Chapter Text
September, 1890
Prewitt was always insufferable, and the summer had only made the Gryffindor more arrogant. He’d come into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom bragging about some ludicrous adventure he’d had with his Aunt. Something about hitting a troll over the head with its own club whilst visiting family in the South of France. True or not it had rubbed Sebastian the wrong way. He would have loved nothing more than to have spent the summer duelling up in the hills around Feldcroft with Ominis and Anne, generally getting up to no good. Since the pains that plagued his sister, only grew worse he’d had little time to adventure across the Scottish Highlands under his uncle's strict leash.
Prewitt had raised his wand across from him, “Scared of being knocked off the top spot in the crossed wands, Sallow?”
A taunt that would have hit his mark if delivered by a better duellist. He stepped to meet the boy's challenge, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to knock him down a few pegs. He launched three quick spells but Prewitt was on the defensive, his Protego firmly in place. Maybe he had gotten better, but not good enough. Despite trying to keep Sebastian under lock and key all summer, Solomon couldn’t be around at all times. Sebastian had been practicing too.
The fact was, Prewitt was predictable. Sebastian saw the telltale shake of his arm, his balance was off and his feet were so close together he knew he could sweep him off them. But mostly the Gryffindor didn’t commit. His spells fell short as most did when duelling and too afraid of getting the incantation wrong to really follow through with a cast. Stopping his onslaught, Sebastian let the magic thrum in his fingers. The feeling always comforted him, the hum in his blood as it pumped around his body. He paused for one second to savor it and waited biding his time. As expected, Prewitt took the bait. Dropping his Protego he threw out a shaky leg locker jinx which Sebastian quickly brushed to the side with a wave of his wand.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he crooned. Then he struck.
Prewitt's footing wavered, losing his balance he wasn’t fast enough to protect against the spell. Just in time, the Gryffindor managed to redirect the spell up onto the great skull that loomed above their heads. The skeleton groaned as the head came loose of its moorings directly above the redhead. All the colour seemed to leech from Prewitt’s face as the enormous mass of bones quickly impressed upon him.
“Levioso!”
As quickly as it had come loose, Hecat suspended the skull just in time to save his opponent from a rather painful visit to the hospital wing. Pity. So much for the Troll Slayer. Couldn’t even defend himself against a beast that was already dead.
Hecat looked them both over, before leveling him with an exasperated look. He liked the professor, a skilled witch he admired. She understood the value of knowledge, that anything no matter how small may make all the difference in a fight. Hecat was an older woman with greying hair and a slight hunch to her shoulders one might assume her frail. Never underestimating your opponent, was a lesson learned the hard way. Not anyone can take down a dragon poacher ring, you had to be resourceful, and cunning.
The professor had launched into a speech he knew well. He’d heard it on his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, every ear in the room had pricked up, they were silent, and he remembered feeling the coil of excitement. Anne’s eyes had shone that day as she looked at the professor as if a heroine from one of her adventure books had leapt off the page. He’d groaned at it in his 3rd year when she’d caught him sneaking behind the Quidditch stands with that pretty Ravenclaw girl he’d liked instead of writing 16 inches on werewolf and nocturnal beast identification. Last year he’d cursed it. Where were the brave witches and wizards to protect Feldcroft, his hamlet to save his sister when she needed them? Why couldn’t they teach him the knowledge he needed to do it himself?
“…Knowledge. To the wise age matters very little.”
But this time it felt different. He didn’t resent hearing this tale, in fact, deep inside something stirred. That little fire inside he guarded so fiercely, quivered to attention sending a little shiver down his spine. Hecat began their lecture.
“Levioso? A levitation charm?” cried an exasperated Prewitt, Sebastian shot him a glare. But too quickly Professor had turned her attention to the Gryffindor.
“Levioso!”
Prewitt shot up all eyes to where he was now suspended in mid-air squirming. His cheeks and ears burned almost as bright as his hair. Sebastian smirked slightly, not being able to resist the curl of his lips at the boy's gangly limbs flailing in the air like the squid in the lake. He heard a small snigger from an unfamiliar voice behind him. He turned slightly. To his right trying to disguise her laughter was the new fifth-year girl that had come charging with Professor Fig at last night’s Sorting Ceremony looking a bit moon-eyed and breathless. Just as he’d once looked when he’d first walked into the great hall all those years ago. Strange to have someone wind up at Hogwarts in their fifth year, stranger still was the conspiratorial look Professor Fig had given her as he ushered her over to the lumpy old hat on the chair. Sebastian liked a mystery and someone who liked to see Prewitt made a fool of gets points in his book. She met his gaze, and he quirked an eyebrow.
