toward Herbology, laughing about Garreth’s plans for a new potion and Sebastian’s descriptions of the new book he was reading on defensive magic. Ominis pulled Charlotte’s hand closer to him and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“I assume you got my letter.”

“I did. It gave me very pleasant dreams, I’ll have you know.” Charlotte’s cheeks were flushed now, but she enjoyed the closeness of the moment. Ominis grinned.

“We should, at some point, discuss who I should write to,” he murmured, “but I am glad to know you return my affections.”

“Of course I do,” Charlotte said, stopping to face him. “I just want to do this correctly, so there are no honor duels or regrets either one of us has.” She gently squeezed his hand. “If we do this, we do it correctly. And this is as far as it goes for now.”

“Understood.” Ominis squeezed her hand back before turning to lead her into the greenhouses.

Later that afternoon, Ominis took a moment to sit in the music room. He hummed along with the music. It was one of his favorites, a piece by Vivaldi that always made him happy when he heard it. His family was fonder of Wagner, with his dramatic and powerful movements that played into their pureblood aesthetic, but Ominis had always been fonder of softer composers like Chopin and Camille Saint-Saëns and the intricate melodies of Mozart and Bach. He imagined what the music would smell like and ultimately decided it would be a complex garden of flowers and herbs, each one getting a chance to shine as he strolled past and kept this idea in his mind as he fumbled for his book. 

He had come up to the music room to study, to have a moment to himself without having to pretend he was ok with Sebastian. Charlotte had recovered and Sebastian understood the pain he had caused both of them, but Ominis could still hear the pain in her screams as she thrashed on the floor, only to then fall completely still and silent. It haunted his dreams, drawing him back to that moment and tormenting him with his memories of the curse, his thrashing and screaming, and his silence as he prayed he would never wake up. That Sebastian was getting help had been a relief, but still, the nightmares came.

“I do so enjoy this piece. I imagine you do as well.”

Ominis sighed as he turned toward the sound. “Yes, it is one of my favorites,” he said, trying to prevent his dark thoughts from permeating his voice. “And this particular version is wonderful to listen to.” He felt a weight on the bench next to him as Professor Hecat rested her weary body. 

“Indeed. Very few students come here anymore. I’m glad to see that you’re one of them, Mister Gaunt.”

“Please, Professor, just Ominis.”

“Of course. And what are you wearily debating today while Vivaldi’s Spring is playing so joyfully?”

“I’m sorry, I-”

Professor Hecat gently touched his arm. “Ominis, I’m old, but I can still tell when one of my students has the world on their shoulder.”

Ominis sighed. Hecat was entirely too perceptive for him to hide his emotions now. Dropping the carefully cultivated facade, he let his weariness show. 

“I am… That curse…My family used it on me. When I was younger.” He heard a sharp intake of air from the professor and sighed. “You know the kind of magic they use. You can’t be too surprised.”

“I’m not entirely surprised. And I’m not surprised you haven’t come to any of us professors to discuss this, especially in light of what Miss Underhill experienced. But I am horrified. Horrified they would do this and horrified you have been carrying it around.” She gripped his arm tighter, then relaxed and moved her hand away. Ominis let the conversation fall to silence, listening to the music as he tried to pretend they were simply there to enjoy the magical musical instruments. Finally, as Vivaldi fell away, Professor Hecat spoke again.

“I cannot tell you exactly what happened to me, Ominis, but know that I also have experience with magical trauma. I am, officially, 45 years old. Ancient to you but still very young and vibrant to most adults. My parents’ hair didn’t turn grey until they were over 50. Processing what happened to me, losing so much of my young and carefree years, losing my body most of all… it takes time. And conversations with those who understand.”

“I don’t want to… cause them to come after me,” Ominis said slowly and carefully. “I’m afraid if I talk, they will hurt me further. Or worse, hurt Charlotte. If I were the cause of her pain-”

“Let me stop you there,” Professor Hecat cut in. “You will not ever be the cause of your family hurting others. That is their choice. That is their crime. It is never yours. Further, you and I both know your family is horrible, to put it lightly. No one would blame you if you spoke out about it.” She paused and Ominis heard her shifting next to him. “If they, as I suspect, hurt you, and you are carrying fear and pain from it, that is on them. You could never earn abuse, you could never cause abuse, and you certainly aren’t to blame for Charlotte’s injury.”

Ominis took a deep breath, trying to believe the kind words Professor Hecat was pouring into him, but all he could hear was his father telling him what a worthless worm he was under the boot of the properly abled children that came before. He gripped his wand tighter, hoping it would root him into the current time and place.

“Name five things you can hear.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“Name five things you can hear.”

“Um…” Ominis was confused, but he tried to push through to complete the task given to him. “I can hear the flutes. They’re high and breathy. And I can hear the Floo Network woman talking to someone who got too close to her. I can hear footsteps up the stairs, probably Charlotte coming to look for me. I can hear the bells above us, now that Charlotte restored them to their rightful place. And… I can hear your hands cracking as you move them.”

Professor Hecat chuckled. “And now, four things you can smell.”

Ominis was quicker this time, his mind calmer. “Your perfume, it smells like lavender and lemons. The wood, it’s deeper and earthy. The wind through the window smells like pine trees and water, not salty but fresh and cool. And my scarf, smells like roast beef because I left it on the table while we were eating lunch.”

“Three things you can feel.”

Ominis was beginning to enjoy the game. He wiggled to feel his clothing. “My pants,” he finally decided. “They’re soft, but they have ridges in the fabric that feel nice to run my fingers along. The wood of my wand, warm now because I’ve been holding it all day. And the firmness of the bench, it’s smooth from so many people sitting here, but it has a small crack down the middle you can catch your fingers on if you don’t know it's there.”

“Wonderful. How do you feel?”

“Better. Much better. I can’t hear him anymore.” He didn’t specify that “him” was his father, but he didn’t seem to need to. Professor Hecat gently touched his arm before continuing.

“You are always welcome to come talk to us,” she said softly. “Professor Sharp is working with Sebastian and his issues, and Professor Fig has Charlotte, but both are completely open to discussing your family with you. As am I.” She stood, groaning as her knees popped, and let out an exasperated laugh. “Don’t get old, Ominis. It’s miserable.”

Charlotte popped through a door, her silvery blonde hair pulled back into a braid that Imelda had given her over breakfast. She stopped when she saw Professor Hecat next to Ominis, but Hecat waved her forward. 

“And here is Miss Underhill. Thank you, Ominis, for the delightful conversation. We must do this again, soon.” With that, he felt the shift of her weight as she left the bench and heard her knees creak as she stood. Her footsteps fell away while Charlotte came closer, her soft gait very different from Hecat’s heavy and uneven steps. He felt her sit beside him and took her hand, mostly out of habit, rubbing circles onto her palm. 

“Did I miss Vivaldi?” She sounded out of breath, almost like she had run to hear the concert. Ominis nodded sadly.

“Professor Hecat sat with me instead,” he reassured her, but Charlotte’s groan of disappointment made him smile. 

“I know, and I’m glad you weren’t alone, but I love that piece,” she complained, pulling her book out. “That’s what I get for needing to run to Divination to talk to Professor Onai.”

“And what did the universe tell you today?” he asked lightly. Unable to see tea leaves, crystal balls, or palms, it was one of the many classes he was excused from. Instead, Ominis focused on charms and transfiguration, both courses more difficult due to his lack of sight but not impossible with extra time and tutoring. 

“That’s the thing, I couldn’t figure out what my ball was saying other than ‘fog is coming’,” she whined. “Loads and loads of fog in our future. And she gave me extra homework to catch up, so I have to work on palmistry. I was hoping to ask you, but you can’t read mine in exchange, so that might not be fair.”

“You get to know all my secrets, but I don’t get to know yours? That doesn’t sound fair at all,” he joked, hoping to get a small chuckle out of her. “I guess you’ll have to read someone else’s and have them read yours while I listen, to even it out.”

“Wait, I didn’t say anything about another person knowing my secrets,” she laughed. “And who else would I dare ask? Who else could be trusted?”

“Charlotte, you have a large group of friends. I’m sure any one of them would be happy to delve into your deepest, darkest thoughts.”

“That’s it! Ominis, you’re a genius! We can all read palms over dinner together! Then no one’s left out.” The two fell into silence, listening to the complex melodies of Mozart as they both fell into their thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Charlotte finally murmured. “You look pale.”

“Darling, I practically live in a dungeon,” he said, trying to distract her, but she would not be dissuaded.

“Ominis,” she warned, and he sighed.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” He shifted, then turned toward her. “Professor Hecat knows about my family and what they did to me. As delightful as our friendship is, I am still haunted by that night in the scriptorium.”

Charlotte let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, taking a chance to wrap her arms around him. He leaned his head against hers and enjoyed the embrace, simply existing in the moment. Then, he pulled back.

“I had planned on doing some reading for transfiguration,” he said finally. “Would you join me?”

“Of course.”

Professor Hecat sat at the table in the lounge, tapping her chin as she listened to Professor Sharp. He had been ranting for a good hour now, spewing out all of the pain he had heard from Sebastian in their last detention. Sebastian had, finally, opened up, it seemed.

“So, we had two children arrive at our door, both missing their parents deeply, both being abused by their uncle who I really want to strangle, and both handling their trauma in different ways, and every single one of us missed it.” He slammed his hand on the table and cursed. “Damn it all to hell, how did we miss it?”

“They were adept at hiding their pain,” Hecat said softly. “And we are not mind readers. We can’t be.”

“We should be,” Sharp spat back, suddenly standing and pacing in front of the fire. “What is our purpose if not to teach and nurture the students? How did we miss this amount of pain?”

“Aesop, stop.” Hecat snapped. She stood up, holding the back of the chair for balance as she wobbled slightly. “You can’t blame yourself for this. We are responsible for lots of children at any given time, and that means we are constantly bombarded with students from all backgrounds. And our illustrious headmaster doesn’t help.” She placed a hand on Sharp’s arm, and to her surprise he didn’t pull away. “Allow yourself some grace. You’re doing your best.” Professor Sharp grunted but sat down. Hecat sighed before continuing.

“It appears Sebastian and Anne were not the only ones abused by their families,” she said softly. “Ominis was tortured by his parents and brother. He has a lot of fear about what they would do if he told anyone.”

Sharp nodded. “Sebastian said something about that. Apparently, Ominis has scars.”

Hecat saw red and fist closed tight on the table. Neither noticed when Professor Fig entered the room, his eyes lingering on the pair brooding.

“Just the two I wanted to see,” he said, trying to cut the tension. “Charlotte has been released from the hospital wing.” He busied himself making a pot of tea while Sharp and Hecat stared at him from across the room. When he looked up, he frowned.

“Why are we brooding this afternoon?” he said, trying to be cheery, but Sharp slammed the table with his palm.

“It turns out, Sebastian and Anne Sallow were both mistreated by their uncle,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And now, Ominis Gaunt has come forward.”

“Damn,” Fig murmured. “We all knew something was off. How were we all so blind?” They sat in silence before Professor Hecat gave herself a small shake and sighed.

“What was it you wanted to discuss, Eleazar?” she asked, trying to change the subject and forget the look on Ominis’ face as he told her his darkest memories.

 “As you two will be working with Misters Sallow and Gaunt, you should know some things about Miss Underhill. She has included them in her circle of friends, though it seems she may be starting something more intimate with Mister Gaunt.”

“Are we about to find out why exactly you were late to the start of term feast, Eleazar?” Hecat asked, eyes dancing merrily. Sharp let out a laugh which he tried to cover as a cough. It was a delight to watch Hecat tease his old professor instead of himself for once. Fig sighed and gave Hecat a look.

“I would have rather thought a dragon attack enough for that,” he said, and she smiled broadly. 

“You would have thought wrong,” she said. Sharp laughed at her smugness before they both settled into their chairs, cups of tea in their hands. 

When Fig was finished detailing Charlotte’s astonishing powers, Sharp was pacing again while Hecat leaned back into her seat, thinking hard.

“We’ll have to fully characterize her magic, to get a better idea of what we need to prepare them for,” she said slowly, “and any research into the subject would be helpful.”

“How do Sebastian and Ominis fall into this?” Sharp asked, and Fig laughed.

“They and Miss Onai have seen her magic firsthand, and knowing their devoted friendships, they will be working on the puzzle as well,” he said. “I had hoped to keep this a secret, but-”

“That would have been the worst thing you could possibly do,” Hecat snapped. “A brand new form of magic, and you’d let her figure it out on her own. Eleazar, she’s a Ravenclaw, but no one teenager is that good.”

“They have a large number of friends,” Sharp said. “How can we be sure they’re not involved as well?”

“We cannot,” Fig replied, leaning back in his chair. “Though I suspect this weekend will be illuminating if they are.”

“Then we wait,” Hecat said, glaring at Sharp as he opened his mouth to protest. “We can do nothing until we have information.” Fig nodded, then stood.

“I’m afraid I have a class to teach.” He stretched slightly and placed his cup on the sideboard. Sharp snorted.

“You’re never here long enough to teach anything,” he said. Fig laughed, waved goodbye to the two, and left the room. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Charlotte was exhausted. She woke up later than she intended, stretching as she blinked the sunlight out of her eyes. Her body ached from being on a broomstick all night. They had traveled between three different astronomy tables, taking copious notes and enjoying the freedom broom travel afforded them. At the last table, on a tall hill on the edge of the valley, Sebastian had made a fire. The group huddled around it, telling jokes and singing silly songs with relish before they had to return to the castle for curfew and sleep. Amit had been thrilled to have so many others enjoying his favorite subject and made them all promise to repeat the experience in a few weeks. 

Charlotte dressed quickly in a pair of trousers and Nathaniel’s sweater. She took a moment to breathe in his scent from the fabric; it was exactly like a hug, as Miss Winters described. She took a moment to imagine his comforting embrace before she left for the day, slipping down the stairs toward the Great Hall. She needed to move quickly if she planned on getting any further on her ancient magic today, but she was surprised to see most of her friends already seated at the Hufflepuff table, reviewing various spells and marking maps. She slipped into the seat beside Ominis and looked at the map Sebastian was showing Poppy.

“So, here’s the camps you scouted the other day,” he said, marking a few places in the forest. They were all on the outskirts near Hogsmeade. “From what you said about those, I suspect there will be more inside the forest.”

Poppy nodded, tracing a few of the paths. “I know they’ve been after the unicorns,” she said. “I overheard someone in Hogsmeade talking about her unicorn friend Hazel being attacked. They’re somewhere over here-” she pointed toward the center of the forest “-and I promised her I’d take Hazel to a safer place. So, I think we’ll start there.”

Imelda grinned. “I’ve never seen a unicorn in person. I can’t wait to.” 

Poppy reached under the table and pulled out a worn leather bag. “I found this nab-sack in the forest the last time I went in,” she said to Imelda and Garreth, both of whom had their eyebrows furrowed. “It captures animals and keeps them safe until you bring them wherever you want to leave them. It’s completely harmless. I wonder if we could somehow keep them in the Room, to keep them safe until the poachers are gone.”

Garreth shrugged. “It’s worth a try. Worst case, we have to let them go back into the forest.” Imelda nodded, grabbing another bun and biting into it.

On the other side of her, Leander and Natty were discussing wizarding law enforcement. 

“Imagine only having one officer for the entirety of the Hogwarts Valley,” Leander said angrily. “It’s a huge area. We should have a squad at least.”

“Until recently the crime has been contained,” Natty said, trying and failing to defend the officers. “Though, to be fair, we don’t know if that’s because crime was at a low or because crime was just ignored.”

“Exactly,” Leander returned, taking a sip of his juice. “Clearly they need more manpower if students are having to do their jobs for them.”

“Don’t say that to Officer Singer,” Natty warned. “We need her goodwill to get the tips we need to take down Rookwood.”

Ominis leaned into Charlotte, his wand waving over her. “And trousers again today!” he said, pretending to be scandalized. “And what would Miss Winters say?”

“I think she would accept ancient magic as a good enough reason to dress as a boy,” Charlotte replied, smiling. She touched Ominis’ hand as he handed her a cup of tea, and she gently shook the cup to show him she had it in hand. He smiled wider.

“I love that you do that,” he said softly in her ear. “It’s such a small thing, but it means so much to me.” Charlotte flushed and suddenly found her breakfast extremely interesting. Ominis returned to his cup of tea, sipping quietly as he listened to the others’ plans. Finally, having recovered, Charlotte turned back to him.

“And what are your plans?” she asked. He smiled and gestured to Sebastian. 

“We will be in the library,” Sebastian said. “We’re going to see if we can track down the people from the memories.”

“And probably work on some homework,” Ominis added. “Someone has to since the rest of us are going to be busy with other things.” 

Imelda grinned from across the table. “Just don’t do potions yet,” she advised. “Garreth was excited about it.”

“We’ll probably work on things together in the Room,” Charlotte said. “Then we all have our homework done and we can discuss our progress.” The others nodded before Poppy stood. 

“We should get going,” she said softly, and Garreth and Imelda nodded and stood to follow, giving their waves as they walked away. Leander and Natty left soon after, leaving Sebastian, Ominis, and Charlotte alone at the table.

“Shall we?” Ominis said, rising from his seat and offering his arm to Charlotte. She took it gratefully and the three made their way toward Professor Fig’s office.

“What exactly are you doing?” Sebastian asked. “We never really specified what your quest was.”

“Quest?” Charlotte asked, laughing. Sebastian laughed with her.

“I don’t know, it seems like more than a task,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “But assignment didn’t seem to fit.”

“I like quest,” Ominis said. “Makes it sound much more glamorous than it probably will be.”

“Whatever we call it,” Charlotte chuckled, “it’s probably going to require me talking a lot to the portraits. And putting the book in the chamber.”

They stopped in front of Professor Fig’s office, and Ominis quietly squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “Be safe, please,” he pleaded, and she squeezed his hand back in reply. Then, steeling herself, she went in to continue her path.

Charlotte gripped the book tightly in her hands as she climbed down the curved stairs to the floor of the mysterious chamber. Professor Fig followed her, eyes wide with wonder as he looked around the blue marble and silver room. 

“Amazing. And this was below us the whole time?” he breathed. Charlotte nodded, feeling too nervous to speak. She placed the book on the pedestal and took a step back. A bright light in the floor seemed to break into a million pieces, disbursing itself out into shapes. Professor Fig gasped as a familiar tower formed under his feet.

“This is-” he started, but the large portrait on the wall cut him off.

“Well done!” the portrait cried, looking down at Charlotte with pride in his eyes. “You have activated the map room. Now, we can speak.” He noticed Professor Fig, still staring at the floor, and nudged his head in that direction. “I take it this is your professor,” he asked, and Professor Fig started.

“Yes, my apologies, I am Eleazar Fig.”

“And do you teach here at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, of course. Magical Theory, though my class is small enough that I end up doing just about everything but teach most days.” Professor Fig let out an annoyed sigh that made Charlotte giggle quietly. “And you are…?”

“Professor Percival Rackham, Divination.” He bowed slightly, and Charlotte dipped into a curtsy in reply. “Is your friend otherwise busy today?”

“Oh, Ominis?” Charlotte looked up at the man, who seemed impossibly large. “He is working on homework with another friend of mine today. We thought it best that I continue alone as much as possible, while they work on other things.”

“Excellent,” Rackham said. “Now, there are trials that you will complete over the next few years as we-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor,” Fig cut in, “but I’m afraid we do not have that kind of time. The portrait’s eyebrows furrowed as Charlotte tried to find the words. Fortunately, Professor Fig seemed prepared. “My student here, Charlotte, has been attacked several times by a goblin wielding ancient magic.” 

Professor Rackham let out a curse and put his hands on his hips in frustration. Charlotte felt Professor Fig gently push her forward, urging her to tell the portrait everything she had seen. “Yes,” she said softly, before clearing her throat. “But his magic is different. It’s darker and glows red. He’s used it to control beasts, including a dragon that attacked my carriage and trolls that attacked Hogsmeade.”

“Then we must hurry. Can you complete a trial now? We must prepare you quickly to fend off this attack.” With a wave of his hand, he illuminated a tower on a hill on the map, through the Forbidden Forest. Charlotte cocked her head at it; she felt like she had seen that tower before, somewhere…

“I know the place,” Professor Fig said, nodding. “I assume further direction will be given once we’re there?”

“Charlotte will have to complete the trial alone,” Professor Rackham warned. “I have a portrait there. Find it and I will give you directions.” 

Professor Fig turned to Charlotte, looking into her eyes. She was scared and she was sure her eyes showed it. “I’ll go ahead to make sure the path is clear,” he said. “You grab Misters Sallow And Gaunt and meet me there. They can help keep things clear while you perform the trial.”

“The trial will end with her here,” Professor Rackham added. “It may be prudent to keep one person nearby in case she needs help. Once she’s finished, of course.” Professor Fig nodded, squeezed her shoulders, and rushed out the door. 

Charlotte found Ominis and Sebastian in the library with several books surrounding them. They seemed deep in their research, but Ominis looked up when she approached.

“That was fast,” he said, pushing a book away to make room for her. She sighed. 

“It was only fast because we have to go to a different location. There are trials for me to complete, and because of Ranrok, I have to hurry.” 

Sebastian stood, closing his books and waving his wand to return them to the shelves. “Where?” he asked, trying to make sure all of the books were returned before he asked too much. Charlotte sighed.

“It’s a tower, north of the Forbidden Forest.”

“You’ll have to take a broom then,” Ominis said, closing his own books. “I assume the trial has to be alone?”

“Yes, but Professor Fig wants one of you with him to make sure the area is clear while I’m doing the trial and one of you to wait in the map chamber since that’s where I’ll come out apparently.” Ominis nodded, picking up his bag.

“You take chamber, I’ll take tower?” Sebastian asked, stuffing his notes in his bag. “I can give you what we found on the way over, then, and Ominis can get more work done.” 

Charlotte nodded and turned to leave with Sebastian, but Ominis grabbed her arm. “Please, be careful,” he said quietly. “I’ll have some potions with me, but I’d rather not use them.”

“I will be,” she promised. With that, she and Sebastian breezed out of the library and toward the broom shed.

Professor Fig had only been at the tower a short time when Charlotte and Sebastian landed. He gestured to the tower, now filled with goblins, and sighed. 

“I’m afraid we aren’t the first ones here,” he said sadly. “Is Ominis waiting in the map chamber?”

“Good thing he is, too,” Sebastian said, pulling out his wand. “I am the reigning dueling champion, after all.” Charlotte snorted but decided to change the subject.

“Tell Professor Fig what you found in the library,” she prompted, and Sebastian fumbled in his pockets for his notes.

“Right. Well, we looked up Rookwood and Isadora, the names that Charlotte remembered from the memories she saw. We know they were active in the mid to late 1300s from a letter we found from Isadora at her house-”

“When did you have time for that?” asked Professor Fig, but Sebastian waved his hand.

“Never mind that, we’ll show you later. I think Ominis has it with his things. So, we looked into the school records for professors and students around then and found loads on Rookwood. He was the transfiguration professor, head of Slytherin house, and close friends with a Percival Rackham.”

“The portrait,” breathed Professor Fig, and Sebastian nodded.

“Rackham was the Divination professor. There were two others lumped in together with them, but Rookwood went on to father a prominent family. The castle he built outside Feldcroft is still there. He definitely is the ancestor of our dear Victor Rookwood.”

“Perhaps why Ranrok began to work with Rookwood in the first place,” Charlotte added, and Professor Fig nodded.

“And Isadora?” he asked, and Sebastian shook his head. 

“Absolutely nothing,” he said. “We’re still looking, and I have a few sources I haven’t checked yet, but so far, nothing at all. It’s like she never existed.”

“Surely she’d be in the student records,” Charlotte protested, but Sebastian shook his head again. 

“What I have access to, she’s not in,” he said. “Perhaps Professor Fig can find her, but I think she’s probably a dead end.”

They fell into silence, thinking. Professor Fig seemed to be a million miles away, his finger tracing words the other two couldn’t see before shaking his head and sighing. “At any rate,” he said sadly, “we will have to complete the trial to know more.” Turning to the students, he smiled. “Let’s practice some defensive wand work, shall we?”

Ominis sat on the floor of the map chamber with his books and notes surrounding him. Professor Rackham, the large man in the portrait, occasionally coughed and muttered, breaking his concentration, but he had managed nearly his entire transfiguration essay and most of his arithmancy problems. He was looking up a finer point in turning a rabbit into a silk purse when he heard Charlotte stumble into the room and fall on the floor.

“Charlotte!” he cried, scrambling up from his spot on the floor and running toward her. He couldn’t smell any blood, but he pulled her up to check regardless. Her hands and arms seemed intact, her cousin’s sweater not showing any gashes, and her breathing was normal. She pulled away weakly and he pulled her closer.

“I’m fine,” she protested softly, but he pulled her into his arms anyway. “I’m just very, very tired.”

“What do you need,” he asked, thinking of his bag on the floor several meters away. “I have as much wiggenweld as I could carry, but I can probably find more if you need it.”

“I’m not injured,” she giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m just tired. Using the ancient magic is tiring. I’ll need a nice long nap after this.”

“It can be very exhausting,” the portrait agreed. “We can wait a moment while you recover your strength. Professor Fig isn’t here yet, and it may be prudent to wait for him.”

Ominis pulled her a bit closer and gently rubbed her back. Her breathing slowed slightly, showing how comfortable and relaxed she was becoming, and he felt a little glow of pride that he could create that for her. They sat in silence, listening to Rackham turn a few pages in a book he had conjured and resting.

The doors to the school opened and Professor Fig’s quick steps came down the stairs. Charlotte sighed and began to pull back.

“Charlotte, are you hurt?” he called, and Ominis shook his head.

“She’s just tired,” he explained, helping Charlotte to her feet. “It’s quite draining, apparently.”

“This is perfectly normal,” Professor Rackham assured him. “I went through the same thing when I began honing my ancient magic.” Charlotte and Professor Fig stepped closer to the portrait and Ominis was left gathering his things together and replacing them in his bag. 

“You have seen the memory, then,” Professor Rackham continued. “Do you have questions?”

“Isadora was carrying a lot of pain,” Charlotte said softly. “I know people like her now, among my friends.”

“Pain is always with us,” Rackham agreed. “It is noble to want to help those around you, but it must be done carefully, and without manipulation.” He sighed, then straightened. “More of her story will be revealed, along with other information, as you’re ready for it. For now, let me introduce my good friend.” 

A man in the adjoining portrait slid into the frame. He had a stern face and a portly stature, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He gave a bow with a small hand flourish that made Charlotte smile.

“Charles Rookwood,” he said politely. Charlotte dipped into her customary curtsey while Fig and Ominis gave short bows in reply. “I see someone is walking our path.”

“This is Charlotte Underhill,” Professor Fig said. “And this is her friend, Mister Ominis Gaunt. I am Professor Eleazar Fig, Magical Theory professor here at Hogwarts.”

Rookwood nodded pleasantly at the introductions, though his eyes widened slightly at Ominis’ name. “Gaunt,” he said, thinking. “I believe I knew a few of your ancestors.”

“I’m sure you did, sir,” Ominis said politely. “I’m afraid I’m estranged from my family currently.”

“Probably for the best,” Rookwood agreed. “Now, I will have some assignments for you before we can continue with my trial-”
            “Charles,” Professor Rackham interrupted, “I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of time. I’m afraid the repositories are compromised.”

“Then we have little time,” Rookwood said sadly. “Do we know who is after you?”

“I’m afraid it’s a goblin,” Charlotte said quietly. “Ranrok. And he has assistance from a man named Victor Rookwood.”

Professor Rookwood cursed. “That would explain all of the noise at my home,” he said. “Let me make sure the way is clear. Give me a few weeks, and then we can continue your trials.” He disappeared from the frame, his face reddening with anger. Rackham sighed.

“It’s always difficult to know your descendants, however far removed from you, are now your foe,” he said sadly. “We will continue this when we have more information. Until then-”

“-work on my magic,” Charlotte said, smiling. Professor Rackham nodded, then slid into the frame and disappeared. 

Three hours later, Charlotte sat in her Room, playing with the ribbon that had previously been around her bun. She had taken down her hair, carefully pinned up by Samantha for a day of vigorous activity, but the headache she was starting to get required as little weight on her neck as possible. Ominis poured her another cup of tea and placed a freshly made biscuit on the saucer. 

“Charlotte, you need to drink something,” he said quietly, and she took the cup and sighed.

“Will things in the wizarding world ever stop trying to kill me?” she asked. Imelda laughed.

“Not if the Forbidden Forest is still around,” she proclaimed, gently wrapping a bandage around Garreth’s arm. “Stupid dugbog charged us.” Garreth winced but allowed her to fuss over him in her gruff way. Poppy, who was suspiciously injury-free, tutted. 

“You needed to dodge, Garreth,” she said, handing him another wiggenweld. “I told you to dodge.”

“I did,” he grumbled, but he took the potion and drank it. Leander leaned back against the couch and chuckled.

“Too bulky for dodging, Weasley?” he teased and got a wad of bandages thrown at his face for the effort. 

“What did you find?” Charlotte asked Poppy. Poppy’s eyes narrowed. 

“We found the poachers, but they have something bigger happening,” she said. “Imelda found some goblin silver collars and Garreth found a number of creatures in cages that we freed. I’m going to do more poking around, see what I can find, but this isn’t usual behavior for poachers. Not with goblin silver collars and not in the amounts of cages I found.”

Charlotte nodded. Sebastian leaned back against the chair Poppy was sitting him, letting her legs hit his back as he thought. He finally shook his head.

“Got nothing,” he said sadly. “Need to know first.”

“What about you, Natty?” Ominis asked, and Natty frowned.

“Harlow had gotten to Officer Singer’s source before we could talk to him. They kidnapped his son, too. We managed to rescue him, but I don’t think we made much headway into the actual ring.”

“We had to fight a number of his subordinates,” Leander added. “I wish I could say we did something impactful, but-”

“You brought the boy home,” said Sebastian. “That’s a huge impact.”

“And Leander is a good duelist, it turns out, once he’s out of a school environment,” Natty said, leaning over to ruffle his hair. Leander squawked and tried to smooth it down.

“Would have been better if I hadn’t missed that expelliarmus,” he grumbled. Natty smiled at him encouragingly. 

“Then we’ll practice,” she said simply. “The only way to be better is to put in the work.”

“So, what do we have?” Charlotte asked, bringing them all back to the task at hand. Sebastian put his finger to his chin.

“We know that both the poachers and the extortion ring are bigger operations than we anticipated,” he said slowly, “and we found some information on the portraits, but not enough to really make any headway. We’ll have to keep at it, gathering information about all of it for now until we know more.”

The group nodded their agreement. They could hear the bells indicating the beginning of curfew and started packing their things to leave. Leander caught Charlotte on his way back to his dorm.

“We forgot to tell you, we did get some names of others that have been extorted,” he said quietly. “We won’t get around to talking to them for a few weeks, with everything happening, but Natty and I are hoping to get to it soon. Maybe then we’ll know more.”

Charlotte smiled. “That sounds perfect, Leander. Thank you.” He nodded and slipped out the door, falling into step next to Garreth and teasing him about something. Ominis quietly appeared at her elbow and rested a hand on her arm.

“You need to rest,” he said quietly. He and Sebastian had gathered her books for her, Sebastian carrying the bags while Ominis took Charlotte’s arm. They called goodnight to Deek, who happily waved as they left to go back to their common rooms. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

            It took Charlotte several days before she was fully recovered. Samantha, not part of the various campaigns against Ranrok and Rookwood and thinking Charlotte had simply gotten a cold, fussed over her. Garreth had a good supply of various potions and Samantha dipped into them, bringing Charlotte everything from Pepper-ups to blood-replenishing potions, all of which Charlotte declined in favor of a long, hot bath and a good night’s rest. By Wednesday, she was starting to be able to stay up later and sleep less deeply, and by Thursday, she felt back to her usual 100%.

            She had forgotten, of course, about her extra assignments in Divination until Professor Onai kindly reminded her during class on Friday. She made her way to lunch feeling properly chastised and slumped into her seat with a rare pout on her face.

            “What’s up with you?” Leander asked, looking up from his book. He, Garreth, and Sebastian had been passing around the books Sebastian was assigned during detention. This week, it was Grandma Fern’s Field Guide to Fending Off Fiends, a book Sebastian swore had changed his dueling style. The worn cover was propped against Leander’s glass of water as he ate, occasionally turning pages. Charlotte sighed.

            “I forgot one of my assignments,” she said. Garreth and Leander stared at her.

            “I do that all the time,” Garreth admitted. “Is that all?”

