Sunlight's Resilience

by shiningsunset

Summary:

All Adelia Asa Rosewater wants is to live peacefully with her family, but that's no longer possible.

Now that her magic has awoken at the age of 15, she's whisked away to Hogwarts, testing her ability to learn magic, both regular and ancient, and make friends for the first time in several years.

When her new friend Sebastian Sallow asks her to help cure his sister, she's willing to give him all the information she has gathered over the years from taking care of her ailing mother.

But what happens when she realizes that her connection to the infamous Rookwood goes deeper than she initially understands? Will she still be able to help Anne, when the price for her cure could be the cost of her own freedom?

[*Funky little fic ft. plenty of jokes & pretty artwork*]
Act 1: Chapters 1-20
Act 2: Chapters 21-?

Notes:

Hello! Thank you to anyone who decided to read this. It's my first time writing/posting something to this website & while I'm writing it for myself for funsies, I hope anyone who decides to read it will enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Broken Vase & A Long Road Ahead

Sunlight's Resilience

Act 1

~~~~~~

It has often been stated that the most anticipated moments of one’s life happen when you least expect it. 

For Adelia Asa Rosewater, it meant suddenly shattering an expensive flower vase with a bursting wave of magic. 

Of course, she hadn’t meant to bust a family heirloom from centuries long past. It is an item that was maintained in mint condition by careful house elves, who switch out beautifully curated bouquets at the first sign of wilting. 

She wouldn’t dare earn the ire of her grandmother.

…Whoops.

Adelia stared wide-eyed at the scattered vase pieces, tearing off her gloves to see the hands that caused this mess.

Well-manicured nails decorated upon slender fingers entered her vision. They remain as soft and unscarred as they were ten minutes ago, the only difference being a slightly shaky quality to them. 

She flexed her hands and a bright light appeared in her palm, dissipating as soon as she clenched her hand shut.

Hm.

…Well this was new.

~~~~~

Receiving her Hogwarts letter a month later shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, considering she had already begun learning a few simple wandless spells from her brother Calyx, who was even more excited than she was to share his previous Hogwarts knowledge. 

What was more shocking than her sudden acceptance to the school four years after she should’ve received a letter, was the elder man that hand-delivered it to her family’s ancestral villa. 

Professor Eleazar Fig, the man had introduced himself as, while handing over Adelia and Calyx’s acceptance letters. He was both the professor of Magical Theory at Hogwarts and the person who would catch her up to speed as a new fifth-year student. 

Naturally, her grandmother had quickly begun accommodating him once she was able to identify his significance, going so far as to assign a house elf to care for him specifically, whenever he stopped by for their daily lessons. Doing so didn’t gain much favor with him, though not for a lack of trying. 

People have said many things about Isa Kadara Greengrass née Black since she clawed her way past more talented witches and wizards, up to the position of Head of the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes.

That she’s impossible to please, her body’s fueled solely by spending galleons and spite, and she will suck the Black, Rosewater, and Greengrass families’ coffers dry.

But with certainty, the one thing that’ll never dwindle is her endless pools of ambition.

While Professor Fig’s affiliation with them didn’t raise her grandmother’s status in pureblood society as much as she had wished for, it did elevate Adelia’s within her own household. Previous moments of ignoring or dismissing Adelia turned into polite smiles and a renewed interest in her well-being and newfound spellcasting abilities. 

Adelia didn’t like it at all. 

First and foremost, Adelia wasn’t fond of receiving various levels of affection based on her usefulness to someone.

Sure, it’s been a while since she had a parental figure simply complimenting her on learning a new piano piece or correctly dancing every step to a tune her ballroom teacher required her to understand. That doesn’t mean she isn’t wary of someone who once claimed, “a well-crafted parlor paperweight had more use than a squib like her.” 

Well, she wasn’t a squib any longer.

After years of accepting she’d never be able to use magic, watching with disguised jealousy as everyone around her cast spells without any effort, she'd finally be able to understand how the world feels through the lens of magic too.

Even her little sister Wisteria accidentally burst one of her dolls in distress last year, when Calyx claimed his doll already adopted all the stray cats in the area, so she’d have to settle for a pet spider instead. While she’s delighted that Wisteria won’t have to experience pitiful stares and overt gossiping about her abilities, Adelia can’t help but wish her powers would’ve developed at a normal age too.

At least so her grandmother’s bonding attempts wouldn’t feel so excruciatingly awkward.

Second of all, how was she going to be able to sneak into her mother’s room if there was now at least one house elf patrolling the hallways for her at all hours, ready to guide her into her father’s old study room to practice potion brewing?

Beyond the borderline excessive amount of time she was made to learn witch basics, Adelia had barely any time to peruse her personal library or visit their kitchen’s house elves for a secret baking lesson. Not to mention the fact that Calyx had taken little Wisteria into London over a week ago, the both of them exploring Diagon Alley and sharing loads of pumpkin juice, no doubt.

Not that she was jealous or anything. 

It wouldn’t do for a lady to yearn for more than she has been allocated. 

Yet, Adelia still longs for her life years ago, when her sister was freshly born and her mother was still in good physical condition. Her brother had an endless amount of energy, bursting with excitement after receiving his first Hogwarts letter. Even the house elves that doted on them the most, Yavvy and Norby, fluttered around the kitchen, preparing tasty snacks and decorations to celebrate the newest family member.

And her father…

Well, her father was still around. Filled with joy and various historical facts to occupy her mother’s mind after a draining, prolonged pregnancy. 

Adelia sighs, eyes peeking out the lengthy hallway to Narra Sinta Rosewater née Greengrass’s eternally closed door.

A pleasant humming noise sounds from a painting on the wall, drawing her attention to the soft eyes and kind smile of her mother, hand gently patting the head of a younger version of Adelia while gazing at the present-day one with all of the attention and focus Adelia was once accustomed to. Adelia’s eyebrows furrowed, pressing her lips tightly together and averting her eyes from the non-judgemental stare, fidgeting in place as a tingling sensation crawls all across her body, muscles stiffer than the porcelain statues guarding the villa’s garden entrance.

Her eyes dart around for anything else to focus on, the ostentatiously patterned green walls and maximalist decorative style refusing to offer a reprieve on her overwhelmed senses. She rapidly blinks past the stiff, golden lounge chairs, stuttered breaths pausing in her throat when her eyes lock on an ancient flower vase, innocently nestled on an ornate accent table, exactly where a cracked vase should’ve been.

Is that the vase Grandmother Hestia gave to my parents to celebrate their wedding? How did someone think to replace the broken vase with a more meaningful one? Who even had access to it in the first place?

Did… did Grandmother Isa find out I accidentally broke that vase? 

Her vision clouded over as more and more thoughts rushed into her head. Her shaky hand reaches for the secondhand wand she recently borrowed from Professor Fig, fingers tracing the grooves and squeezing the handle, letting the faint connection of magic wash over her like a refreshing mist of rain after a hot summer’s day.

No, no. She asked Yavvy to fix it right after it broke. Yavvy did say there would still be cracks after it was put back together but… replacing it with another one eases one of my biggest worries.

I'm not sure what kind soul decided to take mercy on me, however, I thank you, oh Mysterious Figure.

While that did solve one issue on her lengthy mental to-do list, Adelia still needs to prepare herself for the future. She won’t always get lucky like this and must protect herself from any other incidents, especially by preventing her body from casting any accidental magic again. 

If that was even possible. 

Her eyes flutter back into focus, noticing that she had been accidentally staring in the direction of the portrait for far too long. Even her painted mother had cocked her head to the side, a small frown marring her usually pleasant features as she matched Adelia’s stare. Her portrait father who was entertaining her siblings had turned his focus to her, giving one of his old, reassuring smiles.

Adelia’s chest seized at the expression, thoughts returning to her mother’s frail condition and her quiet distress over Atlas Rosewater’s self-assured nature, feeling as though she’s the only one who understands his research will end up as another fruitless venture. Only instead of returning with scraps of clues and brewing up another half-baked plan, he’ll come home to his wife’s heartache, after wishing for his appearance by her side every time she had awoken for the past three years. 

Adelia rolls her shoulders back, chest lifting as she adjusts into what she hopes is a confident pose, smiling back at her parents with as much confidence as she can muster up. Based on the unsuspecting smiles that are returned to her, she can very well assume that they are none the wiser to her barely contained turmoil, merrily giving their attention to her sibling’s painted selves.

Adelia watches as her father reaches a hand down and tickles her baby sister, hearing a mimicking echo of her childhood as she laughs, while her brother holds up a rattle toy to gain her attention, wanting Wisteria’s laugh to be directed at him too. Her mother returns to petting her younger self’s hair, gently threading her fingers through the waves with a small smile, as young Adelia eagerly soaks up all of her mother’s focus with a beaming smile. 

Ouch.

Her heart clenches in pain at the sight, feeling like an outsider viewing a carefree family from the shadows. Not even the happily oblivious figures in the family portrait or freshly replaced ancient vase, that she barely escaped getting into trouble over, could ease the pain in her chest at the thought of her mother's extended slumber.

The sweeping of a broom against the hardwood in the distance brings Adelia back to the present, reminding her of her precarious position within the household.

She understands that if a house elf were to see her current expression and gaze, they'd misunderstand her thoughts and would report her strange behavior to her Grandmother upon her questioning.

Right now, Adelia wants nothing more than to dart into her mother's room and climb into the safety of her sheets, wishing for the past few years to have been nothing but a nightmare.

But alas, she must at least keep up the pretense of being a picture perfect noblewoman, with no quirks that'll make her stand out in a negative manner.

With no one paying her any mind at the moment though, she can do one of her usual rituals, as the worry of her mother's condition worsening has been stewing in her subconscious.

The pressure at the back of mind grows, convincing her that her mother will be in pain if she doesn't carry pain relief potions or lotions with her at all times.

Of course I still have them. I just put them into my pockets 2 hours ago.

…Right?

She pats the Wiggenweld potion in her left pocket.

One.

Steps forward on her left foot.

Two.

Pats the herb lotion in her right pocket.

One.

Steps forward on her right foot.

Two.

Yeah, she still has them.

…But what if I don't? What if my robes are tricking me into thinking that I have them, when I really don't?

I should check again.

Adelia ends up standing in the doorway for another 5 minutes, repeating the same gestures over and over again until she felt assured that her mother's health wouldn't immediately worsen at the moment, especially since she hadn't forgotten to grab her supplies.

As much as this eases her mind, her muscles are still tight and aching, reminding her that she really needs to distract herself with another task as soon as possible.

Her shoulders slump as she clutches the herb sachet around her neck, ignoring the gleeful chatter and joyous giggles, and turns back into her father’s old study. The scent of patchouli and thyme is a welcome distraction, filling her nose when she heads to the haphazardly decorated desk she's claimed for herself, pushing aside the Slytherin memorabilia and botany notes to make way for her Ancient Runes textbook. 

Her family will return to how they used to be one day. Maybe not like how they were before, but at least they’d all be together again. She was sure of it.

But for right now, her Ancient Runes notes aren’t going to translate themselves.

Notes:

I've included commissioned art in this chapter by katastronoot on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!

If anyone is interested on either Adelia & Calyx's appearances, I made both her & her brother in Hogwarts Legacy:

https://imgur.com/a/cQ7oMiV

Chapter 2: A Series of Goodbyes & A Hogwarts Carriage Ride

Summary:

Adelia is finally leaving her home for Hogwarts, taking her time to say goodbye to her family and make sure she doesn't leave anything behind.

As she gets ready to leave, though, her anxiety becomes very overwhelming, but it may be the exact thing that her and her travel companions needed to gain a necessary sense of awareness.

*Isa appears, to the tune of Cold Hearted Snake (Glee Version)*
Adelia: Why do I hear boss music?

“Professor, I'm not quite sure that this is working.”

Adelia popped an eye open, looking over to Professor Fig, who had his eyes closed in concentration. This was the fourth time in the past hour that she had tried to meditate but kept getting distracted by her nerves over leaving for Hogwarts soon and the ticking of a small wooden clock on one of her father's old workbenches. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Was it time to leave already? How long have we been sitting here? Did I completely close the bag of flour Yavvy and I used to make pumpkin cupcakes last night?

Professor Fig chuckled, lifting a hand up to indicate that she should close her eyes again, then took in a deep breath.

“It is important to focus on the energy at your core, my dear. You've been having difficulties understanding how to cast spells due to your lack of familiarity with what your own magic feels like. Think about how you felt when you broke that vase.”

Adelia sighs, shutting her eyes again and adjusting on her cushioned desk chair. Her hands gravitate towards the plush fabric of the chair, running her fingers along the soft velvet and focusing on the material’s feeling on her fingertips. 

Okay, focus. I remember that Grandmother had mentioned something about my hair being unkempt. What was it she had said?

~~~~~~

Adelia strolled along the second-floor hallway, hair falling out of her bun from the wind, the exertion of running around with her sister leaving a pink flush on her cheeks and a small smile on her lips as she headed to her room.

A clicking of heels on the hardwood snaps her attention to the dark, imposing figure strutting the opposite way to her, eyes hardening as she takes notice of Adelia’s appearance. Adelia’s feet pause, stepping to the side and lowering her eyes, her head bowing to her grandmother, and she clasps her hands in front of herself politely. 

A short clicking of a tongue and a hum of disapproval are heard above her, loudly echoing in the quiet corridor as Isa passes by her without acknowledging her beyond a simple, “Fix your hair.”

Adelia shrinks slightly into herself, nodding before her hands fly up, automatically attempting to smooth down every visible flyway. She stays in place, quietly mumbling an apology to her grandmother while pulling the ribbon out of her hair, hands stilling as Isa’s grumbling reaches her ears.

“-so insolent, the nerve-”

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

“-one would think even a squib could keep their hair in place. Her future suitor must possess low vision or desperately require access to her dowry-”

Isa’s voice fades from the hallway, as Adelia’s hands slip out of her hair, ribbon falling to the ground as she wraps her arms around herself.

A solemn tear drips down her cheek and lands on the hardwood, her grip tightening around herself as her grandmother's words take root in her mind, slinking down like vines and wrapping around her heart, pricking its thorns at her with all of the confidence a highly influential and powerful woman can summon. 

It’s just not fair. I didn’t ask to be the only one in my family to be born without magic, that’s not something anyone has control over. Why am I the only one expected to persistently adhere to etiquette rules while Ria and Cal get passes or simple telling-offs? 

She feels something building up inside of her, a culmination of all the years she has spent quietly listening to her grandmother’s criticisms as her parents' presence can no longer temper them.

Her hands begin shaking again, reaching into her robe pockets for her gloves, barely strapping them on before her nails start digging into the leather. Her breaths turn shallow as she begins pacing down the corridor, mentally correcting everything she has just heard, finally allowing herself to feel the righteous anger that has been brewing within herself the moment her grandmother loudly expressed her disappointment that she would never receive a Hogwarts letter.

She recalls overhearing her grandmother trying to convince her parents to have another child, so they can have at least one magical daughter to be proud of, remembering Isa’s joy when Wisteria had accidentally flipped over a plate of food with her magic while throwing a tantrum over dinner. 

Having magic isn’t what makes someone special. I'm no less important than the rest of my family. Isa also has no room to speak when discussing money, considering she's the one spending thousands of galleons a month on her whims with no regard for how it would impact us. I’m not the problem here, she is.

Adelia feels the righteous indignation at her familial situation boil over, a cool refreshing feeling leaving her body, starting from the center of her being and spilling out through her gloves in a blast of cold energy.

The sudden wave sends her stumbling back, knees feeling weak and her body suddenly feels drained of its energy. She’s startled back to attention when a sudden shattering noise pierces the air as a priceless vase busts, individual pieces scattering across the floor, quickly becoming crushed beneath her feet.

~~~~~~

Anger.

Indignation.

That’s what she had felt overwhelmingly, enough for her magic to spark and spill out of her, completely destroying that vase. The emotions had consumed her, her frustration giving way to total focus at that moment, which provided the right amount of energy to push the magic out of herself.

Adelia’s eyebrows furrow at this discovery. She didn’t want to feel angry every time she casts a spell, there has to be something she’s missing. 

Is it the emotions? It's hard to focus unless I'm either overcome with certain feelings or become hyper-fixated on a thought or object. Hmm, think.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

That’s it! 

Adelia rolls her shoulders, straightening her back up as she takes in a deep breath and exhales, letting all of her thoughts fade away as she focuses on the metronomic sound of the ticking clock. She recalls the warm and mellow sounds of her piano filling her mind as she focuses on that cool place in her core, reaching through the melody and luring it into the space surrounding her.

A lighter feeling fills her chest and she smiles, enjoying the playful energy her magic takes on as it dances around her to an invisible tune. Her eyes slowly open to a bright light fading around her and her professor with a matching grin on his face.

“Well done. Did it feel how you expected it to?”

Adelia slightly laughs, comparing her light and airy magic to the dark and vexed feelings that pushed out her magic originally. “Not at all, sir. Though I do think I understand my magic more now.”

“Oh? Please describe it for me.”

“Well, the easiest way for me to explain it is when I play the piano. Sure, there’s sheet music and a metronome to follow along with, but what sets apart the sound one pianist makes from another, is their expression.

The first time I accidentally cast magic was with my emotions, physically pushing out my magic in a rage, without any understanding of the techniques I could use or the effect it had on me. When I cast it just now, it felt like I was performing a piece for myself, something I had practiced multiple times and knew by heart, pressing the keys to captivate the magic and coax it out.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Professor Fig interjects, not wanting her to disparage her own efforts.

“It was your first time intentionally drawing out your magic, after all. Depending on the type of spell you were casting, focusing on very happy or unhappy thoughts is the key to making it successful.”

He gestures to the last remnants of her silvery magic, now fading back into their body as they converse.

“You have done a wonderful job. This is something first years learn before using their magic and I’m impressed you were able to master it so quickly. With your understanding of how to utilize your own magic, it’ll be much easier to cast the spells we’ve already gone over.”

Adelia blushes, not used to compliments from people other than her family members or house elves. “T-Thank you, Professor.”

He gives her a supportive smile, glancing over to the wooden clock and standing up, brushing off his robes and packing spare bits of papers and books into his bag. 

“We ought to be leaving soon. There should be a carriage arriving for us and I imagine the Hogwarts Express should be departing within the next hour too.”

With the last of his bits and bobs packed, Professor Fig issues a goodbye to Adelia, prompting her to quickly throw together the last of her notes and textbooks into a spare bag, passing it off to the teacher before he departs. As Adelia closes the study room’s door and enters her own room, she hears a passing conversation between Professor Fig and Norby, her father’s old house elf.

“Now now, I can handle a few bags, Norby.” 

“Please, sir, Norby is very capable of transporting the bags for you.”

“I may be elevated in age but these bags don’t weigh enough to cause a struggle.” Professor Fig chuckles, leaning down to sincerely thank him. “I do thank you for your offer.”