Hecat then releasing the charm Prewitt fell ungracefully to the floor in a heap of limbs. He clambered up awkwardly dusting himself off before slinking to one of the desks in the darker far corner of the room. No doubt to blend in to quell the embarrassment as the rest of the class took to their seats. Sebastian settled in his favourite seat by the window.
***
Chin resting on his hand, wand in the other he lazily flicked at the Fwooper feather on his desk suspending it and letting it fall back down. The classroom buzzed around him, the clang of the practice dummy and the grumbles of a Ravenclaw boy who just couldn’t seem to grasp he was meant to be casting a spell not stirring a bloody soup with his wand movements. The sounds slowly drifted away, and he found his mind started to wander as the September sun warmed his face. He’d spent months practicing Levioso in his second year in the Undercroft whilst preparing for his first duel with the Crossed Wands. Anne had been here to help him then. Any free moment they had had been spent holed up in that secret back room adjusting their wrist movements by tiny degrees. More than once they’d caught the other a bit too hard and sent them careening a bit too high whacking their heads on the ceiling or in one instance Anne had dropped him right on top of a broken cauldron breaking his wrist in two places. The matron in the hospital wing had been suspicious but they certainly weren’t the first to wind up there due to unsanctioned duelling. So with all their limbs still attached, she didn’t pry.
Those memories had an edge to them now. What good did all their practicing do when Anne couldn’t protect herself when it really mattered? Why couldn’t he protect her when it really mattered? Since that day in the summer before their fourth year, Sebastian was more determined than before. Age didn’t matter to the wise, as Hecat always said. Now he spent hours poring over seventh-year advanced spell books and banned books on curses he’d pilfered from the restricted section. Winning at the Cross Wands had once made him gleam with pride, and his boasting probably made him an insufferable prat to be around. Now the winning didn’t taste as sweet. In his search for anything to help Anne his knowledge of spells and duelling skills had progressed far beyond what he needed for matches. He only used it as a way to sharpen his skills, he was being reckless in the duels. In some instances, three on one, pushing himself to his limit with every new spell he learnt. Some fights tougher than others, he’d been caught by a couple of stray jinxes from some of the more formidable 7th years but he’d beaten them too, all the same.
He cast his eyes across the room, Hecat was encouraging the new fifth-year girl who was striking the practice dummy suspended in mid-air. She was good. U nrefined but quite natural in her movements so unlike the overeager predictability of Prewitt’s spellcasting. Sebastian pushed off the table to stand in the middle of the classroom to examine her closer. Her movements were rather erratic as you’d expect from someone untrained, but there was a certain fluidity to how she held herself and moved her wand as if not a tool in which to cast but a very extension of her arm. The magic that thrummed from her wasn’t something she controlled, it was a wild and untethered thing she redirected like water. The static from her magic made her stray hairs stand on end as she pulled back from her attack and let the dummy fall to the floor with a clang
Hecat smiled at the girl before catching his eye “Very good. But the best way to practice is by duelling. We’ll start with you two.” She said gesturing to Sebastian who was watching from the side. "Duellists take your marks”.
She may be new and rather capable, but Sebastian was sure it would be the same thing with every duel these days.
“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome” he smirked, striding across the room and into position.
***
Never say Sebastian Sallow was a bad loser. As he lay flat on his arse, breathing hard his heart still thundering quickly as he shook off the remnants of the spell that struck him. She stood above him wand still raised slightly. Their eyes met.
Her eyes shone with that look of triumph a feeling he knew well. He lived that feeling. It was that look he usually gave opponents. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been the one on his back, but he couldn’t say he minded the view. Her hair was wild around her face, her lips slightly parted, panting lightly. A delicious sound. A conquering heroine. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Finally, someone interesting.