            “Isn’t that enough?” Charlotte returned. “I’m supposed to be learning magic. Instead, I’ve been off on side quests.”

            “Or, maybe,” Garreth said bracingly, “your studies are the side quest, and saving the entirety of the wizarding world is the main quest you should be focused on?”

            “Then why am I at a school?” Charlotte countered. She reached across Sebastian to grab a sandwich and settled back into her seat, glaring at Garreth. “When I save the wizarding world, I still need to be able to survive. And, I need to better understand and grow my power to save the world, which means paying attention in class. Ergo, my classes are the main quest and I’m falling behind.” She took the glass of water Ominis handed her and drank deeply before returning to scowl at the two gingers, who had enough sense to concede the point.

            “What assignment did you forget?” Ominis asked. Charlotte sighed.

            “Palm reading. And Divination is one of my worst subjects.”

            “That’s easily solved,” Garreth said happily. “You can practice on us. Here, take a hand and we’ll get started.”

            Charlotte pulled her textbook from her bag and took Leander’s hand, squinting at the lines crossing his palms. “Your hand is a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” she laughed, turning to try to find her page in her textbook. “This is your left hand, so this is what you accumulate?”

“Other way around,” Sebastian corrected gently. “Right and left switch for men.”

“So, these are things you’re born with,” Charlotte said uncertainly. “And this is your love line?”

“Yeah.” Leander nodded encouragingly. “So, what do you see, oh wise seer?”

Charlotte laughed. “It’s short and straight, so that means you have less of an interest in romance. It’s also parallel to your head line, so you have a good handle on your emotions, rarely becoming emotional.”

“Are we sure that’s right?” Garreth cut in, leaning over to look at Leander’s hand. “Lee is always down to start a fight.”

“Or finish one,” Sebastian agreed. 

“That’s what the palm says,” Charlotte said defensively. “Leander is clearly the most level-headed of all of us.” The table laughed. Even Leander chuckled, remembering accosting Sebastian in the hallway mere moments before. As he retracted his hand, he turned to Charlotte.

“We may need your inner eye checked,” he teased. Charlotte pouted but was quickly mollified by Garreth presenting his hand for reading.

“Don’t tell me, my hand says I’m brilliant and handsome,” he joked as Charlotte checked her textbook once more.

“ Well, your head line is sloping and curved, which means you’re very creative,” she said happily. “But it’s also separated from the life line which means you like adventure.”

“Are you sure?” Natty asked, slipping into a seat and looking over at Garreth. “It looks more wavy to me. That’s more indicative of a short attention span.”

“Hey, don’t interrupt Charlotte when she’s telling me how brilliant I am,” Garreth replied, sticking his tongue out at Natty. Then, to Charlotte, he added, “What about romance? Am I going to get a girlfriend anytime soon?”

“I don’t need your palm to tell you, Garreth, you’ve been attached to Imelda every waking moment.”

“Fair enough,” Garreth laughed, pulling his hand away. “Who’s next?”

“Oh, Ominis, we didn’t read yours in third year,” Poppy volunteered, putting away her beasts text and leaning in. “Why don’t you try?”

“Perhaps I don’t want you to know all my secrets,” he said coolly, but he extended his hand all the same. Charlotte's fingers felt warm on his palm, tickling him as they traced various lines. 

“Well, I can tell your lines are all deep. Your heart line is broken, though.” Charlotte looked up at Natty. “What does that mean?”

“Heart troubles,” Natty said quietly. “It means he’s had problems with relationships before.”

“Not surprising, considering my family,” Ominis said, trying to lift the mood. “But what does a deep line mean?”

“According to this…” Charlotte turned a few pages, rustling the paper as she searched for the page. “Ah ha! It means you have a strong heart.”

“What does that mean?” Garreth said. “Like, it won’t give out, or he has a lot of love to give?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Natty, any ideas?”

“Don’t look at me, I hate palm reading.”

“Your mom is the Divination professor, what do you mean you hate reading palms?” Leander leaned over the table to look at Natty’s face. She laughed.

“Just because my mother has the Sight doesn’t mean I enjoy touching you, Leander,” she spat back, making them all laugh again. 

“Ok, so, strong heart, whatever that means. Your life line is long and deep, which shows vitality, but it’s also close to the edge of the palm so you’re cautious when it comes to other people. And your fate line…” Charlotte trailed off, her fingers gently tracing the line down Ominis’ palm. “Your fate line crosses your lifeline, which means you’ll have the support of lots of friends and family.”

“Have you met my family?” Ominis deadpanned, causing the others to laugh nervously. Charlotte blushed and tried to drop Ominis’ hand, but Natty caught her wrist before she could.

“Type of hand,” Natty said quietly. 

“Right, type of hand. Ok, you have long fingers roughly equal to your long palm, so you have water hands. That means you’re creative and sympathetic to others, but you’re also moody and emotional. And a raging introvert.” Charlotte finished with a note of pride in her voice for having read her friend so well. Ominis smiled.

“At least that last part is correct,” he teased, enjoying her laughter in response. “Now, someone has to read yours to make it fair.”

“Natty, you’ll be the best at this,” Poppy said. “You read and we’ll critique.”

“At least it’s not Leander,” Natty mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him as she took Charlotte’s hand. “Oh, wow, your hand is so small and delicate!”

“Is that bad?” Charlotte sounded nervous, but Natty smiled warmly.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting you to have such delicate fingers with the magic you wield being so aggressive and big. Ok, your head line is curved and sloping, so you’re creative-”

“-at finding trouble,” Garreth interrupted, earning a smack from Leander.

“-but it’s also deep and long, showing clear thinking and good logic. Your life line is broken, showing a sudden lifestyle change-”

“Coming to Hogwarts counts!” Poppy interrupted.

“-Which finding out you’re a witch and coming to Hogwarts counts as, yes. It’s joined to your fate line, showing that you’ll be a self-made witch. Now, you have small hands, so I’m going to say you have air hands, which means you’re social, witty, and comfortable with intangible things. You also do things your way.”

Charlotte gently retracted her hand, gazing at her palm. “Amazing that you can get all of that from a hand,” she said quietly. “Still not my favorite way of seeing the future. I liked the cards better.”

Natty stared at Ominis. “Satisfied?” she asked, and Ominis smiled. 

“If I don’t get to keep my secrets, no one does,” he said happily, gently touching Charlotte’s arm. She flushed but nodded. 

“It’s only fair,” she said softly. 

The bell rang for class, and everyone began to stand. Charlotte packed her book away.

“What do you have next?” Natty asked Charlotte, and Charlotte sighed.

“Flying. And I don’t have my trousers with me, so I’ll have to deal with the indignity of a skirt on a broom.”

“You just need to switch to trousers all the time,” Sebastian teased, making Charlotte flush.

“They have their uses,” she returned, “but even the open-minded will agree, ladies wearing trousers all the time will simply never happen.”

“It will for me once I’m no longer in the same building as my mother,” Natty murmured, making them all laugh. Charlotte squeezed Ominis’ shoulder before turning and leaving the castle.

That weekend, Charlotte worked diligently on her homework, desperately trying to catch up to where she thought she should be. Ominis sat with her, helping her as needed and enjoying her company, even if she was nearly frantic over her assignments. Poppy and Natty came to join them for Saturday afternoon, adding beasts homework to the pile and laughing as Charlotte scowled at her essay on puffskeins (“Why do they eat bogies? That’s disgusting and can’t have much nutritional value.”). Sunday morning Garreth joined with a pile of potions books, working through their homework on healing potions, though Garreth mostly spent his time looking out the window at the green blur flying around the castle while Charlotte and Ominis debated the merits of healing spells versus potions. 

Sebastian had been entirely absent. Ominis hadn’t even seen him until Monday morning when he appeared at the breakfast table looking drawn and wincing slightly at any movement. He waved off the offered wiggenweld from Garreth, however, insisting he was perfectly fine and just slept wrong. Leander’s eyes narrowed.

“Sleeping wrong doesn’t cause that kind of pain,” he pointed out, but Sebastian waved him off and wandered to his first class of the day. He pointedly ignored his friends, including Charlotte, whenever they offered help or asked if he needed to see the nurse. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” he would return, coolly turning the pages in his textbook. “I just-”

“Slept wrong,” Charlotte finished, eyes never leaving Sebastian’s slightly pained face. “That’s not what I’m seeing, and it’s not what anyone else is seeing either.”

Sebastian sighed but turned back to his assignments.

That afternoon, Sebastian made his way down to the dungeons for his detention with Sharp. He was, in fact, not at all fine; in fact, he had been seriously injured over the weekend and the few wiggenwelds he had on hand did nothing for the pain. Faking health had drained him of what little energy he had, and he openly winced and let out a hiss as he tried and failed to climb onto a stool. Professor Sharp’s head shot up and his eyes narrowed as he took in Sebastian’s form.

“Mister Sallow, you appear to be injured,” the professor said, standing and walking over to him. He reached out to support Sebastian’s torso. Sebastian let out a cry of pain and pulled away, clutching at his side. Professor Sharp took a short breath and pulled Sebastian’s shirt up despite the boy’s protests. His side was mottled with black and blue bruises, dark with pain. Sebastian tried to pull away, but Professor Sharp grabbed his wrist and forced him to stay still during the examination. His eyes racked over the mottled skin.

“What happened?” he said quietly, and Sebastian let out a breath.

“What do you think happened?”

Professor Sharp dropped Sebatian’s hand and began probing the skin. Sebastian howled in pain. A rib appeared to be broken, though it could be merely cracked, and the bruising almost appeared to be growing before his eyes. 

“Did Solomon do this?”

Sebastian pulled back, twisting away as he struggled to pull his shirt down. “What do you think?” he spat at the professor. 

“I think,” Professor Sharp said quietly, “that you went home this weekend to check on your sister.” He gestured to his chair and Sebastian obediently followed, sinking into the chair and sighing in relief as he was able to pull his weight away from his side. “What happened, Sebastian? You’re not in trouble, but I need to know.”

The boy fell into silence, eyes unfocused as he seemed to relive whatever horrors happened that weekend. Professor Sharp leaned against the table and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, Sebastian finally started to speak.

“Anne sent me a letter,” he said softly. He seemed afraid of what he was about to say. “She said she needed my help. Solomon had been refusing her any pain potions, insisting that she could handle it. It was excruciating for her, and she needed help.”

“So, you went home.”

“Yes. Solomon was out of the house all Saturday, so I found the potions and Anne slept. She was so frail, so, so thin…” Sebastian let out a cry of pain as tears began to flow down his cheeks. “Solomon came back yesterday and found her resting with me beside her. He saw the potion bottles. He was angry.”

Professor Sharp took a slow, deep breath, trying his best to hide the anger growing inside of him. How dare Solomon lay his hands on these children for any reason other than to love them? How dare he hurt them, his own blood? He looked down at Sebastian, trying to hold it together and failing miserably, clutching at his side while he cried.

“He attacked you,” Sharp said finally, and Sebastian nodded. 

“He’s very careful, usually,” he said quietly. “He never leaves marks, and certainly not where people could see. But he was drinking, and he was angry.” They fell into silence, the sounds of the school above them helping to mask Sebastian’s pained sobs. Finally, Sharp could bear it no longer.

“We need to take you to Nurse Blainey,” he said, holding out a hand for Sebastian. Sebastian shook his head.

“No, I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” he said, louder. “He’ll hurt Anne.”

“He won’t do a damn thing,” Sharp growled, and Sebastian looked up for the first time to see his professor angrily grinding his teeth. “You need medical care. I will deal with your uncle.”

It took Sebastian a long time to finally agree. Sharp was furious, but he tried to hide it as he helped Sebastian to the hospital wing. Once he was safely being treated, he stormed down the stairs to the Defense classroom, slamming doors and stomping as he went. Professor Hecat was in her office studying the book Charlotte had recovered from the Restricted Section and didn’t look up when he stormed into the office.

“Aesop,” she said, holding out a hand to stop him from speaking, “aren’t you supposed to be in detention with Mister Sallow?”

“He hurt Sebastian.” Sharp was seething with fury, the words oozing out of his clenched teeth. Hecat’s head shot up.

“How bad?”

“He’s in the hospital wing. Looks like a few broken ribs and bruises covering his entire torso.”

“And you want to discuss this with Solomon, of course.” Hecat closed the book and stood, coming around the desk to stand beside Sharp. “First, we need to get Anne away. If he’s losing control like that-”

“I will kill him,” Sharp growled, and Hecat smiled.

“And I will help you,” she promised, “but first, we need to ensure Anne’s safety.” She thought for a moment, looking around her office before nodding. “Perhaps it would be best for everyone if Anne was here for more direct care.”

“What are you thinking?” Sharp’s anger was a tidal wave, but even he couldn’t wash away the intelligent and mischievous look on Hecat’s face. She smiled broadly.

“Anne is very ill,” she said, “much more ill than we were led to believe. Sebastian has reported her condition to Nurse Blainey, who is terribly worried. While there is no cure, her recommendation is to remove Anne to Hogwarts, where she can be cared for around the clock as we await that unhappy end.”

“Will he go for it?”

Hecat smiled again with an almost sinister look in her eyes. “It all depends on how we present it,” she promised, “and I look forward to backing him into a corner, so to speak. He will have no choice unless he wants to reveal his abuse.”

Sharp let out a breath. “Make the arrangements. I’ll inform Sebastian.”

Sebastian had more color when Sharp entered the hospital wing that evening after dinner. Sharp had wanted to rush to the boy’s side, but Hecat insisted he calm down first. Dinner had been a simple affair with Fig sitting beside him happily recalling the more interesting answers on his last exam. Sharp had muttered the situation to him, trying to hide his emotions, but Fig had surprised him. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he had said sadly, taking a sip of his wine. “Charlotte mentioned to me about her meeting with Solomon when she went to see Anne. Solomon had been furious at her and Ominis for helping Anne after one of her attacks.”

“She wasn’t hurt, was she?” Sharp asked, looking over at Charlotte. She was now smiling at Ominis, the blind boy saying something the others at the table found sweet.

“No,” Fig replied, “but she was scared. She’s never seen that kind of ugliness before.”

Sharp had excused himself from the table and made his way to the hospital wing. Sebastian was sitting in his bed with a tray filled with bland foods for his supper, and the boy made a face when Sharp entered despite clearly feeling better.

“Come to bully me again?” the boy said, frowning. “I was fine, I didn’t need to be dragged up here.”

“Sebastian, you had two broken ribs, and another cracked one and your bruising covered your side from your armpit to your waist,” he sighed, taking a seat beside the boy’s bed. “That’s not the kind of injury you can just sleep off.”

“I’ve done it before,” Sebastian muttered, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes and grimacing. “Could I at least have some salt?” he complained. Sharp laughed softly.

“She is, perhaps, a bit overzealous, but you’ll be free soon enough.” Then, shifting in his seat, he came to his main point. “We need to speak about your uncle.”

Sebastian scowled further. “We don’t, actually,” he said defiantly. “I’m handling it.”

“You’re not,” Sharp argued. “You were beaten for giving your sister the care she needed. And from what you’ve said before, this isn’t the first time.” Sebastian’s eyes glittered with stubborn pride and Sharp sighed. “We are taking steps to ensure your and Anne’s safety,” he said softly, “but before we can act, we need to know how deep this goes. We need to know exactly what happened, when it happened, how many times…”

Sebastian remained stubbornly silent, finding his flavorless mashed potatoes by far the most interesting thing in the room. Sharp sighed. He hated working these kinds of cases as an Auror. The abused party rarely wanted to talk, and certainly not a man who seemed far more dangerous than who they left behind. Perhaps it would be better if Professor Hecat talked to him, or Professor Weasley perhaps. Both were women, which generally got better results, and Weasley was a very kindly auntie type. He still had one last card to play, however. Sharp cleared his throat.

“I understand you wanting to protect your sister,” he said softly. “She is an amazing young woman. We are getting her out, with or without your help.”
            “How?” Sebastian was studying his face closely.

“Professor Hecat had an idea. Anne is frail, you said, and appears to be failing, though that’s probably because she’s in immense pain. We will suggest in the firmest of terms that she is moved here, where Nurse Blainey can watch her more closely in anticipation of her death.” He shifted uncomfortably, his leg aching. “Once she’s here, of course, we will work to restore her to health, or at least something close to it. And since you both will be safe, we can work on bringing your uncle to justice.”

“That might work,” Sebastian agreed. “You’d need someone higher up that he can’t argue with, though. He has to feel forced from the start.”

Sharp grinned. “Never fear,” he said darkly, “we’ll take care of it.” Then, softening his look, he gently patted the boy’s hand. “You rest. You were walking around with broken ribs for a few days.”

“I’ve had worse,” Sebastian said, though he seemed to deflate when he said it. “Once he broke my wrist. He told everyone I was playing where I shouldn’t be and fell. He wouldn’t have it fixed, he said it was my fault, so I had to suffer through it. Still hurts sometimes, but it’s not terrible anymore.”

“Any other prior injuries I should be aware of?” Sharp asked. His eyebrow arched and Sebastian laughed. 

“None that he caused. Like I said, he’s usually very careful. No marks and nowhere people can see.” Sebastian pushed his tray to the side. “I appreciate you trying to get Anne out,” he said seriously, not meeting Sharp’s eyes. “If you manage that then… then we can talk.”

Sharp nodded, taking Sebastian’s tray. “I will check on you tomorrow,” he said, standing from his chair. His leg throbbed and he desperately wanted to take his own potions and go to bed. Being so angry had drained him of his usual sarcasm; instead, he simply returned the tray to Nurse Blainey and left the hospital wing. He had a lot to think about. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Sebastian was released from the hospital wing the following day, though the lingering effects of being in severe pain remained. He was exhausted from pretending everything was fine. He stumbled into breakfast to find Ominis and Charlotte whispering to one another and slid into a seat across from them. He tried to ignore Charlotte’s anxious looks as he filled his plate with eggs and bacon. Ominis poured him a cup of tea as he began to eat, suddenly ravenous.

“How are you feeling?” Charlotte asked quietly. Sebastian shrugged and continued to shovel food into his mouth. Ominis let out a frustrated sigh.

“You can’t keep pretending it’s fine,” he said quietly. “It’s not worth protecting him.”

“You still won’t talk about your parents,” Sebastian pointed out, though there was no venom in his voice. Ominis shifted.

“I’m starting to speak out. Professor Hecat has been relentless. Now that they know the true Gaunts, I have a feeling I won’t ever be returning.” Ominis took a sip of his tea. “Which is why you need to say something about Solomon.”

“Sharp knows,” Sebastian replied. He put down the piece of bacon he had been munching on. “He’s the one who noticed I was in pain yesterday.”

“Everyone noticed,” Charlotte said, reaching over to take Sebastian’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly. “You can’t hide that kind of pain for long.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“No, you didn’t,” Ominis chuckled darkly. “I could always tell. You wouldn’t talk about it.”

“Well, now everyone knows,” Sebastian said sadly. “They can all tell I’m pathetic-”

“You are not pathetic.” Charlotte leaned over to squeeze Sebastian’s hand harder. “You are dealing with a monster in your home.”

“I assume they have a plan to get Anne out,” Ominis added, taking a sip of his tea. “Professors Hecat and Sharp are fairly close today, whispering about something back and forth.”

“Sharp said as much,” Sebastian confirmed. He sighed. “I wish they didn’t know. I could handle this myself.” Charlotte squeezed his hand once more before dropping it, and they continued to eat in silence. 

As they made their way to their Herbology, Sebastian pulled out the notes he had been making on the various portraits Charlotte had been talking about. 

“I did find more information on the people from the memories,” he said, handing her the papers. She looked at them curiously. “It’s not much, but I have family affiliations, relatives, some information about their research…”

“This is marvelous!” she said happily. She shoved the papers into her bag, taking care to make sure they remained uncreased. “Let’s talk about it later, after dinner. Maybe the others will have ideas, too.”

“And we really should be working on some defensive spells,” Ominis added. “Maybe ask Professor Sharp for some ideas?”

“Not a terrible idea,” Sebastian admitted, though he wasn’t sure how much help the professor actually would be. “He might not trust me around combat magic yet, though.”

“We’ll have to see what he says,” Charlotte said bracingly. She took Sebastian’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. Oddly enough, it worked. The icy feeling he had woken up within the pit of his stomach slowly melted as she led him into the greenhouses, happily chatting about a letter she received from her governess and teasing Ominis gently about some less-than-perfect mark he had gotten in Charms the previous week. Sebastian was surprised to find Ominis teasing her back instead of his habit of becoming sullen and complaining. 

“You say that now, but I know that Defense essay is coming due soon and you haven’t started it yet,” he retorted as she laughed. “Miss Winters would be ashamed of you.”

“Alas, I am not entirely the student she had hoped I would be,” Charlotte laughed, making Sebastian laugh with her through sheer glee. “Though, in my defense, I was educated at home until this year, and the deadlines for essays were very lax indeed.”

“Ah, the joys of going to school,” Sebastian said wistfully. “More friends and an escape from overbearing governesses, but the deadlines are rather strict indeed.”

That evening, Charlotte, Sebastian, and Ominis joined Poppy, Garreth, Imelda, Natty, and Leander in the Room of Requirement. Charlotte immediately busied herself with her various plants, carefully removing spare leaves for potions and watering them. She was amazed at how quickly she had taken to the manual labor of herbology despite having a lifetime of only looking at plants. She quietly handed Garreth a pile of dittany as he passed to the potions room, and he smiled broadly. 

“Cheers,” he said, examining the leaves as he walked. “You did a good job on these. Leaves are bright and very high quality.” Charlotte simply smiled and returned to her chomping cabbages. They snapped at her gloved fingers as she tested their soil, and she gently smacked them on what would have been a nose had they not been cabbages.

“Behave,” she said sternly, “or I won’t give you your treats.” The cabbages quivered before stilling. She hummed happily as she checked their bottom leaves, ensuring they were not rotting from too much moisture, before throwing a few dog bones at them. The cabbages snapped wildly and gnashed the bones in their leafy mouths, enjoying themselves immensely. 

“Charlotte, do you think Deek would have any ideas on how to care for the unicorns here?” Poppy asked. Charlotte looked up at Deek, who was perched on a high chair reading. His eyes grew wide.

“You have captured a unicorn?” he squeaked, and Poppy couldn’t help but laugh.

“We did!” she said happily. “They were being harassed by poachers. I found a nab-sack in a poachers’ camp a bit ago and decided to use it to rehome the unicorns until we could find a more permanent arrangement for them.”

Deek nearly danced from delight as he climbed down to join them. “Deek is thrilled to hear that you are rescuing beasts,” he cried. “Simply think very hard of what your beasts need, and the Room will provide.” Charlotte watched as Poppy screwed up her eyes, thinking hard about what the unicorns would need. The Room trembled a bit before giving way, the floor shaking. Charlotte cried out and Poppy grabbed onto her as they fell to the floor. Their eyes widened as they saw a door open at the front of the room, growing wider and wider as a bright beam of light spilled onto the floor. Charlotte could hear the boys running in from the other room, calling for them.

“Charlotte? Poppy? Deek? What’s happening?” Garreth shouted, pushing his way through the tremors to reach them. He gently leaned over to help the girls to their feet.

“The Room has expanded!” Deek cried happily. “It must be a place for the unicorns!” He happily led the way into the new doorway. Charlotte looked back at her friends before following. She felt a magical rush and heard a loud whooshing noise before she opened her eyes to a beautiful meadow. It was surrounded by trees and a small body of water, the sound of the water adding a lovely melody to the scene. Poppy opened the nab-sack, still clutched to her, and three unicorns burst out, galloping around their new home. Imelda let out a squeal when one came closer, nosing at her hand to demand she pet them.

“Hello, Hazel,” she cooed. The unicorn snorted in greeting and closed her eyes happily at the feel of Imelda’s fingers running through her mane. Charlotte watched, almost envious, until she felt a nudge. She turned to see one of the other unicorns nosing her shoulder. 

“Hello there,” she said happily, turning to pet it. “And what’s your name?”

“That’s one of the two unnamed ones,” Garreth said softly, coming up beside her to pet the unicorn himself. “It’s a male, though.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Charlotte cooed. “What a beautiful creature you are.” The unicorn lazily nodded at her and she laughed. “And so humble, too! Well, you’re an angel, so perhaps we should name you after a saint.”

“That sounds lovely,” Garreth agreed. “What saint do you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “We’ll have to all decide, of course.” A few strands of hair fell out into her hand as she brushed the unicorn, and she went to drop them into the breeze before Garreth stopped her.

“I can use those,” he said, taking the strands from her. “Unicorn hair is a great potion ingredient. And fairly expensive.”

They spent a good while with the unicorns, feeding and brushing them until they gleamed. Finally, they grew bored of being pampered, and the unicorns left to lay in the sunbeams. Poppy was beside herself with joy.

“I can bring other animals here that we rescue,” she said happily as they returned to the Room. “Most magical creatures have hair or horns that can be used in potions, but we can also care for them until the poachers are pushed back. So long as we’re gentle with them, I’m sure the animals would be happy to share some ingredients with us.”

“That sounds like a fair trade,” Garreth agreed, with Imelda nodding beside him. “Potions ingredients in exchange for food, water, shelter, and all the pets they could imagine.”

“Deek, could you help us care for them?” Poppy asked. The house elf nodded, clearly overjoyed.

“Deek used to work for a terrible poacher before he came to Hogwarts,” he said. “Deek would love to help save beasts instead of capturing them.”

“Then it’s decided,” Charlotte said, clapping her hands. “Any beasts we rescue, we bring here. Once the poachers are pushed back, they can be released into the wild again, but until then, we’ll have more friends.”

After settling the details and drawing up a feeding and watering schedule to ensure the unicorns had their needs cared for, Charlotte and Poppy settled onto one of the couches in the library area of the Room and pulled out their homework. Ominis leaned over to gently take Charlotte’s hand and squeeze it before pulling out his own books. 

“Does anyone have their Charms essay completed?” he asked. “I believe Charlotte may need assistance.” He dodged the crumpled paper she threw his way. Garreth and Sebastian both laughed at her pout. 

“I think I have it,” Leander said, looking over at Charlotte. “If you want, I can try to take you through it.”

“I’ll be fine, Leander, but thank you,” she said, glaring at Ominis, who smiled happily, seemingly oblivious to her anger. “Ominis just thinks he’s funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Ominis retorted, before settling into his books. The Room had provided several things in braille, a writing system he had rarely dealt with. He had been trying to learn so he could take advantage of them, but it was slow going. He leaned over to feel the bumps on the page, trying to make sense of them as he read. The group fell into silence as they worked on their various assignments while Deek turned pages in his book above them, carefully watching for any inappropriate behavior. 

The hours slipped by. It was nearly curfew before anyone noticed. Ominis started when the tall clock in the corner rang the hour.

“Oh, it’s far later than I expected,” he said softly, starting to pack his things. Charlotte sighed.

“While we’re packing our things, Sebastian, why don’t you tell us what you found?”

“Right, yeah, the memories.” He scrambled through the parchment, trying to find his notes, only to have Charlotte hand them to him from her bag. He grinned as he glanced down at the page. “Right, so, we have Rookwood. Charles Rookwood was the Transfiguration professor, prominent family, Victor’s ancestor, etc., etc… He built Rookwood Castle, which is outside of Feldcroft. Married, but his wife seems to be nameless-”

“-as women often are in history,” Imelda growled. Sebastian nodded.

“Exactly. Did have some children, though. A William Rookwood inherited his castle, no real information on him. Several generations later a Rookwood married into the Gaunts, though it doesn’t look like there were any children from that union, at least none that I could find. Fairly straightforward, though. The family lost their fortune a few generations ago. A Richard Rookwood seems to have been fond of gambling and lost the whole lot. He had the foresight not to lose the castle, though I’m not sure how. Victor’s father tried to put the family back together but died before any real progress was made. Victor himself was fairly good in school, solid marks from what I’ve seen, but with no money and a massive chip on his shoulder he fell into crime, which brings us to today.”

“I wish I could say I’ve never heard that story before,” Charlotte said sadly, “but it’s fairly common in the muggle world. Irresponsible heirs are a plague on the family they belong to.”

“Right, right,” Sebastian said, “it’s not uncommon here, either.”

“What about Rackham?” Ominis asked, and Sebastian nodded.

“Divination professor, documented as a descendent of Merlin though the genealogies are a bit murky. Married, wife is invisible as usual, no children. He built a house for himself up in the Hebrides. The sketches are stunning.” He handed over a picture he had drawn based on one in a book he read. Charlotte gasped looking at it. It was the ruins she went to with Professor Fig, even if it was far more complete than she had seen. “It looks to be relatively humble, compared with his friend Rookwood. A few descendants from his sister’s line, it looks like, but they don’t appear to be that prominent.” 

“What about Isadora?” Imelda asked quietly. Sebastian shook his head.

“Nothing.  Not even on the school rolls I could find. It’s like she didn’t exist.”

“But we know she did. She was even a professor, according to the memories.”

“I’m sure she was,” Sebastian said quietly, “but she’s been erased.”

“What could make someone be erased from everywhere?” Ominis mused, and the group paused as they pondered.

“Wait,” Charlotte said, her eyes widening. “Isadora wanted to show the others something. What if it was something dangerous? What if she was using her magic in a way that-”

“-had repercussions on the rest of magic?” finished Garreth, and the group fell into silence, thinking about what could possibly cause someone’s erasing from history. They quietly left the Room, going to their separate common rooms, still pondering the mystery of Isadora.

At breakfast a few days later, Charlotte’s diatribe over the temperature of the Hogwarts baths was interrupted by the owl post delivery. A school owl, large and impressive, delivered several letters into her porridge, and she groaned as she fished them out while the others laughed.

“That’s what you get for insulting the school’s bath water,” Poppy laughed, petting the owl fondly. Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“I can’t be the only one who wants to take a hot bath,” she protested. “Warming charms only do so much.”

“Well, if you want to bathe in lava, we can accommodate you,” Ominis teased. “There’s got to be a volcano around somewhere.” He heard Charlotte opening her letters and smiled. “Has Nathaniel written you back?”

“Yes,” she said softly, handing the lightly soggy letter to him. He pulled out his wand to read, but just as he was about to cast the spell, Charlotte gasped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Professor Fig reports the next trial is ready for me,” she said. Her voice trembled with fear, and he could feel her tighten beside him. He gently touched her arm.

“We’ll send someone with you to the location, and I’ll be waiting for you at the end,” he reminded her. “You won’t be alone.”

“What potions do you generally use?” Garreth asked, making a note on a piece of spare parchment. “I know wiggenweld, but what about offensive potions, like thunderbrew?” 

“I’ll run up and grab the cabbages,” Imelda offered. “It may also be time to consider growing things like mandrakes. Those are easy enough to throw at people who annoy you.”

“I’m sure Professor Sharp will have some ideas on offensive spells,” Leander added. He looked at Sebastian, who nodded. 

“I have a few books I can dig through to find some options,” he said, already starting to go through his notes. “I found an interesting curse the other day, turns their boogies into bats.”

Charlotte was still shaking, but the support and love of her friends was touching. Ominis gripped one hand and Poppy took the other, gently rubbing the back of it. “Thank you,” she whispered, and the others nodded. “I’ll talk to Professor Fig. If we can wait until tomorrow, it will be the weekend and I can recover before classes start.”

Professor Fig had agreed to wait an extra day, arguing with the portraits that, while delaying the trial indefinitely was dangerous, Charlotte simply needed a day to prepare. Instead, on Saturday morning, she met with Sebastian, Ominis, and Professor Fig in front of the castle, clutching a school broom. She had opted for Nathaniel’s sweater again with a pair of trousers for maximum maneuverability; she would never admit it, but Natty had a point when it came to clothes for fighting in. She threw her wool cloak over her shoulders to fend off the October chill. The next day would be Halloween, though the weather thought it was closer to Christmas. Ominis gripped her hand as they packed her potions and cabbages into extra bags.

“Garreth said that these-” he held up small red potion bottles “-are for dire circumstances only. It’s the Ederus potion, turns your skin to stone.” He placed them into the bag and pulled out a larger green potion. “This is the wiggenweld. Don’t bother with it if you’ve broken a bone, it won’t do much, but most everything else it will cure.”

“I know, Ominis, I’ve sat through potions, too,” Charlotte protested, but she smiled at his nervous care. “And the cabbages are in the green bag, spelled to stay small until l remove them.”

“Watch your fingers,” Ominis said seriously, handing her the bag. “It would be a shame if you survived the knights only to lose a hand to a cabbage.”