He straightens back up and speed walks down the rest of the corridor, a small house elf quickly following in tow. “Norby is strong too, sir. Norby can lift a dining room table with-”

Adelia giggles at the house elf’s extremely helpful nature, remembering how many times her father had that same conversation with Norby, who can’t help but care for the humans and other house elves around him. 

Turning the doorknob to her own bedroom, she quickly moves over to her walnut vanity table, pushing aside little trinkets and pieces of jewelry to find a particular ring.

Her fingers wrap around a thin silver band, a pear-shaped moonstone embedded in the center surrounded by crescent moons, with small gems around the band resembling constellations. She slips a glove off her hand, sliding the ring onto her right hand and admiring its sparkle in the sunlight, shining brightly through her open-curtained bay window. She closes her hand into a fist, centers her magic, and opens her palm again to another glimmering light.

She knew this spell to be Lumos, the lighting charm, something Calyx was very insistent on having her learn first. Since she has learned this spell before borrowing her current wand, this was one of the few spells she could cast both nonverbally and without the aid of a wand.

She smiles at the small light, barely visible in the sunlight, but fighting to be seen by her eyes. Her fist gently closes, dissipating the light with a soundless, Nox.

Adelia knew it wouldn't be too much longer before she needed to leave, adjusting the ring on her finger as she started stressing about the day to come, looking up at the mirror to see a flickering image of her parents standing behind her. She faintly smiles at the imagined version of her mother, Adelia’s face becoming the spitting image of hers with each passing day, as she starts to reminisce on receiving her ring.

This ring had been a special gift on her 9th birthday since her parents had been so focused on her brother’s acceptance to Hogwarts and her sister’s birth that year, the familial ring was a way to remind her that she was loved and a deep part of their family too, even when most of their attention was on her siblings.

From what she had been told, this ring was recovered from the depths of an ancient tomb and embedded with a protection spell, later being kept in the Rosewater family vault for many generations.

To Adelia, this piece of jewelry allowed her to feel her family’s presence wherever she went, and even though it was kept under her gloves most of the time, she knew it would be difficult to go through her fifth year at Hogwarts without it.

She carefully shines it with a spare rag, quickly placing her glove back on as she hears small pounding footsteps nearing her doorway, squatting down and placing her arms out in preparation for a small girl with brilliantly curly hair to barrel into her. 

“Addie!” The little ball of joy speaks into her shoulder, leaning back from the hug to beam up a huge smile at her, one of her newly lost front teeth making the hole in her smile appear even cuter. 

“Hi, Ria. I see you finally lost your tooth!”

Adelia grinned at her, knowing Wistera’s loose tooth had been bothering her for the past week, so her excitement was at least partially due to that achievement. 

“Yep, the tooth fairy better leave her a chocolate frog for it too. That’s one of her front teeth.”

Her brother’s figure appeared in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, smirking knowingly at Wisteria.

“She didn’t even cry this time when it fell out.”

“Mhm, I was being good!” Wisteria brightens at Calyx’s entrance, letting go of Adelia’s shoulders to hug her brother’s legs. 

“Oh! That’s right.”

Wisteria reaches into the waistband of her skirt, presenting both of them with matching drawings, her hands flicking out with a flourish as she displays them with all the drama a six-year-old could utilize.

“Ta-da! I made these so you remember me at magic school.” 

The drawings depicted both Calyx and Adelia smiling in bright green robes with pointy hats, both of their parents clapping to the side with sparkly purple robes, while Wisteria was giving them a bouquet of honking daffodils on their other side, wearing a poofy pink dress and a large bonnet. Even Yavvy and Norby were standing in the shade of a large oak tree, each of them wearing tea towels and holding either a balloon or a large, tiered celebratory cake.

The background was mostly a blue sky with clouds above tall green grass, a bright orange sun shining down on them, appearing as large as their father’s head. In the background, there was a small man with slicked black hair and a twirly mustache, appearing like an exaggerated drawing of a villain from a fairy tale book. 

Calyx was the first to notice him, bursting out laughing as he understood who the pompous man with dark robes and an evil smile was, barely able to get his words out through the giggles. “Is- Is that H-Headmaster Black?”

Adelia snorts, quickly covering her mouth with her gloved hand, now remembering Wisteria’s childish dislike of their first cousin once removed. 

Wisteria pouts, glaring at the man in her drawing with comically angry eyebrows. “If he let me touch his must-ache then he could look nice too. He said he uses a fancy wax so his face hair won't move, but he wouldn't let me test it! I think his hair is fake.” Her face turns up, looking away from the drawing to hug each of them one last time.

“Good luck at magic school, bring me back chocolate please!” She demands asks both of them before skipping out of the room, likely headed to the kitchen to scrounge up sweets. 

They both wave as she leaves, Adelia finally rising from the floor to properly greet her brother, dusting off her robes as she does so. “So, are you excited to start your final year?”

Calyx stands up fully, no longer leaning on the doorframe as his eyes flare with excitement and confidence. “You know it. Ria also let me win a round of Skittles, in exchange for me playing a prank on our dear cousin.”

He dramatically pokes at the small figure of Headmaster Black, reaching up to twiddle with an imaginary mustache. “I heard he plans on canceling Quidditch this year, so it's his fault, truly.”

Adelia raises her eyebrows at the admission, breathing out a small huff of air in amusement. She can already picture the familiar envelope that inevitably gets some home, speaking of a prank or incident Calyx landed himself in.

Calyx claps a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Enough about that. Are you excited to be sorted into Ravenclaw?”

Adelia tilts her head at him, side-stepping to fully join him at the doorway. “How are you so sure that’s where I’ll end up? Can’t see me in the snake pit with you and your lot?” 

Calyx throws back his head in laughter, an affectionate smile crossing his face as he leads her into the hallway. They both pass by the animated portrait of their family, giving matching waves to their painted family before continuing down the hallway.

“I do love you 'Delia, but there’s no way you’re cunning or have enough self-preservation to even step a foot into the snake den, let alone throw yourself in.”

They both pass by their mother’s door, pausing to knock a small pattern into it, waiting to hear a voice respond to them. With the lack of response, Calyx reaches out to slowly open the door, steps into the doorway, and says a few words of goodbye to their mother with Adelia quickly following suit. They take in her asleep figure in the doorway for a minute, then quietly shut the door, walking down the rest of the corridor quietly until they reach the staircase. 

Wanting to break the silence, Calyx repeats the name of his house with raised eyebrows, gazing over at her with a small smirk. “Remember when Zonko’s came out with the line of imitation Hogwarts Sorting Hats when we were little? No matter how hard you tried, the only two houses you kept getting were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.”

Adelia huffs at this, rolling her eyes at the toy that refused to amuse her hypothetical house placements, only allowing her to be in her mother’s old house or the least interesting house among all four of them. “At least it took the hat almost ten seconds once when sorting you. I was tired of having to sit still for up to five minutes at a time when you barely had to sit down before getting sorted.”

Calyx chuckles at her annoyance, waiting for her eyes to lock in his for longer than a few seconds to speak, wanting his words to hold weight.

“No matter what house you end up in, I’ll be proud of you. Ria constantly babbles on about how much she prefers playing dolls with you over me, so I know she’ll be gutted when you leave. And Mum and Dad?” Calyx stops for a moment, an uncommonly serious expression crossing his face.

“They love you more than words could describe. If they could be the ones sending you off for your first day, they’d do it in a heartbeat. We all love you with or without magical abilities.”

Adelia gives a watery smile at his genuine, heartfelt words, eyes tearing up at the thought that he won't cast her aside if she is placed in an undesirable house, knowing the newfound attention from her grandmother existed on borrowed time and Isa would despise having a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff in the house.

As much as she would love her parents to be here for her, at this moment, just having her supportive older brother was enough. “Thank you. I-I appreciate it.”

She reaches out for a hug, both of them embracing for a short, yet sweet moment. She leans back in his hold before saying, “Don’t forget to check in with me. Now that we don’t have to write letters over the school year, we’ll have to meet somewhere to talk about our days or eat lunch together.

Merlin only knows what Mum and Dad would say if they found out we went a few weeks without talking about the weather or the latest Wimbourne Wasps match.”

Calyx grins in amusement, reaching a hand out to lightly rustle her hair, his other hand already prepared to wandlessly cast Crinus Muto, one of the other spells he taught her to recolor or style her hair.

Adelia’s mouth had already been open to tell him off, closing into a pout as she slightly glared at him, looking reminiscent of their younger sister’s expression earlier. 

Calyx laughs quietly and diverts his eyes from hers, not wanting to make her more nervous with prolonged eye contact before she has to leave.

Isa made it a point to intimidate Adelia by casting a stinging hex every time she defied her orders and stared at her pointedly. Naturally, Adelia unconsciously began to associate prolonged eye contact with pain, which only adds to her fidgety demeanor. 

Placing Adelia's hand on his arm, Calyx escorts her to their awaiting grandmother and house elves.

Norby stands to the side with a pile of suitcases, watching the staircase for Calyx’s appearance before waving him over. Calyx turns to her with a polite bow, straightening up and waving goodbye to her, then walks over to take Norby’s hand to apparate to the train station. After the sudden pop of magic, Adelia sighs, no longer able to put off speaking to her grandmother.

As she approaches, Isa snaps her handheld mirror shut, snapping at Yavvy to prepare them for apparition. 

“Finally, she has arrived. Any longer and there would be Aurors breaking down our door to search for a missing child.”

“Sorry, Grandmother.” Adelia’s head automatically turns down, giving Isa a small bow of apology for the wait, reaching her hand out for Yavvy’s, hoping that this conversation won’t take too long. 

She can feel a small hand slip into her own, giving a slight, reassuring squeeze before they pop out of the room. Her body feels as though it’s being tightly squeezed through a small object, legs wobbling upon reemergence to an alleyway near a quiet London street, noticing a cozy-looking carriage visible on the next street over.

She quickly strides towards the carriage but pauses as a heavily decorated hand lands on her shoulder, blood-red fingernails digging in and physically turning her around. 

Her grandmother’s tan face is suddenly closer than she had ever wanted to see it, the strong scent of gardenia wafts from her body, in addition to the faint smell of cottage pie lingering on her breath.

Adelia recoils, holding her breath to not inhale any more of those smells and prevent herself from moving, as the nails in her shoulder press deeper, almost piercing her flesh. Her other hand grips Adelia’s chin, lifting her face up to stare into her similarly grey eyes, a trait that she both loves and hates, not wanting it to be associated with such a vicious woman.

“Listen carefully, girl. You’re going to get in that carriage, be very polite to everyone you need to be, and represent our family name perfectly. No smarting off, looking unkempt, saying any weird words many times over, or tapping at things endlessly. You will stay still and only speak when spoken to.

Do I make myself clear?”

Adelia can feel herself tremble in Isa’s grip, barely able to nod at this moment as it feels impossible to move, fear gripping her heart and holding her in place.

Her heart is beating like a rabbit’s, starting to worry that the sweat dripping from her body will cause Isa’s hand to slip, making her more irate than she already was. Her eyes begin tearing up, thankfully blurring the image of her grandmother’s repulsed face from her vision.

“..yes… G-Grandmother…”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Her mouth feels like its stuck together when she finally gets her chin freed from her grandmother’s grip, her eyes sore and itchy from the glowering, her whole body feeling like it needs to be washed from the inside out.

She stumbles against the nearest wall, eyes blearily looking towards the carriage again. Yavvy darts into the shadows to stabilize her, taking advantage of her grandmother’s momentary distraction to help her stay upright.

Adelia had noticed out of the corner of her eye that her grandmother kept wiping her hand off on a handkerchief for much longer than necessary, staying in place but seeming like she was searching for someone, even after they had both already spotted the carriage.

Once Adelia was finally sturdy again and able to face her grandmother fully, Isa’s attention was back on the carriage, rather than the street behind them.

Did I see that right? It almost seems like she was expecting to see someone else here but that wouldn’t make sense.

Adelia shakes the thought off, tilting her head down as she awaits her grandmother’s instructions, rushing off once she sees a dismissive hand flicker towards the carriage.

A small hand sneaks into hers once more, squeezing it gently before slipping back out. Adelia can feel the soreness from her shoulder begins to fade, a small glance towards the subtle white light confirms that magic was cast, and Adelia gives a grateful smile to the docile-appearing house elf next to her.

Her now dry eyes take in the comfortable-looking carriage with familiar-looking crests decorated upon it, smiling politely at the carriage driver before turning down to Yavvy, giving her a small smile and nod of thanks, wanting to quietly wish her goodbye. Yavvy gives her a bow, retreating to her grandmother’s side as she approaches Professor Fig, exchanging a few words before their departure. 

Adelia wanders towards the front of the carriage, quietly observing the dark, skeletal creatures attached to the carriage driver's reins, knowing these creatures to be thestrals. They have a haunting beauty to them, Adelia supposes, content to not get too close in fear she may startle them. Since their appearance isn't documented remotely positively, it wouldn’t be surprising if her sudden acknowledgment of them would be met negatively, not wanting to turn the attention of multiple pairs of frightened, glittering white, pupil-less eyes onto herself.

Besides, Adelia wasn’t too good with animals anyway. The barn owl sitting on her suitcases, avoiding eye contact with her speaks volumes to her animal handling abilities.

At a loss for what to do, her eyes wandered over the empty streets and buildings, enjoying the view outside of her villa, though the town wasn’t as bustling as she had hoped. While pushing her way through crowds of people sounds deeply unappealing to her, it would be a nice change of sound from her usual quiet days of reading while hearing the house elves clean or the repetition of specific chords when memorizing a new piano piece.

She wondered what it was like to live in a place like this, having lived in her family’s country estate for most of her life, after all, they had moved from their townhouse before she was 3 years old. She takes in the view of similar-looking estates, the brick architecture looking quite similar yet darker to their villa’s exterior, though the lack of nature truly sets both locations apart. 

She glances over to Isa and Professor Fig, her hands rapidly gesturing at him in a way that makes her glad that he’s such a patient man. Few could handle being stuck in a prolonged conversation with her grandmother, yet he’s holding his own quite well.

Her eyes wander past them, catching on a flash of a figure scurrying into an alleyway not far from where the carriage was parked. The sudden appearance of a top hat threw her for a loop, thinking that the street had been fully cleared of people, though the wizarding clothes did reassure her that this person was another wizard, not an unsuspecting Muggle that had lost their way. She hopes they don’t get into the carriage’s path though.

The clearing of a throat turns her attention back to her grandmother, who had ceased her conversation and now stared pointedly at her while Professor Fig rounded the carriage, announcing their soon-to-be departure.

She politely bowed to her grandmother, catching a glimpse of her frown as she apparated away with Yavvy, straightening her posture and mentally recalling all of her grandmother’s instructions. Her eyes snapped over to Professor Fig as he commented on their previous spell practice.

“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand. You’ll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own.”

Adelia ducks her head at the compliment, appreciative of his understanding when she found a disconnect between her own magic and the wand, prompting the mediation session to understand where to draw out her magic. Though she has found wandless magic to feel more natural thus far, it could be due to her using a borrowed wand, rather than one that connects to her wholeheartedly. 

“Thank you, Professor Fig. I appreciate your working with me before the term begi-”

A sudden twisting of magic fills the street as someone new apparates nearby, albeit facing in the opposite direction to them.

The bowtied man seems to observe the buildings confusedly, seemingly counting for a building number until he notices their presence, jumping in surprise and calling out for the professor. She quietly observes them conversing, giggling at the joke the pleasant man makes to them, glancing back to the alleyway the man disappeared into, squinting to see if the moving darkness could be his shadow when the jovial man suddenly speaks about a need for discretion. 

“-As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.”

Adelia suddenly tuned back into the conversation as George was seemingly asking for her opinion on him joining their carriage ride to Hogwarts.

“Not at all, sir.”

“After you.” 

Professor Fig gestured for Adelia to get onto the carriage, a strange twisting feeling entering her stomach the closer she got to the carriage, feeling as though something bad would happen if she got onto the carriage. The feeling only spreads as her foot steps onto the lower step, dread filling her whole body and she suddenly drops her foot back down, backing up from the carriage and bumping right into Professor Fig.

“Oof. Are you alright, dear?”

“I-I’m sorry, Professor, I-”

“Oh my, she looks quite unwell. Do you have any Draught of Peace potions on you, Eleazar?”

“Just one. I didn’t bring many with me, seeing-”

Adelia tunes their conversation out as her breathing increases, the same feeling she gets when worrying about her mother washes over her, only making her feelings go haywire as she attempts to follow what her grandmother has instructed. 

“No smarting off, looking unkempt, saying any weird words many times over, or tapping at things endlessly.”

I have potions. That’s what they were asking about, right? I need to check my pockets for them.

If I didn’t have them, then Mum would get hurt. But I'm far away from her now. I could be the one getting hurt.

What if that mysterious figure did something to our carriage? That’s why he was the only other person here. Maybe Grandmother paid him to mess with their carriage, that way I’d never make it to Hogwarts. Was this it? Is this how I di-

“Miss Rosewater!”

Adelia snaps to attention, feeling like a cold bucket of water splashed over her as Professor Fig tightens his grip on her shoulder, one hand holding an uncapped bottle of Draught of Peace potion for her to drink.

She blinks a few times, trying to process what’s going on, and turns to look up at both of them, face flushing at the concern and worry facing back at her.

Bowing her head at Professor Fig in thanks, she quietly takes the potion and drinks it, her whole body suddenly drooping as it is overcome with rapidly foreign feelings of peace and calmness.

“Are you alright now, Miss Rosewater?”

Her head slowly shifts over to Professor Fig, nodding calmly as she understands that she was panicking over nothing. Though she should be upset that she accidentally disobeyed her grandmother’s rules before even leaving the ground, she can’t bring herself to feel anxious over it, simply nodding and thanking both men for their help.

“I get overly anxious sometimes. I apologize for delaying our journey and if I’ve frightened either of you.”

“That’s alright, happens to the best of us.” George gives a hearty laugh, waving away her worries easily, and making her smile at his ability to diffuse tension.

“I can assuage your worries if you need. Hogwarts is a very safe school, their carriages included. All of them are checked before they’re driven and the drivers themselves have all the proper licenses to get us from point A to point B. We will be quite safe.”

Adelia considers Professor Fig's words, not quite convinced that there wasn’t a threat awaiting her, but feeling able to go along with them. 

“I was more worried about the figure I saw dart into one of the alleyways a few minutes ago, but if you say the carriages are safe, then I’ll take your word for it.”

Professor Fig and George glance at each other in alarm, taking out their wands with uneasiness in a way that she hasn’t seen from them quite yet. 

“A figure? Do you have a description for this person?”

She lists off the brief information she had collected on the mysterious person, blinking slowly as they seem to get even more anxious, though she’s unable to match their energy due to the effects of her potion. They talk quietly to each other, gesturing with hushed voices to the alleyway Adelia had pointed out, frowning over what seemed to be mixed opinions on how they should progress forward.