He hadn’t duelled like that in a long time. He’d let her strike first casting a protego when they’d begun their game. He was a gentleman after all. Not gentleman enough to let her win but she was new and letting her get a couple of shots in early was only polite. Then he’d countered quickly, no point in going easy and wearing her out on her first day but to his delight she’d deflected with a protection of her own. Their dance began, as expected from her work with the dummy, she duelled more reactively and unrefined. Her wand lashing out from her fast like a whip, she seemed to cast with her whole body. She’d leave her left side fully exposed only to pivot so quickly the vulnerability was lost in a flurry of robes and long hair. He cracked a smile, finally someone interesting to compete with. He parried and struck with his wand missing his mark again as she moved like a knife through butter. She looked up and their eyes met. Sweat glistened faintly on her brow, a wide grin spread across her face and a feral tenacious glint in her eye. She looked like a woman who’d been lost in the desert, the magic thrumming through her was the water she’d been denied that she desperately gulped it down until she was sick with it. That’s when he’d hesitated. At that familiar look in her eyes. Her blow struck him square in the chest and that’s when he’d landed with a thud.
She held out her hand for Sebastian, her lips quirked slightly at one side. He took her outstretched hand as she hauled him up off the ground.
“Not bad for a beginner. You give as good as you get” he said with a grin, dusting himself off.
***
He was lurking by the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom waiting for her to finish with Hecat. As expected, Prewitt and Imelda hadn’t hesitated with a few snide remarks and jeer at his expense. Sebastian’s own defeat had clearly helped mend Prewitt’s bruised ego from earlier. Even ‘Puffskein Dunkein’ had shot him a mocking smile. The audacity of a man afraid of a Puffskein to think he’d be embarrassed. Sebastian cocked an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Do you want a turn?’, had the Ravenclaw boy averting his gaze and quickly shuffling out.
They all thought he was embarrassed. But the fact of the matter was, he wasn’t. Far from it. In fact, he was ecstatic. He’d not had a chance to duel like that in a long time not with someone like him. The look he caught in her eye he knew then they shared something. She wasn’t afraid of it. Not of that power that thrummed and ebbed in her veins. His teachers, his peers, and especially his uncle Solomon were afraid of that innate power they all had. The fear, that had professors restricting the spells they taught. The fear, that kept them from driving the loyalists out of the hills around Feldcroft. The fear, that kept them from doing whatever it takes to find a cure for Anne. He didn’t see a shred of that fear when he looked at her in that duel.
She was walking then toward the back of the room, heading for the door, fumbling with some odd book in her bag. He moved swiftly to fall into step beside her.
“That duel was quite something,” he said nudging her arm slightly drawing her attention.
“It was good practice.”
“Practice? It felt more like I was duelling an expert” he wasn’t lying, that kind of trust in one’s abilities was something it took most people years to forge. “Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand…but perhaps this wasn’t your first due?” A leading question he knew, this girl was unusual, to say the least, and wherever she’d come from, maybe they had more kindred spirits.
“It was in fact. Maybe I just have a knack for it” She didn’t meet his eyes, trying a little too hard to sound aloof.
“Be coy if you like, but I know better. Magic requires intention and talent” he smirked. He liked this game, someone who kept their cards close to their chest, but he wanted to duel with her again and Sallow’s always get their man. So, he dangled the carrot “In fact, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned duelling organisation.”
She gave him a sideways glance up through her eyelashes though he could feel the spark of interest, her eyebrows raised “Exclusive and unsanctioned?” she mused “Count me in.”
A rulebreaker too. Merlin have mercy. He could work with this one.
“I knew I was right about you. If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts. You’re going to need to break the rules now and then. Whether it’s joining a secret duelling club or sneaking into the restricted section of the library. You just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”
“And what? you’re offering to be my clever guide around this place?”
“Of course, I would never leave a lady to fend for herself. Especially not one that flipped me in a duel so easily.”
“Hmm, it may not be the last time I get you on your back.”
He spluttered, was she implying…surely not. That was just about duelling. Either way, his face flushed slightly.
"If you fancy a partner send me Owl, despite my performance today, I am the reigning Champion. We could make quick work of this year's competition if we work together." Spotting Ominis on the floor below ducking around the Defence Against the Dark Art staircase he slowed his stride to cast one last look at the girl before he took off after his friend “I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere…unsanctioned”.
A conspiratorial smile was shared, and he was off following his fellow Slytherin into the Undercroft.