“It’s time to go, Charlotte,” Professor Fig said softly, touching her shoulder. Charlotte sighed, gave Ominis one last hug, and joined the professor and her friend in the skies. Within a half hour, they were at Rookwood Castle. Flying over the grounds, Sebastian picked out at least a dozen groups of goblins milling around.

“They’re rather thick on the ground,” he called to Professor Fig, who nodded. “We’ll have to try to sneak in.” The three landed out of sight of the castle and hid their brooms. 

“Do you know petrificus totalus?” Professor Fig asked Charlotte, who shook her head. He took her hand and showed her the motion. “Cast a disillusionment charm and sneak up behind one of those fellows. This spell will keep them quiet for a while without killing them.”

“Wonderful,” Charlotte murmured, practicing the movement. “I’d prefer to give them another chance anyway.”

“Or you can just set them on fire,” Sebastian suggested, and she gave him a look. Together, they cast their disillusionment charms and crept into the castle grounds. Charlotte found sneaking past the goblins surprisingly easy as she disabled them, leaving their bound bodies out of the way.

“You have another chance,” she hissed to one, gently lowering him to the ground. “Don’t waste it.”

The goblin, staring at her wide-eyed, seemed to glare at her retreating form. She wondered how many of them would actually take their second chance and retire to a quiet life, but decided eventually what they did with their chance was up to them. She had given it, and that was enough.

They crept into the castle, climbing over a wall, disabling goblins as they went. Eventually, they reached a door that shone with ancient magic. Charlotte sighed happily seeing the glow of the swirl motif. It had become so familiar to her over the last few months, and she smiled brightly as she touched it, allowing the door to open. They slipped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dark. 

“I can’t see a thing,” Sebastian complained, but Charlotte hushed him.

“There’s a red glow up ahead,” she whispered. “Like Ranrok’s magic.”

Professor Fig started, then rushed ahead. There were no goblins down here, but part of the wall to their right had been destroyed, rubble running through a long tunnel away from the room. Charlotte stared at the hole.

“What could have done this?” 

“Goblins mine. That’s the traditional work for goblins, anyway. They make drills to dig into the earth,” Professor Fig said sadly. “I think you’re seeing the aftermath of one of those drills used on the castle.”

“If they dug into the castle,” Sebastian started, but Charlotte felt a tug behind her belly button and rushed forward. She ran down the hallway, the once fine carpet ruined by tracks and mud smashed in between the fibers. She doubted it would ever be the same again. She turned a corner, hearing the professor and Sebastian behind her, and froze.

On a small dais stood the remnants of a silver tank. It had been ripped into, the metal twisted into unnatural shapes. In the center of what remained was a dark red glow, seeping over everything like blood. Charlotte nearly screamed before she remembered where she was. Part of her wanted to reach out and gather the pieces back together, holding them close, while the other wanted to run and never stop running. She didn’t even realize her breathing was so erratic until Professor Fig placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Breathe, Charlotte,” he said softly. “Breathe. Tell me what you see and feel.”

“It’s a tank,” she said, still trying to calm herself. “It held magic, ancient magic. But the magic is wrong. It’s dark red, professor, like Ranrok’s magic. It hurts.”

“It hurts?” Sebastian asked, his eyes raking over the remnants of the container. “As in, the magic hurts, or-”

“It hurts me to be near it.” Charlotte shook her head in despair. “It’s full of pain. How can you not feel it?”

“I wonder…” Professor Fig said quietly, but he pulled Charlotte away from the tank. He turned to Sebastian. “Did you find anything about Isadora?”

“No,” Sebastian said. His voice seemed far away to Charlotte. “There wasn’t anything. She’s not in the student rolls I had access to, she’s not in any of the faculty registries, nothing. It’s like she never existed.”

“I think we found out why,” Professor Fig said seriously. Then, turning to Charlotte, he pulled her further down the corridor away from the ruins of the tank. She followed, unsure of herself and filled with anguish, but it slowly receded as she distanced herself. By the time they found the portrait of Professor Rookwood, she was starting to feel like herself again.

“I had started to worry you wouldn’t make it,” the portrait said cheerily. Professor Fig cleared his throat.

“Professor, with all due respect and honor, what was in that tank?”

Professor Rookwood’s eyes narrowed. “Was?”

“I’m afraid the tank is destroyed, and the contents removed. Charlotte was affected by the residue. She said it hurt her.”

“Then we have no time to explain,” the portrait said. “You must finish the trials quickly. This confirms my worst fears.” He gestured to a place on the floor in front of him. “There is a pool of ancient magic here. Activate it to enter the trial.” 

Charlotte nodded before turning to Sebastian and Professor Fig. “See what you can find out about red magic,” she said softly. “Perhaps we’re looking in the wrong place.” Sebastian nodded and Professor Fig smiled. 

“Insightful as always,” he said happily. Then, more seriously, he added, “Be careful.” Charlotte nodded and stepped into the pool.

Half an hour later, Charlotte entered the blue-marbled chamber that held the pensieve. Above it was a statue of Charles Rookwood designed in swirls and knots. The room was cool and almost comforting after the trial that preceded it; Charlotte had warmed up quite a bit battling the guardian knights and had a few burns on her hands from throwing the oil lamps at them. It wasn’t anything a wiggenweld wouldn’t fix, but she had decided to wait to treat her injuries for now. She needed to know what Isadora had done. 

She reached out to the pensieve and pulled down the object floating above it. She had another one from the first trial safe in her trunk at school, and while she wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do, she enjoyed having a physical reminder of her survival. Charles Rookwood’s eye teared up, a single glowing drop falling into the basin, and Charlotte eagerly dipped her head into it.

She fell into a house. It was well built but not large, with sturdy stone walls and wooden floors that shone in the candlelight. Isadora was opening the door and letting in the others. Rookwood sat in a chair, groaning at the effort required to sit, and Rackham threw him a chuckle.

“You are getting old, my friend,” the Seer said. Rookwood laughed heartily. A man in a turban joined him.

“I’m afraid it happens to the best of us,” the turbaned man said. He had a slight accent, a lilt to his words that was pleasing to the ear. It was almost like music. “There is no magic to erase time itself.”

“Nor would I want to,” Rookwood insisted, resting his hands on his ample belly. “It is a privilege to grow old.”

“Remind me of that when I start making sound effects like you, Charles,” a woman said. She had red hair done up in an elegant braided crown and had a heavy Irish accent. The group laughed. Isadora moved toward them bringing a man with her. He looked familiar, but Charlotte couldn’t place him. 

“My father,” Isadora introduced. She swallowed hard. “He has never recovered from my brother’s death.” Then, she straightened, squaring her shoulders. “I discovered something on my travels that changes everything,” she said. Her eyes were almost wild with excitement. “We have the ability to take away pain. I shall prove it.”

The room, so full of happiness, chilled instantly. Isadora looked at the man and murmured something to him before pressing her wand to his chest. When she pulled it away, there was a bubbling mass of angry red magic clustered to the tip. Charlotte wanted to scream. She could feel the pain emanating from the mass. Isadora, her eyes screwed up in concentration, dropped it into a jar made out of silver and smiled at her professors. “He is now without pain,” she said happily, fully expecting them to burst into applause. Instead, they sat in silence.

“Isadora,” Rackham said quietly, “what have you done?”

Charlotte burst out of the scene. She could feel bile coming up and tried to fight it down. It was pain that she had seen in that container at Rookwood Castle. Pure, unadulterated pain. She knelt on the floor as she tried to keep her thoughts together. The container had held far more pain than Isadora had pulled from her father, far more pain than Charlotte had ever felt in her life. How many people had she taken the pain from? Then, Charlotte gasped as her tired mind finally made the connection: Ranrok’s magic was red and dark, bubbling and flowing like the magic Isadora had pulled. Ranrok was using Pain as his source of magic. She rushed to the door and opened it, stumbling out into the Map Chamber. Ominis rushed toward her and pulled her to him as she finally let the tears fall.

“It’s Pain,” she cried. “Ranrok is using Pain.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

The silence in the room felt heavy and oppressive. Ominis gripped Charlotte tighter, gently rubbing her back as she buried her face into his shoulder. She could hear the professors in their portraits shifting awkwardly as she continued to pour out the pain she had felt while in the presence of that cursed tank of blood-red magic. Time passed, though she wasn’t sure how much. She was distracted by the feel of Ominis’ wool sweater against her cheek, scratchy and yet soft and warm, as she let it all out.

Eventually, the tears dried up, and she pulled herself upright. Ominis placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she wiped her face dry.

“You knew,” she said to the portraits, quietly. “You knew what Ranrok was using the whole time.”

“We did,” Rackham confirmed, his face sorrowful. “We had hoped to be wrong, but we knew it wasn’t likely.”

“Your reaction is understandable,” Rookwood said softly. “I would be furious with us in your position.”

“I’m not angry,” Charlotte said, a bit more steel in her voice now. “I’m disgusted. How could Isadora do this? How did she even manage it?”

“We do not know,” Rackham said sadly, “nor did we ever want to. You understand, then why we have to so carefully vet you, make sure this secret doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Fig interrupted. “What exactly are we talking about?”

Rackham opened his mouth, but Charlotte beat him to it. “Isadore used her ancient magic to pull pain from her father. The pain was red and misshapen, almost bubbling with energy. She must have experimented with others because that’s what Ranrok is using. Magic derived from pain, pure torturous pain.” She felt Ominis shiver beside her and sighed. “I can feel it when I get too close to the tank. It’s overwhelming to have so much pain in one place.”

“Gods,” Fig breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He touched Charlotte’s shoulder and gripped it tightly to steady himself. 

“It will make fighting Ranrok more difficult,” Ominis said quietly. “His magic may cause pain for you to be around. We’ll have to come up with a plan.”

“First, before any plans are made, I must introduce you to someone.” Rookwood gestured to the portrait next to him where the Irish lady was now standing, smiling down at Charlotte. Charlotte dipped into her usual curtsey, which the professor returned.

“Niamh Fitzgerald, former headmistress of Hogwarts,” she said happily. Charlotte couldn’t help but gasp slightly.

“A woman as head of Hogwarts?” she asked, looking to Professor Fig. “You weren’t kidding when you said that women had more autonomy in the magical world.” Niamh laughed.

“I wasn’t the first,” she said happily. “Nor will I be the last. You will find the magical world has other prejudices, but this is not one of them.”

“Niamh,” Professor Rookwood cut in, “I’m afraid we have little time.” He summed up the events, giving a general overview of the current goblin rebellion, the repository of Pain having been broken open, and Ranrok’s sudden and disturbing use of red magic. The headmistress paused, putting a finger to her chin in thought.

“We will have to rush my trial,” she said thoughtfully, “but I will need time to plan how to do so. There are… obstacles… in the way.”

“No one would know better than you how to remove them,” Rackham said soothingly, and she smiled wickedly.

“Are you suggesting I have experience with vain men?” she asked. Rackham laughed.

“Out of all of us, you dealt with them the most,” he returned, making her laugh.

“Very true, very true.” She turned to look at Charlotte again as if noticing her companions for the first time. “And who are your friends?”

“This is Professor Fig, Magical Theory at Hogwarts.” Professor Fig gave a low bow of respect. “And this is my friend, Ominis Gaunt.” Ominis also dipped into a low bow as the headmistress gave a small gasp of recognition.

“Gaunt… I knew a few of your ancestors,” she said softly. Ominis colored, but it was Professor Rookwood who spoke.

“He reports that he is estranged from his family, Niamh,” he said softly, and she nodded.

“Quite rightly so. They were terrible in my time, and I doubt they’ve gotten any better. Are they still marrying cousins?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ominis said, his voice colored with shame. “My parents were half-siblings, unfortunately.”

“And I’m sure they blamed you for your lack of sight,” Professor Fitzgerald returned, tisking in disapproval. “I had one of your ancestors come to visit the school before I died. He was extremely disappointed we had muggle-born students and raised a right ruckus about it. I had to ban him from the grounds. What was his name?” She screwed up her face in concentration.

“I believe it was Hugh Gaunt,” Professor Rackham said, shaking his head at the memory. “Terrible temper. Determined to marry into the Slytherins, if that gives you any indication of his character.”

“He succeeded,” Professor Fig said flatly. “Ominis here is one of the last in that line.”

“Happily so,” Ominis said softly. “It is my great wish to remove myself entirely from the family tree.” Rookwood nodded in return.

“I know what it’s like to have unfortunate relations, my boy. It is a burden, but not insurmountable, and I’m sure your professors will be happy to help you.” 

Some minutes later, Ominis, Charlotte, and Professor Fig climbed up the stairs to the dungeons of the school. Charlotte could do nothing but wait for the next trial to be opened.

“At least you’re not as tired as last time,” Ominis said happily. “Your power is growing.” 

Charlotte paused behind him, thinking. “I guess you’re right,” she said finally. “Calling on it was much easier this time.”

“Between your magical education and the trials, you’re exercising your power,” Fig explained. “As you continue, your ability to call on your magic will increase, as will your stamina. It will become much more delicate as well, with much more precise charms and spells.” Fig looked down at Ominis as they climbed. “Ominis here has been doing the same thing, just over a longer period, and without ancient magic in the mix.” He paused, then continued. “Have either of you thought about what you want to do after school?”

“I’d like to simply escape my parents,” Ominis said, somewhat gloomy. Charlotte touched his shoulder. 

“You will,” she promised. They continued their climb in silence before reaching the dungeons. Professor Fig smiled as they turned a corner to find the sleeping dragon statue.

“Ah, yes, the embodiment of our school motto. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.”

“Pardon?” Charlotte stopped and looked at him, cocking her head. Professor Fig laughed.

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon.” 

He walked away from the students to peals of laughter, smiling at the absurdity of the motto. 

Charlotte shivered in the cold night air. Garreth handed her a blanket from his pile and she wrapped it around her shoulders. They were sitting beside a fire tended by Sebastian, watching the sparks fly up to the sky. Amit had convinced them that this evening would be perfect for star gazing, and since Charlotte had completed her second trial that morning, everyone agreed they should celebrate. Poppy and Leander had gathered some snacks while Garreth borrowed as many blankets as he could find, and Sebastian led them all out to the astronomy tables. They had completed three before deciding to rest, sitting on rocks and logs around the campfire for stories and songs. 

Ominis leaned over and rested his head on Charlotte’s shoulder. Natty smiled at the girl, happy that Ominis was finally comfortable enough to show some attraction to the blonde. Charlotte sighed happily, her face covered in a goofy smile.

“So, when are you two going to be official?” Imelda asked pointedly. She was nestled in between Garreth’s legs, his hands on her shoulders as she leaned back against him. Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when are you two going to come out and say you’re together?”

Charlotte flushed. Ominis sat up again, turning his head vaguely in the direction of Imelda’s voice.

“Charlotte is muggle-born,” he said quietly. “The rules are different. I want to do things correctly, in any case.”

“And how, exactly, is that?” Sebastian teased. Ominis huffed.

“I need to speak to her father first. Or Nathaniel, if her father remains unwilling. Then, we can begin to court.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Poppy said, “like those books Gran used to read.”

“It’s stupid,” Imelda argued. “If you like each other, just go for it.”

“And what about you, Imelda?” Natty asked, raising her eyebrow. “Are you and Garreth official?”

“Sure,” the Slytherin said with a shrug. Natty laughed at Garreth’s face, now glowing red.

“You may want to speak to Garreth about that,” she teased. “His face is crimson.”

“I-I don’t… That is, I wouldn’t-” Garreth stuttered, making everyone laugh. Imelda turned around and kissed him on the lips.

“Shut it, ginger,” she growled, before dragging him out of his seat and into the woods. “We’ll be back!”

“Oi, be careful!” Sebastian shouted while the others laughed. 

“We’ll keep an ear out,” Leander called, but the pair seemed to have passed out of hearing range. “She’s nuts, that one.”

“She’s just passionate,” Poppy said. 

“But only for Quidditch,” Sebastian chuckled. “And Garreth, I guess.”

“I wish I could get a girlfriend that easily,” Leander sighed. Charlotte shook her head. 

“I’d rather stay with my traditionally slow and careful romance, thanks.” 

“What about you, Natty? Anyone you have an eye on?”

The girl flushed but nodded. “I had a friend at Uagadou,” she said carefully. “We’ve kept in contact since I moved away. I’m hoping to see him when we visit family in Matabeleland. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him.”

“Oooo, pen pals!” Poppy squealed. “That’s so lovely!”

“You’ll have to tell us all about him,” Charlotte agreed. Natty blushed again, taking a sip of her butterbeer. 

“What about you, Leander?” she asked, trying to divert attention. Leander shrugged. 

“I like some girls, sure, but I’d rather be graduated and with a job. Be able to provide for them, you know?” The boys all nodded in understanding.

“I think I’ll wait on romance, too,” Sebastian said. “I have a lot to work out on my own first. It’s not a bad idea to be settled before I start looking.”

“Cheers, mate,” Leander said, and the two clinked their bottles together in solidarity. 

“My parents would usually find someone for me,” Amit said. His voice wavered with anxiety. “That’s how they married, anyway.”

“Of course,” Charlotte breathed, smiling. “Arranged marriages are popular in Indian culture.” 

Amit nodded. “Yes. And I trust them to find someone for me,” he said, feeling a bit braver with Charlotte’s support. “I’m fairly close with my parents, so I trust that they’d know me well enough to find a match I can love.”

“Didn’t you have an arrangement, Charlotte?” Poppy leaned back against the rock she was using as a chair and smiled. “Though, I suspect you won’t marry your intended.”

“No indeed,” she laughed. “I would much rather wait.” She leaned against Ominis slightly and Poppy’s smile widened. She and Natty shared a look before bursting into laughter.

“It’s starting to get late,” Leander said, checking his watch over as the girls laughed. “We should probably find Imelda and Garreth.” The girls grew quiet, and they all shared looks.

“Does anyone want to be scared?” Sebastian teased. “Maybe we should send Ominis so we’re not stuck with that in our brains forever.”

“Stuck with what?” Charlotte asked. Ominis chuckled. 

“Later,” he promised. Then, louder, he said, “What was that, Sebastian? You want to go find them?”

Sebastian stood, brushing off his trousers. “If Imelda is wearing less than she was when she went into the forest with him, I’m blinding myself,” he joked. Leander stood and followed him. The rest went about folding the blankets and packing the snacks away for the trip back to Hogwarts. Just as Natty was about to put out the fire, Charlotte heard something.

“Wait,” she said, holding out her arm to stop Natty from moving. “Do you hear that?” Looking around at her friends’ blank faces, she frowned. “Something’s not right,” she murmured. She turned and walked into the woods after Sebastian and Leander.

“Charlotte!” Ominis called, trying to pull her back. She was too fast, however, and disappeared into the darkness. She could feel a pull behind her navel that meant ancient magic, and she was terrified Imelda, Garreth, Sebastian, and Leander had walked right into a trap. She clambered over some fallen rocks, feeling grooves and chisel marks, and decided they must be ruins of some kind. The pull drew her forward, not letting her spend the time to discover what they had once been. She stumbled down a slope covered in fallen leaves, hearing them crunch under her feet as she moved on. She paused by a rock, peering around it to find a cluster of beings around another campfire.

“Ranrok’s orders,” came a hoarse voice. “We need to take the girl. She can lead us to the repositories, which means she’s useful.”

“For now, anyway,” another voice added. “Is she going to actually come for these two worthless lumps?”

“Ranrok seems to think so,” the first voice replied. The second voice grunted in disbelief. Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she tried to count the number of bodies. Two goblins, at least, though she thought she saw a third. The fire flickered, casting uneven light and making it hard to determine placement and numbers.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A hand snaked over her mouth before she could scream.

“Shut it,” came Sebastian’s voice. “They have Imelda and Garreth.” Charlotte turned to see Sebastian and Leander, both looking around the camp behind her. “We counted five goblins and two trolls.”

“So that’s where the ancient magic pull came from,” Charlotte muttered, turning to peer behind the rock again. She could just make out the faintest of red glows in the shadows. 

“Ok, here’s what we’ll do,” Leander hissed, but before he could finish, a gnarled hand reached out and grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder.

“Well, well, what have we here?” the goblin sneered. “Little Miss Ancient Magic and her friends. What a shame that Ranrok only wanted one of you…”

Sebastian met Charlotte’s eyes and jerked his head to one side. Charlotte thought she understood and pulled her entire body down. The stunning curse flew just over her head with a rush of magic, ruffling her long hair as the goblin slumped to the ground.

The flash of magic, however, could not be ignored, and soon the entire camp was alerted to their presence. Charlotte reached deep inside of herself, grabbing the strands of ancient magic, and throwing them down her wand at the trolls, who both stumbled backward.

“You take the goblins, I’ll take the trolls,” she shouted at the boys.

“Are you insane?” Leander called back, dodging a bolt. One of the goblins was holding a crossbow dripping with magic, and Leander threw a diffindo at him. The goblin dodged and loaded another bolt into his weapon. “There’s two of them!”

“I’ve dealt with bigger,” Charlotte argued. She didn’t mention that by “bigger”, she meant “also not alive”, but she didn’t feel the need to clarify. Sebastian pushed a goblin back and turned to Leander. 

“Just keep them busy,” he promised. “She’s got more than you know up her sleeve.”

Charlotte channeled her magic again, pushing it at the two trolls. They rolled out of the way, and she sighed. Her ancient magic reserves were running low. She needed to use regular magic to wear them down. She sent difffendo after depulso after arresto momentum, carefully pushing the trolls further and further away from the goblins. The boys focused their spells on the goblins, keeping them occupied while she handled the bigger threats. 

Finally, she found her opening. The trolls stumbled and fell after a powerful depulso, and she once more reached into herself, drawing the glittering blue spells out of her depths and blasting them at the trolls. The trolls roared before bursting into dust. Charlotte fell to the ground, her knees hitting the fallen leaves covering the dirt as she tried to catch her breath. Leander ran to her side.

“Charlotte, come on!” he called, trying to pull her away from the camp. Charlotte was exhausted, though, and couldn’t stand. She fell face-first onto the forest floor and remained there. Sebastian gritted his teeth.

“She used too much,” he called over the din of the battle he was waging against the goblins. More and more poured out of the tents. “We’ll have to carry her.”

Leander reached down and picked Charlotte up, hoisting her over his shoulder. He stood, wand in hand, sending basic casts as he ran, Sebastian behind him. Leander opened his mouth to scream for help as he jumped over a rock.

“Natty, Poppy, help!” he shouted. “Goblins!” He climbed up the embankment to the astronomy table, Natty and Poppy already with their wands out. 

“What happened to Charlotte?” Amit yelled, taking her off of Leander’s shoulders.

“Used too much of her magic on trolls,” Sebastian summed, turning to face the goblins chasing them. “We’ll have to fight them off.”

“We need to get out of here,” Ominis protested, gently touching Charlotte’s wrist. 

“No possible,” Sebastian spit back. “They have Imelda and Garreth.”

“Oh, I’ll never hear the end of this,” Leander moaned, casting spells at the goblins coming at them. “Professor Weasley will have my ass in detention with you, Sallow.”

“I rather think,” Ominis spat, throwing a pair of goblins back into a tree, “that Garreth will be joining you.”

“We’re all going to be in detention if we don’t get out of here,” Natty yelled. She turned a goblin into a barrel in a neat trick of transfiguration before throwing that barrel at two others. “How are there so many of them?”

“Don’t know,” Sebastian panted. “There must be underground mines they’re working on.”

Ominis bent over to check on Charlotte. She was unconscious still but in much better condition than after the first trial. He knelt by her side, occasionally throwing spells at the approaching goblins while making sure she was safe and protected enough. 

It felt like an eternity to Natty before the goblins were subdued. More than she cared to admit were killed, though she and the others preferred to disable where possible. She lit her wand and waved it over the battlefield. The trail of goblins led back into the woods, and she straightened. 

“Amit, you take Ominis and Charlotte back to the castle,” she said firmly. “Poppy and Leander will come with me and Sebastian to find our lost love birds.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ominis said quietly. “Whatever is down there, we need to face it in numbers.”

“You need to get Charlotte seen to,” Poppy argued. “We can handle this.”

Ominis sighed and Amit gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “You go with them,” the boy said, smiling. “I’m no good in a fight, and I can take Charlotte back and alert professors.” Ominis stood for a long time, debating with himself, only to finally nod. Amit wasted no time mounting his broom and pulling Charlotte into his arms for the journey. He nodded at the others and took off. 

“Let’s go,” Natty said. There was an edge to her voice Ominis didn’t think he had ever heard before. They made their way along the trail of bodies, carefully avoiding tripping over any limbs as they reached the camp. Sebastian peeked into a tent and gave a low whistle.

“Well, I think we’ve figured out how they managed to keep coming,” he said, gesturing to the tent. “It’s expanded on the inside.” Leander leaned past him to look in and nodded. Natty sighed.

“Hopefully everyone left to chase you down,” she said, not entirely believing it herself. “Let’s see if we can find Imelda and Garreth.”

The tent was massive on the inside, with multiple levels crowded with mining supplies. Poppy found several pieces of parchment on the table and glanced through them, Ominis at her side. Leander and Sebastian were picking around the crates while Natty pressed on, looking for any cages. Slowly, they made their way further into the tent, descending to the lower levels and cautiously looking around for more enemies. To their great surprise, they found none. Instead, they heard banging and screams for help.

“We’re coming!” Poppy called down. The screams seemed to come from the level below them, and she rushed down the ladder toward them. Natty, Leander, and Sebastian shared a look before following, wands drawn. There, in the center of a large empty room, stood a cage locked tight. Imelda and Garreth sat inside, Imelda’s eyes watery and Garreth holding her tight.

“Thank Gods,” he said. “We weren’t sure if you’d ever find us.”

“This should be one of the talking points for not wandering off to kiss boys,” Natty teased as she popped the lock. “Maybe Professor Weasley will update her speech now.” Imelda stumbled out, pulling Natty into a hug. Garreth stood for a while unsure of what to do, staring at his friends. Leander stepped forward and hugged him closely.

“Gar, don’t do that to me again,” he said seriously, pulling back slightly. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Sebastian said, giving Garreth his own hug, “there were a ton of goblins in here. We almost didn’t make it back to find you.”

Ominis was pulled into a hug from Imelda, and he gently rubbed her back, feeling the unshed tears in her eyes. Poppy looked around, her face screwed up into confusion.

“Why all the goblins here?” she muttered. “There’s not much of worth up here, just a ruined tower.”

Ominis pulled away from Imelda. “What tower?”

“It’s an old one, named after some guy named San Bakar,” Sebastian said, shrugging. “Charlotte’s first trial was here.”

Ominis moved his wand frantically around the tent. He seemed to get something as he suddenly walked to another ladder and climbed down. The others followed. At the base, the goblins’ aim was made crystal clear. A drill sat in front of a massive hole in the wall, and various digging implements were scattered around the room. Ominis’ hand shook as he reached out to touch the drill. It was still warm under his hand.

“They’re digging,” he whispered in horror. “They’re looking for more of that magic.”

“What magic?” Garreth asked. Ominis shook his head.

“Ranrok found a store of ancient magic like Charlotte uses, but it’s warped, full of pain. She says it hurts to be near in any quantities. He’s been using it, and it looks like they’re looking for more.” The group fell into silence, staring at the drill and taking in the gravity of the situation.

“The professors have to know,” Poppy said finally. Slowly, the group composed themselves and began the slow trek up the various ladders. They had just reached the top when Professor Weasley and Professor Sharp burst into the tent.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Professor Weasley said, pulling Garreth and Imelda into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Amit said you needed help,” Professor Sharp added. His eyes had fallen on Sebastian, who colored and looked to the floor. 

“We managed,” Ominis said dryly. “I’m sure you will see the fruits of our labor leading back to the astronomy table.”

“And yet you came back to their source?” Sharp’s voice cut into them, and Sebastian winced slightly. 

“They had taken Garreth and Imelda,” he said softly. “We had to try to rescue them before the goblins did anything. They had been saying that Ranrok wants Charlotte, and they were trying to lure her in.”

“Let’s get back to the castle,” Professor Weasley said, pulling Garreth and Imelda with her. “We can get to the bottom of it there.”

“No,” Ominis said sternly. “There’s something you have to see first.”

Professor Sharp was numb. He looked into the tunnel, listening to Ominis describing Charlotte’s description of the Pain magic she had found, but he wasn’t sure he could believe it. He turned to the boy and sighed.

“This is a mess,” he said softly. Then, clearing his throat, he added, “I’ll have to contact the Auror office.”

“You can’t tell them about Charlotte,” Ominis said sharply. “They’ll go into hysterics. Either she’ll be locked away or exploited.”

“Agreed.” Sharp let out another sigh. “I still have some friends in the department. I’ll raise it with them. In the meantime, we should return to the school.”

“Professor, you have to know…” Ominis seemed to steady himself, head turned to the side to listen to Sharp better. “We won’t stop. Charlotte is on a dangerous road and none of us are willing to let her do it alone.”

“I know. Neither are we.” Professor Sharp placed a hand on Ominis’ shoulder. “We’re getting you out, we’re getting Anne out, and we’ll help where we can for Charlotte.” The boy nodded before turning to the ladder to return to the surface and Sharp let his gaze linger on the drill. No, he thought, none of these students should be alone facing that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

            Professor Sharp looked around his oddly crowded classroom. While most of the students only had detention in name, they all seemed far too relaxed for students who didn’t know they weren’t being punished. He leaned against his table studying them. Ominis was hunched over a piece of parchment, whispering words to his quill while Charlotte stirred her wiggenweld and added words to his work. Natty and Leander were making their own potion, a thunderbrew, while talking animatedly about some ruins they hoped to visit the following evening. Amit was in a corner with Garreth reorganizing potions ingredients and chatting animatedly. Imelda, sitting next to Sebastian, was fast asleep while he read from his latest assigned book and Poppy twirled her quill, occasionally taking notes from an advanced beasts textbook. The atmosphere was one of quiet work as opposed to guilt.

            “May I have your attention?” he asked quietly, and the room immediately stilled. Sebastian leaned over and woke Imelda, who blinked sleepily at him. “It seems most of you have discovered that this detention was not meant for punishment. To that end, I want to teach you some advanced defense magic.”

            “Professor, would we not be better off avoiding these situations altogether?” Amit asked from the back. A small chuckle ripped through the room. Even Sharp couldn’t help himself but smile.

            “Mister Thakkar, I’m afraid not everyone in this room is as sensible as you are,” he said, crossing his arms. “And, in the case of Miss Underhill, it is unavoidable.” The boy nodded and shrugged at Garreth, who covered his mouth to laugh. Sharp cleared his throat. “To that end, I will need your full attention once your potions are brewed. Please let me know when you’re finished, and we’ll begin.”

            Charlotte squinted at her potion, frowning slightly. It was slightly off-color, but before Sharp could say anything, she reached into a bottle and added a bit more of an ingredient. The potion made a strange bubbling sound but turned the proper color. She had clearly done this before. She began to bottle as Sharp watched Natty and Leander argue over the color of their potion. It took several minutes for everything to settle, but once the students had bottled their potions, Sharp cleared his throat and began. 

            “Let us begin with the Patronus charm,” he said, quietly but clearly, and he watched the students look around in confusion. “While it is not necessarily the most useful of defensive charms, especially against poachers and goblins, the stretch of your magic will allow for other spells to be cast more powerfully. The aim is to grow your endurance rather than give you another tool, though the patronus is very useful in its own right. We shall start with the background information. I have provided several texts on the charm and its effects that you will study as a group before presenting your findings to myself and Professor Hecat, whenever she arrives. After dinner, we will continue to the actual charm itself. You may begin.”

            He didn’t expect the mad scramble for the pile of books on his table, but upon reflection, he probably should have. Sebastian, Amit, and Charlotte rushed to grab whatever they could get, dragging them back to their potion stations and pouring into them. The other students gathered around, pulling out parchment and jotting down notes. They had naturally split into groups, though students seemed to flit between groups at will. Before dinner, Charlotte presented the room with a neatly written page listing benefits, disadvantages, history, etymology, and a thorough analysis of the spell block. They took turns reading the notes to Sharp, cutting in, and adding things as needed. It was a smooth machine they had created, with each student an important cog in the works, but no one student was more important than another. Sharp hated to admit it, but he was impressed.

            “Very well done,” he said, the praise leaving the group stunned. “You managed to find things I didn’t know about the charm. The section on the spell block is especially well researched.”

            “That was me!” squeaked Amit, flushing from the praise. Sharp nodded at him in recognition. 

            “Very good,” he said again, and Amit let out another squeak of pleasure. “Let us return after dinner to begin work on the charm.”

            Dinner was a simple affair that evening. Hecat slipped into the seat next to Sharp and smiled, nodding to the knot of students at the Gryffindor table.