Finally, they seem to reach an agreement, telling her and the carriage driver that they plan on progressing to Hogwarts normally while keeping an eye out for possible dangers or carriage issues on the way.

Adelia apologizes to them again, not wanting to raise their hackles over an observation that likely meant nothing, fueled simply by her curiosity in the new surroundings and anxiety over a secretive stranger sneaking into the shadows.

Both men shrug off her apologizing, offering to help her into the carriage as they all finally make their way inside. Though an underlying feeling of tension fills the air, George fills the silence with his happiness about seeing Hogwarts again, taking a look outside before settling into the carriage. The driver prepares the thestrals for the air, leading them down the street before guiding them into the sky.

And just like that, Adelia was finally headed to Hogwarts.

I may be riding in a Hogwarts carriage for the first and last time today, but might as well enjoy the ride. Well, at least until this potion wears off.

Chapter 3: An Imperturbable Attitude & An Uncovered Key

Summary:

Adelia is enjoying the lasting effect of her calming potion, acting as she normally would around her siblings, finding herself now able to focus on concerning matters without spiraling into an anxiety attack. In the meantime, George Osric and Professor Fig are discussing Miriam Fig's final correspondence to Mr. Osric, trying to understand what the impenetrable tube she sent him could mean. Is Adelia the only one that can see a glimmering light from the container's center symbol?

Soaring through the pea-souper fog, the unyielding Hogwarts carriage cuts through the darkened clouds, steadily gliding through the hazy mist towards its intended destination, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A young woman sits opposing two older men, who are engaged in a lighthearted discussion about the current goings-on at the British Ministry of Magic.

While Adelia gazed serenely at the midmorning sky, she could feel sporadic, scrutinizing stares from both of her traveling companions, the pair having silently decided to give her the spare seat to collect herself from her earlier fit of panic.

Though there isn’t much of a sight happening outside of the moving carriage, the young woman takes her time enjoying the feeling of being airborne, the occasional unsteady bumps only further reminding her of her upcoming destination, a joyous smile crossing her face the farther she gets from her home.

The latest shaking draws her attention away from the dense fog, eyes shifting to notice her slightly rumpled reflection in the carriage window. Adelia nonchalantly slides her leather gloves off her delicate wrists, placing them on the matching smooth seat beside her as she slips the royal blue ribbon out her hair, retying it into a freshly twisted bun. A pointed cough reaches her ears and she draws her attention forwards, fingers easing out of her dark waves as she regards the gentleman in front of her with a polite smile.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your traveling companion quite yet. I’m George Osric, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” George glances between both of them, subtly inciting an introduction from Professor Fig. 

“She’s a new student, Adelia Rosewater.” Professor Fig replies, lifting his free hand to gesture to the refined young woman, the other hand loosely grasping onto the newest copy of a newspaper. 

“New?”

“Yes, sir. I’m starting school as a fifth-year.” Adelia smiles placidly, still deep within the effects of the Drought of Peace potion she had taken earlier. 

“How extraordinary.”

Mr. Osric seemed to marvel at this revelation, the earlier discussion about his flattery skills reminding Adelia that he likely knows of her infamous grandmother. Though he hasn’t mentioned her name aloud, it’s obvious that he was comparing their appearances and decorum to one another.

“It is, indeed. None of the faculty has ever heard of anyone being admitted to Hogwarts so late.” Professor Fig stated.

“Nor have I.”

“Of course, as the other fifth-years will have been honing their magical skills for four years now the Headmaster asked if I could get our new student up to speed a bit before the term begins.”

“Well-” George starts to say, swiftly cutting off his sentence at the sound of a snort from the opposite side of the carriage.

Adelia’s gloveless hand had flown up to her mouth, seemingly uncaring about her etiquette slip-up as she loudly giggled, grey eyes shimmering with mirth. Mr. Osric startles at her inelegant display, his inquisitiveness visibly shown at her sudden laughter as he exchanged glances with an amused Professor Fig.

She recovers soon after, a soft smile playing at her lips as she reaches into her robe pocket, pulling out Wisteria’s homemade send-off gift to explain the reason behind her merriment. 

“-so I’m looking forward to seeing my cousin again.” Adelia’s gaze flickers to the two men, neither of which bother to hide their own amusement at the drawing, carefully folding it up and handing it back to her with a delicacy one would expect when handling a glass object.

“I’m sure he feels the same way about you. After all, he sent a wonderful mentor to guide you. Professor Fig is not only an exceptional teacher, he is also a remarkably intuitive–and gifted–wizard.” 

Professor Fig waves off George’s flattery but Adelia simply nods along to his words, thankful that he was the one sent to help her untangle her magic, proving to be a far better teacher than any of her previous governesses could even wish to become.

As the conversational topic changes once more, Adelia takes the time to peer out of her window, taking comfort in the puffy clouds surrounding them.

A movement breaking through the clouds grabs her attention, a sharp, dark wing unlike any beast she has witnessed before materializes through the mist, then vanishes back into the thick fog. 

“Miriam? How?” 

What was that? The wing almost seemed to resemble a thestral wing, yet several times larger.

Not that I'm an expert in beast wings, but it seemed even larger than a Hippogriff’s, and that was quite a big creature.

“I can’t open it. Whatever magic protects this is powerful indeed.”

Adelia grasped bits and pieces of their discussion, understanding that Professor Fig’s wife had sent Mr. Osric something before she had passed, but he was unable to open it. She normally would be giving the adults her full attention out of respect, but the possible emergence of this threat was gravely more significant at the moment.

She faces them as they exchange a dark blue and gold container, head swimming with possible explanations to comprehend what she had witnessed.

Possibly a thunderbird? As far as I'm aware, they’re not native anywhere close to Europe.

But didn't someone mention the recent emergence of poachers in this area? Who’s to say they hadn’t somehow captured that beast and released it into England?

“It looks like goblin metal. That symbol-”

Adelia's head tilts to the side as a glow flashes before her eyes, emanating from the center symbol on the gold-marbled container that Professor Fig carefully rotates and inspects, successfully distracting her from her previous musings. 

“What’s that glow?” She cuts into Professor Fig’s sentence, still having enough potion left in her to not immediately apologize afterward. 

They both express their confusion over her question but encourage her to take a closer look. She gets up from her seat, dusting her robes off before stepping in front of them, grasping the container for a closer inspection. She turns the object with both of her hands, looking in surprise as the silvery-blue glow spreads throughout the thick lines on the container, its sides suddenly falling open to reveal a uniquely designed key. She leans forward, body slightly tilting down to show off the key, hoping they would be able to explain what it could be used for.

Just as she reaches out to touch it, Professor Fig stops her, holding onto the case while starting to explain that they needed to be cautious. 

“Wait. We do not know what-”

Adelia’s half of the carriage gets ripped apart, gigantic teeth instantly tearing it away from the rest of the carriage, taking all of her belongings along with it. Adelia slams into the seat in front of her at the sudden force of air, blood starting to drop from her nose as she feels an enormous gust of wind rush in behind her. Arms wrap around her body to keep her in place, though her face is currently buried between the slick leather seats and the edge of a satin scarf, so she can’t exactly freely move around without aid anyway.

A monstrous roar explodes through the sky, alongside the loud splintering of wood, as her previous carriage half and suitcases become split into smithereens. 

“Yah! Yah!” 

The carriage driver shouts out to the thestrals, trying to speed up the wobbling carriage in an attempt to escape from the very angry dragon with a sparking mouth, before eventually realizing that there’s no way they could outmaneuver the creature.

Adelia feels the arms around her tighten, leaving behind a string of blood as George and Professor Fig pull her away from the seat, deciding the best decision at this moment was to escape the dragon’s fire.

“Jump!” Professor Fig shouts to everyone, pulling Adelia with him as they all escape its fiery breath in the nick of time, flailing through the hot air and dark soot as the carriage explodes in a burst of flames. 

Adelia tumbles through the air, feeling the beginnings of a black eye forming around her mole while some of the soot enters her lungs, making it difficult to both see and breathe. Not to mention the streams of blood dripping from her nose from the impact against the seats, staining the collar of her white shirt.

She struggles to comprehend what’s happening around them, constantly turning in every direction, finally turning down and squinting to see Professor Fig and Mr. Osric’s plummeting figures below her, both attempting to reach for something. 

“Give me your hand!”

Professor Fig shouts to her as Adelia drops closer to them, shakily reaching out to link her fingers with George and Professor Fig, the latter of which uses his spare hand to attempt for the key one last time.

A piece of the carriage flies down, cutting through the side of his palm but he ignores it, only seeming to become more determined to reach his wife’s final gift.

Adelia can feel the heat burning nearby, a roar becoming louder and louder as wings slice through the air behind them, a heavy sensation weighing down her chest as the Drought of Peace potion finally wears off and her seemingly baseless concerns from earlier become a reality.

So, this is it.

Grandmother truly did try to send someone, or rather something, after me.

I really am going to die.

Adelia closes her eyes, not wanting her last memory to be of scattered suitcase and carriage shards among a cloudy abyss. She feels Wisteria’s drawing burning a hole in her pocket, allowing her memory of that picture to come to the forefront of her mind, believing it to be a very pleasant final thought as she makes peace with the finality of her existence. 

“Accio!”

Chapter 4: A Steady Mind & A Set of Golden Robes

Summary:

Adelia, Professor Fig, and George Osric traverse through the wild and unpredictable Dark Forest, bonding on the dirt roads as they share laughs and stories about life at Hogwarts. After hours of walking, they finally make it back to Hogwarts, just in time for the Sorting Ceremony.
Adelia has been having difficulties figuring what where she wants to be, and with the help of her traveling companions and the actual version of the Sorting Hat, she'll soon figure out where her destiny lies.

Notes:

I did not expect to write this much, if I'm being honest. I almost split this chapter into two, since I was having a lot of fun writing dialogue between characters and attempting to write in a way that makes sense for each already established character. Watching videos that show the beginning of the game & typing out details for their surroundings gets tedious, but I always enjoy it more when I proofread it.
All in all, I'm glad that they've finally reached Hogwarts & she's been sorted, those were both things I wanted to accomplish by the end of this chapter.
I get what people mean now when they say 'Sometimes you write a character and sometimes the character writes itself.'
Anyways, enjoy reading!

Gentle whispers of wind rustle the leaves of an ancient oak tree, gently swaying the branches overhead as three individuals navigate their way past its thick trunk. Walking slightly behind while muttering to herself, Adelia listens to Mr. Osric and Professor Fig discussing the necessary next steps to inform the Ministry of matters that occurred during the past several hours.

Though she realistically knows that her words have no effect on their situation, it brings her comfort to remind herself that they’re all safe now.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s all good. We’re all good.”

They’ve trekked through uncultivated stretches of forest, venturing off a well-trodden path to unmarked hiking trails and trenches, most of which seemed hostile to anything that wasn’t a forest animal. Her robes have long since become dirtied, scratches and tears littering the length of her coat, while a few patches of brambles tore a new slit into her skirt.

That’s not even mentioning the bloodstain around her shirt collar from the carriage incident or the runs in her stockings from magically dueling.

Adelia lightly stumbles through the tangled undergrowth, staggering on her now uneven shoes as they gradually lose more and more mud the farther they travel from the mud pit she had sunken into. Luckily, there were two capable wizards able to pull her out with both physical and magic means, though no helpful words or actions would’ve been sufficient enough to ease her embarrassment.

Heat rose on her cheeks just by thinking of the memory and her hands lifted to hide her face, the coolness of her ring barely making a difference in dousing her flaming cheeks. It reminds her of that enchanted ice wall, appearing cold at first until it was touched, and the truth was revealed.

~~~~~~

“Professor Fig! Mr. Osric!”

Eleazar Fig quickly responds to the sound of Adelia’s voice, rushing over to investigate her discovery of a second enchanted stone wall, with George Osric right on his heels.

They were quick to discover that not only was she the only one to see a glowing emanating from the wall, but an entire room behind it. Pressing on the wall transported them into that secret room, right inside Gringotts Bank, as Mr. Osric was quick to point out. Speaking to the goblin asleep at the room’s desk led them to Vault 12, a rarely visited section within the heart of the bank. Unlike the excited goblin leading them, a gruff security guard with a glowing armband stopped their cart during the journey, only to leave soon afterward.

Adelia quickly pointed out the glow to her traveling companions, and it appeared even darker than the portkey container’s glow, matching the one from the dragon’s collar. The conversation was cut short by the banker driving their cart, but it was something they would surely discuss again later.

Inside the vault was vastly different than she had assumed, having visited her family’s vaults before at much higher levels, she was very surprised that it was less of a treasure chamber and more of a secret fighting vault with a vial containing a locket and memories as the final prize.

Adelia held her own surprisingly well for someone who had never dueled before. She had play-fought with Calyx when they were kids, but this was a vastly different experience. Using the previously learnt basic cast, Stupify, and Lumos spells, the three spellcasters were able to activate and take down a number of pensieve guardians, many of which Adelia later had to fight on her own.

Using the pensieve allowed them to see memories of the previous vault owner Percival Rackham, a man who could see traces of ancient magic and decided to leave a portkey to this vault with the help of Charles Rookwood so that the next person with ancient magic abilities who proves themselves worthy could be set on a path to learn powerful secrets and knowledge. Miriam Fig, Professor Eleazar Fig’s late wife, had been doing research on this kind of magic before she passed, though it seems that knowledge about it had remained dormant for centuries, until now.

Adelia would’ve loved to speak more in-depth about this, but they had been interrupted by a storm of goblins led by Ranrok, the leader of the goblin rebellion. Though he didn’t brag about it, George had foreshadowed the true threat that Ranrok was superbly. 

Ranrok’s demands for the vault’s treasure ended in a fight, unfortunately leading to the untimely demise of the helpful goblin banker from before though, his intervention wasn’t the only one to occur. Not long after casting magic at each other, the floor transformed into swirling waves, shaking the entire room as a colossal pensieve guardian rose through the opaque darkness to everyone’s doom. Adelia was able to find a way out, just as the pensieve guardian knocked a pillar down, barely allowing them to escape getting crushed.

Arriving on the other side of a stone wall, Professor Fig realized that they were in the Dark Forest, no longer in danger and able to make it to Hogwarts for the Sorting Ceremony.

~~~~~~

My clothes were beyond repair. It would be better to fully transform the materials or just acquire new robes at this rate. But still…

Adelia tentatively smiles, pulling her hands off her face and leaving them at her eye level, observing them just as she had months ago.

Soft and slightly shaky hands entered her viewpoint, a small chip in the silver polish marred her left pointer finger and a light red laceration had been obtained along her right wrist, but she was still herself.

It was all real. I can see traces of ancient magic and cast regular magic. I'm... actually a witch now.

A relieved feeling grows in her chest, like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders and she can finally breathe again. A sigh gives way to a giggle, dropping her hands to her sides as the men further up the path call for her attention.

“Are you alright there, Miss Rosewater?”

Adelia glances up at George, eyes watering a bit as a brilliant smile slowly forms on her face.

“Yes, sir. This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

George raises his eyebrows at the confession, taking a moment before grinning back at her. “That’s the spirit. Seems like we have the makings of a natural-born Gryffindor.”

Adelia laughs, naturally increasing her speed to walk in time with both wizards, each of whom started slowing down when noticing her decreased pace. She raises a hand, gesturing to Professor Fig as she speaks.

“I’m certainly not Gryffindor material. No offense, Professor Fig.”

 His eyes widen a bit, chuckling at her admittance. “That’s quite alright. If I remember correctly, you had said you felt most comfortable being either a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.”

“Ravenclaw is my first choice,” Adelia swiftly states, “since it’s the house my mother was in.”

“Your mother… Narra Rosewater?” George asked, his words laced with uncertainty.

Adelia perked up at hearing her mother's name, eagerly turning to speak with George. “Yes, did you- do you know my mother?” 

“Of course!” Mr. Osric chirped, a half-smile ghosted across his lips. “We’ve occasionally worked together on a number of projects. Well, until I got promoted, that is.”

Professor Fig leaned closer to them, hands raised to match his words in gesticulation. “George is the current Head of The Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. Quite a prestigious position indeed.”

Adelia’s eyes widened, head shooting over to reevaluate her mental imagery of her mother’s former boss. George guffawed at her expression, waving off the well-earned awe at the sudden revelation. 

“Ah, no need to fuss over it. I do, however, have a few fond memories of your mother. She is an exceedingly intelligent woman who has been able to make large strides in research for a top-secret project within her division. Unfortunately, I had only been promoted for a few months before she left on medical leave, so we shared few, scant conversations.” 

Adelia listens to his words intently, hands subconsciously clasping together as her fingers begin to fiddle with her ring. Though his stories with her are fleeting, touching this ring brings a ghost of her mother’s presence, the cold band and warm words melding into a bittersweet amalgamation inside her heart. 

It’s been a while since I've been able to speak to Mum, at least for longer than an hour at a time. If I'm being honest with myself, I'm almost starting to forget what life was like before everything changed. Sometimes it feels like my old memories are being overwritten the longer I go without my parents by my side.  

They conversed for a little while longer, switching paths to traverse a steep decline down the rest of the grassy cliffside, finally locating a set of stone stairs leading to luminous lanterns and standard cobblestone roads.

“I understand why you’re fond of the Ravenclaw house now.” Professor Fig remarks, sparking the embers of a previously dying conversation. “How do you feel about Hufflepuff? I’ve noticed you exhibiting some of their most valued traits during our tutoring; working hard to catch up on your studies, and having patience when you experience difficulties casting spells.”

Adelia’s eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side as she contemplates his assessment of her personality.

“Hufflepuff is the other house that fits me the most, though I’m not sure it would be enjoyable. People have told me it’s a bit more boring than the other houses, the place people end up at if they don’t have interesting or unique enough qualities.”

“Boring?" Mr. Osric asks. "I wouldn’t call it that, though with how difficult it is to get into our common room, I’m not surprised that people are dispensing false information.”

Adelia’s eyes widen, almost tripping over her mudstained heels at the revelation, thanking Professor Fig’s quick reflexes for keeping her upright.

“Y-You’re a Hufflepuff, Mr. Osric? I apologize, sir, I-I spoke without thinking first.” 

She can feel her heart starting to race, her hands getting poked by pins and needles as she begins sweating, lowering her head to politely bow in apology. 

Merlin, help me. 

I should’ve chosen my words more carefully, but now look where it got me. Insulting a kind man who has done nothing except assist me.

All this time I've been happy to get away from Grandmother, only to end up mindlessly parroting the same words she uses to disparage me.

I deserve whatever punishment will come of this.

A pair of moderately muddy leather boots enter her vision, stopping in front of her as a comforting weight is pressed into her shoulder and a warm voice pleasantly responds to her actions.

“No need to fret, I simply wished to correct your misinformation. Please raise your head, lass.”

Adelia takes in a deep breath, raising her head to be greeted by an amiable smile, his smile lines deepening upon receiving her full attention.