            “They seem in high spirits,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “How did they do on the research.”

            “Well,” Sharp responded, taking a bit of his pie and nodding at the delicious flavors that burst into his mouth. He swallowed before elaborating. “They split into three groups, but students flowed between the groups easily. They had set roles for everyone already. Clearly, they’ve been working together for longer than we knew.”

            “It doesn’t surprise me,” Hecat said, turning away in thought. “They have been rather tight-knit since the beginning of the year. And Charlotte seems to have brought together members of every house.”

            “I didn’t see a clear leader, though,” Sharp said. “Charlotte doesn’t seem to be the one in charge. She took suggestions and comments from nearly every other member of the group.” 

            “Well-oiled and with an insistence that everyone’s equal,” Hecat mused. “They may just pull this off.” She sighed and then stood. “Come on, let’s get them using their magic.”

            Sharp nodded, wiped his mouth, and stood, following Hecat to the doors. He paused by the Gryffindor table and made eye contact with Natty, who nodded and whispered to her friends. They all stood, gathering what things they brought with them to the Great Hall, and followed. 

            “Potions classroom?” Charlotte asked, running a bit to catch up with Sharp. He shook his head.

            “Not enough space,” he said simply. “We’ll be in the Defense classroom.” She nodded and fell back, likely sharing the information with the others. Within minutes, they were walking up the stairs to the classroom trailing Sharp, all in high spirits and laughing at some joke. Once they had settled into their seats, Sharp cleared his throat for silence.

            “Your performance earlier gives us some ideas of how you’ve been functioning,” he said quietly, and the entire group went deathly still. “There is little we can do to help in that regard, as you seem to have found a system that works.”

            “However,” Professor Hecat added, nodding at Sharp, “we want to make crystal clear, that any further missions will be run by one of us before you leave. If something goes wrong, we need to know where you are and what you’re facing.” The students shared a look before nodding. 

            “Right,” Sharp said, letting out a breath, “anything you want to tell us before you get started?”

            Natty stood, dragging Leander with her. “We have a lead,” she said quietly. “Leander and I have been working on the extortion ring side of Rookwood’s operation. We saw a letter from Rookwood in Harlow’s hand, but it was too far away to read properly. We traced them back to some ruins on the west side of the valley.”

            “We planned to go this weekend,” Leander continued. “I think we probably would have taken Garreth and Imelda with us for backup.”

            “What’s in these ruins?” Hecat asked. Leander shrugged.

            “Dunno. Hence the backup.”

            Sharp nodded. “I’ll come with you,” he said.

            “With all due respect,” Natty started, but Sharp stared her down. She swallowed and sank into her chair. 

            “We will not be allowing students to go on deadly missions without adult backup,” he said. His voice was stern, but he didn’t seem angry. “Charlotte, what are your upcoming tasks?”

            “I’m waiting on the next trial,” she said softly. “It’s in a currently inaccessible location.”

            “Inaccessible how?” Hecat asked, her eyes narrowing. Charlotte shrugged.

            “There were a lot of jokes between the portraits about Headmistress Fitzgerald having her work cut out for her, but little beyond that.”

            “I believe there is also a poacher ring,” Hecat said, looking directly at Poppy. Poppy squeaked as she stood up.

            “I’m still canvasing poacher camps,” she said. “There’s a lot of talk about Horntail Hall, though I’m not sure what that is. They’re using it as a major source of revenue.”

            “Bears investigation,” Sharp said, sighing. “Stay away from the camps for the time being. Let me see if I can find someone who can help you.”

            “Alright,” Professor Hecat said, gesturing for the students to stand and magically pushing the desks against the walls. “Let’s begin.”

            Natty and Leander sat on the side of the courtyard, waiting for Professor Sharp. Instead of leaving right after lunch, as originally planned, the professor insisted they go under the cover of darkness. Normally, while easier to hide from enemies in the dark, they would risk being caught after curfew, but with a professor with them, they had a ready excuse. Natty and Leander had both opted for more casual clothing but wore their school cloaks for the warmth the wool could provide. They shifted, anxious to be off.

            “Is this really going to be a good idea?” Leander murmured, gently rubbing his hands together. He was always cold, colder even than Natty, and he wanted to make sure his hands were loose and prepared for spell casting. Natty sighed.

            “It’s not like we have a choice,” she said, clearly annoyed at the interference. “At least Sharp hasn’t told my mother what we’re doing.”

            “Small blessings,” Leander agreed. “I don’t fancy another one of her lectures.”

            “You don’t have to hear them every day!” Natty replied. She kicked a rock with the toe of her boot and frowned. “Every day of my life, it’s been ‘Natty, don’t do this,’ or ‘Natty, don’t do that’. It only got worse after my father died.”

            “I didn’t realize-” Leander started, but Natty held up a hand to cut him off.

            “It was my fault,” she said simply, “and I don’t like discussing it.” A tall man dressed in all black walked through the door to the courtyard and both students stood, ending all conversation between the two. Leander hoisted his heavy bag over his shoulder and nodded at Sharp, who threw him a quizzical look.

            “Mister Prewitt, what on earth is in that bag?”

            “Potions, sir. Mostly for injuries, but some offensive ones as well.” Professor Sharp raised an eyebrow and took the bag, digging through it before shrinking it and placing it in his pocket. 

            “How on Earth have you never been caught?” he asked, shaking his head. “A whole bag of glass bottles?”

            “What are we supposed to use instead?” Natty returned, narrowing her eyes at the professor. 

            “Healing spells, of course. You only bring potions when you know you’ll be gone for a while. They make far too much noise.”

            Natty looked at Leander and sighed. “I guess that explains why the last mission went so badly,” she said softly, and Leander couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

            “We should have known,” he confirmed. Professor Sharp rolled his eyes and gestured for them to follow him.

            “We will be apparating closer to the castle,” he explained, walking quickly. “Then, we will scout the area and form our plan.” He led the pair to a wooded area next to the road and gripped their arms. With a turn, he ripped through space, forcing their bodies to appear nearer the ruins infiltrated by Harlow’s men. Natty immediately started for the front door and Sharp roughly pulled her back.

            “Where are you going?” he whispered, and she pointed at the door.

            “It’s right there,” she said quietly. “And there’s no way to know what’s behind it without getting closer.”

            “The front door will be too heavily guarded,” the professor hissed back. “We need to look for an alternate route.” 

            Leander, rather than listening to their bickering, had started creeping through the trees. One side of the wall was climbable, and he hissed back at his companions. “Over here!”

            Professor Sharp clapped a hand on Leander’s shoulder and smiled. “That’s exactly what we were looking for,” he whispered. 

Natty sighed as she, once again, felt Professor Sharp’s hand on her arm holding her back. “Professor,” she hissed, “if we don’t go now-”

            “We don’t know what’s on top of the wall,” he hissed back. “I will explore and see if I can find a way through, and you two-” he gestured to Natty and Leander, who was already rolling his eyes “-will watch my back down here. “

            “We’ve done this before,” Leander said sullenly, and Sharp smiled.

            “So have I.” He disappeared over the top of the wall. A few minutes later, the front gate to the castle opened and Natty and Leander climbed the ladder to meet their professor. 

            “Lots of resistance,” Sharp murmured, gesturing to the other side of the wall where Harlow’s friends and associates were milling about. “And overlap from the poaching. I can see some cages.”

            “Poppy would love to know that,” Leander muttered. Natty was already poking around the crates lying around the room, trying to find a way out. A barred door was hidden behind some planks, and with some difficulty, they were able to open it. Natty led through the door, peering around a corner to find a number of poachers on the ramparts fighting a-

            “Hippogriff!” she hissed to the others. Professor Sharp followed her example, quietly watching as the poachers pushed the animal back into its cage. Once the way was clear again, he turned back to the students. 

            “Change of plans,” he said quietly. “Someone needs to go rescue that poor thing.”

            “I think it’s Highwing,” Leander said softly. He had been one of the few Poppy had entrusted with her care and had seen Highwing on several occasions. Natty let out a low hiss.

            “Poppy’s friend.” She looked at the professor, who seemed only slightly confused and added, “Poppy Sweeting. She loves animals.”

            “In charge of the poaching side,” Sharp nodded. “Good student, a bit single-minded.”

            “That’s an understatement,” Leander said quietly. “I’ll go after Highwing. She knows me, so she’s less likely to hurt me.”

            “Then Natty and I will take care of finding the letter,” Sharp agreed. “We’ll try to draw them away.” Then, thinking, he pulled the bag of potions out of his pocket and enlarged it enough to be able to pick through it. He pulled several and placed them in his pocket, then sent the rest with Leander. Leander gave him a look and Sharp chuckled. “While they’re here,” he said cheekily, before turning to creep away. Leander continued across the ramparts, disillusionment in place, while Natty and Professor Sharp stole down to the courtyard. 

            Leander found mostly empty rooms. A few pieces of parchment and several unlocked chests gave him some idea of the wealth Harlow was generating, but there was nothing concrete that linked them to Rookwood and Ranrok. He supposed, looking at a manifest of animals to be shipped out the next day, that having Ranrok’s name on things would be a bit too on the nose, even for the level of intelligence often displayed by Harlow’s cronies. Instead, he gathered the papers and items and pocketed them. 

            He climbed another ladder and turned a corner to find a locked door. His suspicions raised, he broke the lock and entered. Inside were cages. Lots of cages. The room was almost entirely filled with cages, most of those filled with animals. He set to work freeing them, hoping they would return to their homes. He was tempted to bring the niffler with him; he had always had a fondness for the strange animals, adoring their faces and bright personalities, but decided he didn’t think Professor Weasley would enjoy the destruction that would follow a niffler in Gryffindor Tower. Instead, finding a pile of gold left carelessly on a crate nearby, he handed the niffler a bright gold coin and then threw another off the side of the tower. The animal scampered comically as it ran to collect the shining metal and Leander chuckled darkly. He could hear sounds of battle and hoped Natty and Sharp were ok, but rather than help, he climbed another ladder to the very top of the tower. 

            On the platform outside stood two hippogriffs, both chained to the ground. The closer one, white with gray accents, was clearly Highwing, and she snorted as he peered over the floor at her. Her companion, a dark hippogriff in blacks and dark grays, stomped impatiently at Leander. Leander instead looked at the darkened door, hoping against hope no wizards were hiding behind it. The black hippogriff stomped again. 

            “All right, all right, I’m coming.” Leander leaped onto the platform and walked over to the animals. Bowing low, he was surprised and gratified to find both returned the gesture immediately. He released their chains and Highwing dropped to her knees, allowing him to climb on. 

            “Hold on, girl, we need to get Natty and Sharp first,” he said quietly, trying to turn her toward the courtyard. The black hippogriff, snorting, took to the air and flew down into the courtyard before returning with two figures on its back. Highwing leaped off the platform to join him, happily cooing as she stretched her wings.

            “Did you get it?” Leander yelled at Natty. Natty grinned.

            “Summoned it right from Harlow’s hands!” she called. Even Professor Sharp was smiling. 

            “She was magnificent,” he said happily, petting the dark hippogriff. The animal snorted again making the professor laugh in response. “And so are you, my friend.”

            They flew over the lake as the sun was rising, cheering as both animals dove down to the surface and skimmed their feet through the top of the water. Leander took a deep breath, enjoying the cold wind brushing his face and whipping through his hair. Even Professor Sharp seemed to be enjoying himself. They landed neatly outside of the Beasts classroom and thanked their new friends.

            “I’ll let Poppy know you’re safe,” Natty whispered, and both creatures bobbed their heads in excitement. “Maybe, if you want, we can take you somewhere safe.”

            “That may be best,” Professor Sharp said. “If the poachers see them again, I doubt we’ll be able to get to them in time.” He gently petted the black one, feeling the gaps in his feathers where he had been mishandled. “You need some time to rest,” he said softly, and the hippogriff blinked slowly at him. Natty sighed.

            “I don’t have the nap-sack, Poppy does, and I doubt she’s up this early,” she said. “We’ll have to find a way to sneak these two into the Room without anyone knowing.”

            “I believe I can help with that,” Professor Sharp said. “Come on, you two, let’s go. New homes await.”

            Charlotte was quietly sipping her tea when Natty and Leander sank into their seats across from her. They looked tired, but neither seemed to have been seriously injured. She swept her eyes over their rumbled clothes and wind-swept hair and smiled.

            “How did the mission go?” she asked quietly. Both Natty and Leander beamed.

            “It actually worked well to have Sharp there,” Natty said, filling her plate with as many sausages as she could. “He was excellent backup.”

            “He helped us smuggle hippogriffs into the castle,” Leander added, pouring a cup of juice as he spoke. “So that was fun.”

            Ominis put his cup down, the china clinking as he shifted in his chair. “I’m sorry, he did what?”

            “Helped us smuggle hippogriffs into the Room. We had to tell him, by the way, I hope you’re not angry.”

            “Professor Sharp. The Professor Sharp. The one who gives Garreth a detention for every slightly less-than-perfect potion. That Professor Sharp?”

            “Yep!” Leander said cheerfully. “Said it reminded him of his student days. Anyway, we have two new hippogriffs with the unicorns, who have been brushed. Professor Sharp took some of the hair as ‘payment’ for helping us, but really, he seemed more giddy about having unicorns in the castle.”

            “Turns out he likes animals,” Natty said, mouth full of sausage. “He is going to talk to Poppy about Horntail Hall. One of the papers Leander managed to find had some references to it and Sharp thinks he has an idea.”

            “Well,” Ominis said, smiling, “at least we’re not in trouble?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

            Charlotte sighed into her pillow, drenched with sweat. It was early in the morning, entirely too early for her to be awake. She pulled the curtain on the window back and looked out over the castle. It was still dark, stars twinkling in the sky as the edges of the stones were silvered by the moon. She sighed again and went to roll over, turning away from the window, but stopped halfway through the motion. The nightmares were getting worse. She hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully for the last few weeks. The memory of the Pain magic seeped into her bones and kept her shivering with the cold it gave. It felt too much like the residual from the curse she suffered in the scriptorium, something full of pain, fear, and cold.

            Deciding sleep was impossible, she crept out of bed and dressed. If she couldn’t sleep, she may as well get some work done. Carefully she snuck down the staircase to the common room and then into the hallway outside of the eagle door. It was late enough that she doubted any teachers or prefects were prowling the halls, but she cast an invisibility charm to be safe. No one was around as she made her way to the Room of Requirement, calling the door into existence and slipping inside. She dropped her charm and sighed, leaning against the doors.

            The plants greeted her, their bright leaves and cheery flowers making her smile. She set about pruning them, collecting spare leaves for potions and fertilizer. A mandrake had fallen over since she had last tended to them and she righted the pot, noticing a crack down the side. It would have to be replaced to prevent the ticking time bomb of screaming death currently in her hands. She looked around for a spare pot and found one on a shelf, rolling up her sleeves and digging deep into the potting soil to fill the bottom. 

            “Charlotte, what are you doing here?”

            Charlotte started. Thankfully, the broken mandrake pot was on the table and some distance away, or she would have knocked it over and killed herself and the person speaking to her. She looked up to see Ominis, gently rubbing his eyes from sleep.

            “Don’t scare me like that,” she chided, brushing the dirt off her hands. “One of the mandrake pots fell over and cracked. I was replacing it.”

            “An excellent idea to prevent unwanted death,” Ominis agreed, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re here. It’s extremely late.”

            Charlotte stared at him, trying to find the words to explain away her lack of sleep and prevent Ominis from worrying, but ultimately decided she was too tired to lie. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, turning back to the pots. “My nightmares are getting worse.”

            Ominis said nothing, instead stepping up next to her and digging in a basket for earplugs. Wordlessly, she took them, and together they repotted the mandrake. It was angry being woken up from its nap and especially upset at the cold air now brushing against it, and it screamed loudly enough Charlotte was sure the whole castle knew. She shoved it into the pot and Ominis packed it with dirt, enveloping the root once more and silencing its screams to little more than muffled whimpers. They brushed their hands and removed the earplugs.

            “Getting a bit mature, I’m afraid,” Ominis said, moving the new pot to sit beside the other mandrakes. “We’ll have to decide what we’re going to do with them. Do we want them for potion ingredients or weapons?”

            “Both, I imagine,” Charlotte replied. She ran her eyes over the rest of the plants, then let out a tired breath. Ominis gently took her arm and led her away from the tables and toward the sink nearby to wash. 

            “Tell me about your nightmare,” he said suddenly. Charlotte frowned.

            “I’d rather not,” she said quietly. Ominis reached over and took her hand, leading her to the library and the sitting area she had created. She sat on one of the couches, leaning against the back and letting her entire body sink into the cushion. Ominis sat nearby in one of the chairs and leaned forward, waiting for her to speak. 

            “I’m afraid I’m going to be rather insistent,” he said gently. Charlotte could tell he wouldn’t be swayed and relented.

            “It’s nearly always the same. Something calling my name, the dragon attacking, the knights swinging their swords at me, the various spiders crawling out to bite… But now, there’s this added coldness.” She shivered before continuing. “It’s just Pain. Screaming, unending, violent Pain. It’s so cold, it hurts.”

            “The pain magic,” Ominis murmured. Charlotte nodded, letting out a little hum to let him know she agreed. “What does it feel like?” he continued, reaching over to take her hand. 

            “It’s just pain. The worst pain you’ve ever felt, physically or emotionally. Or both, at the same time. Every piece of you is consumed by it. It’s hard to push myself through or out, to be able to do something to get away.”

            “How did Isadora get something like this?” Ominis wondered. He absentmindedly rubbed calming circles into Charlotte’s hand and she felt her eyes drooping. 

            “I don’t know,” she murmured, leaning her head against the arm of the couch. “However she got it must be Dark. Nothing that awful can come from something with good intentions.”

            “You’d be surprised,” Ominis spat. He could hear Charlotte wilting and smiled. “You rest,” he said quietly. She hummed her ascent, her eyes already falling closed. Ominis waved his wand and produced a blue pillow and striped blanket. He gently lifted her head to place the pillow under her and she giggled sleepily. He wrapped the blanket around her, ensuring she was completely covered, before returning to his chair. Deek had fallen asleep much earlier in the chair opposite him, but the fireplace was still crackling with heat. Ominis picked up his book and paused to listen to her breathing gently deepening. What he wouldn’t give for this to be his every day.

            Ominis didn’t know when he also dozed off, but he woke up to the sound of china clattering on the table. He pulled out his wand from where it had fallen between himself and the chair and swept it over the room. He could make out the house elf staring at him from the coffee table and sighed. 

            “Deek didn’t mean to wake you, sir,” the elf squeaked. Ominis shook his head and smiled.

            “How long as I awake?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice low, but he could hear Charlotte stirring. 

            “You slept not long after Miss Underhill fell asleep,” Deek replied. The elf brought over a cup of tea for Ominis, made precisely how he liked it. Ominis took a deep breath in, enjoying the rich smell of the tea, and thanked the elf.

            Charlotte stirred again but quieted once Deek and Ominis were settled in their seats. Ominis checked the time and decided she could sleep a bit longer, instead pulling out his book once more. He was getting better at braille, thanks to the Room’s constant providing of new books for him to practice on, and he had selected a rather salacious Gothic story collection. He had just started reading Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner when he heard Charlotte stir again. 

            “Good morning,” he murmured, reaching over to take her hand. Instead, he brushed against her hair, the silky curls slipping through his fingers. He heard her sigh happily and smiled. “Did you rest well?”

            “Yes,” she said sleepily. “Only good dreams this time.”

            “Any you wish to share?”

            She slipped her hand into his and gave him a small squeeze. “I’m afraid not,” she said, though he could hear the embarrassed notes. “At least, none right now.”

            “I shall have to endure,” he said, mock woundedly. She giggled and took the cup of tea Deek silently handed her. They sipped in silence, Ominis enjoying his book and Charlotte sat in the memories of her dream. She flushed, remembering the feeling of Ominis holding her close, how his arms felt strong and secure around her, making her feel safe and cared for as she drifted off to sleep. He had gently run his hand through her hair, which gave her the most wonderful tingle in the bottom of her spine. And the feel of his lips against her forehead-

            “Is Miss alright? You are very red. Are you running a fever?” 

            Charlotte started, opening her mouth to reply as Ominis’ cool, long fingers gently rested against her forehead. She swallowed hard, willing her body to behave with the closer contact.

            “You are warm,” Ominis said softly. “Maybe not sleeping for so long has given you a fever. Lay back down, Charlotte, I’ll see if the Room doesn’t have anything for you.”

            “I’m fine, I promise, I-”

            “Please.”

            With that one word, Charlotte was defeated. She laid back against the pillow Ominis had conjured the night before and let him cover her again in the blanket. Deek began sorting through a potions cabinet, pulling out a few elixirs for her to take. Unwilling to admit what had caused her spike in temperature, she meekly took the offered liquids and closed her eyes, praying they would leave her alone so she could go back to her memories. Instead, Ominis once again took his place in the chair beside her, opening his book and running his fingers over the pages. After a few moments, Charlotte had to ask.

            “Are you staying with me?”

            “Of course,” Ominis said smoothly. “You’re ill. You can’t be left alone. I can’t promise I’m a good nurse, though.”

            Charlotte swallowed. “But, your classes-”

            “My dear, it’s Saturday. There are no classes. And whatever things you needed to do for the ancient magic path can wait until you’re well again.” She watched as his hand stretched toward her, gently feeling her forehead. “Your fever is down, but you must rest, and I think that’s best if someone is here to ensure your compliance.”

            Charlotte pulled the blankets up higher. She tried to hide her flush as she thought of Ominis staying beside her all day, ensuring she did no more than sleep and drink her potions. Her thoughts went wild before she was in control of them again. Instead, she let herself drift into sleep and think of happier times, when she would be full-grown and Ominis would be by her side forever.

            Poppy sat under the shade of the tree, waiting for her “backup” to arrive. She had scouted the area quietly over the last few days and had found a small poacher den nearby. It was as good a place to start as any, with all the rumors indicating Horntail Hall was somewhere nearby. She kicked a pebble away as she stretched out her legs. If only she didn’t have to wait for an adult. She could have been in and out already. 

            Three forms warped into being beside her and she sighed. “About time,” she said, somewhat annoyed. She looked up to see Garreth, Imelda, and Professor Garlick.

            “Sorry,” Professor Garlick said, holding out a hand to help Poppy up from her spot on the ground. “There was some debate over if I should go or if Professor Howin would be better qualified. She’s waiting at the school for any captured and injured beasts we find, but Professor Sharp insisted I was the better at combat magic.” 

            With her help, Poppy stood again, looking at her head of house with new eyes. Professor Garlick was usually dressed in frilly dresses with her hair in braided pigtails, but today she had adopted a sensible sweater over a pair of trousers, both in tones of brown. Her hair had been pinned up and away from her face, showing off her sparkling eyes. Imelda and Garreth both wore worn quidditch jerseys and trousers, Imelda’s hair pulled back into a ponytail and Garreth holding her hand. The three were formidable, Poppy knew, and she was oddly excited to see Professor Garlick in action.

            “It’s just over here,” Poppy said, pointing down from her perch. Almost directly below them was an abandoned camp. The poachers had left that morning, heading toward the main camp she had picked out nearby. Garlick nodded, pushing back her sleeves and pulling out her wand. 

            “Let’s go then,” she said cheerfully, leading the students down the bath. They reached the camp easily, splitting up to check for clues. Poppy noticed a large number of empty cages and harnesses. Why would they leave those behind, she wondered, running her hand over a small cage. She turned her head at Imelda’s call.

            “Over here!”

            The others made their way carefully to the Irish girl’s side and she pointed at a large silver object beside an empty tent. Poppy ran her hands over it, feeling the fine engravings along the side.

            “It’s not a usual poacher tool,” she said, standing back and looking at it questioningly. “I think it’s goblin silver.”

            “It is,” Garreth agreed. He leaned down to look at it more closely. “It looks like a collar of some type.”

            “Poachers don’t use collars, though,” Poppy said. She looked at Professor Garlick who shrugged. “Why would they have a collar like this?”

            “It’s too big for any normal animal,” Imelda said. “It has to control something really big.”

            “Maybe we’ll find more answers at the other camp,” Garlick said soothingly. “You said that one was still populated?”

            Poppy nodded. “People have been coming in and out of that camp all morning.” The others nodded and started down the path. They ran into poachers almost right away, having to cast hasty invisibility charms to disable them without being seen. Imelda snorted as the last poacher fell. 

            “You’d think they’d be better at this,” she hissed to the others. “Not much of a fight, are they? And how exactly does a Herbology professor know those jinxes?”

            Professor Garlick let out a soft chuckle. “My dear Imelda, you will find that you and your friends are rather more prepared for combat than most witches and wizards. And I wasn’t always a herbology professor.” The glimmer in her eye was almost dangerous and Imelda snapped her mouth shut. They continued, occasionally seeing a magical bird or dugbog as they went, finally reaching the long rope bridge that connected to the poacher camp. Professor Garlick grabbed Garreth’s arm and pulled them to the side, crouching behind a barrel.

            “You three will stay here. I will work on clearing the camp,” she hissed, and Imelda immediately shook her head.

            “There are… fifteen if I counted right,” she returned, peering around the barrel. “That’s too many, even for you.”

            “We’ll flank them,” Garreth proposed, drawing lines in the dirt. “Garlick and I will come out the front, and you two come up behind us and spread to the sides.”

            “Disillusionments?” Poppy asked, and Garreth nodded.

            “Stay under cover until we give the signal,” he added, before turning to the professor. She had her eyebrows furrowed but nodded slowly.

            “That could work,” she conceded. “But you three must be very careful. If you’re injured, you have to pull out, no matter what.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about us, Professor,” Poppy said, smiling. “We’ve done this before.”

            “The fact that you have is what worries me,” Garlick returned, but she smiled at them anyway. “I’m always proud of our students, but what you’re capable of is constantly amazing me.” They cast their charms and crept into the camp.

            Minutes later, the camp was empty. Garreth poked around a few crates while Poppy sighed.

            “No beasts,” she said sadly. “And no information on Horntail Hall.”

            “Poppy,” Imelda said, peering into the last tent. “You may want to hold off on the pity party.” She pulled back from the tent and thumbed at it. “This tent is deceptively big on the inside.”

            Poppy narrowed her eyes and ran over. She cast a quick disillusionment charm and snuck into the entrance, disabling an Ashwinder as she made her way to a small balcony overlooking the rest of the tent. She didn’t notice the others had followed her until she heard Garreth swear under his breath. In a pit below them were two dragons, roaring and snapping at one another as a crowd cheered around them.

            “It’s a fighting ring,” Garlick murmured, sounding sick to her stomach. “Horntail Hall is a dragon fighting ring.”

            Poppy’s mouth went dry. She could pick out scars on the dragon’s bodies, evidence that they had been fought before. A new gash had opened along the side of one of the dragons and it let out a roar of pain and fury as the people around them cheered. “This is sick,” she murmured, and Garlick and Garreth nodded silently. Imelda, however, clenched her fists. 

            “This is what that collar was for,” she hissed through her teeth. “Look, they’re wearing the same kind of collar now.”

            “It must allow them to control the dragons,” Garreth realized. “Merlin, this is awful.”

            “We need to rescue them,” Poppy said, crawling away. Garlick grabbed her arm.

            “Wait. Listen.” Turning her ear, she could hear goblins cackling below them and frowned. 

            “Let’s keep the invisibility on,” Poppy said. “We’ll sneak down, see if there’s any connection to Ranrok-”

            “-the goblins are proof of that,” Imelda cut in, but Poppy ignored her.

            “-and get whatever animals we can out,” she finished. Garlick nodded.

            “After you,” she said, gesturing for the students to lead the way. They snuck through corridors and hallways filled with bags and cages, most with traces of blood on them. Poppy tried hard not to think about how the blood had gotten there. As she passed through a door, she found a few goblins, cheerfully counting coins.

            “A good haul, this,” one said happily, adding the coins to a purse. Another scowled.

            “It would be if we didn’t have to share it with the wizards,” he spat. Then, turning to a third goblin, he asked, “Have you gotten your family to join us yet?”

            “Not yet,” the third replied. He leaned back in his chair, face frustrated. “My brother’s all for it but my uncle has them second-guessing.”

            “Wizard-lover?” the second asked, and the third laughed. 

            “If only they knew how disgusting humans really are!” A loud laugh went up through the group. Poppy slowly crept behind the first goblin, watching as Garlick and Garreth lined up behind the others. In one movement, they stunned the goblins. Imelda caught them with a well-timed levioso and placed them gently to the side. 

            “Anything?” she asked Garreth, who was looking over the table. He shook his head.

            “Must be further in,” he said, and they disappeared into the next doorway. Here, a long table had been set with some boxes, cages, bags, and an odd firepit. It held inside of the flames a single egg.

            “Look!” Poppy said, her eyes huge as she took in the blue shape. “It’s a dragon egg!”

            “Stand back,” Garlick advised, and the students watched as she opened the cage door. Poppy gently reached in and cradled the egg in her arms. 

            “The mother can’t be too far,” she said, looking around. A shrieking roar from the next room proved her right. Garreth poked his head around the corner.

            “Godric’s heart,” he swore, his face going pale. Imelda came to step beside him, and he pulled her back, trying to spare her the scene.

            A large dragon, desperately pulling against her chains, was surrounded by goblins and wizards, all shooting it with various curses. The dragon roared in pain and flapped her wings uselessly. Poppy felt tears in her eyes as she watched the mother call out for her egg. Beside her, Garlick clutched her wand in white knuckles. 

            “Absolutely not,” she said angrily. Without warning, she strode into the room, casting hexes and jinxes as she moved. Garreth swore and pulled Imelda to the side of the door to dodge a curse. Poppy rolled into the room, following her professor, casting shields over Garlick as needed.

            “How dare you?” Garlick spat as she made her way to the dragon. “How dare you treat this creature this way? You are spineless cowards, hiding behind your collars and chains.” She spun, casting a depulso around herself and pushing the goblins rushing up to her back into crates. “Uncaring fiends!” Garlick pushed against the dragon’s chains, breaking them. “Now let’s see how brave you are, with her on equal footing.”

            The room held its breath. The dragon, pulling her face mask off, looked at the goblins and Ashwinders with disdain. Taking a deep breath that gave Poppy just enough time to cast a shield charm around herself and Garlick, the dragon roared, letting out a stream of fire and destroying the entire room. Poppy looked up at the ceiling of the tent and cast confringo, burning away the fabric and letting the dragon escape. She took to the sky and with a last roar, she flew off into the mountains.

            Garreth and Imelda hobbled over to Professor Garlick and Poppy. Imelda had twisted an ankle dodging a goblin and Garreth, no longer carrying his bag of potions after Sharp’s pointed criticism, supported her as they stepped closer. 

            “With all due respect,” Garreth said, his voice full of awe, “you’re an absolute badass, Professor Garlick.”

            “Oh, thank you dear,” she said sweetly, her fiery persona forgotten. She waved her wand over Imelda’s ankle and smiled. “Here, take my hands, let’s get back to the castle. I think they’ll want to know about Horntail Hall.”

            That evening, Charlotte sat on her couch clutching the striped blanket as she listened to Imelda gush about Garlick. The quidditch star seemed to have gained a whole new respect for the usually genteel and cheerful professor.

            “And then she just fixed my ankle, just like that!” she said, sighing happily. “I’m going to have to ask her for lessons on some of those spells.”

            “I’m fairly sure none of them are taught at Hogwarts,” Garreth chuckled. “I’d love to know where she picked them up.”

            “She was a field herbologist,” Poppy said, still cradling the egg. “She traveled to a few remote locations to catalog new plants. She tells us about her travels sometimes, if we beg her enough.”

            “How did we not know about this?” Sebastian asked. He had been quietly taking notes and was shaking his head in disbelief. “We know about Sharp’s past, why hasn’t anyone talked about Garlick’s?”

            “Would you believe someone telling you that Garlick single-handedly dispatched a room full of goblins and Dark wizards?” Ominis asked smoothly. He had moved his chair closer to Charlotte’s couch and felt her leaning against it, clearly still tired. He placed his hand on her forehead before standing and preparing another dose of potions. “Garlick is a wonderful teacher, one of our best, but she’s not exactly a stereotypical adventurer.” Sebastian laughed and agreed. 

            “So, we have Horntail Hall down,” he continued, looking at his notes. “I found some things in the library, but those will have to wait for Charlotte to feel better. The rescued animals are with Howin, but she’ll need help. Garreth, you’ve been good with animals so far, could you?”

            “Can’t,” the Gryffindor said with a shrug. “I have to get back. Garlick let slip to my aunt that there was a dragon today and now I’m not allowed to go anywhere with anyone for any reason.”