He retracts his hand from her shoulder, gently pushing his spectacles further up his freckled nose with his other hand, gesturing to the path as an indicator to continue walking.

…I-Is that it?

No yelling, hexes, or threats to take away my beloved possessions if I doesn’t behave? That’s how Grandmother chooses to discipline me, at least.

I've never met a Hufflepuff before, are they usually this benevolent and forgiving?

“My house is unfortunately one that many students first arriving at the castle are unhappy about being sorted into, wishing for a braver, studious, or more cunning house instead.” Mr. Osric exhales, a crooked smile crossing his face as he glimpses through the treeline, swerving to the right as they reach an impasse.

“They quickly come to realize that possessing an affinity for patience, hard work, loyalty, and kindness doesn’t make you boring one bit, rather it’s quite the contrary. We’re patient and play fair, take the time to help those around us or even just brighten their days, and can do rather well at Quidditch, without having to cheat to win.”

Professor Fig lets out a laugh at this, sharing an anecdote from his school days when his house’s team was fed up with losing the Inter-House Quidditch Cup for the fourth year in a row, so the team captain snuck into the storage rooms before the championship game and charmed the quaffle to slip out of the hands of anyone who wasn’t a Gryffindor.

Well, game day arrived and everyone got prepared to start the game, only the quaffle refused to stay in the referee's hand. Every time she picked it up, it slid right back out like it was covered in grease.

The referee used to be a Ravenclaw, so the spell would’ve worked exceptionally well had the equipment not been handled by anyone outside of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Sounds like he was quite loyal to his team. A trait our houses share in common, though I can’t imagine any of the quidditch captains from my school days attempting a spell like that.” 

Professor Fig chortles at that, opening his mouth to reply, only to pause as he notices something in the distance. He locks eyes with George, head gesturing over as he places a hand on Adelia’s shoulders, guiding her to the edge of the treeline, in direct view of a brilliantly lit and magically invigorating castle. 

“Welcome, my dear, to Hogwarts.”

~~~~~~

A splotchy heel shakily places itself at the top of a staircase, the bone-weary woman tramping her way through an empty courtyard to the gradually opening door, traversing through portrait-covered hallways bathed in a diminishing glow from the twinkling stars in the night sky.

Adelia’s eyes scan every nook and cranny of the castle as they head to their intended destination, wishing to freeze time to properly explore everything this castle has to offer, intending to make up for her missing four years' worth of adventure. The ornately crafted wooden doors inscribed with each of the four Hogwarts houses, massive metal braziers roaring with blazing flames, and shining coats of armor only add to the breathtaking views inside this cathedral-esque entrance hall.

Adelia leisurely strolls with George until they’re near the Great Hall’s doors, following Professor Fig as he surveys the current progression of the sorting ceremony, rushing back over to them as he relays his findings. 

“Oh good, we haven’t missed the Sorting Ceremony.”

Glancing between them both, he pauses when taking in the current state of Adelia’s clothes, her inexperience in traveling and endurance ended up causing her to have amassed far more grime than either of the older, more experienced wizards.

His scrutinizing look makes her suddenly very conscious of how she’ll soon appear to the rest of the student body, her gloveless hands immediately slipping into her hair to pull its ribbon out and redo her bun, silently casting Crinus Muto to prevent any bumps or flyaways from arising. She notices George’s surprised expression out of the corner of her eye, likely from her use of wandless magic.

It’s not as impressive as it may seem. There are only three spells that I can cast wandlessly, and anyone else could’ve learned them this way too, had they not had access to a wand for practicing spells.

Professor Fig flicks his wand down, completely transfiguring her previous robes into ones that resemble the school robes she had bought beforehand. Robes that were admittedly either completely shredded into confetti or enshrouded within the thick branches of a tree deep in the English countryside, based on Adelia’s best estimate.

“I’m no expert, but that seems more appropriate.”

Adelia grins gratefully at the professor, pulling at her new robes to feel the material between her fingers, noting that they don’t have the same emerald and silver colors that her brother’s do, sporting a neutral black and dark grey instead.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Now, I need to study this locket as soon as I can, but first I must contact the Ministry. They need to know what happened to our carriage, and be warned of Ranrok.” Professor Fig states, sheathing his wand.

“That would be the best course of action. As fate would have it, I can certainly help with that.” George adjusts his robes, pushing his glasses up his nose as he visibly prepares to depart. 

Professor Fig smiles gratefully at Mr. Osric, turning on his heel to stand in front of the doors, and gesticulates encouragingly at Adelia.

“For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between the three of us.”

“Of course, sir.”

Aside from the discovery of my ancient magic abilities, I’d rather not remember the distressing details of today’s unexpected adventure. I feel really emotionally drained.

Not quite tired enough to fully suppress the anxiety that's burrowing in my heart, but it’s not likely I’ll have another anxiety attack until achieving a full night’s rest.

“Thank you. Ready for the Sorting Ceremony?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Adelia blows air out of her nose, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Professor Fig nods, cracking open one of the doors to catch the Headmaster’s attention. 

“You’ll do wonderfully,” George reassures her with a nod, clapping a hand on her shoulder like before, “just focus on breathing; inhaling and exhaling. After all, ‘Steady breaths aid in a steady mind’, as they say.”

Adelia dips her head in acknowledgment at his advice, hands mindlessly fluttering over her coat pockets, repeatedly checking for the tinkering of glass vials and a miniature tub of salve as she mutters to herself. 

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” 

Inhale.

“It’s all good. We’re all good.” 

Exhale.

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Professor Fig sighs, rotating in place to warn the fidgeting student, pausing to take in her movements for a moment before nudging their group away from the doors and continuing.

“Prepare yourself to meet the Headmaster.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A bit harsh of a phrase without context, though the meaning isn’t lost on me.

Strutting through the partially open door, a tall man with expensively tailored clothes and a discerning eye emerges into the entrance hall, silently staring them all down briefly before setting his sights on Professor Fig. 

“Fig, nice of you to join us.” Headmaster Black sneers sarcastically, “The Sorting Ceremony’s over.”

“There were… complications.”

That’s putting it a little lightly, though it is admittedly true.

“Complications?”

“It seems the goblin problem has-”

A groan cuts him off, Headmaster Black clearly not having enough patience to listen to his explanation. Most likely seems to be a pathetic excuse for our tardiness, in his eyes. 

“Enough. Goblins. I’ve no time for rumours, Fig. And I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left.” He speaks dramatically, rolling his r’s unnecessarily in that aristocratic manner that reminds Adelia so heavily of her grandmother’s side of the family. “Speaking of, Osric. What matter brings you to my school without any prior notice?”

George wavers for a moment before recounting a partially true version of his reasoning for visiting the castle, stating that he started getting called back to the Ministry once he arrived, so it’s pertinent that he departs rapidly, to not waste the ‘esteemed headmaster’s’ time. The flattery plays its role well, switching his attention over to Adelia.

“Adelia, Isa wrote to my office earlier today in regards to your timid temperament. Getting sorted into our distinguished Slytherin house should transform your personality into something much less… faint-hearted, so to speak. I don’t believe you to need coddling but I have told her that you are capable of alerting me, should you find yourself in need of succour.” 

She can see him mentally checking a list of words acceptable to say to children before speaking to her, though somehow this display of favoritism doesn’t feel any different from the backhanded compliments of her previous governesses.

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr- Headmaster Black.” Her nose slightly scrunches up, the respectful title tasting oddly bitter on her tongue.

“Right, well if you’re lucky, we might still be able to get you sorted this evening.” 

Without another word, he pivots on his heel and flounces back into the Great Hall, with Adelia quick to follow. She glances with barely concealed anxiety at her former traveling companions, each with a comforting expression on their faces. 

“I’ll be in touch.” Professor Fig holds a hand out for her attention, nodding to cement his conviction.

George sends an encouraging smile her way, gesturing an exaggerated deep breath to help calm her nerves. Adelia nods in appreciation, quickly spinning around to rush behind the headmaster, barely keeping up with his long strides.

Steady breaths aid in a steady mind.

Inhale.

Everything will be okay. 

Exhale.

Her back straightens and her face falls into a neutral expression, all of the years of pureblood training instilled in her naturally slide into place as she’s pierced with curious stares and whispers of confusion by her mere presence alone. 

Her mind transports back to a memory of her eight-year-old self at one of the Black family’s elaborate dinner parties, legs shaking as she politely wades her way through a crowd of adults to a grand piano, several eyes tracking their next source of entertainment when she daintily climbs onto the piano stool.

The whispers and peering eyes all fade away at the first glide of her fingers across the keys, eyes softly closing as her arms relax and her body sways to the melody.

Focusing back on the present, Adelia’s eyes track her path up to a wooden stool in the center of a platform, refusing to let her nerves show as she steps up to entertain once more.

“Professor Weasley! We’ve one more to be sorted.”

Headmaster Black slowly walks to the side, allowing room for Professor Weasley to greet her, indicating to the specially placed seat.

“Welcome. You’re just in time. Have a seat.”

Adelia climbs onto the chair, unable to help as her eyes drift over the sea of students, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of her brother. A green-cloaked figure suddenly stands up, waving to get her attention with a large smile on his face.

She can tell that Calyx is hesitating to mouth anything at her, likely wondering where she has been the entire evening. Her hand slowly lifts, a relieved smile breaking through the cracks in her mask as they lock eyes, waving back at him.

The last thing she can see before the lights dim and the hat is lowered on her head is the sudden stillness of his body, frozen in place as his eyes lock onto her injured wrist.

“Ah, yes. A bit older than the others, aren’t you?” 

A voice sounds in her head, causing her to twitch in place at the sudden sound. 

“Miss Rosewater, hm. I’ve sorted many of your ancestors prior, but you don’t seem like another Slytherin, do you?”

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to interrupt his thoughts. The mock sorting hat from Zonko’s didn’t like when anyone spoke while it was ‘thinking’.

“A trick of me, ay? I remember when that toy hit the shelves and so many first-years came in, thinking it knew everything. Let’s test that theory, shall we? What houses did that ‘other me’ consider you for?”

“Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Mr. Hat. Though admittedly, it was a ratio of 3 to 1, with more scores for the Hufflepuff house.”

“Oh, how polite of you. Hufflepuff, eh? I can see why that was a top contender. Your kindness to your house elves, especially the ones called Yavvy and Norby. Your loyalty to your family, prioritizing spending time with them over your other hobbies, especially when your younger sister wishes for your attention. What’s this…?”

What was it looking for? Could the hat somehow sense my ancient magic abilities?

“Not that, young one. I noticed a change in your desires, which were very different from what you wanted before. Is Ravenclaw no longer your preferred house?”

Isn’t it? The connection to Mum's past was what I came prepared to ask for, but after the conversation with Mr. Osric… I don’t really know anymore. I enjoy reading and sharing fun informational facts with Dad, but learning new things isn’t a trait that I put the most value in. 

“Hm, Ms. Narra Greengrass, or rather it’s Mrs. Narra Rosewater nowadays. It comes as no surprise to hear she finally married the spirited Mr. Atlas Rosewater. Countless times have I been subjected to their arguments in the headmaster’s office over who spilled the other’s potion in class or when one accused the other of cheating to achieve higher marks on their Charms exams. Negging is a tale as old as time, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sweet Merlin. I knew my parents didn’t get along for most of their school years but I never knew it was that childish.”

Adelia giggles to herself, relaxing enough to slouch slightly on the stool. She’s aware that their conversation is derailing the end of the Sorting Ceremony, but hearing a childhood story about her parents was worth it, in her opinion.

From under the hat, her ears picked up the faintly whispered words of curious students.

"-hat stall-"

"10 knuts for Slytherin."

"Do you think she knows her nail polish is chipped?"

“Yes, house rivalries are common at Hogwarts, though it’s most commonly between Gryffindors and Slytherins, rather than a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw. Each house possesses unique traits of its own, but I wonder which one will be most useful in your future?”

She recalls some of her earliest memories of finding seeds for honking daffodils in her family’s greenhouse, secretly planting them to cheer up her ill grandfather, and when she begged her parents for an instructor to teach her how to play their piano so she could drown out the overwhelming thoughts in her mind. She considers what she wants most during her time at Hogwarts.

Thoughts of blurry peers laughing with her as she ices a cake with silly words or lying on a picnic blanket together on a sunny day, book pages ruffling beside them when a gentle breeze flows through the calm atmosphere.

“Companionship is what your heart longs for and you know exactly what house will aid in finding your true friends.”

Adelia steadily nods and the wrinkles on the sorting hat open up to officially declare her house.

“Better be… HUFFLEPUFF!”

Clapping sounds from each of the tables, the loudest being from the Hufflepuffs and a few Slytherins towards the middle of their table. Adelia doesn’t even need to look to know that the support is coming from her brother, Calyx, and her cousins, Carina Greengrass and Sirius and Phineas Black II.

She bashfully smiles, tilting her head towards them in appreciation before sliding off of the stool and standing next to Professor Weasley, watching with amusement as Professor Black makes his announcements, confirming that Quidditch was canceled for this year.

Her eyes meet Calyx’s again, finding and lifting a folded sheet of lightly singed paper for him and raising an eyebrow at him in challenge, knowing what he promised Wisteria earlier that morning.

A smirk slowly spreads across his lips and he nods in amusement, raising an arm to tap at his new watch, a gift for his seventeenth birthday that, like her ring, was held in their vault and passed down through the generations. Tapping a finger to her head and pointing at him, lets him know that she’ll remember that he’s claiming to prank him at another time.

At the sound of Headmaster Black shooing off all of the students, Adelia turns to face Professor Weasley as she begins speaking, eventually following her down to the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room.

Tap two from the bottom, middle of the second row, to Hel-ga Huff-le-puff. Why must I knock 5 times though? An even number sounds much better on the ears.

She rasps her fist against the proper barrel, barely restraining herself from knocking an additional time to make her knocks even, ignoring the voice at the back of her head claiming the dragon will bust its way back into the castle and finish the job if she doesn’t tap the barrel once more.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The sound of a wooden door shuffling open grabs her attention, stepping off the stairs to see the open entrance to her new common room, eager to head inside as she listens to Professor Weasley’s instructions. 

“Thank you, Professor Weasley.” Adelia smiles at her, climbing the small set of stairs and walking through the doorway.

“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy your first night at Hogwarts. Sleep well.”

Feeling the warmth from the wooden greenhouse aesthetic the common room holds, Adelia sleepily smiles, stopping someone with a prefect badge to ask where her dorm was located.

She heads up another staircase, already ready to collapse as she notices a set of school robes and pyjamas placed on the end of her bed, looking identical to the pairs on two other beds in the dorm room. Though she doesn’t have her trunk with any of her belongings at the moment, it’s very relaxing to know that she’ll at least have a change of clothes for the night and the upcoming first day of school.

Adelia pulls out Wisteria’s drawing from her waistband, slowly unfolding it and smoothing out the creases before placing it into her bedside drawer, promising herself to learn the sticking charm to hang it up later.

After swiping up her pyjamas and locating a bath, thankfully housing a variety of floral-scented soaps, hair products, and bubble solutions for anyone to use, Adelia climbs into her comfortable, new bed. The sheets have a clean and fresh scent, making it easier for Adelia to get cozy, especially as she covers herself with a warmth charmed duvet.

Swaddled in blankets and feeling more snug than she does in her own bed, it takes barely any time until Adelia’s out like a light. 

Chapter 5: A Proper Hogwarts Welcome & A Flash of Moonstone Eyes

Summary:

Adelia tries her hand in the art of friend making, finding success in both her Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Speaking of which, she needs to find someone to visit Hogsmeade with. As well as talk to her brother about her ancient magic journey thus far. All in due time, she supposes.

Calyx: What's this?
Adelia: Ahaha, well you see... according to all known laws of aviation-

Notes:

I may or may not have originally tried to upload this right after the site went down for maintenance. Whoops, anyways. Also typed a lot again, but decided to keep it all together, since the classes section would fit together more than the Hogsmeade trip.
Thank you all for your support & happy reading!

Waking up was proving to be quite a difficult feat, the promised allure of more blissful rest almost too tempting for her previously weary muscles. Warm sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of her dorm room, bright enough to match the other lamps but not shining into her eyes, truly a lovely recipe for a lie-in. The lack of hustle and bustle around her, though very useful in allowing her immediate sleep last night, was quite telling of the time this morning.

Slowly cracking open her eyes with a yawn, Adelia sat up and stretched out her limbs, feeling refreshed after turning in early. Taking a peek at the vacant beds around her confirmed that she was the last one to get up, reluctantly rising to change into a fresh pair of golden and black school robes, exercising extra care when moving her potion bottles and herb lotion into their pockets. 

Her bed is noticeably the only one missing a trunk at the moment, a fact that will hopefully be remedied soon after a trip to Hogsmeade.

As exciting as it sounds to visit the once elusive village finally, she dreads having to scrounge up parchment and quill to request more supplies from her grandmother, the current guardian of the Rosewater family’s Gringotts vault.

On the other hand, there were a lot of unopened treasure chests along their pathway yesterday from which Professor Fig encouraged her to take the galleons, so it’s not as though she needs to find an owl posthaste.  

Adelia sighs, glancing at her roommates’ books and decorations that have already been set up.

Suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek around. Not that I would open drawers or snoop inside their desks, but a cursory glance could help me come up with talking points when locating my roommates.

She started with the bed to her right, noticing her desk was filled up with textbooks, novels, and candies from Honeyduke’s, clearly having prepped her desk for starting homework right away. One of their trunks was already open with letters pinned to the lid, a quick scan noted they were addressed to someone named ‘Adelaide Oakes’, from a person sharing her surname. 

Roommate number one, Adelaide, is someone studious with a sweet tooth. She has a large tea set next to her bed, so looking for an herbal blend to share with her should be a priority.

Glancing at the bed across the room from this one, Adelia can tell there’s a stark difference in this girl’s lifestyle.

The cozy hanging fans next to a dresser with an empty birdcage make it seem like this person was already prepared to settle in right away. Especially with the stacks of pillows and clothes lying on the ground surrounding her bed, the large plate of snacks, and the bowl of candy left out on her trunk indicating that this person likely is messy but willing to share their things. There’s a worn brown trunk with brightly polished golden handles as tall as her knees, with a shiny new nameplate inscribed with the initials P.S.

Roommate number two, P.S., likely has a kind, freewheeling attitude. Based on the initials alone, I wonder how she ends her letters.

She giggles to herself at the thought.

Once I figure out who she is, I'd like to know what animal was originally in that golden cage. 

The final bed area contains a fluffy armchair and a set of brass scales on top of their trunk, the desk in between this bed and the previous one housing a shared space between the girls, though moving the inkpot and quill shows an unsent letter by the name of ‘Lenora Everleigh’.

Adelia could hazard a guess that the collection of letters spilled in a large pile nearby was from her messy roommate, picking a bundle up to see them addressed to a ‘Poppy Sweeting’. 

Well, that solves one mystery. 

Adelia sets the envelopes down, preparing to leave when a photograph on Lenora’s beside table catches her attention. More than that, a bouquet causes her head to tilt, eyes widening as her eyes drift between the flowers and the photograph. With a cursory glance over her shoulder to the still-empty room, Adelia takes a closer glance at the picture, gasping in recognition at the boy. 

Is that Jiho? 

The photograph captures a handsome boy in Slytherin Quidditch robes running his hands through stylized messy hair, showcasing a tiny pair of silver earrings dangling from his ears when his loose curls lift from his jawline, appearing to be muttering to himself. He fidgets in place for a moment before discerning the camera, placing his broom behind him in a confident pose, giving the camera a small smirk, then a wink.

Adelia’s face flushes, feeling as though he’s staring right at her through the lens, quickly deciding to inspect the flowers instead.

These look like baby's breath, meaning sincerity, purity, and love. Did he give her these? Are he and Lenora courting?

She gently lifts the frame and tilts the miniature Jiho, a small symbol shining on the bottom right-hand side before disappearing. 

PNB, it reads.

If the person who left their magical signature is who I think they are, I'll have to ask how he got such a great shot.

Satisfied with the information she’s gathered, Adelia finally leaves her dorm room, her nerves somewhat calmed as she repeats the information to herself that the other girls may be interested in speaking about. 

Merlin's beard. I haven't had to worry about impressing someone my age in years. Not since before I was eleven and my squib status was confirmed, giving Grandmother a reason to prevent me from attending any more pureblood gatherings, that is.

Everything seems so different here, I don't know what to do with myself.

Hufflepuff’s vibe, as a whole, was quite unlike what Adelia was accustomed to. The soft, neutral colors, light exposed brick walls, and warm quilts sewn with mismatched patterns, all culminating in a lively feeling that spreads throughout the entire dwelling.

She has grown up used to homes with brightly patterned walls, stiff furniture, and shelves overflowing with antique decorations or accolades, each room made to be completely spotless by a multitude of house elves. The only commonalities she notes as she places a jittery hand on the honey-colored wood stairwell are a matching love of the color yellow and collections of plants in every room. 

The Rosewaters are a family that enjoys showing off their vast gardens full of vibrant flowers and foliage, a history of theirs that dates back several centuries before their ancestors arrived in England from the Philipines.

Floriography and the significance of colors within Tagalog, a language Adelia can only speak at a conversational level, have both been instilled in her learnings from the day she was born, her great-grandparents unwilling to allow their family to forgo knowledge of their ancestral roots.

Luckily for them, brightly colored clothes and floriography tend to fall in and out of trends enough that they’re able to constantly use both in pureblood society without being perceived as old-fashioned. 

Scents of jasmine and butterscotch waft from the common room when she places her foot on the final step, a stand of chocolate cupcakes mixing into the array of smells that almost immediately overwhelm her senses, lifting her necklace sachet of herbs to her nose to focus solely on the welcoming notes of lemongrass and citrus. 

Inhale.

This is alright.

Exhale.

Everything is alright.

Adelia stays by the wooden table for a moment, nonchalantly keeping the herb bundle nearby while observing the detailed carvings of mushrooms in the graying green wood, also taking note of how many Quidditch portraits there are scattered about the room. 

Hm. Mr. Osric must’ve downplayed how much this house appreciates their Quidditch team.

Her eyes survey the room, stopping on the edge of a large poster stuck onto a bulletin board next to the opposing staircase.

And the Chudley Cannons. Shame. I would much prefer to hang up a Wimbourne Wasps portrait in its place.

Well, she can’t delay this any longer than she already has.

“I suppose some introductions are in order.”