            “That best be temporary,” Imelda said, eyes narrowing as he stood. 

            “It usually is,” he assured her, gently running a hand through her hair. “Once Aunt Millie calms down, which will be Monday, I’ll be free to fly all over the Highlands with you.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, smiling against her lips as Sebastian and Leander made gagging noises. As he left, he made a hand gesture his aunt would surely disapprove of at the two boys, who simply laughed as he slipped through the door. 

            “I’ll go see Professor Howin,” Poppy said, leaving the egg in an incubator Deek had conjured. Charlotte yawned and Ominis gently touched her arm.

            “Let’s get you back to your bed,” he said softly. She sighed.

            “I wish I could stay here,” she murmured. Sebastian and Imelda were suddenly in a very interesting discussion about quidditch, with Leander flushed and listening in. Ominis smiled.

            “Did you sleep better?” he asked, and he could feel her nodding. 

            “I only had happy dreams,” she replied. “No spiders, no pain, just happiness.”

            “I’m very glad.” He helped her stand and offered his arm. “I’ll walk you back.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

            It took a few days for Charlotte to recover, but Ominis’ constant ministrations helped considerably. The increased closeness had, for the time being, chased away her nightmares, and she entered the Great Hall on Wednesday morning refreshed and relaxed. She was starting to enjoy her eggs when Sebastian pushed his way between her and Poppy to sit beside her. Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

            “Sebastian,” she greeted. “And what are you up to this morning that you had to push poor Poppy down the bench?”

            “Remember that thing I said I might have found?” he said softly. Charlotte frowned.

            “Not really.”

            “Right, you were sick. Anyway, I found a reference in a book to Isadora. Not by name, but the details they provided lined up with her life.” He looked behind Charlotte to see Ominis leaning in, listening to every detail. “It seems she left a trail of her own. And, I know where it starts.” Sebastian beamed, clearly proud of himself, but Charlotte frowned further.

            “Sebastian, she was playing with Pain,” she whispered. “Do we really want anything to do with her?”

            “Charlotte’s right,” Ominis agreed. 

            “But we don’t know anything about her,” Sebastian argued. He hadn’t expected resistance and found his friends’ stance alarming. “It may be all a misunderstanding, or she’s blamed for creating the Pain magic when someone else did, or something.”

            Ominis hummed, thinking. “Let’s run it by Sharp,” he said finally. Sebastian sighed, but Ominis continued. “If Sharp says it’s worth looking into, I’ll feel a lot better about it.” Charlotte nodded, and Sebastian admitted defeat.

            “Fine,” he said, standing and letting Poppy have her place back. “We’ll go talk to Sharp this afternoon.”

            Later that day, Sebastian sat in the dungeons, waiting for his friends. Sharp had given him a book on defensive charms, hoping to build up Sebatian’s weaker spots dueling, and Sebastian was practicing a counter-jinx when Sharp came into the room. 

            “Very good,” he said, and Sebastian jumped back and looked at him, unsure what to do with the praise. “You’ve come a long way.”

            “Thank you, sir.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Something about the professor’s stance made him weary. He gripped his wand, trying to put a finger on why he felt that way when Sharp suddenly moved. His wand whipped through the air, sending a basic cast directly at Sebastian. He stumbled backward, throwing up a shield, before stepping back into place. He watched the older man, studying his posture, and was able to throw up a shield quicker the second time. Sharp whirled and cast a jinx just as Sebastian’s shield fell, and he rolled out of the way, letting the spell hit the wall harmlessly. Before Sebastian could stand, however, Sharp had thrown a levitation charm at him, and Sebastian dangled in midair.

            “Well done,” Sharp said, chuckling slightly as he dropped the spell. Sebastian landed on his feet, looking back at the professor. “You’re already less aggressive in a duel. You enjoyed Sir Thaddeus Warrington’s book, then.”

            “It was rather illuminating,” Sebastian replied, not putting away his wand. He watched the professor closely, causing him to chuckle again.

            “And you’re learning fast. Never let your guard down against an opponent.” Sharp nodded for Sebastian to sit and indicated the chair across the desk from his. “I understand a few of your friends have been reading the books as well. Do you practice dueling?”

            “Sometimes,” Sebastian admitted. “In the Room. We can create a side room designed for combat practice. We’re getting better, slowly.”

            “You should also practice your skills against new opponents,” Sharp said. “Becoming complacent or used to one style may kill you in the field.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I understand you found a lead for Charlotte’s ancient magic. Tell me about it.”

            Sebastian looked up, eyes wide. Sharp smiled but said nothing. “Who talked?” Sebastian demanded, making Sharp laugh. 

            “I have my ways,” Sharp said. “The lead, please.”

            “I found an obscure reference to Isadora in another text,” Sebastian said simply. “They didn’t give her name, of course, but there were enough details to confirm it was her. Birthplace, interests in obscure magic, that sort of thing. It must have slipped through the cracks when she was erased.” Sharp nodded, taking notes as Sebastian talked. “The book mentioned that there were a few other sites associated with Isadora, mostly now in goblin mines. I thought that was the final proof: if the goblins are there-”

            “-that means Ranrok,” Sharp finished. “Well done. Where is the first coordinate?”

            “Here,” Sebastian said, pointing to a map Sharp rolled out on the table. Sharp nodded and stood, walking to the middle of the room. When he realized Sebastian wasn’t behind him, he paused and arched a single eyebrow at the boy. 

            “Are you not coming, Mister Sallow?” he asked, his voice dripping with playfulness. “I would think, since you found the lead, you would wish to explore it.”

            “Shouldn’t we wait for Charlotte?” Sebastian asked. Sharp stared at him.

            “And you think we’re not going to her because…?” he asked, and Sebastian sighed.

            “You have her and Ominis waiting outside, don’t you?”

            “Of course. One of these days, Mister Sallow, you will have to trust me.” The pair made their way out of the castle to the courtyard where Charlotte and Ominis were sitting, waiting patiently. Sebastian was happy to see their hands intertwined, though they sprang apart as soon as Professor Sharp came into view. He thought he heard the older man chuckle slightly, but decided it had to be the wind instead; surely Sharp wasn’t interested in things like romance.

            “You were right,” Sharp said to Charlotte, nodding down at her. “Sebastian did have a lead, and it is probably dangerous. However, it seems to be worth the risk.”

            “Then I’m coming, too,” Ominis said quickly. He took Charlotte’s hand again, squeezing it in a way Sebastian was coming to recognize meant “I love you”. Sharp simply nodded. 

            “We’ll take the Floo if that’s ok with everyone. If needed, I will apparate us out of danger. Miss Underhill, do you wish to change your clothing before we depart?”

            Charlotte started, looking down at her pristinely pressed skirt and jacket. She was always perfectly dressed, her hair perfectly done, and it drove Sebastian wild. She agreed to change, though, and the two boys followed the professor to the front door of the school. Sebastian couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease his friend.

            “So, you are Charlotte are getting quite close,” he said innocently, watching Ominis’ face flush a light pink. 

            “I know it’s inappropriate,” he said quietly, “but holding her hand makes me feel more secure. I know where she is, I know she’s part of the group even if she doesn’t say anything. And I think she finds comfort in it, too.”

            “You’re going to have to send a letter to her father soon,” Sebastian teased, and Ominis sighed.

            “We’re working on one,” he admitted quietly. Sebastian thought he heard Professor Sharp let out a small gasp of surprise, but he covered it well. Ominis colored more deeply. “We’re deciding who it should be sent to, first of all, but courtships and engagements tend to be rather short in both of our circles, so we need to figure that out. Or wait, as seems increasingly likely.”

            “I can’t imagine waiting that long,” Sebastian said seriously. He held open the door to the front of the castle for Ominis and turned to face him, ignoring Professor Sharp behind him. “If you love her, just make it work.”

            “Unlike you, Mister Sallow, I believe Ominis is trying to retain Miss Underhill’s honor,” Professor Sharp said dryly. “If, as I believe, he wishes to spend the rest of her life with her, waiting is in their best interest to prevent any rumors or accidents.”

            Ominis glowed red under the setting sun but nodded. “I want to do this right,” he murmured to Sebastian. Sebastian sighed. 

            “Of course you’d be the one who wants to jump straight to marriage,” he teased, but he sounded somewhat hollow as he said it. Professor Sharp was about to comment when the doors opened again and Charlotte, dressed now in a sensible trouser and sweater set, came out. Her hair, normally down and with a bow tied around it, was now pulled back from her face into a braid. A silk ribbon tied it all together, matched to her sweater, and she pulled her wool cloak over her shoulders as they walked to the Floo point. Professor Sharp shot glances at her, surprised at how comfortable the normally prissy girl was in boys’ clothing. She held Ominis’ hand again, anchoring herself to the moment. It reminded him of another person, long ago.

            They took the Floo to a village not far from the mine. As they climbed up to it, Professor Sharp kept a running discussion on defenses, grilling Sebastian. The boy had learned quite a bit in the few months he had been in detention and was eager to share his new knowledge with his friends. By the time they reached the entrance, Charlotte and Ominis had been told in rough detail about five different spells. 

            “Down,” Professor Sharp hissed, pulling Sebastian to the ground and peeking over the rocks. A goblin was wandering over, looking for the source of the noise Sebastian had been making as he demonstrated a technique he had heard about from Hecat. Sebastian whimpered slightly, giving Professor Sharp a stab of regret as he checked to make sure the boy was alright.

            “Banged my elbow on the way down,” Sebastian said quietly, cradling his arm. “It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.” Charlotte crept closer to check on it while Sharp tracked the goblin coming closer. 

            “Not broken,” she whispered. “You just hit the nerve. Rest a second.”

            Sharp slipped from behind the rock, leaving the students behind as he cast a disillusionment charm over himself, shivering as the cold feeling dripped down his neck. He snuck closer to the goblin before stunning it, dragging it behind the rocks.

            “Can you move?” he whispered to Sebastian, who nodded. “We’ll sneak into the entrance from here and start searching. Any clues as to how to find the entrance?”

            “No, but I assume Charlotte can find it,” Sebastian said, and Charlotte nodded. 

            “If it’s enchanted with ancient magic, it will pull me,” she said. She cast her own disillusionment charm, making sure Ominis’ was intact before she dragged him out behind the stones with her, Professor Sharp and Sebastian right behind her. Together, they crept up to the mine entrance and snuck inside.

            The mine was big. Charlotte had never seen anything like it, and even Professor Sharp was slightly surprised at the size. Charlotte looked around, trying to find any trace of ancient magic. She could feel a slight pull and followed it further into the mine. Sharp was surprised at Charlotte’s confidence in her abilities but happily followed her deeper and deeper. 

            “Here’s the door,” Charlotte finally whispered. They appeared to be safe, so Sharp lifted their charms. The three students melted into reality next to him, Charlotte’s eyes firmly on the door on the wall opposite them. Sharp took a closer look, feeling along the oddly cold metal swirls and tangles that blocked the door.

            “How do we unlock it?” he asked quietly. Charlotte surprised him by casting three basic casts at the walls, revealing rune marks that swirled with her energy. The door’s barriers melted away and the door opened, and Charlotte led the way inside.

            “I’ll never get used to this,” Ominis said softly as she stopped, looking around the unlocked room. It was a small chamber with several niches in the wall filled with books and magical tools. Parchment littered the tables; Sebastian stationed himself at one and began sorting through the pages. Sharp was drawn to a mirror on the far side. Something about it was off, though he couldn’t tell what. Charlotte and Ominis, hands still linked, wandered around the shelves. 

            “I found something,” Sebastian called, making the rest turn toward him. “A journal, it looks like, from Isidora, and a few pages with notes I can’t quite make out.” Sharp stepped up and looked at the pages while Ominis took the journal, running his wand over it.

            “Journal doesn’t seem to be Dark, at least not in any way I can detect,” he said slowly, “but I…” He trailed off, his face contorted in confusion.

            “I feel it, too,” Charlotte said, touching the leather cover. “Pain.”

            “It looks like Isidora was interested in the Pain magic,” Sharp said quietly. “I don’t understand all of this, but there are references to pain.” Sebastian stepped closer and looked at the page Sharp was holding, squinting slightly.

            “It’s in Aramaic,” he said suddenly. “And this-” he pointed to the top of the page “-is Hebrew.” Sharp handed him the parchment and Sebastian dove headfirst into the languages. “I’ll need more time with it, of course, but I think I can make out some of the meaning.”

            “The journal is in Old French,” Charlotte said, handing the book to Sebastian as well. “I don’t know that either Ominis or I could translate it as quickly or easily as you could.”

            “I’ll get to work on these, then,” Sebastian said. Sharp sighed but nodded.

            “I’ll let Professor Hecat know,” he added. “She may have insights we don’t.”

            “Professor Fig would be eager to see them as well,” Ominis added. “He hasn’t been a part of this as much as he would like.”

            “Of course,” Sharp answered. He helped Sebastian gather the parchment and books, putting them into a small bag that seemed to shrink the materials as they disappeared into it. Then, turning to Charlotte, he asked, “Is there usually a way out that’s not covered in goblins and spiders?”

            Charlotte laughed. “Usually,” she nodded. She could still feel that pull behind her navel and followed it to the mirror Sharp had been staring at earlier. Behind the glass, she could see the Undercroft’s pillars and the myriad candles winking in the slight draft that permeated the space. “Hold on to my hand,” she said, taking Ominis’ and grabbing at Sebastian and Sharp. 

            “You may want to close your eyes,” Sebastian said cheekily, and Sharp rolled his eyes but complied. He felt a jolt, a pull behind his navel, and then slammed into solid ground. He opened his eyes to see a dungeon, but not one he had ever seen before.

            “Where are we?” he asked, and Sebastian sighed.

            “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?” he asked Ominis, who pursed his lips. 

            “This is the Undercroft,” Ominis said softly. “It was a family secret for generations and no professor has ever known about it. We’re in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, somewhere below Professor Hecat’s classroom.”

            “Remarkable,” Sharp breathed, looking back at the solid wall they had traveled through. “Isidora must have created it. Look at these markings.” He ran his hand over the swirl they had come to understand meant ancient magic. Various runes and diagrams surrounded it.

            “I’ve never seen those before,” Sebastian admitted, joining the professor. “Ominis, have you ever heard of runes on this wall?”

            “I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” Ominis said dryly. “My brother may have, but I avoid his presence wherever possible.”

            “Understandable,” Sharp murmured, still mesmerized by the marks. “We will have to bring Hecat down, to look at these runes more closely.”

            “So much for our private space,” Sebastian said sadly. “All those memories down here hiding from you and now you know exactly where to find us.”

            Sharp chuckled and finally pulled away from the wall. “Sebastian, you need fewer hidden places and more supervision,” he teased, “but I think we can probably keep this a secret from all but Hecat and Fig. Professor Black certainly doesn’t need to know.”

            “Well, that’s something,” Ominis said sadly. Then, taking Charlotte’s hand again, he led them to the lift to the school. As Sebastian closed the gate, Sharp suddenly had a thought.

            “If Isidora made this, how is there a lift?”

            “I’m afraid that’s the Gaunts,” Ominis replied gloomily. “It’s been a family secret for generations and one of my more recent relatives added the lift so he wouldn’t have to climb all those stairs.”

            “And how did they manage to install it without drawing attention to this place?”

            “Your guess is as good as mine, Professor.”

            The four made it to the top, all chuckling at the idea that somehow an entire school managed to not notice an elevator being installed under a classroom. 

            “I think we have some leads,” Sebastian declared. He was sitting in Professor Fig’s classroom, Isidora’s journal and notes spread out on the desk in front of him. Professors Hecat and Fig were pouring over their own sources, happily translating and annotating their notes. They had been working diligently for the last few weeks, trying to make sense of Isidora’s work while Charlotte and the others focused on emptying poacher and Dark wizard camps around the Forbidden Forest. Professor Sharp, enjoying his return to fieldwork, had them on a regular rotation to work on their dueling skills without running the risk of being identified. Sebastian, reluctant to return to combat, had instead volunteered his language skills to help work through the material left behind.

            “What did you find?” Fig asked, standing and stretching. Sebastian rubbed his neck.

            “I don’t think this passage is in Icelandic, as we thought before,” he said, pointing out a section of runes Hecat had worked on previously. “The translation doesn’t make sense if it’s a more modern language. But if we look at it through Old Norse…”

            “Of course, how did I miss that?” Hecat cried, running over and taking the parchment. She placed it side by side with Sebastian’s translation and smiled. “Excellent work, Mister Sallow. You’ve cracked it!”

            “Indeed you have,” Fig said happily. He glanced over the translation and paused. “Is this… Is this what I think it is?”

            “I think so,” Sebastian agreed. “She mentioned a type of stealing spell I’ve never heard of before, and I think she encoded the incantation in this section here.” He pointed down at a hastily written sentence in Aramaic. 

            “Interesting use of language,” Hecat drawled, “hiding her incantation to remove pain in the language Jesus Christ spoke.”

            “I think it was meant to be a private joke,” Sebastian said softly. “The 1300s weren’t exactly wizard-friendly.”

            “No indeed,” Fig agreed. He took a seat on the bench next to Sebastian and sighed. “So, what do we actually know at this point in time?”

            “Isidora seems to have created a spell to remove pain,” Hecat said slowly, running her finger along a line of diagrams. “She worked diligently, her work is exquisite, but I feel something is missing.” They fell into silence as she fell into her thoughts, brushing her fingers along the various lines and frowning as she turned the diagrams this way and that.

            “We’ll have to see what the next memory is,” Sebastian said finally. “Clearly, something went wrong. And you’ve seen how Charlotte reacted to it,” he added to Fig, who nodded.

            “It was as if she could feel the pain amplified and trapped. It seems almost impossible that an ancient magic user could handle such magic without taking precautions.”

            “I don’t see that she did,” Hecat said slowly, dropping the page to the desk surface. “We will have to find more of her notes to be sure.” She turned to Sebastian. “You said you had more of her workshops located?”

            “I think so,” he said, pulling out the journal and turning its pages. “Here, she mentions being outside Feldcroft, and there’s a reference to being on the coast.” He closed the journal and handed it to the professor, who studied the writings carefully. “Professor Sharp made a map of locations of goblin activity, so it may be worth cross-referencing for likely spots.”

            “Excellent,” Fig said, clapping his hands together. “Sebastian, you start working on narrowing down locations. Professor Hecate, if you would be so kind as to continue to ponder Miss Isidora’s puzzling magic, I will work with Charlotte to pass the next trial.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

            Sebastian ran through the halls toward the Great Hall, accidentally knocking over a few first years in his haste. He called an apology to them as he rushed past, the students grumbling in his wake, but he couldn’t slow down. By the time he had joined the Hufflepuff table, he was out of breath and sweating. Imelda and Charlotte looked up at him with wide eyes.

            “What on Earth?” Charlotte cried.

            “What the hell?” Imelda yelled, which seemed much more appropriate given his state.

            “Charlotte, you-you need to…” Sebastian panted, but Charlotte seemed to understand regardless. 

            “In the Room?” she asked, but Sebastian shook his head. 

            “We can’t keep guessing, Sallow,” Imelda snapped. “Are they in the Room or not?”

            “Classroom… Sharp’s- he’s fighting with-”

            The girls didn’t give him a chance to finish. They abandoned their plates and stood, rushing toward the dungeons. Sebastian followed, though more slowly than previously. By the time he had made it to the dungeons, the girls had already arrived and were trying to separate the potions professor from Sebastian’s uncle.

            “How dare you insult me?” Uncle Solomon roared, shoving Charlotte to the ground and lunging at Sharp. Sharp struggled against Garreth and Leander holding him back.

            “Sir, please,” Garreth pleaded, but Sharp was already spitting his reply back at Solomon.

            “You’re lucky all I’m doing is insulting you, Sallow! I saw what you did to Sebastian, you bastard!”

            “Ominis, get Professor Weasley,” Charlotte yelled, and Ominis nodded before retreating from the room. She struggled again to hold Uncle Solomon back, Imelda and Poppy adding their weight, but it was no use. He pushed the girls to the ground and threw himself at Professor Sharp. Sharp, seeing the danger Garreth and Leander were in, pushed them to the side and took the brunt of the attack. The men fell to the floor tangled together with fists and fingers flying, trying to find soft places to attack. The girls screamed, Imelda, pulling out her wand to separate them, when a booming voice came from the doorway.

            “Levi corpus!”

            The men were separated and hung in the air. Sharp had a bloody nose while Solomon had a bruise beginning to form on his cheek while blood slowly trickled from his split lip. Professor Ronen came into the room, followed by Professor Weasley and Professor Hecat, wands at the ready.

            “Gentlemen,” Ronen said, his usually joyful voice ice cold, “what is the meaning of this? And in front of students?”

            The men opened their mouths to argue, but Ronen yelled for them to be silent. The students, picking themselves up off the floor, stood back to allow the professors to enter the room. Professor Weasley stepped over to Garreth’s side, taking his arm and running her eyes along his body for any injuries. 

            “I’m fine, Auntie,” he said quietly, trying to reassure her. “The girls got the worst of it.”

            “Nothing a wiggenweld won’t fix,” Poppy said bracingly, as the professor’s eyes swept over her. 

            “Regardless, I want you all at the hospital wing,” Professor Weasley said. She pulled Garreth to the door and watched as the students slowly made their way down the hall. Once they were out of sight, Imelda turned on Sebastian.

            “What the hell happened?” she hissed. Sebastian reddened. 

            “Solomon was angry,” he said. He paused to let some third-years pass before continuing. “He had gotten a letter from the ministry. Sharp reported him for child abuse after I came back with a broken rib.”

            “Child abuse?” Charlotte asked, eyes narrowed. Poppy sighed.

            “There aren’t many wizarding children,” she said softly. “The ministry takes much more of an interest in how we’re treated as a result.” Sebastian nodded.

            “Normally, just being knocked around a bit isn’t an issue,” he continued, “but last time I was home, Solomon was almost feral. He kicked me repeatedly for giving Anne her medication and broke a rib. Sharp noticed I was hiding it and reported him. He got the owl today.”

            “And he came at Sharp,” Garreth said sadly. “He must have guessed Sharp was the one who reported him.”

            “Sallow still has connections at the ministry,” Leander said. “He could find that information out without too much difficulty.”

            “Regardless, this isn’t going to help his case,” Ominis said, holding Charlotte’s hand as they climbed the stairs. “Which, in this instance, is a good thing.”

            “I hope they got Anne out first,” Sebastian whispered. Imelda patted his arm in comfort. 

            Nurse Blainey insisted on all of them staying for the next few hours for observation and settled the group at the far end of the hospital wing. They, naturally, left their beds and congregated around Sebastian’s, giving him little squeezes of comfort as they tried to keep their minds off of what had just happened. 

            “Maybe they’ve gone to get Anne,” Charlotte said finally. Ominis squeezed her hand. 

            “I hope so,” Sebastian said. His eyes were clouded with worry, and he had barely reacted to any of their jokes and stories. “If he’s trying to kill professors now…”

            “Professor Weasley wouldn’t let anything happen to Anne,” Poppy said firmly. “And neither would Professor Sharp, or Professor Ronen, or-”

            “Just about anyone but Black,” Garreth smiled. “I’m sure they’re getting her out.”

            The doors to the hospital wing opened and they all peeked around the corner of the curtain. A very thin, very weak brown-haired girl was being helped down the aisle by Professor Weasley, Professor Ronen following with her trunk. 

            “And you have your own welcome committee,” Professor Weasley said, smiling at their anxious faces. “Here, we’ll put you down here and pull the curtain so you can see them.”

            Professor Ronen dropped the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled the partition away to reveal Anne, lying on the bed and being fussed over by Professor Weasley. She was extremely thin, her face almost sunken, and Sebastian let out a cry as he leaped out of bed to get to her.

            “Anne, what did he do to you?” he cried. Professor Weasley caught him and helped him into a chair, handing Anne’s hand to him to hold.

            “Anne is very sick,” she said bracingly, “but Nurse Blainey will be here in a moment, and we’ll know more then.” Professor Ronen conjured several cushioned, purple and green chairs and placed them around Anne for the others. Ominis sat on her other side, drawing her hand into his and giving her a small squeeze. 

            “Oh, Anne,” he breathed, feeling her claw-like hand. “What did he do to you?”

            The group kept silent watch as Nurse Blainey bustled into their midst and started pouring out measures of potions. She waved her wand over Anne several times and frowned before retreating for more potions. Anne soon had a rainbow of bottles on her bedside table and was resting more or less comfortably. 

            “She’s not had her pain potions,” Nurse Blainey said finally to Sebastian. “She’s been unable to eat because of the pain. She looks worse than she is, I promise.”

            “Will she be ok?” Sebastian asked quietly. Nurse Blainey smiled.

            “Given some time and some care, I think she’ll be just fine, Mister Sallow,” she said softly. She patted his shoulder before turning to Professors Weasley and Ronen.

            “I would like to keep Sebastian here for the time being,” she said, and both professors nodded their agreement immediately. “I believe the others will be fine.”

            “Excellent,” Professor Weasley said. Professor Ronen gave the assembled students a short bow and smiled broadly at them, giving Garreth a small pat on the shoulder as he left the room. Professor Weasley sighed.

            “I think it may be best for all of you to remain somewhere more secure for the time being,” she said softly. “Perhaps the Room?” Charlotte nodded and stood. Ominis gave Anne’s hand a gentle squeeze.

            “Welcome back, Anne,” he whispered before standing. The others followed, giving Sebastian and Anne gentle touches of support and comfort as they followed Professor Weasley out of the room. She led them to the Astronomy tower, calling the door and watching them file inside before entering herself.

            The Room had adjusted for their changed needs. Instead of the usual library, there was a common room with comfy couches and a roaring fireplace. A series of doors were set in the wall leading to bathrooms and bedrooms for the girls and boys separately, and a long dining table sat in the center filled with snacks and sandwiches. Garreth’s grin faded when he realized he didn’t have access to his potions room, though Professor Weasley seemed to have done that by design. Once they were seated on the various couches, she started her lecture.

            “I must ask that none of you leave this room until we are sure of your safety,” she said sternly, looking at Garreth pointedly. Garreth threw his hands up.

            “If you wanted me to stay put, you could have given me a cauldron!” he cried, making the others laugh. Professor Weasley let out a small smile.

            “Solomon Sallow is currently being questioned by a pair of aurors. Until we know the outcome, I would feel better knowing you’re all safe and not causing explosions, Garreth.” 

            “Professor,” Charlotte asked quietly, “What’s going to happen to him?”

            “Solomon Sallow has been very cruel to his niece and nephew,” she said, and Charlotte noted the vein dancing on her forehead as Professor Weasley tried to hold back her anger. “I expect, once the aurors have interviewed Anne and Sebastian, he will be charged and removed from the grounds. Everything must be handled carefully, understand, and I have every faith that both Anne and Sebastian will be safe very soon.

            “I am leaving Deek here to watch you all and make sure there are no unexpected explosions-” she gave Garreth a stern look and he threw up his hands in defeat “-or other trouble. If you need anything, let Deek know and we will arrange it for you.” With that, she turned and left the room, her cape swishing slightly as she closed the door.

            “I’ve never seen Aunt Millie so angry,” Garreth said quietly. “I feel bad for Solomon. He has no idea what he’s just started.”

            “Did you see the vein, too?” Charlotte asked, and Garreth nodded.

            “I’ve only seen it once before,” he admitted. He threw himself onto a cushy red couch and sighed. “Oh, this couch is divine. Imelda, you need to try this.”

            “Not my color,” Imelda said, smiling as she sat on the green chair nearby. Garreth pouted. Leander sat next to him, grabbing a decorative pillow with a unicorn on it and throwing it onto the ground.

            “When has she been this mad?” Leander asked and Garreth made a face.

            “You know how my family has a big get-together for Christmas?” he asked, ignoring the others for the moment. Charlotte sat on a blue chaise, Ominis sitting next to her and leaning against the back for support. Poppy sank onto the floor, grabbing the pillow Leander had thrown and clutching it to her chest. Leander nodded.

            “Yeah, you guys drink a few bottles of wine and then my father has to come out and tell you all to stop,” he said laughing. 

            “Well, one year, Uncle Billius chucked the turkey because he was mad at Auntie Mildred,” Garreth said, making a face. “She’d spent all day on that thing, and he just threw it out to the dogs like it was nothing. Dogs were sick for a week. Aunt Millie laid into him when she found out, screaming the walls down about respect and support and stuff. Uncle Billius hid from her for three years before he could be convinced she wouldn’t turn his ba-”

            “Anyway,” Poppy interjected, making everyone laugh. 

            “Smallest purse she could make,” Garreth finished, roaring with laughter. “Auntie Mildred does a lot better now with the threat of Aunt Millie hanging over Uncle Billius every time he makes her mad.”

            “Do you have a large family?” Charlotte asked, and Garreth laughed again. 

            “Weasleys are prolific if nothing else,” he said with pride. “I have two older brothers and two younger sisters, and at least a dozen cousins and half-cousins running around. Lee’s family’s the same way.”

            “Decidedly not,” Leander protested, making a face. “I only have two siblings, both younger.” 

            “Yeah, but we share some of those cousins, so…”

            “Only because Uncle Billius is a Prewitt, but honestly, you can keep him.”

            “What about you?” Poppy asked, looking at Imelda. Imelda sighed. 

            “Only child. Wanted a sister so badly growing up, but now living with other girls, I’d rather not, thanks.”

            “Same,” Poppy said, “but I wanted a brother.”

            Garreth laughed. “Having both, I can promise you, brothers are way more fun.” Then he turned to Charlotte. “Any other princesses running around?”

            Charlotte chuckled. “It’s just me,” she admitted, making an exaggerated frown. “But I have Nathaniel, and he’s basically a brother at this point. Our family is rather small, though. Right now, it’s just my parents and Nathaniel and me.”

            “No grandparents or aunts and uncles?” Garreth asked. He couldn’t imagine not having his extended family, but Charlotte shook her head.

            “My grandparents died shortly after I was born,” she said softly, “and Nathaniel’s parents passed in a boating accident. Since Nathaniel was my father’s heir, they took him in before I was born, so he wasn’t very close with his parents. It was still hard to lose them, though.”

            “What about you, Poppy?” Leander asked. Poppy sighed.

            “It’s just me and Gran,” she said, hoping no one would ask beyond that. Charlotte smiled at her.

            “Small family club!” she cried, giving Poppy a high five. Imelda scooted closer to them and smiled. 

            “Can I join?” she asked, and Poppy happily high-fived her back. Then she turned to Garreth and stuck out her tongue.

            “You’re not allowed, though,” she said teasingly, and Garreth huffed before laughing. Leander stood and stretched before wandering over to the table and grabbing a few sandwiches. Charlotte gave him a disgusted look as he shoved one into his mouth.

            “What?” he asked, mouth full. Charlotte’s face looked even more disgusted.

            “Were you raised in a barn?” she asked. Leander rolled his eyes but grabbed a plate for his food before sitting back beside Garreth. Garreth leaned over and stole one of the sandwiches, happily munching. 

            “Did you expect to be in Slytherin, Ominis?” Poppy asked from the floor. Ominis tilted his head, thinking.

            “Of course,” he said. “There’s a charm that would prevent me from being sorted elsewhere. I tried, of course.”

            “What charm?” Imelda asked. Ominis shrugged.

            “Slytherin put a charm on the Sorting Hat,” he explained. “His descendants would all be sorted into his house. It was supposed to keep the blood pure or something, prevent us from marrying muggle-borns, but I’m not sure it worked like that. There’s very few of us now, of course.”

            “Kind of what happens when you marry your cousins,” Leander murmured, and Ominis laughed. 

            “They did rather cut off their nose to despite their face,” he agreed. “Though it’s not just cousins. My parents are half-siblings.”

            “That’s disgusting,” Imelda said, making a face, and Ominis shrugged again.

            “I certainly won’t do it,” he replied. “I know all my relatives and I’d rather not be tied to any of them for life. And there’s not enough of us anymore anyway. I expect my parents would have to look outside of the family.”

            “Where did you want to be sorted?” Poppy interrupted. “I mean, when you tried.”

            “I rather thought Hufflepuff would be nice,” Ominis said, smiling. Poppy grinned back.

            “I think you’d look lovely in yellow,” she replied. “You’d love our common room. It’s filled with nooks for reading and there’s a sweets closet hidden in the walls.”

            “How come you guys get the sweets closet?” Garreth protested, and they all laughed. 

            Sebastian sat in his seat beside Anne, watching her sleep. Her face had relaxed since Nurse Blainey gave her the various potions and she was breathing easier. She was still thinner than he would like, but he had been assured multiple times that she would recover with time. He couldn’t forgive himself for not dragging her away when he realized what Solomon was doing to her. He clenched his fist in his lap, trying to keep Anne’s hand in his other while releasing some of his anger. He started when he realized steps were coming down the aisle and nearly jumped when Professor Sharp came around.

            “Expecting someone else?” Sharp asked softly, and Sebastian looked back at Anne. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he was, actually, expecting Solomon to come and drag Anne away from him. Sharp seemed to understand anyway and pulled up a chair next to him.

            “I’m sorry it came to this,” he said quietly. “We had planned to convince Solomon to let us bring Anne here, but I couldn’t ignore your injuries. And if he did that to you, who knew what else he was doing to Anne? I couldn’t take the risk.”

            “I don’t blame you,” Sebastian said slowly. “I’m just scared he’ll-”

            “He won’t.” Sharp placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “There are a few things I need to discuss with you and Anne, but first, I wanted to let you know that the ministry has completed their initial investigation. Based on all the evidence you gave them and the things I found, Solomon will be kept in one of the cells at the ministry to ensure your safety. Professor Black has banned him from the grounds. He can’t come get you anymore, not while you’re here.”

            Sebastian swallowed. “What about the summers? We can stay for Christmas, but-”

            “That is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Sharp shifted in his chair, almost anxious, and Sebastian finally turned his head to look at him. The professor, usually so self-assured, was sweeping his eyes around the room, looking everywhere but at Sebastian. “With Solomon being tried, you and Anne will need a temporary guardian. I understand if you have someone in mind, but I was hoping to be able to volunteer.” The last words were almost whispered but sounded as loud as a yell in Sebastian’s head.

            “Volunteer? To take us? Why?”

            Sharp turned his eyes on Sebastian and sighed. “Because you are me, a few years ago,” he admitted finally, “and I want to make sure you don’t make the same mistakes. Because you are a brilliant scholar and an even better duelist, and I can’t imagine the damage you could do if you were left to your own devices. But mostly because you need me.”

            Sebastian’s head whirled. He gripped Anne’s hand a little tighter as he heard Sharp’s words reverberate through his mind. He couldn’t quite grasp an adult, especially one Sebastian had been testing and pushing and annoying for five years, would want anything to do with him outside of school hours. “Sir,” he said, swallowing, “you don’t have to do this.”

            “I know. I want to.”

            Sebastian looked at him again, eyes narrowing. “Do you get paid for this or something?”

            Sharp laughed. “Oh, Merlin, I wish it was that simple,” he said. “No, I will have to pay for you two myself, and on a professor’s salary no less.”

            “Then-”

            “I don’t expect you to understand yet,” Sharp interrupted. “It’s hard to accept love when you don’t know what it looks like, and I don’t know if I can offer anything like that yet. But you both need me, and I can’t imagine not offering to be there for you.”

            “Tell the man yes, Seb, and shut him up,” Anne croaked from the bed. Sebastian laughed as he watched his sister’s eyes slowly blink up at him. “Otherwise, he’ll start in on duty next.”

            “How much did you hear?” Sebastian asked. Anne squeezed his hand. 

            “Enough,” she returned. “Are you going to say yes or not?”

            “I’m making a huge mistake,” Sebastian said, turning back to Sharp. “Between the two of you, my ego will suffer.”

            “Good,” Anne said, turning her face away to sleep again. “Your head’s always been too big anyway.”

Chapter Text

            Charlotte sighed as she put on the heavy crinoline cage. She had hoped she had gotten away from them when she went to school, but alas, the school insisted on holding balls periodically. This would be the first one she attended, mostly because of Poppy and Natty insisting she had to.

            “Charlotte, what are you going to do with your hair?” Natty asked. She was already dressed in a brightly colored costume. Her hair was twisted up into a headdress that surrounded her face and extended out in a halo of color. She smiled as Charlotte’s jaw dropped.

            “You look stunning, Natty,” she managed, and Natty flushed.

            “My mother insisted,” she argued, then turned back to the blonde. “You. Hair. What are we doing with it?”

            Charlotte looked in the mirror. Only half dressed, with the cage creating space around her legs and hips, she felt ridiculous. Her frown caught Poppy’s attention.

            “You just need your dress on,” she argued, reaching over to find where Charlotte had laid it on the bed. She grabbed the light pink skirt and bunched it up slightly, making it easier for Charlotte to slip it over her arms and settle it on her hips. Natty, smoothing the fabric, bent over to make sure it wasn’t caught on the cage, and Charlotte felt for the small buttons to close it. The skirt was decorated with a ruffle of flowers sweeping across the hem of the skirt and a soft motif of lace ran across the bustles in the back. Poppy sighed happily once she was satisfied the skirt lay correctly.

            “You have the most beautiful dress, Charlotte,” she said. “Maybe your mother will send another one and I can borrow this one next time.”

            “I’m certain if I asked my mother, she would happily send dresses for everyone,” Charlotte returned, grabbing her top. The pink silk felt like water in her hands. She pushed her hands through the short sleeves and held it in place while Natty buttoned it closed. Poppy, eager to continue to be helpful, handed Charlotte the spray of silk roses that pinned to the lefthand sleeve. Natty stood back, looking over the dress. 

            “Not bad at all, Charlotte,” she said with a smile. “You may yet please your mother.”

            “That is impossible, I’m afraid,” Charlotte retorted, but she flushed under the praise. She looked in the mirror and pulled her hair up, trying to decide how to wear it. Poppy tilted her head, watching. Natty frowned, pulling out a few curls to cascade down from a small bun on the back of her head. Charlotte’s face relaxed immediately and Natty grinned.

            “You have it easy,” she teased. “If I wasn’t wearing this headdress, my hair would take hours.” 

            “I wish I could wear a headdress,” Charlotte retorted. “I love the beautiful lace bonnets married women wear, but Mother never let me try one. I am, apparently, too young.” She looked over at Poppy and finally appreciated her friend's dress. It was a beautiful yellow taffeta gown, though woefully out of date, with a brown ribbon accentuating her waist. Natty followed Charlotte’s eyes and grinned at their friend.

            “I love your dress, Poppy,” Charlotte said softly. “It looks so much more comfortable than mine.” Natty pricked her with a silk rose and Charlotte gave a soft cry, turning to glare at the Gryffindor. Poppy flushed.

            “It was Gran’s,” she said quietly. “I know it’s not in fashion anymore, but-”

            “But nothing, it’s beautiful on you,” Natty cut in. She took a step back, looking over her friends, and nodded. “I think we’re all ready. Shall we?”

            Charlotte held the banister tightly as she descended to the Great Hall. Natty, who was attending with Amit, already had her hand wrapped around his arm. His traditional robes in silver and blue shimmered with every step, and Natty’s headdress only made them more handsome as a couple. Poppy waved to Leander, who smiled broadly. The girls made their way over, and Leander took Poppy’s hands to look at her properly. 

            “You clean up nice, Sweets,” he teased, and she made a grumpy face at him that made him laugh. 

            “You don’t need to lie,” she said softly. “I know the dress is old.”

            “So are my robes,” Garreth replied, leaning over Leander’s shoulder to look at the girls. “Who cares, we’re here to have fun.”

            “I think you look great, Poppy,” Leander assured her. “Were I courting you, I would not be able to restrain myself from kissing your hand.”

            “Were you courting me, I’d expect some flowers first,” Poppy countered, but she took his arm anyway. They fell in behind Garreth in a red suit leading Imelda dressed in a soft green gown. She looked decidedly uncomfortable and was fidgeting with her gloves. Charlotte looked around the hall but didn’t see any trace of Ominis or Sebastian. She picked up her dance card from the bowl at the door, fixing the tie to her wrist. 

            “Charlotte!”

            She looked up to see Sebastian pushing through the crowd. He also wore what seemed to be an older black suit, but it was carefully tailored to fit him closely. His hair was slicked back, making him look older. He worked his way through to stand with the group, grinning widely. 

            “He’s on his way,” Sebastian said, not bothering to explain who he was talking about. “His father sent a house elf to get him ready and it’s been a whole thing.”

            “You look rather dashing tonight,” Charlotte said sweetly, and Sebastian grinned.

            “Yeah, Professor Sharp knows how to charm clothes.” He looked over at the others and gave a wicked smile to Imelda. “And that’s something I never expected to see.”

            “Shove it, Sallow,” she spat, and Sebastian laughed. He touched Poppy’s back to get her attention.

            “Do you have a space for me?” he asked, and Poppy flushed. 

            “Leander takes the first, but you can have the second,” she said shyly, and Sebastian made a face.

            “Leander got there first,” he teased, before nodding and writing his name on her card. 

            “Look at you, Poppy, two dances already!” Natty said happily. “And I don’t have any yet.”

            “Wait, I didn’t know I had to write on the card!” Amit cried, making the others laugh. He quickly wrote his name down for her first dance of the evening, making Natty beam. They were moving over to the refreshments when Charlotte felt a hand on her arm. She jerked around to find Ominis in a perfectly tailored suit and holding a small pink rose.

            “Good evening,” he said, falling into a perfect bow. Charlotte curtsied in response, flushing with nerves. “I believe you dropped this,” Ominis continued, holding out the rose. 

            “Oh, thank you,” she mumbled, taking the flower. It clearly had not fallen off of her costume, but she clutched it closely. Ominis smiled and stepped closer, offering his arm, and she took it, carefully curling her silk-covered fingers around his arm. They followed the others, first getting drinks, and then finding a few chairs to rest in. 

            “I was starting to think you’d never get out of the common room,” Sebastian said, standing behind Natty’s chair. Ominis sighed.

            “Father was very explicit in his instructions, including the one to ignore any instructions I gave instead,” he said glumly. “I’ve never used so much pomade in my life.”

            “Natty helped do our hair,” Charlotte supplied, “and she didn’t use any pomade at all.”

            “Ruins the feel,” Natty added, nodding. “Much better to run your fingers through later if it’s not stiff.”

            “You should tell that to my father,” Ominis spat. Then, collecting himself, he leaned over to Charlotte. “Do you have any spaces left?” he asked. Charlotte picked up her card.

            “It’s empty as of now,” she said softly. “Would you like a dance?”

            “Of course,” Ominis hummed, gently touching the paper with his wand. His name in flourishes appeared on the top of her card, and then again a few spaces later, and then a third time as he last dance. Charlotte flushed.

            “Ominis, you can’t dance so often with me,” she whispered. “That would tell everyone-”

            “-that I am courting you, yes. I’m aware.”

            Charlotte flushed deeper, looking almost like a tomato in her dress, and Imelda tutted.

            “It’s a school dance, Charlotte, come on,” she taunted. She was perched on Garreth’s knee, propriety completely forgotten. “Loosen up. Everyone knows you and Ominis are unofficially a couple, so you might as well enjoy yourself.”

            “And you’re not only dancing with him,” Natty added, touching Charlotte’s card with her wand. “All of the boys will dance with you, too.”

            “Hey!” Imelda started, but Natty gave her a look.

            “You could use a bit more propriety,” she said seriously. “If you end up with child, you can’t exactly have a quidditch career.”

            “Touche,” Garreth said smoothly, rubbing Imelda’s back to calm her down. “It’ll do you some good, love, to dance with other people.”

            The band started the first song, a waltz. Charlotte stood and took Ominis’ offered arm, sweeping onto the dance floor. He took her right hand in his left, holding them out away from their bodies, and with his right he pulled her close, letting his hand rest on her waist. She placed her spare hand on his shoulder, feeling his tension under her fingers. As they started moving, Ominis sighed.

            “I’m afraid I won’t be well-behaved tonight,” he apologized. “Father always manages to frustrate me.”

            “It’s fine,” Charlotte insisted. She could feel Ominis’ hand running along the bones of her corset and she gave an involuntary shiver. He smiled.

            “Tell me about your dress.”

            “Well, it’s pink, which is.. I guess the color of when you blush, and your cheeks get hot. There are pink roses on the skirt, and lace along my bustle in the back. And there are more roses on my left shoulder. It’s also somewhat uncomfortable,” she added, and he laughed quietly. 

            “If it’s any consolation, what I can feel is wonderful,” he said in a low voice. They fell into silence as he turned her around the dance floor, enjoying the sound of her skirt swishing as she followed him. Charlotte had never been so close to Ominis in a public setting, always skirting the rules by holding his hand but going no further. She could smell the aftershave the house elf had insisted he use, a deep mixture of bergamot and wood, and she took a deep breath of it. Ominis gave a small laugh.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” he said quietly, stepping just slightly closer to her. “I noticed you did the same.”

“Mother thought wearing some special perfume would be nice since you can’t see my

dress,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d notice.”

            “It smells like oranges and vanilla,” he said, breathing deeply to savor the smell. “And a slight saltiness, I think.”

            “That may be me,” Charlotte admitted. “I’m very nervous.”

            “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

            The song ended, leaving the two holding each other on the dance floor. Charlotte noticed first, springing back from Ominis and giving a small cry. Ominis smiled and offered his arm, bringing her over to their friends.

            The rest of the night passed smoothly, with the girls rotating between the boys and other friends. Natty had a memorable dance with Duncan Hobhouse and came back limping slightly. Garreth, meanwhile, made it his mission to make all the girls smile, leaving Poppy in fits as they left the dance floor. Imelda eyed him as she twirled with Amit, an excellent dancer, and while she returned vowing to dance with no one else, the other girls all happily took further turns with him. He had a way of swirling them on the dance floor that made their skirts flare out, a sensation Charlotte learned she very much enjoyed. About halfway, they all took seats near the table, sipping their punch and fanning themselves.

            “Oh, look,” Leander said, pointing back to the dance floor. There, Professor Sharp was twirling a laughing Professor Shah, both clearly enjoying their evening. Nearby, Professor Garlick was gently swaying with a very out-of-time Professor Fig as they talked, ignoring the dance almost entirely. Charlotte smiled. It was nice her professors were enjoying the ball, too, even if it felt a bit awkward to see them outside of their normally stiff roles. Sebastian let out a laugh.

            “I wonder how much he’d hate it if I asked when the wedding was,” he mused, and Garreth’s eyes lit up. Before he could say anything, though, Natty glared at him.

            “No, Garreth.”

            “You’re no fun, Natty.” He stuck out his tongue at the girl before turning back to Sebastian. “Think we can trick Duncan into it?”

            “Oh, that would be great,” Ominis laughed. “He’ll be expelled on the spot.”

            The band ended their song, striking up a new one, and Charlotte stood. “I believe you have this dance?” she asked Ominis pointedly, and he happily led her to the dance floor again. His hand fell into place against her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. They began to move, faster this time, the footwork more intricate. 

            “You should be nicer to Duncan,” Charlotte chastised, and Ominis sighed. 

            “I know,” he said, “I’m just in a poor mood.”

            “Your father?” Charlotte asked, and Ominis thought for a moment, passing behind her before facing her again.

            “Not entirely,” he admitted. “He’s part of it, of course, but I really just…” He trailed off, thinking, before charging ahead. “I wish I could pull you closer, feel your dress, just… Anything other than this stiff dancing.”

            Charlotte flushed a deep pink. “I would like that, too,” she admitted. “I dream of it sometimes. But, it’s-”

            “It’s not proper, I know,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m not saying I’ll do it. Your reputation is everything, and I want to do this right.” He stepped closer, passing by her to move behind her, and murmured in her ear. “It will all be worth it when you’re my wife.”

            The music ended far quicker than Charlotte wanted. She walked back to her friends in a daze. As much time as she and Ominis had been spending together, as much as she dreamed of his light touches and quiet smiles, he had never said out loud that he intended to marry her. She took her seat and tried to shake her head, but Poppy noticed her glazed expression.

            “Charlotte, are you ok?” she said, scooting closer to feel her forehead. “You’re a bit warm, are you feeling ill?”

            “No, no, I’m fine,” Charlotte protested, but Natty overheard and cut off her conversation with Leander on goblin rights to sit beside Charlotte. She took both of Charlotte’s hands and leaned closer.

            “Charlotte, what did he say to you?”

            “He- he said he…. He wants to marry me.”

            Natty snorted, then apologized as other students turned to give her a nasty look. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that… I thought that was obvious.”

            “Aren’t they already courting?” Poppy asked Natty, confused. Charlotte shook her head. 

            “We’ve talked about starting a courtship, but-”

            “Come on, Charlotte, it’s my turn,” Leander said, holding out his hand. Charlotte looked up and nodded, almost in a daze as she took his hand and followed him onto the dance floor. Leander smiled warmly at her. 

            “So, Ominis finally let the cat out of the bag, did he?” he teased. Charlotte flushed again.

            “How many people know?” she whispered, and Leander laughed.

            “It’s fairly obvious,” he said. “He’s so careful with your reputation, making sure you’re comfortable at all times, but he still can’t stop himself from holding your hand all the time, giving it those cute squeezes you do. Boys are only that hesitant when they want to make sure you come out of it smelling like roses.”

            “But, Garreth and Imelda-”

            “Garreth and Imelda are different,” Leander protested. “They’re not part of the fancy world you and Ominis inhabit. The rules are different.”

            “How do you know so much about this?” she asked, eyes narrowed, Leander rolled his eyes.

            “My dad is an auror,” he said, as if that answered everything. When Charlotte continued to look at him confused, he sighed. “He’s high enough up that he has to attend certain events, mix with people who have money and may donate it to the office, talk to fancy people, that kind of thing. He would take me when I was old enough, so I saw enough of the upper crust to know their rules. And Ominis-” he squeezed her hand for emphasis “-is absolutely upper crust. And so are you. He’s wanted to marry you since September.”

            Charlotte was stunned. She shook her head, trying to think. Leander smiled kindly at her and led her off the dance floor. 

            “I think Miss Underhill has had a bit too much dancing,” he said to Ominis, who was sitting, waving his finger as the music played. “Perhaps some fresh air?”

            “Of course,” Ominis said, standing. He took Charlotte’s hand and led her to the side door. There, the cool night air washed over them, giving her a little shiver from the temperature change. “I didn’t realize you were overheated,” he said quietly, leading her to a bench. “I would have suggested coming out here instead of leaving you with Leander.”

            “Are you serious?” she asked. Ominis paused, eyes wide.

            “About what?” he asked finally. Charlotte sighed.

            “About marrying me.”

            “I’ve never been more serious in my life.” Ominis reached over and took her hands, gently rubbing along the silk fabric to help ground her. Charlotte shook her head, unsure of what to do. “Charlotte, you know about my family. I hoped to never marry. I don’t want to continue that tradition, and I could never see a way out where my wife and children wouldn’t be subject to my father and brother’s whims. I knew they were planning a wedding for me, but I hoped to avoid it entirely. You’ve changed all of that.” He gave a sigh, and Charlotte couldn’t help but look at him, watching his expressive face as he continued. “After the Scriptorium, I realized I wanted nothing more than to love you for the rest of my life. I want nothing more than to pull you close and kiss you, but I know that’s not what’s right. And if I’m going to marry you, I want to make sure everything is done right, that your father gives permission and we check all the boxes of being perfectly proper. You deserve nothing less than that.”

            “I’ve dreamed about that,” Charlotte admitted quietly. Ominis’ hands gripped hers a bit tighter. “Of you holding me and-” she cut herself off, flushing again. She suddenly wished she had brought her fan with her. Ominis, however, let out a small chuckle and gave her another squeeze. 

            “I do, too,” he said quietly. “And it will be all the sweeter when we’re finally married.”

            Charlotte couldn’t for the life of her remember the rest of the ball. It passed in a haze of emotions: fear, anxiety, and finally, hope and excitement. Ominis quietly kissed her hand before she climbed the stairs with Natty, giving her a small smile before he joined Sebastian heading to the dungeons. Imelda and Garreth had disappeared and Natty shook her head when she realized she could count only one ginger following the crowds to the Gryffindor common room.

            “That girl is going to get into trouble,” she muttered, before saying her goodnights to Charlotte and Amit. The two continued, though she never remembered what Amit was telling her about as they walked. When she reached her dorm, she sighed and flopped into a chair, pulling the pins out of her hair.

            “You look stunning,” Samantha said, coming in after her. “That dress is amazing. And you look happy. Did a certain Slytherin finally say something?”

            “He wants to marry me,” Charlotte confirmed, and the two burst into giggles. 

            “I’m so happy for you!” Samantha cried, throwing her arms around her friend. “I’m sure the wedding will be a while yet, but at least you know what he’s thinking.”

            “I’m so happy,” Charlotte said, finally removing the last of the pins. Samantha helped her out of her dress as she gave all of the details, giving excited comments as Charlotte talked. By the time they climbed into bed, Charlotte’s mind was filled with romance, and she fell into a deep sleep thinking of Ominis and what kind of dress she’d wear to become his wife.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

            Ominis spent the night in the Room of Requirement thinking. He rarely slept anymore, the myriad nightmares that had plagued him since childhood making a resurgence with the stress of keeping Charlotte and Sebastian alive long enough to graduate. Instead, he lay in his bed contemplating what Professor Ronen had told them before they turned in.

            “Solomon Sallow is no longer allowed on the grounds,” he had said, his voice unusually serious. “Sebastian and Anne are both ok and will be spending the night in the hospital wing. Anne is very sick, but Nurse Blainey thinks she will recover.”

            “What about Solomon?” Ominis had asked quietly. “Is there any way they can stay away from him? He’s their guardian, and mine, during the summers.”

            “No one will need to return to that house,” Professor Ronen replied, kindly, “but to ensure you do not return to the Gaunts, you will need to tell us what’s happened there. We can’t move to remove you from their care until we have enough evidence that you are being harmed.” Here, Professor Ronen raised an eyebrow. “Are you being harmed, Ominis?”

            Ominis hadn’t known what to say, and Garreth had about Professor Sharp to distract everyone from his inner turmoil. On one hand, the Gaunts were powerful and had connections to everyone currently in power, both at Hogwarts and at the ministry. It was unlikely they would fall to the temptation of assaulting a professor, and nearly impossible they would be convicted of anything. While Tenebrae was as mad as his son Marvolo, he was also calculating. They wouldn’t be taken down easily and speaking out would only make Ominis and his friends targets.

            On the other hand, however, Professor Sharp had done the impossible in removing Anne from Feldcroft and having Solomon arrested on the rarely used child abuse statutes. Moreover, he had apparently done it with the full support of the other professors, including Professor Weasley. She had never been more than polite with Ominis and Sebastian before, but Ominis supposed that might have been because they were constantly whispering and causing trouble in her class. The others even commented on her rage when she discovered the state Anne had been kept in. She would likely respond equally strongly to his myriad scars. 

            Ominis turned over to his side and let out a sigh. He heard Garreth grunt beside him, the ginger spread across the bed and taking up some of Leander’s on the other side. He listened to their calm breathing and wondered what his life would be like if his family was no longer hanging over his shoulder, ruining everything he touched. He had delayed sending any kind of message to Nathaniel because he was afraid Marvolo would find out and track Charlotte’s family down. The last thing she needed was for her father to have a reason to hate her and he desperately wanted to protect her from the Gaunt legacy. If he no longer had to fear them, he could start officially courting her, even if the courtship was years long instead of the customary six months. He could, perhaps, sleep at night knowing the nightmares weren’t going to come true in the morning. 

By the time Garreth and Leander started to stir, Ominis had made up his mind. He said nothing to Charlotte when she asked him what was wrong; his face must have betrayed his conviction, but he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. Instead, he simply took his cup of tea and thanked her, and trailed his fingers down her wrist slightly to convince her he was fine. She gasped at the feeling, but he could feel her lean in slightly, enjoying the contact. Breakfast was provided in the Room, Deek sleepily passing around a plate of fruit, and Charlotte giggled at the tingling sensation of the pineapple slice Leander had convinced her to try. Ominis, tasting a bit of her piece, pulled a face- the “gentle tingle”, as Charlotte had described it, was utterly painful on his tongue, and he drank his tea down as the others laughed.

“Not to your taste?” Poppy asked politely from his other side.

“Absolutely not,” Ominis said, trying to rid the sweet juice from his mouth. “It would taste lovely if it weren’t entirely covered in pain.” The others laughed while Charlotte happily finished her slice and handed him a strawberry.

“You’re just too sweet,” she assured him, leaning closer. “Miss Winters was always the same way.”

“Anything that puts me in the same category as Miss Winters must be a good thing,” he replied smoothly. He followed them out of the Room toward their classes, trying to plan exactly what he would tell Professor Weasley when he spoke to her that afternoon.

Anne woke up completely alone for the first time in months. She traced the arches above her bed and smiled to herself. She could even think, the usual pain that clouded her thoughts having dissipated with the various potions Nurse Blainey had been giving her. She had been changed at some point into a soft cotton nightdress with a pink ribbon across the top tied into a perky bow. She wasn’t sure she had ever owned anything with a frivolous ribbon on it since she was a child, but the idea that this was the beginning of her new life gave the bow a bit more symbolism. 

Nurse Blainey came bustling around the curtain and smiled when she saw Anne was awake.

“Good morning,” she greeted, and Anne smiled back at the friendly nurse. “I have your potions here and some porridge for your breakfast. We need to start you on gentle, bland foods, and you can’t have too much, or you’ll be sick, but I think we can risk a little bit of honey.” The nurse gave Anne a conspiratorial wink and Anne laughed. She took her potions, a mix of pain management and appetite-stimulating elixirs, and happily tucked into her porridge. The house elves had drizzled fresh honey on the top and added a piece of honeycomb, one of Anne’s favorite treats. Anne decided to save that for last, instead focusing on the bland cereal before taking a bite of the sweet comb.

“I know you haven’t been in class,” the nurse said slowly, “but Professor Weasley left a few things for you to start on when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m- I’m coming back?” Anne asked. She had assumed she would be sent to St Mungos or a sanatorium, somewhere away from the school where she could focus on recovering before making the decisions that would have to be made. The nurse gave her a look.

“Of course,” she said, clearly shocked. “There’s no reason you can’t graduate with your brother, so long as we reduce your workload and closely monitor your health. Your curse causes pain, not death, and pain is treatable within reason.” The nurse patted Anne’s legs and stood from her chair. “My dear, it’s good to have you back,” she said fondly. “I’ll be back later for your potions.”

Anne stared at the place the nurse had disappeared from in shock. No one, especially not her uncle, had ever told her that her curse was manageable, and she certainly didn’t expect to ever finish her schooling. Uncle Solomon had made it clear that she was to come home to die, and Anne had made her peace with that. But, if she wasn’t dying…

Anne looked over the books and pages Professor Weasley had left. There was a herbology text with handwritten notes from Professor Garlick, a folder of charms Professor Ronen wanted her to review, and a few ancient runes puzzles from Professor Trelawney, her favorite subject from fourth year. At the top, the professor had left a heartfelt welcome back message, claiming his classes were all the duller without her razor wit to entertain them. She decided and pulled the puzzles closer. If she was going to return to school, she needed to get started right away.

Professor Weasley was cleaning the various malformed feathers off of the floor when she realized Ominis Gaunt was standing nervously in front of her desk. She paused, not liking the anxiety on his face.

“Ominis, is there something you wanted to tell me?” she asked quietly. Ominis nodded quickly. “Come into my office, then.”

Once settled into their chairs, Professor Weasley let out a sigh. “Is this about Sebastian and Anne?”

“No, professor. It’s about me.”

Professor Weasley sat back in her chair and studied the young man. “Professor Hecat has mentioned that you were not treated well at home,” she said slowly, “but without extraordinary evidence, I cannot promise your situation will be as happy as the Sallows’ when we’re finished.”

“I am aware, professor,” Ominis said softly. “But I need to try. If I can just not go back this summer…”

“Very well. What is it you would like to tell me?”

Ominis paused before standing. “It’s rather something I would like to show you,” he said, unclasping his cloak and settling it on the chair. Next, he removed his jacket and vest, folding them carefully and placing them on the seat. Professor Weasley watched with horror as Ominis removed his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars crisscrossing his torso. 

“Oh, Ominis,” she breathed, coming around the desk. “What did they do to you?”

“The Cruciatus Curse, mostly.” Ominis’ voice was muffled as he held his hands to his face. “I’m afraid I have a further confession.” He took a deep breath, letting out a small hiss before lowering his hands. “My family has tortured muggles for generations. Usually, they use the Cruciatus curse, but sometimes other spells are added in for flavor.” He spat the last words like poison. “When I was a child, my parents would take me with my brother to ‘muggle hunt’, as they put it. I was seven when they asked me to cast it for the first time. When I refused, they tortured me in turn until I agreed. Professor, I-”

“Oh, Ominis,” the professor breathed. She reached out and pulled the boy to her chest, feeling him stiffen against her. “You blame yourself, don’t you?” Something inside of Ominis broke; the dam holding back the tears crumbled all at once and he began to cry. Professor Weasley gently rubbed his back, feeling the ridges along his spine and cursing the Gaunts and Slytherin for the damage they had inflicted on poor children like Ominis. They stood there for what felt like an eternity as Ominis slowly melted into her embrace. She realized as he fisted the front of her jacket that he had probably never been held like this, never comforted like this, and she cursed the Gaunts again. 

Eventually, she felt Ominis start to pull away, and she opened her arms to let him stand. Once he was stable, she gently handed him his clothing, piece by piece, and straightened his tie for him. Once he was redressed, she moved to make a cup of tea for the boy as she spoke.

“We will, of course, do everything in our power to prevent your returning home this summer, or any summer,” she promised, handing him a cup. He took it and sniffed the tea, relief coursing down his spine as he did. “There are several options, of course, but I will confer with Professors Ronen and Hecat to solidify things. It would help if you would write down a testimony of your experiences. I would be happy to witness such a statement, as would any number of professors in this building.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to remove me legally,” Ominis admitted. “My father has a legion of lawyers for such things.”

“Then we will endeavor to find another way,” Professor Weasley said. Ominis thought he noticed an undertone of rebelliousness, something he heard in Garreth’s voice nearly every time the ginger spoke, and he smiled at the family resemblance. “All of the faculty here are brilliant minds, and between the lot of us we will come up with something.”

Ominis grinned. “I’m sure you will, Professor,” he said. He stood to leave, but she called him back.

“Ominis, I know you’ve become quite close to my nephew and his circle of friends. Please, don’t hesitate to confide in them. I find in times of trouble, my friends are just as important as any authority figures.” And then, softer, she added, “You will always be welcome in any Weasley home, including my own, should the need arise.”

Ominis froze, his hand on the door handle as he processed this information. “You would welcome me, who is as bad as any of my family?” he managed to say finally. Professor Weasley shook her head.

“You’re nothing like them, and I’ll prove it to you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Blimey, Ominis, what did you say to my aunt?” Garreth asked over breakfast the next morning. “She just cornered me and gave me explicit instructions to make sure you’re eating.”

Ominis sighed into his tea. “I disclosed some facts about my family,” he said slowly, and Garreth groaned. 

“Oh, you’ve activated the mother bear part of the Weasley brain,” he laughed. “We’re in for it now.” Leander chuckled over his eggs at the shocked look on Ominis’ face.

“Just wait until Christmas,” he teased. “It’s just around the corner but you will be getting a sweater.”

“A sweater?”

“Yeah, it’s a tradition in the ‘blood-traitor’ side of the wizarding world,” Garreth laughed. Ominis sighed. He had been warned that the Weasleys adopted strays whenever possible, though he hadn’t thought twice about confiding in Professor Weasley over any other professor. He had brought this onto himself. Sebastian sat in the seat next to him, much more full of energy than he had been the last few days.

“Well, you look cheerful,” Imelda said, her voice dripping with contempt. Sebastian shot her a grin.

“Anne is doing well,” he explained. “She’s starting to catch up on her schoolwork. So long as she goes slow, she should be able to attend classes soon.”

“How wonderful!” Charlotte exclaimed, taking the seat on the other side of Ominis. She gently squeezed his shoulder on the way down, making him smile as he added another pastry to his plate. “I wonder why your uncle kept her out of school, then, if she’s able to attend now.”

“No idea,” Sebastian said, shrugging. “But it doesn’t matter now. She’s going to be back and it’s going to be ok.”

“I’m glad,” Leander said happily. “Anne was always good fun. It’s been weird without her screaming at you down the hall.”

“Ah, yes, the great Screamfest of third year,” Garreth said, pretending to swoon. “She was perfect at cutting you down.”

“Ha ha,” Sebastian returned, rolling his eyes. “To be fair to her, I did kind of deserve it.”

“What did you do? I could never quite figure it out.” 

“Ominis left a snake in her bed and blamed it on me.”

“Excuse me, I left the snake outside, where it wanted to be. You’re the one who brought it inside,” Ominis said hotly. “And I seem to remember the snake was just as upset as Anne was.” 