~~~~~~

“Yes, thank you,” Adelia smiles gratefully as she ambles around Poppy for the common room’s entrance, preparing to meet with Professor Weasley again. 

Poppy Sweeting, though their introduction may have been brief, was the last of her three roommates she endeavored to become acquainted with. Throw in Arthur Plummly for extra credit. She gladly welcomed a future conversation with him, though preferably one that didn’t end in them both searching for another first-year’s cat. Knowing Adelia, she’d likely accidentally scare it away before their owner could capture it. 

The wooden doors folded open to reveal Professor Weasley waiting on the other side, offering her a Ministry-approved field guide to help keep track of what she learns over the school year and educating her on wizarding lore, even possessing a map to prevent getting lost or miss her classes.

Traveling through Floo Flames wasn’t a new occasion for Adelia, but visiting Central Hall brought that child-like twinkle back in her eyes, taking in the multitude of students milling about around the breathtaking Central Hall Fountain.

The stunning atmosphere was almost distracting enough for Adelia to spill the secret about her trip to the castle, barely catching herself in time for Professor Fig to show up and corroborate her lie.

Professor Fig didn’t waste much time after she left, showing Adelia a magical enchantment in her Field Guide to direct her to wherever she needed to go, as well as mentioning that he and George are individually working on finding information about the locket from Gringotts, with George taking time when he’s able to locate anything inside the Department of Mysteries discussing Ancient Magic.

While Adelia knows that it’s better to leave the search up to the adults with more time and resources than she has available right now, it’s hard to not feel at least a little guilty that she’s unable to help more.

Remember to focus on what I can control, over what I cannot control. Right, off to class then. I should figure out where the Charms classroom is. 

Adelia begins traversing through the Transfiguration Courtyard, pushing open the weather-beaten door to view a sizeable marble staircase, placing her foot on the first step before a loud, distorted voice breaks her concentration. 

“Why do students always frown? Peeves should burn the castle down~.”

A translucent poltergeist wearing an ostentatious mismatched outfit, with a large bowtie and bells on his top hat to boot, floats among a small crowd of students, each supplying him with varying levels of attention that he’s noisily beseeching them for.

Adelia stares openmouthed at the collection of flaming pins that he callously juggles within close proximity to a group of students studying on the floor.

While the older students appear to be sidestepping the flames with unsurprised expressions, the younger ones match her concern, sticking to the walls and benches and cautiously watching as he drops the pins and bows, diving through the floors to the sounds of scorn and a hissing cat that was far too close to one of the slowly extinguishing pins for comfort.

What kind of a school is this?

Not the safest place in the world with someone like that around, that’s for sure. The ghosts of my family’s past will remain in our villa’s portrait hallway, Merlin forbid.

She stood there for a few moments longer, a soft knock of another shoulder to her own bringing her back to reality, realizing that she had been blocking the pathway for people passing by. She quickly collects herself, adjusting to the correct side of the staircase that she had drifted from in all of the chaos, reopening her field guide to obtain directions that had rapidly left her mind at the poltergeist’s display.

A brief viewing of the map and casting of the Charmed Compass leads her up to the Astronomy Wing, squeezing past a group of students blocking the door, too involved in a conversation about the Charms professor to even notice.

Adelia examines the large, open classroom with a hesitant gaze at the rapidly filling seats, unsure what the protocol was for a situation like this.

Normally it would be Adelia and one of her governesses in their family library, a table with only two seats set up making it hard to choose the wrong seat.

Everyone probably already knows each other, it’d be odd if I just sat in a seat someone was holding for their friend.

Wait, maybe they’re sitting in seats assigned to them, like at the Malfoy’s dinner parties where the highest members of the Sacred 28 sit the closest to the hosts.

Would a school like Hogwarts hold up those values though? Well, the Headmaster would, but-

“Here, behind you. There is an open seat here.” A chivalrous voice cut through her thoughts, the savior of her indecision gesturing up the rows of benches to a table in the last row. 

“Thank you.” Adelia rushed up, carefully keeping herself from tripping before sitting next to the cheerful Gryffindor. 

“Hello, I am Natty. So you are the new student? Have you met Professor Ronen yet?

Adelia shakes her head, preparing to speak before the man himself makes quite the entrance, energetically discussing their upcoming coursework and asking a question about differentiating between two charms. She didn’t know the answer, but since Adelia didn’t even have her textbooks anymore, there was no way to look it up.

A small hum and the sliding of a textbook sounded in her ears, glancing over at Natty who, once again, decided to save her. A consideration that was quickly snatched away by the professor upon witnessing her last-minute studying, though the thought was definitely sweet. She later appreciated the irony of practicing the summoning charm, Accio, by grabbing the books out of each other’s hands.

And an outdoor lesson with a game? Even better.

Something tells Adelia that Professor Ronen may end up being her favorite teacher.

Summoner’s Court proved to be a fun game once Adelia understood just when to stop casting the summoning charm, finally allowing the final ball to roll to the 50-point spot after the others either stopped short or fell off the board. The practice raised her confidence enough to be agreeable when challenging Natty, thankful the professor chose someone she was comfortable with for a bit of friendly competition.

A light breeze blew through the grounds and she briefly closed her eyes, listening to the instructions while enjoying the glimpse of morning sunlight on her back as it peeked through the puffy white clouds.

“Miss Rosewater, you’ll be the blues, just as before, and Miss Onai, you are playing red. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Adelia opened her eyes to acknowledge the professor, leaning over to whisper to Natty as she passed by and gesturing to their house robes. “If only they were yellow and red. Pretty fitting, huh?”

Natty cracks a smile at her joke, turning towards the field before dramatically flickering her wand and summoning the first ball. As expected, she brought her ball towards the end of the court, almost landing in the largest point category.

Adelia took in a deep breath, calling out the incantation and pulling the ball as close as she could before it unceremoniously fell to the grass. They took turns like this, Adelia hearing Natty encourage herself a few times before taking initiative on the last game, cheering for her as she got another high score.

“Good job, Natty!” Adelia contentedly clapped for her, knowing that no matter what she scored Natty had too many points to not win.

“Thank you, you can do it as well.” 

Adelia smiles at the encouragement, not sure if she has enough control to prevent the balls from avoiding the moving blocks, pulling up the power within her and attempting it once more.

“Accio!”

Adelia swiftly pulls the ball forward, timing its movement well enough to scarcely avoid the moving obstacle and landing it within the 50-point category. Her eyes comically widen at her own accomplishment, standing still in awe as Natty sidles up beside her.

“See, I told you you could do it.”

“Only with your encouragement.” 

Adelia gives Natty room to cast her spell again, shaking out her limbs in preparation to go again soon, deciding to peek over to the crowd of students that were occasionally watching them, vision briefly catching on a group of witches flying kites that match each of their houses’ representative animals. Her eyes drift past the emerald snake, fiery lion, and deep blue bird to land on the round, adorable, yellow and black honey badger. 

I've never really regarded myself as a honey badger before. But when I see all the animals side by side like this, I have to admit that it fits me more comfortably than the other three would.

Her arms rotate from side to side, discerning the class to be a collection of students from multiple houses, unlike how she assumed classes would be before arriving here.

There were a few other Hufflepuffs here like Poppy, once again sitting on the ground, seemingly in conversation with two other students. She scans the crowd further, eyes slowly trailing back to one individual in particular.

He was sitting a little farther back from the other students, head tilted up at the slowly emerging sunlight, the steady clouds parting and casting a ray of light that somehow encompasses him fully. The boy’s movements are steady and calming, his light hair shining brightly in the sunlight and continuing to distract her, even as her name is faintly being called from behind her.

Wow. He's like sunlight incarnate.

As if noticing her attentiveness, his head drops slightly down, eyes starting to open in her direction. She faintly gasps, not wanting to be caught staring and whirls around, coming face to face with Natty, who had been reaching a hand out for her shoulder. 

“Are you okay? It is your turn to cast but you were not responding to us.”

“YEA-Yeah, yes. I’m... all good. Sorry.” Adelia nods, scurrying past her confused face to cast the last Accio, taking a few deep breaths to focus, before casting.

Not surprisingly, Natty ended up winning the game, though she didn’t boast about her victory at all, even offering Adelia support and encouragement.

That was certainly something to get used to.

Beyond that, neither Professor Ronen nor Natty had decided to ask her about the momentary distraction, something she considered to be her personal victory, and the class ended on a positive note. 

Right as they were being dismissed, Natty stopped her from leaving, both of them deciding to have a conversation longer than their previously interrupted one. Adelia was happy to know that she wasn’t the only transfer student at Hogwarts, that joy only growing upon learning that Natty normally casts magic without a wand. 

“I find wandless magic to be much more instinctive. Not to mention quite convenient if one is without their wand.”

“I feel the same way!” Adelia grins excitedly, “I didn’t have a wand to practice with for a while, so my older brother taught me a few wandless spells until I borrowed this wand from Professor Fig. Even now, I’ve found a deeper connection to my magic core when using wandless magic.”

Natty nods in solidarity, telling Adelia a brief anecdote about receiving her wand from Ollivanders last year. “I must admit, however, that I am growing quite fond of using a wand. It seems very dramatic.”

While she was grateful Natty was willing to indulge her interest in her previous wizarding school, Professor Ronen had been attempting to grab her attention, so she quickly made her way over to him, stifling her laughter as she overhears a passing conversation.

“Of course, you can use Accio on humans. If you’re so inclined.”

 “Well, you’d be using it on clothing to be precise, Sebastian. You know it won’t work on humans.”

How did they know that though? Based on the conviction of their statements, I'm willing to bet at least one of them had attempted it in the past. 

After speaking about the class itself and the preparation of a future special assignment, Adelia was free to exit the classroom, having just enough time to check her field guide and search for her next class before it began.

That free time didn’t last long, however, immediately becoming pulled into another conversation by a Ravenclaw named Samantha Dale. They bonded over the shared experience of having overconfident older brothers, with Samantha’s words about studying reminding her of the daunting amount of schoolwork required to catch up to her peers. 

Inhale.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Exhale. 

Steady breaths aid in a steady mind.

George’s words wash over her mind, building up her readiness for Defense Against The Dark Arts class.

I've been subject to the Dark Arts before but now I have a chance to understand how to defend myself. Might even learn to become more like a honey badger at this rate. I'm a bit worried about possibly fighting my classmates though, I don't think I can handle another fight so soon.

No, let's think positively. This will be a useful class and besides, it’s not like the professor will throw me into a duel on my first day, right?

~~~~~~

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

…Damn it.

Turns out, yes. Professor Hecat intended to do exactly that. Casting the combination spells of Protego and Stupify worked quite well against Adelia’s confident classmate, the smirk on his freckled face was soon replaced with shock, his taunting quickly getting cut off by the breaking of his shield. His dizziness allowed her a quick practice of the new charm Levioso, in addition to firing off a few more basic casts, of course.

The version of herself from a few months ago wouldn’t believe her eyes at the valorous dueling.

Sweet Merlin, the same could be said about her the day before yesterday too. Who knew facing off against so many pensieve guardians could alter Adelia to a battle-ready spellcaster?

“Not bad for a beginner. You give as good as you get.” Her classmate chuckles as he passes her, a shy smile easing onto her face at his concession. 

Professor Hecat awarded Hufflepuff points for the duel, and Adelia was delighted at earning more points for her house, listening as she described the importance of practicing spells outside of the classroom. Adelia understood why she stressed that, and though she was preaching to the choir at this point, she was glad to know that Professor Hecat would have drilled this into her mind if she had been oblivious to the dangers and conflicts outside of Hogwarts. 

“So, I’d advise you to keep practising whenever you can. Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you.”

Mr. Sallow? Who’s that?

Turning around was all she needed to do to figure that out, the Slytherin student she had dueled before was peering at her from the back of the class, tilting his head as if inviting her for a conversation. Getting an invitation from her peer to join an unsanctioned dueling club certainly wasn’t on her list of expectations for this school year, but Adelia supposes she could indulge herself. Assuming this club was really as secretive as Sebastian claims it was, after all.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere ‘unsanctioned’. We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck- or actual skill.”

Did he just- was he flirting with me?

“Till next time.”

Sebastian left the classroom, leaving Adelia to blink at the space he previously occupied, cheeks lightly flushing while her heart sped up in her chest. 

Okay, so, flirting also wasn’t on my list of expectations for Hogwarts. Not that it hasn’t happened to me before, Jiho Moon was a right flirt after all. But a stranger doing so was quite surprising.

…What was I supposed to be doing again? Ah, right. It’s almost lunchtime, I just need to meet Professor Weasley at the Transfiguration Courtyard before walking to the Great Hall.

Shaking off her sudden adrenaline boost, Adelia steadily makes her way to speak to Professor Weasley. While the thought of doing more special assignments weighs on her, finally being able to get her own supplies and wand for Ollivanders was exciting, perking up at Professor Weasley’s question of who to bring with her.

“In all honesty Professor, I had been considering asking my brother or one of my cousins to go with me to Hogsmeade.”

The professor pursed her lips, considering her words before countering with her own thoughts. “I believe it would be most helpful to visit the village with a classmate in your year. Help you get your bearings. Perhaps Sebastian Sallow or Natsai Onai? I’ve noticed you spending time with them.”

Adelia’s breath caught at the sound of Sebastian's name, wondering if Professor Hecat somehow relayed the details of their duel to her. As much as Adelia wished to speak to Natty again, she couldn’t deny that the prospect of a trip to Hogsmeade with a boy was... intriguing.

Calyx told me that students ask each other on dates to Hogsmeade all the time. But Sebastian wouldn’t assume this to be a date, would he? Especially if Professor Weasley was the one to ask him. Is this improper? I'm just seeking out friends at the moment, but what if this accidentally gives off a different impression? I haven’t even debuted, so there’s no way I could be courted yet-

“Miss Rosewater?”

“Seb… Sebastian. I’d like to go with Sebastian.”

Nailed it.

Professor Weasley informed her of Victor Rookwood, an unlikable local to the area that they should avoid during their trip, same with a man called Theophilus Harlow. The names sounded vaguely familiar to her, though no direct memory stuck out. It was better to stay focused anyway, wasting no time in learning the Reparo spell, before heading to lunch. Though she would likely get a butterbeer in Hogsmeade later, it’d be nice to have a full stomach after completing all of her classes for the day. 

~~~~~~

Adelia takes what she assumes to be a shortcut through the North Hall, somehow finding herself inside a music classroom, quickly locating a grimy piano hidden in a corner of the room.

She’ll have to revisit this place later. After learning at least one cleaning spell.

She inspects the piano, inhaling enough dust to make her eyes water and immediately sneeze.

A really strong cleaning charm, it is.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she’s once again made aware of the lack of her usual leather gloves, longing for their warmth against her typically cold fingers. 

Flooing to the Reception Hall, Adelia rapidly ascends the closest staircase, turning to a familiar set of doors, admittedly appearing much less intimidating in the daylight.

Entering the Great Hall during lunchtime was a riot of sounds, colors, and smells, the excessive amount of everything easily weighing on her senses. Due to that, a sudden tugging on her wrist was enough to cause her to stumble in place, casting a concerned look into similarly grey eyes that were regarding her with a stern expression.

“What’s this?” Her brother asked, moving his fingers to show the healing laceration on her wrist.

Oh no, he’s not going to like anything that happened yesterday. 

“Hey~, glad to see you, from one student to another.” She clears her throat, slowly extracting her wrist from his loose grip, ready to spew off utter barmy to distract him from the injury. “What is anything really? If we were to examine Gamp’s Law of-”

“Lia, please. Did Grandmother hurt you again?” He steps closer, his concern for her well-being winning out over his anger at someone injuring her.

“No, no. It’s just… I found out a few things yesterday, which led to having to magically duel things. I know, don’t give me that look. Before you go off looking for a fight, let me just explain first.”

She sighs, holding his piercing eye contact for a moment to show her seriousness then glancing away as she collects her thoughts, making sure no one overhears her explaining the true story of yesterday’s events.

“Ancient magic?!”

“Cal!”

“Ancient magic?!”

“Better.”

Her words seem to resonate within him, simultaneously proud of her accomplishments but concerned that she’ll end up facing Ranrok again. He begins a speech about safety, ensuring that she is always aware of her surroundings, has someone with her at all times when leaving the castle, etc.

Though she truly tries to pay attention, an unexpected burst of magic over her brother’s shoulder grabs her focus, knowing it to be another field guide page to collect.

Unable to help herself at the sudden sparkling of yellow magic, Adelia reaches a hand out and whispers a spell.

“Revelio.” 

“-very careful. And you… really?” 

Adelia sheepishly glanced up, Calyx’s eyebrow having raised at her sudden spellcasting, clearly close enough to have heard her whispering and allowing it to unnaturally cut off his speech.

“Um... sorry. I kept hearing the bells ringing, so I had to.”

Calyx lets out a long-suffering sigh, reaching for her hand and unceremoniously pulling her over to the Slytherin table, depositing her on the crowded bench between several recognizable Slytherins. Throwing her into the snake pit, metaphorically. 

“Addie!” 

A sudden pair of arms flinging around her makes it very clear that this won’t be the last time she’s greeted with such elation. Pulling back from the bob of silky black hair, Adelia is greeted with the sight of Carina Greengrass, her closest female cousin who has no qualms about showing physical affection.

The clearing of a throat across the table draws her eyes to two pairs of matching brown ones, though one set is crinkled in a display of mild amusement while the other couldn’t be bothered to pull attention away from his Cornish pasties. With the addition of her brother, this makes for a whole family reunion. 

“Greetings, Adelia. You’re at the wrong table, you know.” Sirius Black casually greets her, lips twitching upwards in mirth at her atypical display of rulebreaking. 

“Hush, she’s basically one of us anyway.” Carina defends her, reaching out to pour a glass of pumpkin juice. “Take as much as you can before Finn eats it all.”

“I heard that.” A quiet voice speaks, a head of dark curls lifting until everyone can fully see the youngest’s face in an unamused scowl. 

The sound of Phineas’s voice reminded Adelia of the photograph by her roommate’s bedside, deciding to pour the last of the stew into her bowl before asking him about it.

“Finn, did- oof-”

A green-robed arm slides around her shoulders, strong muscles squeezing her into a side hug as her nose fills with the familiar scent of fresh laundry.

A deep voice rumbles in her ear, “How did a little badger climb her way into the snake pit, hm?”

Adelia flushes, head pulling back from his chest as Jiho’s arm loosens around her, a cheeky smile filling his face upon receiving her full attention.

A smile that did not last long as he was suddenly whacked over the head; Calyx appeared behind him with a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, shaking his head at Jiho’s antics. 

“Don’t chat up my sister, you git.”

“Jealous? No need to fret, Cal. My lips are open for reservations. Care to book a session?~”

Jiho turned his puppy dog eyes onto Calyx, opening his mouth for the start of another flirtatious remark before a hand pressed over his mouth, the stern expression on Calyx’s face beginning to slip in amusement at his best friend’s insistence on flirting with any living being. 

“Merlin's pants, you’re more annoying than Alison Prewitt. And she set the bar impossibly high.”

“Yet another score she got higher than you, it seems,” Sirius replies, closing his eyes to stretch over his empty plate, uncaring of how his lackadaisical response affected his upset cousin.

“She achieved ten points for Ravenclaw in our double potions class today. Ten. Do you know what Professor Sharp gave me?”

“An offer to switch to remedial potions classes?” Carina joined in Sirius’s teasing, already biting her lip to prevent from laughing at Calyx’s face.

“Our dad’s a herbalist, I understand ingredients inside and out. There’s no way she was able to get a better score than I was without cheating somehow.”

Adelia observes the knowing glances shared around her, tilting her head in confusion over what they all seemed to be amused by.

“Uh, Cal?” Jiho set a supportive hand on his shoulder, uncaring to hide his mirth like the others, “Have you considered the reason why you're so bothered by her is because you’re repressing the fact that you’ve wanted to snog her for what, two years now?”

“What, I don’t- no-”

The table bursts into laughter at Cal’s visibly red face and inability to admit his own feelings, all of which become quite clear to Adelia at this moment.

“Wait, is this the same Alison you talk about during your breaks?” Adelia asks earnestly, the laughs around her heightening enough to draw attention from the Ravenclaw table nearby. “One of your potions exploded and landed onto her ’fiery, red hair’, or was it flaming?”

Calyx shoved his face into his hands, groaning in embarrassment at the sudden dogpiling on his “not” crush. 

“Moving on,” Carina swiftly changed the subject, batting at Sirius’s hands as he created a small flame with his wand, shaping it into a brilliant head of hair. “Lia, what were you saying before?”

“Ah, right.” Adelia sets her fork down, turning to address both Phineas and Jiho. “Finn, did you get into photography? I could’ve sworn I saw your magical signature on a Quidditch photo of Jiho.”

Finn nods to his plate, preparing another spoonful of beans as he replies. “Yeah, I shoot and sell photos for the Slytherin Quidditch team sometimes. They get a bit of profit, I get a bit of profit. Win-win situation.”

Jiho’s eyebrows raise at her curiosity, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down to her, “Were you interested in buying one? We'll have a Snake of the Month calendar up for sale this January. Might make for a quality Yuletide gift~”

She clears her throat, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt and pointedly avoiding his eyes seeking her out. “No, I simply wondered because I saw your picture on my roommate’s nightstand with a bouquet of baby’s breath. I didn’t know you were already courting someone.”

That makes Jiho pull back in confusion, a bemused expression crossing his usually playful features at her admission. “Not to my knowledge, no. My parents would definitely tell me to stop messing around if they paired me with a bird. Besides, I don’t think they would choose anyone outside of Slytherin or Ravenclaw, either.”

“Oh…” Adelia’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a hand raising to her mouth as she accidentally reveals her roommate’s secret admiration of him. 

“5 galleons, if I remember right. That was a great shot.” Phineas contributes again, rising out of his seat with a perfunctory goodbye.

"Jiho?" Carina calls out, tossing a grape at him.

"Hm?" He hums back, catching it in his mouth.

"Do you think your parents would let you have an MIM, too?" She asks, twisting another grape to throw.

"As long as I have at least one kid, I doubt they would mind," He responds, jumping up to catch the green grape mid-air. "Same for you?"

Carina smirks. "They'd rather I marry for love, even if I can't have children. But alas, we need to continue our family line somehow."

Adelia raises her eyebrows, looking between them with curiosity  "A MIM? What's that?"

They both exchange eye contact before simultaneously patting Sirius's shoulders with a small shove, standing up to continue their game.

He sighs, taking a sip of pumpkin fizz before speaking as though he was reading directly from a textbook. "Mutual Infidelity Marriage or mutua infidelitas matrimonium. It's when two purebloods make a marriage contract that benefits both parties, allowing them to fulfill their marital duties while having partners on the side they truly love."

Calyx chimes in. "Do you remember going to Moon Manor to play with Jiheon and Jiha?"

Even though they were many years younger than her, a set of fraternal twins around the same age as Wisteria, she enjoys bringing them dolls to play with or flowers to wear. The Rosewaters and Moons are close enough to be considered family, so they typically floo to their house days in advance for holidays, to help with food and game preparations. By far, Chuseok is one of Adelia's favorite days of the year. However, she didn't like how crowded it gets, as the Moon family is huge, and practically every room in their manor is filled come Chuseok.

"Of course," She replies happily, picking up a spare grape and popping it into her mouth.

"Then you probably also noticed that Jiho doesn't look that similar to them," He says, gesturing over to the man fist-bumping Carina. "They're technically his half-siblings."

"Some families," He tilts his head towards Sirius, who squints back with a frown. "Have strong ideas about how families should be. A MIM, a concept you'll learn more about after you debut, is popular with less traditional houses."

"House Black is one of the oldest and most noble houses," Sirius responds with his chin up, looking every bit as aristocratic as possible.

"So, if I'm getting this right," Adelia ignores Sirius, waiting for Calyx’s supportive nod before continuing. "Lord and Lady Moon married to have Jiho, then stayed in their marriage contract while also being with Lord Anthony and Lord Haein."

"Correct," Calyx smiles, gently patting her head. "Not everyone can marry for love, but as long as they associate themselves with purebloods, then almost everyone will look the other way."

"Anthony Fawkley is a dirty half-blood but at least he's unable to conceive with Lord Moon," Sirius sneers, his Black family breeding glinting darkly.

Three hands immediately reach to slap him, one using grapes and the other two go for a pinch and flick.

"Hey! Don't touch my hair or I'll tell my father." Sirius cries out, batting the hands around him away before storming off to the tune of three upperclassmen taunting him.

"No, no. Say it again."

"Come back, I just wanna talk."

"You're not allergic to grapes, you'll live!"

Adelia sighs in disappointment, knowing that Sirius sinks deeper and deeper into his mother's pureblood rhetoric each day, while Phineas does the complete opposite.

Jiho wastes no time sliding Sirius's plate to his seat, shoveling down whatever he left untouched. Grimacing at the mess, Carina slinks to the other side of the table by Adelia, refilling her goblet along the way.

"Since I'm a seventh year now, my parents have started to look into a MIM for me," Carina states blankly, taking a big swig of pumpkin juice. "Can't wait to find out what poor sod is getting stuck with me."

"Have some hope," Jiho replies with a mouthful of food, barely chewing before swallowing. "At least he could be rich."

"Or might share a girlfriend with you," Calyx chimes in with a smirk.

Carina genuinely laughs at that, especially upon witnessing Adelia giving her a hopeful grin with two thumbs up.

"Thanks, mates. Cheers to that."

They all lift a goblet to join her, downing pumpkin juice to merry banter. Not long after, the warning bell rings to signal the next classes. Calyx and Jiho finish the rest of their meals and head to their respective classes, leaving Adelia and Carina on the bench.

“Carina, how do you know when you want to court someone?”

The spurting of pumpkin juice from her mouth feels like an answer in it of itself, but Adelia tries to give context.

“Grandmother Isa told me that since I finally got my magic, I am set to debut over the winter break, right after I turn 16.” Adelia glances around for any nearby listeners while handing a napkin to Carina. “I don’t even have a dress yet, how am I supposed to find a marriage partner to bind my soul to for life?”

Carina wipes her mouth with a contemplative look, sighing before folding the napkin into her lap. “I thought you’d have more time. Is Uncle Atlas not back from his latest hunt yet?”

“No,” Adelia mumbles, face falling as she remembers his promise to return soon that had been made three years ago.

“He still thinks he can find a golden flower that’ll cure my mother. Probably still searching through a jungle in South America as we speak.” 

Carina slowly rubs Adelia’s back in comfort, warming up her skin through her robes. “Knowing Grandmother Isa, it’s better if you can find the best possible match before she signs you away to the purest-blooded noble with the deepest pockets. It’s a bit hard for me to help you though, you know my taste is suited towards skirts, rather than suit trousers.” 

Adelia giggles at the comparison, unsure about her own abilities when finding someone to court when she barely has any personal experiences with friendships. She fiddles with her moonstone ring, thinking of her parents' once-content marriage before speaking.

“Beyond those romance books you lent me, which I made certain they were hidden from the house elves, for the record. I can’t tell you the first thing about romance, or even how to make a child, for that matter.”

Carina closes her eyes, mumbling faintly to herself about borrowing books from the restricted section for her, before opening them with renewed vigor.

“You deserve a gentleman, Lia. Someone who’s kind and patient, listens when you speak, and considers what you have to say. Someone who you could spend a whole day together without tiring of them, able to find comfort in moments of peace together.

Flirtatious words and rosy cheeks mean nothing if they don’t have the compassion and loyalty to back that up.”

A pair of shining moonstone eyes floats to the top of her mind, bright enough to rival the full moon. There's a flash of a perfectly manicured flower garden filled with the nauseating scent of gardenias. Then a little boy materializes in front of her, crouching in the bushes with her while holding onto a long cane.

A small, warm hand shakily reaches out to wipe her tears, feeling herself slowly smile as she leans her head into the palm on her cheek, enjoying the fresh scent of peppermint and lemongrass filling the air.

“I could hear your performance from the open windows. Even though I'm not able to see your playing, I could feel it. You're… utterly brilliant."

Adelia blinks away the memory and slowly processes her words, thankful for the clearer picture, but unremembering of anyone who meets that criteria. “Thank you. I suppose I’ll have to find them on my own terms if time permits me to.”

Carina squeezes her hands, standing up to offer a hand to help her up as well. “Good. And if you have any questions, which I’m certain you will once you find someone, don’t hesitate to ask me them.”

Adelia grabs her hand, feeling the support flow through her veins as her cousin’s words take effect, glad she has at least one source of information that wouldn’t turn her away or try to keep her innocence in tact, which would only do more harm than good.

I shouldn’t be thinking of romance and courting when meeting with Sebastian, but it’s too late to reschedule the Hogsmeade trip now. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Chapter 6: A Hectic Hogsmeade & A Long Awaited Introduction

Summary:

Adelia finds her way to Hogsmeade, taking the time to look through various shops & encounter a few new friends. Of course, all that's good would come to a screeching halt as a result of a few baddies. That would be her luck, after all.
Have no fear, Adelia & Sebastian are here!
After dealing with that, Adelia gets a bit more insight into Sebastian. Then, she meets someone completely unexpected, yet deeply accepted.

Notes:

I've been wanting to sit & type for a while, but I'm back to working a lot, so updates are likely going to be a lot slower than before. On the flip side, this is another long chapter *cue shock & surprise*

Anyways, thank you all for the support & hope you enjoy. Happy Reading!

Walking under the discolored wooden bridge and moss-covered cobblestone roads, Adelia and Sebastian step onto the bustling streets and brightly colored shops of Hogsmeade. Townspeople engage in lively conversations, clothed in vibrant robes, popping in and out of the bustling shops.

Even the smell is a welcome change from Hogwarts, the scent of damp stone and caramel filling the air tinged with firepowder from Zonko’s up ahead. The flamboyant shop catches her eye, beginning to make her way over until she gets stopped by Sebastian, who encourages her to shop alone while he grabs something for his sister. 

Solo shopping? I can do this. Well, at least with the help of my field guide’s map, I can. 

With an agreement to meet up later, she happily begins roaming the worn streets, popping into a few different shops to collect the items she needs. 

Tomes and Scrolls is a charming building packed full of books and knickknacks, run by a pleasant older man named Thomas Brown. He mentions the great value of spellcrafts and conjuring, both things Adelia is interested in, yet worried about.

While she’s caught on to the simpler yet useful charms like Accio and Levioso, the concept of creating something out of nothing was quite daunting to her. The amount of choice and creativity one would need to put in to create something wholly unique, especially an item that fits Professor Weasley’s standards, is enough to throw her into a spiral. 

But, that’s something to focus on another day. 

She watches a pair of books sort themselves in alphabetical order, becoming momentarily distracted by the book cards that stamp themselves. Her eyes wander past the crackling fireplace and elegant portraits to land on a thick book that seems out of place.

Wandering over to observe the worn cover and yellowing pages, Adelia feels her magic reach out to it and connect.

To her left, a staircase rumbles into view, leading up to the previously unreachable second floor. After a brief exchange with the shop’s proprietor, she begins climbing up to the expanded section of books, heading the warning that some may be too inappropriate for her age. None of the titles she notices relate to dark magic at all though, the worst describing itself as a manual of ridding oneself of creative jinxes and hexes.

Running her fingers along the faintly grubby shelves, her fingers dance along a placard for a romance section. 

This might be exactly what I need.

I’ve only read the ‘mild’ romance novels that Carina had me borrow, so maybe I need to find one that’s more… ‘spicy’? Or however she described the rating system as.

All of these covers look the same though, so how can she tell? Are there supposed to be drawings of peppers on them somewhere?

Adelia casts Revelio over the bookshelf in front of her. 

Nothing lights up. Well, a chest behind her with a sign for free punch cards does, but that’s not what she had intended. 

Adelia glances around to the empty store before slightly hiking up her skirt and kneeling, looking at the lowest shelf for some sort of sign. Scanning the stack with her finger, she slowly goes through the titles, mumbling under her breath about whether or not they’ll work. 

“The red one is called ‘101 Tips & Tricks To Incite A Proposal’, definitely a consideration. Oh, this one’s shoved further back… ‘Sultry Moves: What Erumpent Mating Rituals Can Teach Us About Procreation’? Perhaps not.”

Her eyes slide over a small blue book, inspecting the lacy cover and small spiral details. “‘How Charlotte Became (Known As) A Harlot’. Not a great title, but this is the only one that seems like a story, rather than a how-to guide.”

As she opens up the book to read the synopsis, a loud alarm starts blaring from the inside pages with a magical text that reads that this book was only available for purchase to spellcasters over the age of 17. Her hands start burning against the cover and she drops the book with a loud thud. She carefully cradles her hands, pressing them together until the magic fades away.

Adelia carefully reaches down for the book and places it back on the shelf, ears prickling at the sound of footsteps approaching the storefront again. She quickly collects herself and rushes down the stairs, shouting a hasty goodbye to the owner over her shoulder.

With bright red cheeks and a crazed look in her eyes, Adelia waits until the right moment before slipping into the crowds, taking a few deep breaths to compose herself after that unexpected embarrassment. She walks past a few more shops, eyeing the gold lettering of Ollivander’s shop, pausing next to a bed of flowers watered by a self-watering can. 

Hmm, should I go there last? It’s still a bit nerve-wracking to get my own personal wand so, maybe I’ll finish the list there. 

As Adelia stops to think, a sudden meow grabs her attention. Sitting less than one meter away from her was a small tabby cat with wide green eyes, staring up at her unblinkingly. Adelia blinks back, peeking over her shoulders to the other shoppers nearby to see who the cat is looking at.

“Meow.” The cat mews at her, staring her down as though she’s supposed to understand what that means. 

Adelia points to herself in confusion, only serving to heighten the cat's yowls for attention and she stiffens up at the bewildered expressions from two fellow Hogwarts students in Quidditch robes passing by.

Clearing her throat, she meets the cat's eyes and begins to squat down, unsure how to progress further. “I see. Ahem. Meow?”

“Hiss.” The cat crouches, back raised at her poor vocalization attempts and proximity.