Sebastian laughed. “That’s right, I forgot. You were hissing at it all night after that trying to convince it that I wasn’t going to eat it.”

Garreth and Leander looked at each other blankly. “Am… Am I missing something?” Leander said finally. “Is ‘snake’ code for something?”

“Oh, Ominis can talk to snakes,” Poppy said, plopping into a seat with Natty. Both girls looked tired as they reached for glasses of juice. The boys turned and stared at them.

“How the hell do you know that?” Sebastian asked. Ominis had gone deathly still, his hand halfway to his mouth with a fork full of potatoes. Poppy shrugged.

“Natty and I did some digging on the Gaunts the other day in the library after Ominis said that thing about the Sorting Hat being charmed to place Slytherin’s descendants into his house. Turns out the reason the sigil for Slytherin is a snake is because he could talk to them and used them in all of his magic.”

“It’s not uncommon to be able to talk to animals,” Natty added, shrugging. “It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Are you ok, Ominis?”

Ominis swallowed and dropped his fork. Garreth turned to look back at him and noticed he was paler than usual. “Parseltongue is usually associated with dark wizards,” he said quietly. “It’s usually not taken well when people find out.”

Charlotte leaned over and gently bumped her shoulder into his. “I told you, it’s just another language, and while it’s disturbing, it’s not bad,” she said quietly. “And if Garreth and Leander have a problem with it, Natty and I can hex them into the next century.” She raised her eyebrow at the two gingers, and they immediately shook their heads.

“No, no, no problem,” they stammered, making Sebastian laugh. 

“You grew up reading those books, too, didn’t you?” he asked lightheartedly, and both boys relaxed somewhat.

“I was terrified to go to sleep for weeks after reading The Cursed Coil,” Leander said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Every snake I see now, my first thought is that it’s going to bite me and teleport me away to Serpentsorcia and force me into slave labor.”

“How did so many of us get away with reading that thing?” Garreth agreed. Poppy rolled her eyes at them.

“Because you had parents who were trying to keep you occupied,” she said pointedly. “You can’t tell me you weren’t going to rush outside and start a fire somewhere or start using magic on the slugs or whatever.”

“No, not the slugs,” Sebastian said, thinking. “But I did curse a squirrel once, by accident. He looked at me weird, and before I could control it, suddenly he was pink and doing somersaults in the front yard. My mother was furious.”

The table erupted in laughter. Ominis reached under his place and grabbed Charlotte’s hand, squeezing it. She squeezed back as she laughed, then gently placed her head against his shoulder, just long enough that he could smell her soap. It was a new kind Miss Winters had sent her and smelled like roses and cotton sheets. He breathed it in, even after she left, trying to hold the scent in his memory forever.

That afternoon, the friends gathered in the Room, returned to its normal appearance, to complete homework and review their findings. Professor Sharp had gone with them under the pretense that he needed to retrieve some potion ingredients, but Natty watched him hovering over the mandrake seedlings, gently brushing their leaves to check how close to planting they were. 

“We haven’t found a lot in the camps,” Natty said sadly, turning over a stray page of notes. “Most of them have been cleaned out. The poachers are still around, but something’s off.”

“I found the dragon,” Poppy reported, “but getting close enough to her to give her the egg will be difficult. It’s mostly open terrain.”

“Do we have to return it to the nest itself?” Leander asked as he pulled out more parchment for his essay on color change charms. Poppy nodded sadly. 

“If we just abandon it nearby, she’ll assume it’s dead and just leave. It has to be brought back to the nest itself, or at least to her.”

“Easier said than done,” Ominis sighed. “I guess we can try on Friday. Amit was hoping to see another astronomy table, but I suppose returning a dragon’s egg is more important.”

“Professor Fig sent me a message with a thought,” Charlotte added. She reached over Garreth to grab more parchment and began setting up an essay. “He wondered if it might be possible to reach out to a friendly goblin, get some inside information on Ranrok.”

“It’s worth a try,” Natty agreed, but Sebastian went still.

“A goblin cursed Anne,” he said slowly, looking at Charlotte like she had two heads. Charlotte shook her head.

“Of course I wouldn’t find that goblin,” she said softly, “but there are some goblins who trade in Hogsmeade. One of them is bound to know something and be willing to help bring Ranrok down. He’s as bad for them as he is for us.”

“And how, exactly, is Ranrok hurting other goblins?” Sebastian spat, standing suddenly and spilling his notes onto the floor. Charlotte flushed.

“Because of this,” Leander cut in. “Because wizards will now assume all goblins are associated with him, and the persecution will get worse. My father worked with a few goblins on a case once and said they were perfectly nice. Just a bit prickly in the beginning, but if you treat them with respect, they return it.”

“A goblin cursed Anne!” Sebastian yelled. Professor Sharp rushed in from the next room, eyes wide.

“Sebastian, what’s wrong?” he asked, but Sebastian was already continuing.

“A goblin, Charlotte. A goblin hurt her, took everything away from her. How dare you consider working with one?”

“Sebastian, I-”

“Why would you be so ignorant? Goblins are the enemy!” Sebastian stormed off, red with anger, and Professor Sharp rushed after him. Charlotte felt like she had been slapped in the face and a few tears started to drip down her cheeks. Ominis gently took her hand and squeezed it.

“He didn’t mean it,” he said softly. “He’s under a lot of stress, especially with Solomon and Sharp now being his guardian…”

“I know,” she whispered, but the tears continued to flow. Ominis, realizing that hand squeezes were inadequate, pulled her closer, ignoring the pages fluttering around them as he did so. He settled her in his lap and gently pushed her head onto his shoulder, letting her cry into his neck. The rest of the group sat in silence, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Poppy rose to make tea, and Garreth and Leander disappeared only to return with freshly baked sweets to cheer her up. With the ministrations of her friends, she was calmer by the time they parted for bed.

“What’s wrong?” Sharp called after Sebastian. “Sebastian, wait!”

“Did you know?” Sebastian suddenly stopped and stormed up to the professor, glaring into his face. “Did you know Charlotte was going to talk to a goblin?”

“Not here,” Sharp hissed. He grabbed Sebastian’s arm and gently pulled him along to the potions classroom. There, he released Sebastian and faced him. “Now, what’s wrong?”

Sebastian had enough awareness, even in his anger, to know better than to yell at the former auror. The last time he had done that, he ended up in the hospital wing with a broken rib. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak clearly. “Did you know Charlotte was going to speak to a goblin about helping us?” he asked, though his voice shook a bit. Professor Sharp blinked at him.

“Yes,” he said, clearly surprised. “I talked about it a few days ago with Professors Fig and Hecat. We all agreed that it was worth a try. If no goblins want to talk to us-”

“THEY CURSED MY SISTER!” Sebastian roared, his anger breaking free. He pushed over a stool, letting it crash to the ground. “Does no one care about Anne?”

“They did not curse Anne,” Sharp said firmly. “No goblin can cast that kind of magic.”

“They have that pain magic,” Sebastian argued. His brain told him to stop, to step back, but he was too far gone. “That’s what they cursed her with, pain.”

“Sebastian, I can promise you, no goblin cursed Anne.” Sharp pushed past Sebastian’s flailing limbs and placed his hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders. “I’ve studied her myself. It’s Dark magic, but it’s not from a goblin.”

“She only saw goblins that night!” Sebastian yelled, turning to free himself, but Sharp held firm, anchoring his hands into Sebastian’s flesh.

“Sebastian, listen to me. Listen,” he said urgently, forcing the boy to still. “It is impossible for a goblin to have cast that kind of curse on Anne. Even if she only saw goblins, a wizard cursed her. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Then why-”

“Stop. Take a deep breath.” Sebastian felt Sharp’s hands pushing his shoulders down and tried to pull away again. Sharp gave a dark chuckle. “Don’t make me pull you closer, Sebastian. I will bear hug you.”

“Why would he say it was a goblin?” Sebastian finally said. He stopped struggling and looked up at his professor, his eyes filled with pain. “Why would my uncle tell me a goblin cursed her?”

Professor Sharp pulled Sebastian closer, wrapping his arms around the boy as he broke down crying. Sebastian wailed, finally expressing all the pain and anger he had felt when Anne was cursed, when Solomon blamed him, and when he was left alone to handle the aftermath. He clutched Professor Sharp’s jacket and sobbed while the professor awkwardly rubbed his back and murmured soothing words. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

The next few weeks were quiet while the professors worked their magic. Sebastian was, slowly, beginning to open up to Professor Sharp, a turn of events no one had foreseen. The daily detentions had slowly warmed as Sebastian shared more and more about his past life and Professor Sharp, to his credit, hid his anger at Sebastian’s treatment to instead give the boy the much-needed love he craved. Anne joined in several times, usually working on her own assignments, but sometimes breaking her brother down further. He had received the bulk of the poor treatment and as such needed much more emotional support. Professor Weasley and Professor Ronen had taken to conferencing much more often, trying to find loopholes to protect Ominis from his family, though they came up with few options. The best they could do, at the end of the day, was to lie that Ominis was failing and needed summer tutoring with a professor, and hope that would be enough to save the boy. 

They entered into the Christmas season, then, with a sense of hope. Poppy, Imelda, Garreth, and Leander all had their homes to return to, though it seemed the Weasleys would have a few more present than normal. Professor Weasley, in her Mother Bear mode, insisted on Ominis coming with them and had also invited Professor Sharp and the Sallow twins, so Ominis would have someone else he was comfortable with. The day they left, Ominis stood, shivering with uncertainty as he listened to Garreth describe the various events his mother had planned. 

“So, we’ll start in London, as usual, do some shopping, and then we’ll head home. Aunt Millie decided it would be better if she brought you to stay with us since then you’d have other people your age, so we’ll probably do some quidditch and bake cookies and the like. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Why are cookies necessary?” Ominis asked, raising an eyebrow. Garreth laughed.

“To celebrate! You never had Christmas cookies?” When Ominis shook his head, Garreth let out a cry of despair. “You’ll love them. We never make these kinds at any other time, so they just taste like Christmas. Leander and his folks will be over Christmas Eve; they’re related, somehow, so they join us for singing and cookies and the like.”

“Singing?” Ominis was starting to regret telling Professor Weasley anything, but he allowed Garreth and Leander to help him onto the train, both singing We Three Kings at the top of their lungs. Charlotte followed after, laughing as the gingers teased poor Ominis and adding her own voice to the singing. Their compartment was filled with laughter and singing the whole way to London, and Ominis was, somehow, in a better mood when they arrived in London. He wished Charlotte a quiet “Happy Christmas” before being dragged off to shop with the others; she watched him, laughing, before catching sight of Nathaniel and Miss Winters and rushing to her own happy Christmas celebration. 

            Christmas had always been a time of discomfort for Ominis. First with his parents and then with Solomon Sallow, he never really understood the joy other students had when it came to the holiday. However, Christmas with the Weasleys was nothing he expected. Professor Weasley (“Just Aunt Matilda outside of school, dear”) and her sister-in-law, Gwen, went above and beyond. By the third day there, Ominis had been plied with more cookies and treats than he imagined were possible. He sat quietly on the sofa, trying to ignore the younger Weasleys running around, reading a novel he got from Charlotte (Jane Eyre) when Garreth plopped into the seat next to him and groaned. 

            “I’m going to gain twenty pounds if Mum keeps cooking like this,” he moaned, and Ominis gave a soft laugh.

            “This isn’t normal, then?”

            “I mean, it is, but there’s more than she usually makes since you’re here. Auntie told Mum you hadn’t ever had a real Christmas so, she’s going above and beyond.” Garreth silently handed him another shortbread, which Ominis took happily, biting into the soft flakey biscuit with relish. 

            “She is an extraordinarily good cook,” Ominis said happily. 

            Mrs Weasley continued to impress, creating a series of delicious meals that Ominis doubted the cook for his family could provide. By Christmas Eve, he was thankful that she insisted on a small meal for the evening.

            “We usually just do soups for Christmas Eve,” she explained happily as he helped her by cutting potatoes for a stew. “My parents were muggles and used to take us to mass on Christmas Eve, and I’ve kept the tradition for the kids. Small meal, caroling with the Prewitts, and then midnight mass. Nothing so fine as you’re used to, but it’s enjoyable all the same.”

            “My parents never really celebrated,” Ominis said softly, grabbing another potato from the pile. “We would do a meal Christmas Day, but that was about it. They were more into the… Old Ways, I guess. Yule was a larger celebration, though nothing like this.”

            “Well, then, you’ll have a lot of firsts today,” Mrs Weasley teased gently. “I was raised Anglican, so that’s what you’ll get.”

            Just then, the Prewitts arrived. Leander, his hair dotted with snow and carrying some very large packages, came into the kitchen following the smell of soup.

            “Mrs Weasley, we brought you some things,” he said, leaving the packages on the table. Mrs Weasley bustled over to open them, finding a number of pre-done pies and breads. She gently pinched his cheek.

            “Your Mum didn’t need to do all this!” she cried, smiling brightly. “And you’re getting taller by the second. That school feeding you?”

            “More than you know,” he laughed. He looked over at Ominis. Ominis was leaning against the counter, a borrowed sweater rolled up to his elbows, and his sightless eyes shone just a bit brighter. 

            “Alright, Ominis?” he asked, and Ominis smiled.

            “Alright. You?”

            “Alright. Potatoes?”

            “Yes, dear, if you could clean some more. We’re going to need loads tonight.”

            The afternoon passed happily enough with Leander and Ominis both helping prepare the various soups Mrs Weasley had planned, and Garreth entertaining the various younger children outside. They had gotten into a snowball fight just before Mrs Weasley called dinner, and Leander got a face full of snow when he called out to have them come in. The party was too large for one table and therefore was spread across three rooms. Ominis found himself sitting next to Mr Prewitt and across from Professor Sharp. Sebastian and Anne, slipping in that evening just before dinner, sat nearby happily sipping their soup. 

            “And how are you liking a Weasley Christmas?” Mr Prewitt asked him, and Ominis couldn’t help but smile. 

            “It’s much cheerier than at my parents’,” he said happily, belly full of potato stew. “I can’t remember the last time my parents had a gathering this large.”

            “Yeah, Garold packs us in,” Mr Prewitt laughed. “And he lets Gwen boss us around. But it’s all in good fun.” Then, leaning closer, he whispered, “I’ve been investigating your parents. I don’t want to ruin the day, but I just wanted you to know, we have our eyes out.”

            Ominis sighed in relief. He knew his parents would probably not care that he wasn’t at the castle for Christmas, though things could be very unpleasant for the Weasleys. Knowing that Mr Prewitt, an auror of good standing, was aware and watching out, was a huge relief. Meanwhile, Mr Prewitt had moved on to talk to Professor Sharp.

            “So, you’re doing potions these days. Always thought you’d make a good professor, Aesop, good for you.”

            “Yes, it’s been a… transition, but I’m glad for it.”

            “And now with those two, you’re going to have your hands full.” Mr Prewitt swallowed and grinned. “But I’m glad. You’re softening up, Aesop, and it looks good on you.”

            Ominis could hear Sharp’s discomfort, but he answered happily. “Griffen always said that, too. Have you… talked to his widow lately?”

            “Yes, she’s doing well. The baby is, what, 5 years old now? Looks just like him. You should write her, she’d be happy to hear from you.”

            The table lapsed into silence before Mr Weasley called everyone to clean up. “It’s time for carols!” he cried. Ominis found his dishes ripped out of his hands and a kind hand pushing him onto the couch (“You helped make it, so you get a break from clean up”) before lovely piano music started. The room fell hushed as a single small voice sang out clearly, but after the first verse, everyone joined in. Ominis didn’t know the songs, and neither did Sebastian or Anne, but they enjoyed the display regardless. As he started to become sleepy, the happy singing winding down, he found himself bundled into a coat and marched outside and down to the local church. He was just starting to complain when the service started.

            Christmas at an Anglican church, Ominis would learn, was a unique experience. Between the songs, the smells of fresh greens and candles, and the feel of the others pressed around him, he couldn’t help but think of Charlotte and wonder if this was what her life prior to Hogwarts was like. He shivered as he was handed a lit candle, feeling the heat it gave off, as the people surrounding him softly sang. Most were in English, but there were a few who preferred German, giving a delightful clashing of consonants as they sang:

Silent Night

Holy Night

All is calm

All is bright

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

Holy Infant so Tender and Mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace

            Ominis couldn’t help himself as the tears pricked at his eyes. He tried, discreetly, to wipe them, but the woman next to him gently wrapped her arm around him. Professor Weasley’s voice whispered in his ear, assuring him that it was alright to cry if he needed to. By the time they left the church and bid goodbye to the Prewitts, he was wearing a soft smile that grew from something inside of his chest. When he finally laid down to sleep in an expanded bed, stuck between Garreth and Sebastian, Ominis sighed and wondered if this was what family was supposed to be like.  

            If Christmas Eve was chaos, Christmas Day was quiet. Ominis woke to a younger Weasley screaming that it was Christmas and groaned, rolling away from the noise.

            “Why is everyone in your family so loud?” Sebastian complained, covering his head with a pillow. Garreth gave a sleepy chuckle.

            “We have to be, everyone else is. How else will we be heard?” he teased, pulling the covers away from the other two. “Come on, it’s stockings time.”

            “What in Merlin’s name are stockings?” Ominis groaned, but he got up and sleepily made his way downstairs. The seven Weasleys were joined around a large decorated tree by Professor Sharp, Professor Weasley, and Anne. Ominis breathed deeply and smiled. The fur tree’s scent was mixed with peppermint, ginger, and orange, a mix he was starting to associate with Christmas and the warm glow that radiated through his entire body. He sat on the floor between Garreth and Sebastian as Mr Weasley started handing out stockings to the family. He leaned over to feel Garreth’s, the wool tickling his fingers as he felt along the bulky packages inside.

            “And here’s yours, Ominis,” Mr Weasley said, thrusting something at him. Ominis was surprised. He hadn’t expected any presents from the Weasleys, who were much less well-off than his family, and he certainly hadn’t expected anything like this. His shock must have registered on his face because he heard Professor Weasley call to him.

            “You’re part of this family, now, you get a stocking.” He flushed but laughed when Sebastian and Anne were given their own stockings, filled to the brim just as his was, followed by a stocking for Professor Sharp (“Aesop, it’s Christmas, everyone gets a stocking”). 

            Ominis grinned and removed a few packages from it. They were wrapped in a thin paper decorated with foiled stripes, and he loved the feel of it under his fingers. He took his time opening them, and by the time he was finished, he had a small pile of gifts. An orange, some chocolate frogs, a new dictating quill (“Yours was looking a little old, dear,” Professor Weasley said), a pair of hand-knit mittens, and an assortment of small figurines from the smaller Weasleys (“We thought you’d like the feel of them, and then you can play with us!”). He was feeling well loved, enjoying the after-glow, when Mr Weasley dropped several packages on his lap. 

            “What’s this?” Ominis asked, eyes wide. Mr Weasley laughed.

            “Did you think you weren’t getting any presents? You’re a Weasley now,” the man chuckled. Ominis felt himself flush.

            “I didn’t get anything for you,” he said quietly, but Mr Weasley had already returned to distributing presents. Garreth leaned over and squeezed his arm in comfort.

            “Mum was heartbroken when she found out about how your family celebrates,” he muttered. “Auntie told her, and she immediately started getting things. Auntie got a few things, too. Like Dad said, you’re one of us now, you get treated like one of us.”

            “But I should have gotten-”

            “No, you shouldn’t have,” Garreth said firmly. “This is your first family Christmas. You get presents and stockings and things, and you give nothing but your presence and company. That’s how it works.” He squeezed Ominis’ shoulder again in comfort and chuckled. “Besides, there’s nothing that lot wants. It gets harder and harder every year to figure out what they need, still.” They were interrupted when Sebastian let out a cry before standing and hugging Professor Sharp.

            “It’s exactly what I needed, thank you thank you thank you!” he cried, hugging Professor Sharp tighter and tighter as the man blushed profusely. Anne laughed at the two.

            “Sebastian, it’s a book, chill,” she said, watching as everyone laughed. Sebastian finally sat back down, Professor Sharp straightening his jacket and flushing a deep pink and told everyone excitedly that it was a copy of a rare book on a form of magic used in the Roman Empire. 

            “-and it’s supposed to have been written by Galen himself!” Sebastian finished. Mr Weasley reached over to look at the book while Professor Weasley congratulated Sharp on such an excellent present. The attention only made Professor Sharp flush more. 

            Ominis turned back to his own pile, carefully pulling open the paper to reveal a sweater. It was soft, cotton rather than wool, and felt wonderful under his fingers. In a raised stitch, he felt a large O on the front and smiled.

            “You had to have a Weasley sweater, my dear,” Mrs Weasley said softly, as he pulled it over his pajamas. “You’re one of us now.”

            Ominis stuttered his thanks before turning to other packages. By the end, he had not only a sweater, but several muggle books (“I saw your book in your back one day, and thought you would like some others,” Professor Weasley said kindly), a rather fancy braille punch (“to label things or translate your notes so you can read them yourself,” Mr Weasley said happily), and a pile of sweets. He was feeling well-loved as they gathered around the table for a late breakfast of French toast and bacon, and that feeling lasted into the afternoon as he curled into a chair beside the tree with one of his new books and a large cup of tea. Professors Sharp and Weasley were sitting across from him playing wizard chess, Weasley’s boldness making up for her lack of finesse while Sharp seemed to be a master of the game. Anne had volunteered to help Mrs Weasley in the kitchen, the two gossiping away about school and boys, and the gentle conversation behind them gave Ominis a feeling of safety and peace as he sipped his tea. He barely noticed when Mr Weasley plopped down next to him.

            “So, how are you enjoying your first Weasley Christmas?” he asked kindly, and Ominis couldn’t help but smile.

            “It’s wonderful. Very different from what I’m used to, but it’s been wonderful. Thank you for housing and feeding me.”

            “Not at all, my boy, not at all,” Mr Weasley said breezily. “We’re only too happy to. You should have a happy Christmas if nothing else, and when Millie asked if you could come, Gwen jumped at it. You know, she always wanted an even number of kids in the house.”

            “An even number?” Ominis asked. He could hear the soft chuckle from Professor Sharp as they couldn’t help but listen. Mr Weasley laughed.

            “We have five, of course, but adding three more isn’t a problem. That makes eight, and what makes her happy makes me happy. But I’m not here to ask about that.” Mr Weasely leaned in slightly and said, softer, “Gwen wanted me to ask you about summer. Where you’re going to be staying and all. I know Millie has plans for you to stay with her, but she has to travel in the summer, so we were thinking…”

            “-that I could stay with you,” Ominis finished, nodding. “If Professor Weasley was amenable to it, of course.”

            “You know full well I won’t say no,” Professor Weasley said from across the room before cursing as Sharp took yet another of her pieces. “You deserve a family, Ominis, and if this makes you comfortable…”

            “What would we say to my parents?” he asked quietly, almost dreading the answer, but Mr Weasley chuckled.

            “I believe the lie Millie came up with is that you’re failing everything, isn’t that right?”

            “Yes, and you need extra tutoring,” Professor Weasley said. “Of course, that would require you to stay over the summer, to get the extra help that you need.”

            “You would know your parents best,” Mr Weasley said softly. “Would they allow that? Would they come looking for you?”

            Ominis paused, thinking. On one hand, the lie would allow him to stay away from his parents, keeping him safe from their wrath. They could decide to find him, certainly, but they hadn’t seemed to care when he stayed with the Sallows. He would have to be careful, of course, but with some luck…

            “Yes, I think we could make that work,” Ominis said slowly. “We would have to be careful about where I go, of course, in case they see me, but-”

            “That won’t be a problem,” Mr Weasley said. “I have it on good authority that they will soon have much bigger things to worry about. And if you’re in London or somewhere they see you, that can be easily explained away as a day trip to get more supplies, or a weekend away for good behavior.”

            “You make it sound like I’ll be imprisoned!” Ominis laughed, and the others joined him. 

            “It may be for the best that they think that,” Sharp added, his voice low but dripping with amusement. “They may be more willing to accept that their son is being punished than being helpfully tutored.”

            “Then we’re all agreed,” Professor Weasley said. “I’ll send the necessary letters when we get back to Hogwarts. I’m sure Professor Ronen will be thrilled to hear you’ll be here over the summer.”

            The rest of the day was filled with joy as they sat down to a feast and then, filled to the brim with beef and potatoes, filled the cracks with puddings and cookies. A very sedate evening followed. Even Garreth was too full to cause havoc, and he and Sebastian simply lay on the floor groaning occasionally about the amount of food they ate. Mr Weasley had tried to get another round of carols, but no one felt much like singing when they felt like beached whales, and he soon abandoned the attempt. The following day, he set about creating another bedroom for the house, expanding and transfiguring the space with his sister to make a small, refined, bedroom for Ominis. It was simple, with clean white walls and two windows looking out into the gardens. Under one, a single bed sat, ready to be made, and a small desk and bookshelf sat beside it. Under the other sat a cushioned chair and a small table, perfect for quiet reading or contemplation. Ominis didn’t know what to say when they showed it to him, silent tears tracing down his cheeks as he felt around the furnishings. 

            “I’ll have to make you a quilt,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “You’ll need a nice quilt for it to be finished. And we’ll do some curtains and a nice rug, I think.”

            “I know it won’t be as nice as your room with your family,” Mr Weasley said, trying to head off any complaints, “but, if you’re going to stay here-”

            Ominis cut them off by hugging them both tightly. Mrs Weasley gently brushed her fingers through his hair as he cried into her sweater. He had never felt so loved in his life.

            Sebastian and Anne returned to Professor Sharp’s house the day after Christmas, loaded down with leftovers and cookies and presents. He had enough space for all of them and Anne, for the first time in her life, had her own bedroom. She carefully cut out snowflakes from the newspapers Sharp had delivered every day and attached them to the windows, giving herself a bit of decoration in the stark room. Sharp had, at least, expanded the bed for her, which gave her much more space to roll around in her sleep. Sebastian’s room was across the hall, though his room was already mostly bookshelves. Anne left her door open as she unpacked her presents: a pair of frilly blue curtains from Professor Weasley, a lovely quilt from Mrs and Mrs Weasley, a reading stand from Professor Sharp, and a few small things from the younger Weasleys. The quilt matched the curtains, something Anne now realized had to have been planned in advance. Once they were hung, the room seemed cheerful. Feeling her work done, she crossed the hall to Sebastian, who was nose-deep in his new books. 

            “Aren’t you going to put up your curtains and lay out your quilt?” Anne asked, leaning against the door frame. Sebastian frowned.

            “Why? The room’s fine,” he argued. Anne rolled her eyes and took the curtains from the bed. They were much less frilly and in a deep red color that seemed to almost glisten with the light. She ignored her brother on the floor as she hung them with her wand and then laid out the quilt on his bed. The room seemed both darker and more masculine with the changes, and she waited for him to notice. 

            “Why are you still here?” he snapped. She rolled her eyes again.

            “Would you look up for five seconds?” she asked peevishly. Sebastian looked up and immediately noticed the changes. 

            “Huh. Looks nice. Thanks,” he said, before diving back into his book. Anne rolled her eyes and returned to her own room. Like with Professor Sharp had been interesting so far, she thought, laying back on her bed to stare at the ceiling. He had insisted on separate rooms for both, saying that sharing rooms was just not acceptable at their age, and Anne had been slowly adjusting to sleeping alone. He had also made sure they had everything they needed, from extra snacks in the kitchen for Sebastian’s late-night raids to extra blankets for Anne in the living room. He somehow created a meal every night, though the quality left something to be desired after so much of Mrs Weasley’s cooking, and refused to let Anne help as she should be resting. He had even gotten a small Christmas tree, giving the downstairs a slight festive feel. He was trying so hard, and Anne felt awful when she thought of all the trouble he had gone through to make them feel at home. He had even helped Anne put her snowflakes on windows in the rest of the house. She felt awful that he was giving so much. 

            Slowly, she climbed off her bed and went downstairs. Professor Sharp was starting dinner, banging pots and pans, and she made her way into the kitchen. He noticed her and smiled broadly. 

            “Luckily for us, we still have leftovers,” he said happily. “I know I’m not the best cook, so we’ll make those last as long as possible.” Then, looking at her face properly, he stopped. “Anne, is something wrong?”

            “How much do we owe you?” she asked softly. Professor Sharp froze.

            “Owe? What do you mean?” he asked. He put down the pans and gestured to a seat at the kitchen table. Anne swallowed as she sat down.

            “How much do we owe you?” she asked again. “Solomon… we always owed him, and you’ve been so kind and housed us, even in separate rooms, and-”

            “Anne Maria Sallow,” Professor Sharp started in a stern tone, and Anne winced. “You owe me nothing. You don’t have to repay me for living in my house, I offered it to you. You don’t have to cook my dinner because I’m a grown man and can cook for myself. You don’t have to do anything. You’re 15. You’re allowed to be a teenager.”

            “But… We’re costing you money…” she argued weakly, and he sighed and sat down next to her.

            “When I was younger,” he started, “I was an auror. You’ve heard about it, I’m sure. Can’t keep anything a secret at that school.” Anne gave a short laugh and nodded, and he continued. “My partner and I were… close. We talked about buying a house together since we spent all our time together anyway, and maybe adopting kids. He… died. The same night I got this, actually.” He gestured down to his leg, stiffened from the cold and overuse. “It took me a long time to recover, but I did, eventually. We had bought this house for a family.” He turned to look at her. “Those rooms were empty, waiting for him to come home. This whole house has been waiting. You and Sebastian are helping me as much as I’m helping you. You two remind me that I’m allowed to come back here and enjoy it, and still miss him. And I can remind you that you’re children and can act like it.” He reached over and pulled Anne to his chest as she let a single tear flow down her cheek. She felt his own tears land in her hair as he gently rubbed her back.

            “Whatever Solomon told you, it wasn’t true,” he whispered. “You don’t owe me for your existence.” They sat like that for a long time, slowly working through their thoughts, before he sighed and released her. Together, in silence, they warmed up the leftovers and called Sebastian down for dinner.

            Charlotte was breathless as she came into Kings Cross Station. Nathaniel carried her things while she held Miss Winter’s hand. 

            “Oh, I wish I could stay!” Charlotte said softly, and Miss Winters laughed.

            “You’re only saying that because you’re excited,” she argued. They paused before the magical barrier and Charlotte sighed. 

            “It is but imagine! You’ll have so much to do!”

            “We will, and when you come this summer, we’ll have even more,” Nathaniel offered, his eyes twinkling. He reached down and embraced Charlotte tightly. “We shall miss you sorely, Lottie,” he murmured into her hair. Then, putting her down, he knelt to look in her eyes. “Now, be safe, be good, stay away from goblins, and whatever you do-”

            “-don’t go into caves with spiders, I know, I know,“ Charlotte finished, rolling her eyes. She was regretting telling him about her first term at Hogwarts; Nathaniel hadn’t stopped asking her why she knew how to defeat giant spiders and why she had experienced flying magical creatures since that evening. Nathaniel just smiled.

            “I’ll be sending your Professor Fig more letters,” he warned. “I’m not going to let you get injured at that school.”

            “Professors come with us,” Charlotte argued again, and Miss Winters let out a huff. 

            “Instead of stopping you?” she said sternly, but her smile was creeping in. Charlotte knew both were extremely proud of her, but they had to make a show of scolding her. Miss Winters brought Charlotte into a tight hug and left a soft kiss on her hair.

            “Be bold,” she advised. “And write us lots of letters.”

            With a final hug, Charlotte passed through the barrier and made her way onto the train. Sebastian and Anne were already there, holding a compartment for their assorted friends. Sebastian helped Charlotte with her bags before she sat next to Anne.

            “How was your Christmas?” Charlotte asked. Anne smiled.

            “Good. Professor Sharp was… very kind,” she said finally. “We spent the actual holidays with Garreth’s family, and it was wonderful.”

            Garreth and Ominis both came into the compartment. Garreth was holding the bags while Ominis carried a basket filled with snacks and sandwiches. He sat next to Charlotte and, after settling the basket, reached out for her hand. Before they could ask anything, though, the train started to leave the station, and Leander burst into the compartment and pushed his way to the window to wave at his younger sister. The group laughed as he continued to wave long after the train had left. The countryside rolled past their windows before they were able to settle themselves and distribute the contents of the basket.

            “How was your Christmas?” Anne finally asked Charlotte when they had settled, and Charlotte grinned.

            “Excellent. Father has been brought back to his senses. Mother and Nathaniel worked hard, but I will be able to return this summer. All is right again.”

            “That’s wonderful!” Ominis cried, and Charlotte grinned. 

            “And, we had a bit of family news,” she added, gripping Ominis’ hand. “Nathaniel is to be married!”

            “To whom?” Anne asked, leaning forward in her seat, and Charlotte paused dramatically before answering. 

            “To Miss Winters!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

              By the time they returned to the castle, Charlotte had given everyone the details of the engagement between Miss Winters and Nathaniel Underhill, heir to the Underhill fortune. Once Charlotte had left for school and Miss Winters was dismissed, Nathaniel happily opened his home to her as a temporary measure, simply until she obtained another position. The constant companionship had opened new doors for them both, and before they realized they were in any danger, Nathaniel had fallen very hard indeed. After a brief courtship, made all the more difficult because they lived in the same house, they became engaged with plans for a wedding once Charlotte returned home. The society the Underhills ran in was scandalized that young Mr Underhill would fall for a servant, of all people, but due to his wealth, most of the criticism was ignored in favor of simply calling him excentric and Miss Winters especially pretty. 

              Charlotte was overjoyed with the news. She chatted happily with her friends the next morning about the wedding colors Miss Winters was considering and her own hopes to attend with them (“I’ll speak to Father, but surely I can bring all of you as my personal guests”). Ominis sat beside her, fidgeting with his fingers, trying to repress the hope that he would be able to listen to her plan their own wedding within a few years. Imelda, Poppy, Anne, and Natty, however, were focused solely on wedding traditions in the muggle world, asking questions about the ceremony, the clothing, and even the wedding breakfast after. Sebastian, Garreth, and Leander, quickly boring of the topic, returned to the latest Quidditch results (“England is terrible, but Scotland’s doing great!”). They were all in high spirits going into their first lesson of the day, despite the fact that it was History of Magic.

              That evening, the group settled into the Room of Requirement with several of their professors. Professor Sharp, keeping an eye on both of his wards, settled into a chair in the back and pulled out his notes. He and Sebastian had been working over the holiday to collect as much information about the Keepers as they were now calling them, as possible, though they had come woefully short on several. Professor Weasley and Professor Fig chatted happily in the corner by the fireplace, while Professor Hecat and Professor Ronen settled themselves on a large purple couch and waited patiently. Professor Garlick ran into the room late, apologizing.

              “The new Tentacula is teething,” she explained, taking a spot on the floor, “and I had to give it an ice binky to soothe it. Otherwise, it will destroy the tulips.”

              “I had never thought of a tentacula teething,” Natty said, laughing. “Do you put brandy on its gums, too?”

              “Oh yes,” Garlick returned happily, “but it’s far too upset at the moment for that. It will have to make do.”

              “Then, shall we begin?” Professor Fig said, smiling at the room. “Charlotte, my dear, what do we have in terms of ancient magic?”

              “That’s the thing, Professor,” she said softly. “Professor Fitzgerald said that she had to clear the way for me to finish the next trial, so we’re stuck waiting.”

              “We do have information on Fitzgerald,” Sebastian cut in, pulling out his own notes. Sharp smiled as he began to detail her life. “Irish, first headmistress proper of Hogwarts, held in very high esteem by everyone. Ravenclaw, Charms professor before she became headmistress, very popular. Died unusually early, though I can’t find any references to what.”

              “And the others?”

              “It seems that there were four unusually close professors: Fitzgerald, Rookwood, Rackham, and a fellow named San Bakar. No word on his first name.”

              “San is his first name,” Professor Ronen said quietly. “He’s Yemeni. Beasts professor, if I remember correctly. I was given a few of his records when I joined since we are from similar cultures from an outsider’s perspective. He was also a Slytherin.”

              “What about Rackham and Rookwood?” Charlotte asked. “What houses were they?”

              “Hufflepuff and Slytherin respectively,” Sharp said. “No Gryffindors.”

              “How strange,” Charlotte murmured. “Four keepers and only three houses represented…”

              “So, what does that leave us with?” Natty cut in, feeling a bit impatient. “The third trial is on hold. What else do we have?”

              “I have the dragon’s egg to return,” Poppy said, “and we still have the poachers to dismantle.”

              “Harlow, too,” Natty said. “He’s gotten worse over Christmas. I wasn’t able to reach out to anyone over the holidays, but maybe they’ll be willing to talk now.”

              “Ok, so, Harlow’s extortion ring, the poachers, what else?” Weasley asked, eyes narrowed. 

              “The goblin,” Sebastian said softly. “Charlotte had mentioned something about contacting a goblin, try to see what Ranrok was up to from their side.” His face burned just thinking about it, but he knew it was the best option to move forward. He felt a solid hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Professor Sharp quietly grounding him. He sighed and continued. “Sirona knows a goblin, Ludgok. Metal trader, well respected, and from what I can tell, he used to be close to Ranrok. Has no love lost, though. Sirona says he wants nothing to do with them. He’ll meet with us if we want.”

              Fig nodded and smiled at Sebastian. “You spent your holiday busy, Mr Sallow.”

              Sebastian shrugged. “Sharp taught me a few tricks over the break,” he said, trying to seem humble, but he flushed slightly with pleasure at the praise. Sharp squeezed his shoulder proudly.

              “Lodgok is a cautious goblin,” he added. “It would be best if he was approached by students, and especially not dangerous-looking ones, to begin our negotiations. Charlotte and Poppy would do.”

              “Then we’ll begin there,” Fig nodded. “I’ll have Sirona contact us when Lodgok is ready, and Charlotte and Poppy will meet with him. Perhaps, Mirabel, if you could join them? We must at least pretend to have adult supervision.” Professor Garlick laughed and nodded.

              “I suppose I am the least threatening of us,” she said, looking at Sharp. For all the ways taking in Sebastian and Anne had softened the man, he was still an imposing figure, and he knew it. He smiled back at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.

              “Then I will go to return the egg. Poppy, is this something we can complete without you?”

              “You could,” Poppy said, “but I’d prefer to be there.”

              “Then I’ll take you and Charlotte again for that. We’ll be rather busy.” 

              “And the rest of us?” Leander asked, looking at Fig. Fig smiled down at him.

              “The rest of you will focus on your schoolwork. Natty, Leander, see if you can contact some of the extortion victims. Is there anything else?”

              The room shook their heads, and Fig beamed. “We are making extraordinary progress into understanding and defeating Ranrok. Well done, all of you.” 

              That weekend, Natty and Leander went out to the hamlets, trying to get information on those who had been extorted. The two had such an air of purpose that no one dared ask to see a badge or look past their serious questions to their Hogwarts uniforms. They settled into their roles, questioning people and compiling a list of names of people they knew had been extorted. By dinner that Saturday, they felt prepared to share their findings with the larger group. 

              “So, apparently, Mr Hill’s assistant is being blackmailed,” Leander said over dinner. “He’s in love with Mr Hill’s daughter and they’re secretly engaged.”

              “How awful, to blackmail something so pure,” Charlotte said, frowning. 

              “Hill has high hopes for his daughter,” Garreth explained. “An assistant isn’t going to be good enough for him, no matter how in love they are.”

              “Then, there’s a gentleman who lives beside the river,” Nattie continued. “He just lost his wife. Claims Harlow stole from him, but it’s been hard to pin him down.”

              “We have another lead on a couple from Irondale, but we haven’t gotten down to see them yet,” Leander finished. “That’s tomorrow’s job.”

              “We’re still waiting on Lodgok,” Charlotte said quietly. “He’s apparently on a trip. But Sharp has been scouting out the dragon’s lair. It’s going to be tricky to get in, so he’s thinking of bringing more people. Try to split the dragon’s attention. But it’ll be risky.”

              “I think we can handle it,” Sebastian said with an air of arrogance. “We’re all accomplished wizards now.”

              “You’re fifth years who haven’t finished their exams,” a cool voice cut in. Professor Sharp came to stand behind Sebastian, his hands on his shoulder. Anne laughed quietly. “And fifteen, to boot. You’ve not accomplished anything yet.”

              “I don’t know, Sebastian seems to be accomplished at putting his foot in his mouth,” Garreth laughed, and Sharp’s eyes sparkled. 

              “He does that,” he agreed, gently patting the boy’s shoulders. Then, “Charlotte, I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

              Charlotte stood and went to join the professor in the back of the Hall, fidgeting with her hands from nerves. She frantically thought back to her latest potions, trying to find something that she had done wrong and needed to be reprimanded for, and had almost started apologizing for her mediocre swelling draught when Sharp began speaking.

              “Miss Underhill, I believe you are preparing for another Keeper trial, yes?”

              “I am,” she stuttered, trying to decide where he was going with this. Sharp sighed at the fear in her eyes.

              “Charlotte, I’m not here to scold or punish you,” he said softly. “I have been discussing it with the other professors and we’d simply like you to take one of us with you.”

              “They said the trials have to be done alone,” she said cautiously, but Sharp shook his head.

              “We wouldn’t be there to help you fight. We would be there to help heal you, to ensure that you survived, and to have a second set of eyes on the memory in the end.”

              “But-”

              “Just, please, think about it,” he said softly. “Sebastian has mentioned the previous trials, and while you are much stronger than any of us realize, I cannot help but worry. And I know Professor Fig does, too. We will be sending a larger contingent with you, and a professor will come into the trial with you.”

              Charlotte was stunned. She knew that Professor Sharp was taking to his job as guardian to the Sallows and had become much more protective over her group of friends, but she had never thought about taking someone into the trials with her. Finally, she managed, “You spoke to my cousin, haven’t you?”

              Professor Sharp laughed softly. “Nathaniel, your father, and I have discussed your progress in school,” he admitted, “and your abilities did come up. They are, of course, extremely worried about you, as are the rest of the faculty.”

              “Except Professor Black,” Charlotte said, and Sharp rolled his eyes.

              “Except the headmaster,” he admitted. “Please consider it. You can take Professor Fig if you’d prefer, or Professor Galick, who is absolutely excited to be a part of our grand schemes.”

              “I… would like Professor Fig,” Charlotte said softly, and Sharp smiled.

              “He would enjoy that, I think,” he agreed, before straightening and adopting his usual stern look. “I will send that homework directly, Miss Underhill, and see that you don’t forget it this time.” Then, looking past her, he said, “Professor Black.”

              “Professor Sharp,” the smooth voice of the headmaster said, and Charlotte turned to see Black glaring down at her. “Is Miss Underhill falling behind in her schoolwork? I’ve always thought muggle-borns-”

              “She is performing adequately,” Sharp cut in, trying to hide the headmaster’s bigoted comment. “She forgot an assignment I gave her over the Christmas holiday.”

              “I didn’t forget it,” Charlotte explained, “it was eaten by my cousin’s fiancée’s toy poodle. A gift from my father, of course. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” She hoped she was playing along enough to throw off any suspicion, but Black rolled his eyes.

              “Then you should have completed it inside of the dog,” he said, clearly annoyed with her. “Run along, the adults are talking.”

              Charlotte had never been so happy to comply with a condescending remark before.

              That weekend, Charlotte found herself at a table across from a goblin between Professor Garlick and Poppy. The goblin, Lodgok, was staring at her with narrowed eyes. 

              “And why should I help you?” he growled. His eyes traced over Professor Garlick, her slight frame and gentle smile still seeming threatening to a being who has been at odds with wizards his entire life. “Why should I help wizards?”

              “Because we can stop him,” Charlotte said before anyone else could speak. “You know he’s dangerous. That Pain magic he has is consuming him. We have to stop him.”

              Lodgok looked at her, appraising her earnest face and pleading stance. “And if I believe you?” he said quietly. “How far would you go to stop him? How far will your professors let you go? We’re taught to be wary of wizards, even as young and earnest as you.”

              “I will do what needs to be done,” Charlotte said firmly, though she wasn’t sure she believed herself. “Ranrok is destroying what little goblin-wizard relations there are currently. We can never work together if he’s making things worse.”

              Lodgok leaned back in his seat. “You’re not wrong,” he said softly, frowning. He gently scratched his chin in thought. “Ranrok and I fell out a bit ago, but I may have an idea to get back into his good graces. To learn what he’s doing. Are you up for some adventuring?”

              Professor Garlick shifted in her seat. “What are you thinking?”

              “The Helm of Urtkot.”

              Garlick narrowed her eyes, thinking. “That was purchased by The Collector, yes? A few generations ago, I think. Her tomb is not far.” 

              Lodgok nodded. “It was buried with her. Damn Witch thought she could take it with her to the grave. There are spells preventing goblins from retrieving it.”

              “But not a witch,” Charlotte said, finally starting to understand. “And you’re sure that will work?”

              “Ranrok upholds the old traditions. We believe items belong to their makers, not their purchasers, and as such goblin-made things should be returned to the goblins when their initial buyer dies. Obviously, wizards have different views on this.”

              “Yes, that items fully belong to the one who bought it,” Poppy said, nodding. “So, Ranrok wants to reclaim this helm and you need a wizard to do it.”

              “Precisely.” Lodgok looked into Professor Garlick’s eyes, almost testing her resolve. After a long pause, Garlick nodded.

              “Let me conference with the others,” she said, deep in thought. “Some of us are better suited to a trip into a trap-filled tomb than others.” Lodgok nodded, clearly expecting her response, before standing and taking a final drink of his ale. 

              “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said cheerily as if they had discussed nothing more than a business transaction. Charlotte realized, in essence, that’s what it was. He made his way out of the Three Broomsticks, humming to himself as he threw a relaxed wave to Sirona. 

              “Sharp?” Charlotte asked quietly, and Garlick frowned.

              “I’ve been rather wanting a go at the more interesting missions you undertake,” she said, smiling wickedly. “But yes, we should talk to him.”

              Professor Sharp was happy to greenlight the mission and allow Garlick her exercise, as he put it, and the next day, Charlotte, Garlick, and Poppy made their way out of the school into the hillside around Hogsmeade. They came armed with several potions and spells practiced specifically for field first aid and were dressed in sensible trousers and sweaters and hair pulled back from their faces. Had anyone not known the bubbly professor and the two equally lively girls, they would have mistaken them for adventurers or curse breakers. They approached the tomb with little difficulty. The front of the tomb was decorated with several standing stones, all carved with swirling knots and figures. Charlotte paused a moment to trace the carvings, smiling at the design.

              “I’ve always loved the knots,” she said softly, and Professor Garlick nodded.

              “Same. They give a sense of mystery and whimsy. And it’s endlessly fun tracing them.”

              After a moment, they ducked inside the partially collapsed entrance. Charlotte took a deep breath, smelling the earth and water that permeated the air, and she smiled.

              “Call me weird, but I’ve always loved that smell,” she said, taking out her wand and lighting the tip. “It feels very… right.”

              “You’re weird,” Poppy confirmed, also pulling out her wand. They gave a small laugh and then continued down the hallway. Happily, there were only a few spiders, though Garlick squealed when one managed to ensnare her in its web. 

              “GET IT OFF!” she cried, batting her hands around as Charlotte and Poppy tried to pull the silky threads off of her. Their progress was hindered by Garlick’s panicked dancing. 

              “Stop moving!” Poppy cried, casting a quick freezing spell to prevent the professor from making things worse. Once the web was off, Garlick was freed, and she shivered in disgust.

              “I can handle most everything, but webs are quite beyond the pale,” she said in apology. “Set them on fire as soon as you see them. The spiders can build new ones once we’re gone.”

              Charlotte paused to think about the ramifications of destroying the webs but eventually agreed that the webs would have to go. They slowly worked their way to the sarcophagus, burning webs as they went. The tomb had a few corners where the ceiling had fallen, revealing the sunlight and creating the perfect conditions for a few plants to grow. Garlic collected them as they went. 

              “You’ll be much happier in my greenhouse than some dank old tomb,” she cooed to a robust dittany plant. “Though you seem to do well enough here as it is.”

              “I found it!” Charlotte called, and the other two ran to join her. The sarcophagus was opened, revealing a grinning skull, but there was no helm to be found. Poppy took a look around the room and sighed when she spotted a poacher.

              “They got here before us,” she said, nodding to the dead body in the corner. Garlick sighed. 

              “There was a camp not far away,” she said, thinking. “We’ll have to go in and get the helm. We can’t let Rookwood steal away Ranrok’s affections.”

              “Then let’s go.” Charlotte led the way back out of the tomb, then looked around the darkening hills. The sun had to have just set, a sign of the shortening days for fall, and the campfire of a poacher camp was clearly visible. Without a word, the women fell into step, walking wordlessly into the camp and freezing all of the poachers before rifling through their belongings for the helm. 

              “Got it!” Poppy cried, holding the helm up. Even in the dim firelight, Charlotte could see it was something special. It glimmered as the light traced up delicate engravings. 

              “Great. Time to leave,” Garlick said, watching the poachers. They didn’t move, the freezing spells too strong for them to break, and watched as the women walked away. 

              “What a beautiful object!” Professor Fig exclaimed when they returned to the Room. “So delicately wrought, so intricately carved… I can see why this would help turn Ranrok’s attention.”

              “So, we have the helm,” Sharp said, looking over the treasure carefully. “I’ll send an owl to Lodgok so he can pick it up, and then we wait.”

              “In the meantime, Charlotte, we should discuss the third trial,” Fig said, sadly placing the helm on a table. “The Keepers and I spoke while you were retrieving the helm, and we have the location. I’m afraid it will be more difficult to get to.”

              “Where is it?” Sebastian asked, forehead furrowed with confusion. 

              “The Headmaster’s office,” Sharp said, sighing. “And none of us know his current password. We will have to be subtle.”

              “I have an idea, of course,” Professor Fig said, his eyes sparkling. “I have some polyjuice potion stored away.”

              “Do we want to know why you have polyjuice potion stored away?” Ominis asked, sighing. “Or will this be another thing we pretend is completely normal?”

              “After how Black has been behaving toward the staff and students, it seemed logical to be prepared,” Fig argued, though his smile seemed far more wicked than simple precautions would entail. “We will need a piece of him, of course. I was thwarted in my attempts, but perhaps one of you will have an easier time.”

              “Unlikely,” Sharp snorted, but he did look thoughtful. “Perhaps Ominis will be best suited to this task.”

              “Why me?” Ominis asked. He seemed completely surprised, but Charlotte chuckled slightly.

              “Isn’t your father a friend of the headmaster?” she asked coyly, and he sighed.

              “You’re going to use that over me? Now?”

              “You don’t get to yell at me and then not have it thrown back in your face when it’s most relevant,” she argued, and he flushed and threw his hands up in defeat.

              “Fine, fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

            Ominis grumbled to himself as he walked down the corridors next to Sebastian. He had been tasked with procuring some of Professor Black. They had a plan in place- he would distract Black while Sebastian yanked a bit of the professor’s hair- but Ominis was still nervous. He must have been telegraphing his anxiety because Sebastian nudged him.

            “It’ll be fine,” he said softly. “In and out, right?”

            “Right,” Ominous replied, not entirely convinced. They reached the Great Hall, filled with students and faculty having dinner. The two walked around the tables to the front of the hall, where the professors were sat eating. Professor Black, in his all-black robes, was arguing loudly with Professor Ronen about the place of muggleborns in the school.

            “They can’t even do magic right,” he exclaimed. “They have to have stolen it from someone else, someone magical. That’s why we have squibs. Poor dears had their magic stolen away.”

            “Professor, you know that is untrue,” Professor Ronen started, but Professor Weasley shot him a look from across the table. 

            “Professor Black, it seems Ominis Gaunt is here to see you,” she said, waving a hand toward Ominis. Professor Black grunted before rising from his seat and making his way over to Ominis against the wall. He walked up and stood, glaring down at Ominis and saying nothing. Professor Weasley rolled her eyes; Professor Black often “forgot” that Ominis was blind. She swept over to help.

            “Ominis, how can we help?” she asked quietly, knowing full well what he was after. Ominis sighed.

            “Professor Black, I was hoping you had heard news of my parents. Last I heard, there was a nasty bout of a cough going around, and I was hoping my parents had managed to avoid it.”

            “Of course, my boy, of course. Excellent people, your parents. I will write to them directly to make sure of their health,” Professor Black said, waving a hand dismissively at Ominis and turning back toward the table. Without warning, Professor Weasley reached up to his hair and pulled a few strands free. Black squawked with the sudden pain, and he turned around to glare at Ominis. “And what was that?” he demanded.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, Professor,” Ominis stammered. “My wand, it sometimes pulls unexpectedly. I must get it seen to. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hurried back to his seat next to Charlotte. Though he couldn’t see it, Garreth was flushed with pride.

            “My own auntie,” he said happily. “My own auntie is out here breaking rules. What a glorious day.”

            They waited to finish the potion until they were sure of the timing. Professor Sharp would accompany Charlotte to the trial location, but they had to be sure of the password to Black’s office. Professor Weasley had grabbed an extra set of Black’s robes to ensure Charlotte would be perfectly dressed for the part and left them in the Room. That weekend, Charlotte climbed the stairs beside Ominis and Sebastian, slipping into the Room quietly. Professors Sharp and Weasley sat in the library area, debating with Professors Garlick and Fig the best ways to magically follow a person without them noticing. They abruptly fell into silence when Charlotte and the boys entered, all of them smiling happily at the trio.

            “Excellent,” Professor Fig said cheerfully. “And now we have our daring students. Let us begin.” He handed Charlotte a bundle of black robes. “Change into these, quickly.” Charlotte obeyed, stepping behind a screen and pulling the pants on. They were entirely too long for her 5’2” frame, and she stepped on them with every movement. She then tried to put the shirt on but found it didn’t look quite right.

            “Um… Can I…?” she called out, and almost immediately Professor Garlick and Professor Weasley were at her side. 

            “Oh, it’s the corset,” Garlick said, shaking her head. “Best to leave that off, dear. It will be too small when you transform anyway.”

            “Go… without my corset?” Charlotte said softly. The very idea made her flush.

            “Many women in the magical world do without,” Garlick said bracingly, “but I’ll make sure to bring it with us when you transform back. We want you to be comfortable.”

            “Here, let me,” Professor Weasley said, gently reaching over to unlace Charlotte. Between the two professors, she was soon dressed in the headmaster’s clothes and feeling very exposed. The clothes were massive on her, drowning her in fabric, and she waddled out from behind the screen to laughter from Sebastian and Professor Sharp.

            “It never occurred to me how tall Professor Black is,” Professor Fig said thoughtfully. “We may have done better to have a taller student take this role.”

            “She will only be short a little while longer,” Sharp said, still chuckling as he added the hairs to the potion bottle in his hand. He swirled the bottle around, mixing it completely, before handing the bottle to Charlotte. “Bottoms up, my dear.”

            Charlotte took the bottle from him and peered inside. The potion looked foul, almost spoiled, and smelled terribly. She sighed, pinched her nose, and drank deeply, draining the potion down in a few gulps. She handed the bottle back to Sharp and sighed, waiting for the effects to kick in.

            The nausea hit first. She doubled over, trying her hardest not to puke, only to feel her insides writhing under her skin. She groaned and closed her eyes, falling to the floor. She could feel her body rearranging around her, and it was altogether a painful and unwelcome feeling. It passed quickly, though, and she found a pair of hands around her upper arms, helping her back up. She stood, only to waver on the stilts she now had for legs. She looked down to see the overlarge pants now fitting perfectly, properly tailored to her new form. She reached up to her face and felt the mustache and goatee usually gracing Professor Black’s face and groaned.

            “Did it work?” she asked, but instead of her voice, she heard Professor Black. The professors all grinned at her.

            “It did,” Professor Fig said happily. “You are perfectly disguised. Now, let’s review the plan.”

            “I will leave with Professor Black here to search for his house elf. You will take the real Professor Black to Hogsmeade to meet with the ministry’s officials. We will get the password to his office, change Charlotte back into her usual self, and return here to prepare for the trial,” Professor Sharp recited. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Come, Professor, I believe we have things to discuss with your elf.”

            Charlotte started to move toward Sharp but found her knees loose. She nearly fell again only to be held up by Professor Fig. “We should perhaps work on your movement first,” Fig said, laughing, but Charlotte pushed herself upright. She felt rather like a deer newly born, where their legs are almost entirely out of their control, but she was determined to pass. She tried again, focusing more of her effort on a breezy movement, and Professor Garlick and Sebastian cheered. 

            “Very near him, too!” Garlick said happily. “You just need a bit more pompousness in your stride.” Charlotte tried again, walking past the professors, and Garlick clapped happily. “That’s it. Remember, you are the best wizardkind has to offer and everyone is beneath you.”

            “I think I have the hang of this,” Charlotte said in that baritone voice that wasn’t hers. “I just need to focus.”

            “Shall we?” Professor Sharp asked, and Charlotte followed him into the hall. They moved with purpose, Professor Sharp limping along as Charlotte strode by arrogantly. Professor Sharp moved to interrupt any others looking for a conversation with the headmaster, insisting that they were on “important business” and could not be detained. They only stopped once, to ask Madame Kowgawa where the house elf was. Finally, they arrived in the Great Hall, where Scrope was polishing the golden podium Black often spoke from. He bowed low when Charlotte approached.

            “Hello, master,” Scrope said, his head scraping the ground. “What can Scrope do for you, sir?”

            “Scrope, I need the password to my office,” Charlotte said, trying to sound commanding and firm. “I seem to have forgotten it.”

            “Master has forgotten the password?” Scrope asked, looking at Charlotte with suspicion. Then, as if a thought had just occurred to him, he smiled. “Master is testing Scrope. Master knows that Master forbid Scrope from telling the password to anyone, including Master himself.”

            Charlotte rolled her eyes. Of course, Black would pull such a stupid stunt. “And now I’m telling you to tell me,” she returned. “Or at least give me a hint.” 

            “Masters knows that it is his family’s motto,” Scrope continued. “‘Always Pure’ in French.”

            Charlotte nodded. “Thank you, Scrope. Take the afternoon off.” And before the elf could protest, she breezed away. Sharp met her outside of the Great Hall, in the small chamber before the Entrance Hall.

            “Well, that helps,” Sharp said happily. “‘Always Pure’. What a nutty family.”

            “And in French, too,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes again. “Pretentious to boot. I can almost guarantee with a last name of Black that the family is not Norman. They may have Norman ancestors, but they are not as old as they pretend to be.”

            “Of course not. No one besides the Gaunts are as old as they claim,” Sharp said. He paused, looking at Charlotte curiously. “Your hair… We need to get you to the closet to transform back. Come.” He moved quickly, opening a closet door and shoving Charlotte inside. Charlotte watched as the walls seemed to grow around her, the clothes becoming far too large once again. She sighed once she was back to herself and leaned against the wall. 

            “Can you call for my clothes?” she asked through the door. “I don’t dare go out look like this. Trousers are one thing, but trousers and oversized clothes is too much. Miss Winters will skin me alive.” She heard Professor Sharp chuckled through the door. She wasn’t sure how he would call for her clothes, though he assumed there was a way to do that quietly and discreetly. She turned over a bucket to wait. 

            Professor Garlick brought Charlotte her clothes before too long, and once dressed, Charlotte came back out into the hall. Professor Sharp sighed.

            ”We only have a short window. Professor Fig was only able to get him to the Three Broomsticks with a few bribes. We need to go now.”

            Charlotte sighed and nodded, following Sharp as he made his way up to the trophy room. There, at the end of the curved hallway, was a gate in front of a number of other stairs. Professor Sharp nodded at Ominis, who was waiting in front of the gate with Sebastian. 

            “All right boys?” He asked. The boys both nodded. 

            “Quiet since Fig came through,” Sebastian said softly. “The way should be clear.”

            ”Alright. You two stay here. If we need assistance, I’ll send the patronus down to get you. And if you see Black, send us a message,” Sharp said. The boys both nodded and stepped aside. Professor Black reached out to the gate with his wand, silently opening it and slipping inside. Charlotte followed, her practical trousers seeming extremely offensive in the formal environment. Quietly, they slipped down the hallway’s twists and turns to a turret, and then quietly up the stairs to a statue of a griffin. 

            “I’ll let you do the honors,” Sharp said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Your French is probably better than mine anyway.”

            Charlotte gave a soft laugh. “Toujours Pure,” she murmured in perfect conversational French, and the statue began to turn, creating a set of stairs that climbed up to the headmaster’s door. Charlotte smiled. “There are some benefits to being born into an upper-class family,” she said softly. “My French and Italian are very good.”

            ”An excellent thing, as I was not born into a family that promoted the use of any language other than English,” Sharp replied. He helped Charlotte onto the stairs, now stationary, and they began the climb.

            ”That seems odd to me,” Charlotte admitted. “It’s come in handy multiple times, even in the magical world.”

            ”Ah, but I was born into a muggle family, and not one of any real station,” Sharp returned. “Leaning languages was far down the list when you need to make sure dinner is on the table every night.”

            Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say in return, so she quietly nodded and followed the professor into the office. It was large but covered in portraits of various sleeping witches and wizards softly snoring. The collective breathing of the portraits gave a sense of being on the seashore, listening to the soft waves roll into the beach. The rest of the room had a number of tables and display cases covered in artifacts and magical instruments. Charlotte was unsure where to look first. Sharp noticed and let out a soft laugh.

            ”It is a fascinating room,” he admitted. “The first time I was summoned here, I had no idea where to look first.”

            ”Are all of these Black’s?” Charlotte breathed. Sharp laughed again.

            ”Black wouldn’t know what half of these things are,” he said, only a hint of bitterness in his voice. “They’re technically his, but more realistically they’re part of the office. They will be inherited by his successor and so on.”

            ”They’re beautiful,” Charlotte breathed, reaching out to gently run her fingers along the edge of a beautiful silver and glass bowl holding a large number of round balls filled with silvery liquid. The light caught the edges of the bowl and cast a rainbow across the wooden table it sat on and she smiled. Sharp watched her, smiling softly at her simple joy.

            ”Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s find Professor Fitzgerald.”

            It didn’t take them long. Professor Fitzgerald hung in a place of prominence beside a stone table on which lay a single book. She smiled as she noticed them coming closer.

            ”Excellent. I was worried the headmaster would prove more difficult to convince,” she said softly. “It seems my worries were misplaced.”

            ”Oh, no, Professor, you’ll find he doesn’t know we’re here,” Charlotte said softly. “We had to resort to more… complicated means.”

            The portrait laughed. “Even better. I have rarely met anyone so unfortunately placed in a position of power. The fact that he’s from one of wizardkind’s oldest families seems to be the only recommendation, and that is a very thin resume to present.” The other portraits, seemingly abandoned their naps, were nodding and murmuring in agreement, which made Sharp and Charlotte laugh.

            ”You will find a great many of us agree with your assessment, Professor,” Sharp said, chuckling. “He has been a great irritation to most of us under his employ.”

            Professor Fitzgerald chuckled but tried to give a more serious face to give Charlotte her instructions. “Now, Charlotte, you will read this book on the platform. I believe Professor Sharp is accompanying you? Then he will need to hold your hand as you read.”

            ”That’s it? Reading a book?” Charlotte looked suspiciously at the portrait who laughed.

            ”You will find a lot of things aren’t as they appear, dear. Now, if you would, we can get started.”

            Charlotte stepped up to the podium and picked up the book. Professor Sharp stood behind her, grasping for her hand, and together, they disappeared into the book.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone,

Auntie Em here. I know it's been almost two months since I've updated, and I promise I have a reason. Not a good reason, but a reason. My life has been both crazy and really boring, and we all know what happens when the AuDHD brain is bored: hyperfixations. I have, in turn, been focused on Star Wars, role playing with AI chat bots, and House of the Dragon. I have also crocheted two dragons, two unicorns, a very large bee, and I'm working on dragon #3 for a Christmas gift. And a Baby Yoda, I forget about him. And most of an Owlbear. Most of that to Taylor Swift because that's a new hyperfixation for me. 

I have not forgotten about Awaken, however it feels to you. I have been quietly mulling over changes, where I want the plot to go, what I want to happen next... I just haven't actually written it. I am, however, going to make some changes. Clearly I can't be trusted to write a second book, so I'm going to add the plot I had planned for a second book into Awaken. It's going to take some time, but I promise I haven't abandoned you. I just need to get the brain braining again. 

For those who are interested, my health has stabilized for now. The first medication they put me on was not a good match, but I'm on something much better for me now, and I feel much more in control. I have a procedure later this week that I moved up due to election stress, but once that's done, I should hopefully have little issue moving forward besides the usual body nonsense. 

I want to thank you for not giving up on me, for reading everything I've put out, and for being just genuinely wonderful people. You've left comments, you've left Kudos, and I cannot thank you all enough. You kept me going so many times. I promise the rest of the story will be amazing, once I get it written. 

Also, if anyone has experience self-publishing a book, could you drop me a line? I have a book on Disney history I want to get out there and I'm terrified of the process. 

Love always,

-Auntie