Adelia immediately stands up, hands raised in surrender and she slowly sidesteps the cat, unwilling to turn her back on it. “Okay, I may not be fluent in Cat-enese, but you shouldn’t be rude-”

A light voice spouts from behind her. “Speaking to animals in broad daylight? Here I thought I was the only one that does that.”

Please tell me I’m not about to be bullied for being a Hufflepuff who’s awful with animals, especially after failing to converse with this one.

Reluctantly whirling around, Adelia comes face to face with the top of a head of brown hair. Adjusting her head downwards allows her to take in the welcoming sight of her fellow Hufflepuff, Poppy Sweeting, dressed in a casual sweater and skirt for a foray into the wizarding village. 

“Poppy!” Adelia breathes out, barely preventing herself from wrapping her fellow housemate in a hug from sheer relief.

“Adelia!” Poppy beams up at her, bringing a sense of serenity to the conversation that she desperately needed. 

“It’s nice to see you again. Did you have a good first day back?” Adelia holds a smile, hoping her voice drowns out the quiet mewling of a nearby tabby cat.

“It may have been better than yours,” Poppy giggles, reaching into her honey badger embroidered purse and setting down a few treats.

The cat becomes very interested in the small pellets, no longer caring about Adelia’s presence as it bats at the treats, then leans down to noisily crunch them. Poppy wastes no time snatching Adelia’s arm, quickly pulling her further up the road and away from the preoccupied feline. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Adelia runs a hand through her hair, ignoring the few strands that pull out of her bun at her ministrations. “As much as I like animals, very few share the same sentiment about me. I think it’s my nerves. They can feel the tension and absolutely hate it.”

Poppy tilts her head, humming in disagreement. “All you need is a bit of practice and knowledge of how to approach an animal. Magical beasts are very intelligent creatures, and just like when you cast a spell, intention is very important. I’m sure they know you mean well, you just need to show it.”

She bites her lip, knowing Poppy’s words ring true, though that means nothing if her anxiety strikes at the worst possible moments.

She’s been dealing with her anxiety by herself for so long, that it was bound to catch up to her at some point.

Maybe Professor Fig will know some way to alleviate it, at least enough so she can get around the castle without disturbing the plethora of cats in every nook and cranny. 

“Steeple & Sons was why I decided to leave the castle today,” Poppy interrupts her thoughts, gesturing down the road in the general direction of the shop. “I’ve been dying to try their new cinnamon chamomile tea and raspberry tarts.”

Adelia perks up at her change of subject, seeing it as an opportunity to get to know her roommate more while gathering the tea leaves for their other roommate. “Poppy, I have a proposition for you.”

“Ooh, go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“Professor Weasley is having me gather a few things around the village today. If you help me collect the rest of my items on the list, then I’ll treat you to the tea shop.” Adelia offers with a hopeful glint in her grey eyes.

“That sounds lovely, why not?” Poppy shrugs her shoulders, holding her hand out to accept the list that Adelia fishes out of her pockets. 

With a new companion by her side, Adelia locates the Magic Neep, collecting seeds for Herbology from the chatty Timothy Teasdale. She didn’t mind speaking to him for a few minutes though, recognizing his name as one of her father’s colleagues, though he runs a shop whereas Atlas Rosewater was more of a field herbologist.

After collecting the seeds, Adelia and Poppy almost pass by a fast-paced Natty without noticing. They all exchange friendly waves and promises to grab tea later before the Gryffindor slides around them, seeming determined to pick up an item from the Magic Neep.

Traveling over the stone bridge, Adelia and Poppy manoeuvre past a trio of witches and a rather enthusiastic sign spinner to the vibrant potions shop called J. Pippin’s Potions. The current owner, Parry Pippin is quite taken with the art of potion making, describing it to be just as powerful a tool as spellcasting is.

It reminded her of the discussion she had with Natty about using a wand versus wandless magic, both equally capable, but in different ways. She almost wished Natty had joined them so as to weigh in again.

Since potion making was an area of magic she was more confident in, having woken up multiple days to the sounds and smells of potions brewing a few rooms down from her bedroom, Adelia was content to revisit later for more potion recipes and chats. 

She folds the papers neatly inside her field guide and places the tome inside of her beaded drawstring bag. The floral patterned bag was an item Carina insisted on gifting her upon learning that all of her things got eaten on the way to Hogwarts. She hadn’t even minded delaying meeting with Sebastian, taking the spare time to scold herself over having such silly thoughts in the Great Hall, which allowed her to speak to Sebastian as she would one of her cousins. 

He has been quite charismatic and kind to me. I do hope we can be friends. 

“Alright, it looks like Ollivander’s the only one left. How exciting!” Poppy crosses off the final shop on the list, remembering the magical experience from her first year at Hogwarts. 

“Yeah…” Adelia blankly stares at the currently changing sign spinner outside of J. Pippin’s, now knowing this person to be a metamorphmagus who becomes various people to garner interest in the shop. 

Poppy discerns her expression and posture as one would check their pets for signs of any problems. “It’s a very simple process. The wands do most of the work, well, besides Mr. Ollivander.”

She giggles to herself, laughter petering out at the half-hearted smile on Adelia’s face. She hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on her arm and patting it gently. “You’ll be alright. This isn’t a test or anything. And just think! When you’re done, you’ll have a cup of tea waiting for you to enjoy.”

Adelia thanks her with a wider smile this time, agreeing to meet up at the tea shop later with Sebastian to show off her new wand, and hands her a handful of galleons for the bill. Shaking out her nerves, Adelia heads over to the simple-looking shop, staring up at the inscription on the doorway reading ‘Your Wand Awaits.’ 

Breathe. You’re alright.

Entering the cramped shop, she perceives shelves upon shelves of wand boxes stacked up high, a staircase in the back leading up to a second floor with even more haphazardly placed inside slanted cases. A few portraits greet her when she enters, though they’re the only other people within this shopfront at the moment. A large decorated bell placed on the front desk captures her attention.

To ring or not to ring, that is the question. 

And today, she rings.

~~~~~~

“On your left!” 

Adelia rolls, barely managing to duck out of the way in time to avoid getting trampled by a rampaging troll. Barely any time was spared to adjust to her new wand before two trolls decided to attack Hogsmeade. Luckily, she had an experienced dueller by her side, each of them calling out the troll’s location if it came too close to comfort to either one of them.

They flung spells left and right, Adelia rapidly casting a shield to bounce off a stray Confringo spell that sizzled past the troll’s arm, preventing it from singeing off the sleeves of her robes. She can barely catch her breath, running and dodging all across this town square while fighting off the panic from this sudden attack. Her lungs and arms burn from the exertion of the exercise, constantly flicking her wand with sturdy and powerful movements, thanks to her harmonious relationship with this new wand. 

“S-Sebastian!” Adelia shouts out, distracting the troll enough for Sebastian to blast him onto his knees, delivering powerful blows into his shimmering red magical armor. 

Sebastian had been more of a leader during their fight, using strong spells that she hadn’t learned before and fighting with a confidence she didn’t think was possible for a teenage boy. As much as she appreciates his experience and guidance, it doesn’t feel right for him to be doing the brunt of the work. 

She needs to do more. Help out more. Do something. 

Her breaths slow down as she feels the cold magic in her swirling, rising through her as if it has a mind of her own, offering up a different way to gain an advantage in this fight. Looking over at Sebastian’s sweaty and worried face, she understands what she must do.

Accepting this magic and tapping into the well of her magical core, her eyes shine brightly and icy blue magic begins seeping out of her. Directing the magic through her wand, she points to a nearby barrel and lobs it into the troll’s face, wanting to weaken him enough to stop the fight. She can feel the surprise radiating off of Sebastian’s form but she persists, casting more aggressively until she feels the magic welling up like an inflating balloon. She focuses on that sensation, twirling her hands to form that chilly magic into a sphere and hurls it at the troll.

Loud stomps fill the air as the creature stumbles back, a bright purple light filling his body and exploding into thousands of dark grey paper shreds. 

Adelia closes her eyes, hands raising to rub at her face, taking a moment to process what just happened. She feels a clap on her shoulder, lowering her hands to see a proud smile on Sebastian’s freckled face.

“You fought well, indeed. I knew our duel wasn’t your first fight.” He winks at her then turns around to greet a fast approaching auror. 

Adelia shyly smiles to herself at his praise, relaxing her shoulders and letting her breaths even out. She listens to the auror praising them while tracing the twists on her alder wood wand, agreeing to cast Reparo around the town while Sebastian speaks to a shopowner.

When she gets to Steeples & Sons, Adelia repairs both a gardening cart by their patio tables and the front door. Right as she fixes the front door, two figures push it open and rush out with surprised expressions on their faces.

“Oh, no! We missed it,” Poppy cries out in disappointment, adjusting her sweater that had gotten disarranged from her attempts to push past the door’s accidental blockade. 

“That is alright. Our friend here did quite a good job defending herself against the troll.” Natty speaks up, puffing up with pride like a pleased bird, over Adelia’s progression since their Charms class.

Adelia shrugs off her praise, indicating towards Sebastian as her partner in all of this. Both of the girls had questions over her spellcasting at the end of the fight and she promised to explain later, when she wasn’t extremely exhausted. They both agreed and parted their separate ways with Adelia finishing up the repairs and finding her way back to Sebastian. 

Steeping inside Gladrags Wizardwear was eerily reminiscent of the decor in her villa’s parlor room, the bright pinks and patterns all too reminiscent of Isa’s taste in interior design. Standing beyond the posing mannequins and rolls of fabric was a man dressed in a bold suit and pomade-slicked hair, who introduced himself as Augustus Hill, clothier extraordinaire. Adelia believes she had heard his name a few times before, likely mentioned by one of the house elves who picked up her grandmother’s tailored clothes from his shop.

He thanks her for her work, even mentioning she’s worthy of high praise for her accomplishments, offering up a protective set of robes and a thin pair of gloves as a gift. Not wanting to refuse his kind gesture, Adelia accepts it, swapping out her old outer robe for the new one and sliding on the gloves.

Before they leave, Adelia remembers a personal task she must complete, almost running into Sebastian’s chest as she steps back up to the counter.

“Mr. Hill?” Adelia starts, unsure if they were able to fulfill her request. “Would it be possible to custom order a debut dress from your shop?”

Mr. Hill’s face lights up at her question, setting down his steaming teacup and reaching for a large binder full of magazine clippings and sketches over the years of debut dresses. She can hear Sebastian whistle in surprise at the solid thud from the binder’s weight, crossing his arms in a display of mild disinterest in the current topic of conversation.

Adelia steps forward and flips through a few pages, listening as Augustus Hill rambles about chiffon and the history of debuting into pureblood society.

“It truly is a wonderful time for a young witch. We do offer a variety of styles and textures, most of the beadwork is either done by hand or with a bit of nifty spellwork. Of course, all of the dresses are black, as that is how our ancestors originally dressed before they became prosecuted and the wizarding world went into hiding. But if you were to personalize-”

Truth be told, Adelia has no idea what she wants to wear, as long as it feels comfortable to the touch. She tells Mr. Hill that much, cracking a small smile from a snort heard from her left side at the aghast expression on his face. Rather than deciding anything now, she makes an appointment for a few weeks out, mentioning it needs to be done before Yule.

Sebastian and Adelia leave the shocked man to mumble to himself while furiously flicking through his binder, waiting until the door fully shuts behind them to start laughing.

“Poor man looked completely gutted,” Sebastian chokes out, clearly having held his laughter for a while now. 

Adelia snorts, a gloved hand flying up to cover her mouth in surprise, only further fueling Sebastian’s laughter. She lightly slaps his arm and he pretends to be hurt, staggering while holding onto his arm as they walk. 

“It’s not funny.”

Sebastian gives her the most deadpan look he can muster up at the moment.

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit funny,” Adelia reluctantly agrees, sputtering out laughter at Sebastian’s solemn nods of agreement.

Walking down the emptied streets to the Three Broomsticks, they exchange a few jokes, walking slowly until the sight of someone down an alleyway was enough to grab both of their attention. They quickly sobered up, exchanging nods and lowering themselves to hide around a corner. She can feel Sebastian’s breath on the side of her neck, both of them laser focused on an odd looking trio gathered on a staircase landing.

Listening closely, she can hear the gravelly voice of Ranrok, meeting with two familiar looking wizards. 

“Who is this child? What are you not telling me?” The man with a dark blue suit and top hat asks, shifting in place as his tone seems to change at this question.

He sounds really familiar to me. Where have I heard his voice before?

Adelia faintly processes their conversation, trying to place his voice in her head when she suddenly feels a pair of beady red eyes staring in their direction. The same goblin that wants to capture her. Whipping her head over to Sebastian, he greets her with the same shocked expression, both of them backing away from view. She reaches up a hand to tug on his sleeve, gesturing with her head for them to leave. 

“Let’s go.” 

Their feet scurry along the path, wanting to rush away as soon as possible without alerting their location to the trio. 

“Did they see us?” Sebastian asks, looking around.

“I don’t think so,” Adelia replies breathlessly, mind full of worries over what they heard.

“What was that goblin doing with Victor Rookwood?” Sebastian’s words come out sharp, stepping to turn in front of Adelia.

“Ranrok is working with Rookwood?” She connects the dots, not even looking at Sebastian as she does so.

His eyes widen, puzzle pieces sliding into place inside his mind. “The goblin from the Daily Prophet. I knew I’d seen him somewhere!”

Sebastian shakes his head, glancing behind Adelia before his face widens in shock, readying himself to move out of plain sight. “Quickly. Let’s get inside the Three Broomsticks.”

They slam open the doors, acting as casually as they can to the unsuspecting patrons then walk over to take seats at the bar. A friendly looking bartender walks over to them, greeting and welcoming Adelia with a free round of butterbeers. She mentions the troll attack, wishing to visit the other shopkeepers soon. 

“Glad to see you two escaped injury,” She tells them with sincerity.

“Thanks to this one,” Sebastian gestures with his head over to her, lifting up his pint as if to make a toast. “Singlehandedly took down a troll.”

Sirona Ryan looks on in surprise, looking impressed for a moment. “Is that right? Well done.”

Adelia shakes one of her hands, gesturing to Sebastian. “I just dealt the final blow, it was more of a team effort, really.”

Sebastian smirks at her, leaning over to clink their tankards together. “Well, I won’t stay no to a bit of shared glory. Cheers.”

Adelia clinks her glass back with a smile, nodding over to Sirona before drinking it. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.” Sirona continues, mentioning how odd it is for trolls to appear in the village. “The only brutes we usually have to deal with are-”

The doors slamming open again cuts off her words, a panting Rookwood and Harlow standing at the entrance, searching the room with intent. Sebastian and Adelia huddle next to each other, trying to blend in as Sirona sasses them. They make eye contact and exchange smirks, Adelia quickly glancing away but keeping the amusement visible on her face. 

“I’m only here for this one anyway,” Victor points and she finally turns around. 

Creep.

Sirona defends her, though mere words don’t seem to deter the man as he keeps walking, dismissively waving her off with a determined glint in his eyes. The other bar patrons weren’t having that though, each one rising to point their wands at the duo, unwilling to let him do as he pleases without a fight.  He finally backs down after a few moments, walking back while spreading his wings like a bird attempting to intimidate its prey.

“Can’t drink butter beer forever.” He taunts, blue eyes searing into her vision as he leaves.

“Can’t handle a few little hexes? You’re weaker than I thought.”

“Are you alright?” Sebastian’s concerned face appears in front of her, blinking away a memory that shares Victor Rookwood’s voice.

Adelia nods faintly, turning to listen to Sirona’s warnings about the pair. Once she leaves, Sebastian was quick to draw her attention back to himself.

“Trolls, Ranrok, and Rookwood? What are you not telling me?” He utters in disbelief. 

Adelia tenses up in worry, not wanting to lose her friend over factors out of her control. She needs to control the factors of her life, otherwise she’ll spiral into her usual tendencies for hours, unwilling to break for fear of the consequences. Her fingers begin tapping on the bar, leaning her weight against it while maintaining a steady rhythm. 

One. Two.

“I promise to tell you everything-” She states with conviction, not wanting him to misconstrue her intentions at all.

Three. Four. 

“-But perhaps it’s best I do that later.” She promises to him, exchanging her taps to slide her fingertips along the bar’s smooth surface and starting to spell out his name. 

He stares at her for a moment, eyes flickering between her fingers and slouched posture before relenting. “Alright, later then."

He sidles up next to her, reaching for the butterbeer and taking a long swig. Adelia takes her time to glance around, taking a few small sips as she watches the volume from the other patrons increase again, the atmosphere becoming lively and warm. She glances over to the fireplace and shivers.

“Come on,” Sebastian claps a hand on her shoulder, leading them over to an empty table near the fire. “Let’s warm up a bit before heading back.”

Adelia smiles as he pulls a chair out for her, folding down the back of her skirt and taking a seat. She peels off her gloves, placing them next to her and holding her hands out to the fire, her silver ring glinting in the ambient light. 

“That’s quite a ring you’ve got there,” He gestures to it with his tankard. “Take it from a dragon’s hoard after slaying it?”

Adelia huffs out a laugh, pulling it off of her finger and sliding it over to him. “Old family heirloom. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if my ancestor slayed some kind of creature to get it. My parents gave it to me after my sister was born and my older brother left for Hogwarts. Sort of a consolation gift, I suppose.” 

She watches as he observes it closely, a reflection glinting off the ring and swaying along the walls. “You mentioned your sister earlier, Anne. Are the two of you close?”

“Understatement,” he replies, thumb rubbing against the gem in the middle of the ring. “She and I are twins, born only minutes apart. It’s hard to imagine her not being in Slytherin with us, where she belongs.”

Adelia frowns, shifting in her seat and turning her gaze to the flames. “Sorry to hear about her being sick.”

She contemplates divulging information about her family, not sure if he’d want to hear all about it, though she has a sense he wouldn’t mind. “Have you heard about the Greengrass family curse?”

Sebastian squints his eyes, mentally sorting through his curse knowledge to figure out if he does or not. “Remind me.”

Adelia sighs, taking a long swig from her tankard before speaking.

“Several generations back, a member of the Greengrass family decided to play with dark magic, experimenting on another wizard beyond what would be considered sane by today’s standards.

Blood magic is a cruel mistress.

The very studies she was conducting were able to be utilized against her by the same subject, creating a blood malediction or blood curse. The effects vary depending on the person, though with how painful it is to the curse inheritors, I could only imagine how excruciating it was for the original subject.”

Her eyes shift to Sebastian’s for a moment, quickly looking away from the morbidly curious look in his eyes.

“We know an unfortunate amount of information about our bodies and the functionality of our magic due to her. And my family understands this curse far more than they should have to.”

Her thoughts drift to her mother while Sebastian lights up at her admission, accidentally fueling his interest in dark magic. “That’s what was trying to tell someone. Dark magic isn't inherently bad, it has practical uses as well. Some could be used to help people in ways regular magic cannot.”

Adelia frowns deeply, trying to prevent her lip from curling at his justifications.

“Sure. But the price comes at the cost of a cursed bloodline and torture tactics that would be reinvented and utilized for generations to come. Not quite a legacy I’m proud to carry a torch for. I’d rather throw that torch right into the Black Lake if it means curing my mother.”

She hears a clattering sound on the table, not needing to shift her head to know that Sebation connected the dots she blatantly laid in front of him. “Your mother is cursed? Merlin, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

Adelia raises her hand, not wanting to sour the positive feeling of the heat on her clothes.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Sorry for bringing it all up. I mentioned it to say that I understand what it’s like to have someone in pain from being sick. It makes my heart hurt too.”

Sebastian’s brows furrow, mouth opening as if to say something else, but he closes it with a shake. In an attempt to raise the mood, he makes a lighthearted comment about her ring, pushing it over the wooden table to her.

“That’s a moonstone, yeah? Now I get why you insisted on stopping every time we passed by them on the path here.”

She giggles, face loosening up at his teasing comment, reaching out to place the ring back onto her hand. “It’s my favorite stone. When I was younger, I used to believe angels were born from carved out sections of the moon, with their eyes being the center of all their power.” 

His eyebrows raise, letting out a faint chuckle before finishing off the rest of his drink. “Interesting. I could swear my best mate’s eyes look just like that.”

~~~~~~

“And on that note, I think we should head back to the castle.”

As they step out of the toasty tavern and into the cool night breeze, Adelia pulls her school cloak around herself tighter, already dreading the trek back to Hogwarts. Sebastian pauses under a streetlight in front of Ollivanders, causing Adelia to follow his lead, unsure if they are going to travel back together or not.

Though the night air is chilly, she feels a sense of comfort from her growing friendship with Sebastian, the streetlight casting a warm glow across his freckles as they discuss Sirona’s help and Rookwood’s interest in her. Sebastian relents from discussing Rookwood further tonight upon viewing Adelia start to fidget and glance away more than usual, not wanting to add to her obvious discomfort.

He tilts his head up to the twinkling stars, observing how quickly the night has fallen. “For the moment, we should return to the castle. Professor Weasley’s certain to hear about the troll attack soon if she hasn’t already.”

“She’s not the only one.”

Storming down the pathway with purposeful steps, a figure bursts through the darkness, capturing the focus of both Adelia and Sebastian. A dot of red light is the only warning they receive before a determined wizard steps forward, commanding all of the lights around him to glow in a halo of angelic fury, the warm glow from the yellowing lights rapidly draining to a sensation of pure ice.

Adelia shivers, letting out a quiet gasp as he strides past her to address Sebastian, involuntary breathing in an intoxicating aroma of peppermint and bergamot.

“What were you thinking? A troll, Sebastian. Really.” Ominis chastised, shaking his head.

“It’s not like I invited it over for tea, Ominis. It was the one that crashed through the wall first without an invitation.” Sebastian claimed, attempting to defend himself.

Their voices slowly fade into soft mumbles, the scent of Ominis's cologne bringing Adelia's memories to the forefront of her mind.

~~~~~~

Blurry figures fill the room, their hard stares freezing me in place while I struggle to breathe. My fingers shakily hover over the piano keys, paused in motion from the previous chord I played. It was supposed to be E major, not E minor. 

I messed up, it's all my fault. I took piano lessons for nothing. 

Hissing voices snake into my ears and I clench my calloused fingers into fists to prevent from playing the chords over again until it feels right. Voices whispering in the room heighten their volume. 

It's too loud. 

I raise my fists and squeeze them over my ears, hoping to drown them out. 

It's too much.

A loud scoff booms out from my left side. “Who decided to let a wee squib attempt to tickle the ivories? How pathetic.”

A few murmurs of agreement follow his statement, filtering through my ear covers and pricking my brain. 

I knew it. I'm not a pianist.

I slide off of the stool, dress bunching up in my haste, and rush into the crowd of adults who reluctantly part a path. Hot tears burn their way down my face while I search for the doorway, rapidly blinking them away at the right time to find a door outside.

As swift as my feet can carry me, I burst into a large and colorful garden through the open doorway. All that matters is finding a hiding spot, so my head swivels around until I spot a tall collection of larkspur and rose bushes. Sniffing through the snot, I catch a whiff of gardenias. 

It smells just like Grandmother's perfume. It's really hard to not vomit at the thought of her scolding me; involuntarily shivering at the phantom sensation of a stinging hex. The smell is distracting enough not to notice an object sticking out into the pathway until it's far too late.

“Woah-”

Ow. That hurts. 

Through watery eyes and a ruffled dress now covered in dirt and weeds, I brush aside my twig-filled hair to find what I tripped over, reaching a hand out to feel around the plants. A long wooden stick whacks the side of my hand and I pull it back, shaking out the sharp pain at my discovery. Reaching back with purpose this time, I grab the big stick and pull. It starts to come towards me then gets yanked back into the bushes.

Which would've been fine, had I decided to let go of it.

Instead, I get tugged between the bushes and go airborne, sprawling into a jumbled pile of limbs on top of a soft, squishy mass. 

Oh no, did I land on an animal? Was it a raccoon that confused a twig for food?

…Wait. Are raccoons normally this big?

“Ah, get off of me!” The squishy pillow speaks, a flat sailor cap shifting to show pale skin and light blonde hair, with beautiful blue eyes that glare at my unkempt hair.

An angel?

“I'm so sorry, Mister Angel,” I apologize, scrambling to rid him of my body weight and crouch beside him instead.

“Mister Angel?” The boy angel questions, his face scrunched in confusion.

He takes in a few breaths before sitting up, his wrinkled eyebrows smoothing out.

“I take it you're not Septimus, then?”

“Malfoy?” I pout, crossing my arms at his assumption. “I'm not a meanie, like him.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, I shyly glance down at my stained white dress, retying one of the dark blue bows that had fallen loose.

“I didn't mean to fall on you. I tripped on a big stick and I wanted to know where it came from. I thought it would lead to a raccoon, not an angel.”

He purses his lips, wrapping his arms around the cane like he was worried I would pull it away from him. “I apologize. Malfoy already tried to steal my cane once today so I’ve been hiding in these bushes. He never finds me in here.”

My mouth drops open in shock, then I start to stand up in protest. “He’s the worst. He's like- like a Sunday roast without potatoes. Not even worth having.”

There are a few moments of silence before I hear a muffled chuckling, the boy holding a hand over his mouth to cover his amusement, though his eyes are covered with unfiltered glee. I smile at this, laughing to myself and sit back down, sniffing loudly again. The boy’s laughter cuts off at this, hand dropping as his head tilts away from me, left ear pointed in my direction. 

“Are you-” The angel is silent for an uncomfortable moment, shifting closer to me. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I reply immediately before remembering my failed performance, eyes welling with tears right away. “M-Maybe.”

All it takes is the shuffling of the side of his body to be pressed against the side of mine to spill out all of my feelings. 

“I-I was supposed to p-play the piano earlier but I did a bad job. I heard s-snickering and I forgot what I was doing, so I played the wrong notes. I don’t know what to do! I begged my Mummy for piano lessons because-” I cut my rambling off, unsure how supportive he would be when he finds out how weird I am.

A hum and a firmer press of warmth against my side give me enough courage to continue on, fingers digging into the frills of my dress.

“I-I get nervous and worried that bad things will happen if I don’t do something. So I do them. But then my governess tells me to stop and that a lady should sit still and only speak when spoken to. How can I do that if I’m worried my lips will fall off if I don’t hum a tune sixteen times in a row?”

I rest my head against the brick wall of the townhouse, stretching my legs out a bit and feeling all of the spare leaves that gathered in my shoes. “I’m sorry for bothering you. You probably have somewhere else to be.”

The boy turns to me in surprise, face slightly scrunching before he opens his mouth. 

“I don't like crowds, they're too noisy. I like to be in the gardens. That’s why I’m sitting on…”

He pauses, reaching a hand out to feel the petals of a flower beneath him. “Larkspur.”

Most of my view of the garden is blocked from our current location but I glance around at the pink roses and purple larkspur closest to us, always enjoying being around flowers.

“I like flowers too, they’re very relaxing. My grandpa used to point out the flowers to me and say that I better remember them because I’ll be the one taking care of them when he’s gone.”

His lips pop up into a small smile, sharing a story of his own. “I think the quiet is relaxing too. If no one can find me, then no one will yell or pull at me. I also like the smell of lemongrass. Sometimes my aunt rubs lemongrass oil on my forehead when I can’t sleep and it helps me relax right away.”

My body turns to face him, basking in the warmth for a moment as I lean in close, sniffing near his forehead. “Ah, so that’s why you smell so good.”

He stiffens for a moment, and a light pink flush rises on his cheeks.

“T-Thank you. You smell good too. Like… green apples.”

I tilt my head in confusion before reaching to smell my hair and realize it is probably my conditioner. I giggle at the admission, leaning forward for him to smell again.

He slightly gasps at my proximity, involuntarily inhaling the scent of green apples again.

“Yes, I was right. If I’m considered Mister Angel, then you’re Miss Apple.”

A nickname from someone not in my family. A… friend? I don’t have any of those. Does this make him my first?

I sniff again and he seems to remember my crying.

“Was your performance really that bad?”

I nod before realizing he probably can’t see me and agree, still upset about it.

“It's silly. Who would like the music of someone that runs away after performing?”

I tug at the collar of my dress, the fresh air becoming difficult to inhale at the memory of the crowds of people staring at me, waiting to hear a wrong note. 

“I would.”

His moonstone eyes shone brightly with conviction, his voice like a soothing balm over my bleeding insecurities. “I could hear your performance from the open windows. Even though I'm not able to see your playing, I could feel it. You're... utterly brilliant.”

My mouth drops open in awe from his compliment, feeling warm all over from his praise, happy tears threatening to drown me as I cry out. A small, warm hand shakily reaches out to wipe my tears, feeling myself slowly smile as I lean my head into the palm on my cheek, enjoying the fresh scent of peppermint and lemongrass filling the air. I feel a lot better from his comfort, wishing to have met him sooner so he could’ve wiped all of my tears.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I apologize, wiping the remaining tears off of my face. “I've borrowed your hand to cry on and didn't even properly greet you. Allow me to introduce myself.”

~~~~~~

It’s Mister Angel. I'm finally meeting him again.

Her heart fills with joy at the thought that the boy she once thought to be her first friend grew up so well. The icy feeling he stormed in with melts, her own magic adopting that cold as it starts to leak out of her fingertips and faintly dance around her.

“And if a mooncalf asked you to dance with it, would you waltz under the light of the full moon?” Ominis asks sardonically.

“Depends. Did it invite me out for a butterbeer first?” Sebastian cheekily replies.

Ominis lets out a deep sigh, giving up on the subject for the time being. “Your foolhardy tendencies aside, we need to get back to the castle before curfew starts. Though I'm not surprised you're dragging someone else into trouble. Who's this?”

Ominis's posh accent softens when he addresses her, turning towards Adelia as to include her in their discussion.

Adelia can feel the magic inside her core swirling, attempting to release and coil around him in response to her boisterous mind. She exchanges a glance with Sebastian while burying the demanding magic deep inside of herself, and slides the pureblood mask of neutrality into place.

“My new charge. She's the new fifth-year student.” Sebastian looks at her with curiosity as she adjusts to a proper posture. 

“Ah, the one that bested you in a duel,” Ominis states plainly, wasting no time in reminding him of their earlier DADA class.

“Hey-”

Lighthearted chuckling draws her attention back to the Slytherin boy’s face. His eyebrows relax and he becomes much calmer than before. That joy changes his demeanor entirely, looking much closer to a student their age than a discontented angel coming to reprimand a mortal. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, eyes dropping to follow the curve of his lips as they pull into a soft smile.

“I wish we could've met under better circumstances but, I'm glad to see the both of you were able to hold your own.” 

Ominis tilts his head at her silence and her eyes slide back up to his. Though his line of vision was over her left shoulder, that did nothing to prevent her heart from leaping in her chest from his undivided attention. 

Here goes nothing.

Adelia reaches for the sides of her yellow plaid skirt and lowers herself into a curtsey. “I'm Adelia Rosewater, pleased to meet you.”

~~~~~~

“I’m Miss Apple, pleased to meet you.” I giggle and stand up, wiping the dirt and leaves off my dress then lift the sides, curtseying to my companion.

The boy seems to hesitate for a moment, before rising as well. He lifts his hand out and I reach the rest of the way to shake it gently. A jolt fires down my spine at the sudden heat from his hand on my colder one. My eyes lift to his in awe, becoming mesmerized by their pretty, glowing depths.

“I’m Mister Angel. And the pleasure is all mine.”

~~~~~~

He blinks a few times, his blue irises moving from side to side as he seems to process something, before lowering his wand. He slides the wand into his left hand and slowly raises his right hand, hesitantly hovering it in the space his wand vacated.

Her eyes shine as a cheerful smile pulls at her lips, easing her gloved hand into his warm grip for a gentle shake. The thin barrier of her glove does little to hide the curve of his fingers and body heat against her own. Her eyes seek his unfocused ones out, his irises sparkling as brightly as the jewel on her ring. 

“I'm Ominis Gaunt. And the pleasure is all mine.”

~~~~~~

Notes:

I've included commissioned art at the beginning and end of this chapter, first by silvyadrakkon , then by giselsann-opencommissions on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 7: Syzygy

Summary:

Ominis's memories flow through from the beginning until the current point in his life, focusing on his old friendship with Sebastian and the currently growing one with Adelia.
Tensions rise and fall in potions class, setting the tone for how things may be in the future unless something, or someone, changes that.

Notes:

Work has been somewhat draining, so this took longer to get out than I intended. Ended up splitting this chapter with the next one, so it didn't end up being extra long.
However, we finally get to see Ominis's POV. I tried my best to write in character for him so I hope it came across as accurate.
Happy Reading!

Darkness is all around me, starting from the moment I was born. 

A Pureblood curse is what they call my blindness. An incurable genetic condition caused by several years of inbreeding, with no spell or potion able to reverse it. Though my parents tried their hardest to beat the odds, unwilling to have a son unbefitting of the Gaunt title and legacy. Not even their beloved method of throwing curses or money at an issue until it goes away could solve it, to their dismay. 

I cannot lie that I've never wished to witness the world the way others do. The descriptions of color, light, objects, and people are quite astounding, though the level of impressiveness varies, depending on how detailed Sebastian or Anne choose to be at the time. 

However, I've come to appreciate the unique way that I perceive the world around me. I'm usually more aware of my surroundings than sighted folks. It's no longer something I feel like I'm missing. Rather, I've honed my other senses to compensate, excelling the most at hearing and touch. Casting specialty spells and touching my ingredients are the only ways I've been able to pass Potions until now, for example.

Having grown up around people who would rather make fun of me or speak louder when I ask them to clarify something, my hearing has gotten quite sensitive. Naturally, whenever I was forced to attend the large Sacred 28 gatherings, I would find a way to excuse myself to the host's garden, away from all the hustle and bustle. 

A garden says a lot about how someone expresses themselves, from the Lestrange’s grand garden with showy and difficult to care for plants to the Greengrass estate’s well-sectioned grounds and perfectly trimmed flowers. Out of all the pureblood families' homes, I find myself most drawn to the Malfoy’s. That's not due to their life-size peacock hedge or hand-carved marble gazebo. It's because that's where I met her. 

Tucked between two windows and buried under towering bushes of roses and larkspur, a girl fell onto me and fundamentally changed my life.

For the first time, I met someone my age who didn't pity me, fear me, or look down on me for who I was. She was apologetic and kind, believing me to be an angel while spitting out creative insults towards my bully. Not only did she accept my touch, but she welcomed it, leaning on me for support. 

I've never had anyone trust me or put my faith in me that way before, save for my Aunt Noctua. 

It was quite a surprise. Until that point, I didn't believe I would ever find someone who I could sit and talk to while hiding away from the rest of the world.

She is Miss Apple, my first friend of four hours.

Or, I suppose, Adelia Rosewater is her actual name. 

The Rosewaters are considered highly among the Sacred 28. Not enough to join their ranks as one of them, since their bloodline has only come over from the Philippines in the past few generations, unlike the other houses with deep roots buried in British soil. Stodgy old purebloods are set in their ways, inviting the family to pureblood gatherings while grasping them at arm's length.

I haven't had many personal experiences with their family members beyond Adelia and Calyx, the latter of whom is a fellow Slytherin and two years my senior. His booming voice can be irritating to listen to during late hours in the common room, but he tends to be courteous to the younger students who need help. 

Back in third year, a secret fireworks prank was played near the Viaduct Courtyard and Calyx alerted me before pulling us away from one of the explosions. Granted, he was the one to play the prank, but saving my skin from singeing off writes Calyx Rosewater into my good graces.

Evidently, unnecessary acts of kindness run in their family.

I never thought that I would meet Miss Apple again. Especially after the first year of Hogwarts came and went, all without the sweet scent of green apples or soft notes of a finely tuned piano. 

Stepping inside Hogwarts is one of my most cherished memories, followed closely by the day I traded a cane for my almost sentient wand. While I retain no vision, this wand utilizes echoes from reflecting sound waves to locate objects and people.

Wisps of imagery can form a complete picture of the environment around me, though I later found out that trees don't appear “soft and fuzzy” at the top, but do seem “thick and sturdy” towards the bottom. Discovering others couldn't hear how loud trees are was intriguing, considering their loud silence was one of the easiest ways I could find my way through a forest or garden. Trees absorb a lot of sound, so if the noise of the castle becomes too much for my ears, a forest is one of the first places I'd choose to navigate without a wand.

Finding my way around the castle got easier over time but finding friends along the way was a much smoother process.

I was pleasantly surprised by the Sallow twins, their charisma and self-assuredness bringing a strong Slytherin energy that I, for once, felt prideful in. That pride swelled into confidence, wishing to show them a hidden room within the Hogwarts castle, privy only to fellow Gaunt descendants. Our friendship and bond grew stronger throughout the years, entrusting each other with our deepest secrets and feelings. 

Until Anne was cursed and our peace became shattered into pieces. 

Neither Nurse Blainey nor trained healers from St. Mungo’s could figure out how to cure her, so now she lives at their uncle's house, unable to attend school while in constant pain and agony.

It hurts to not hear her endless plotting and joyous laughter in the hallways. When she would let us in on pranks she planned or charmed our way out of getting in trouble with the professors. Even when she would blatantly cheat at Gobstones and pretend as though the marbles were simply charming themselves, almost convincing Sebastian a few times. She is the most mischievous of the three of us, after all. 

When she got cursed, it was like the whole world stopped in its tracks. She got targeted for wishing to help others during a goblin raid on Feldcroft, solely because someone thought “children should be seen and not heard.”

And now Sebastian has buried himself in piles of books as old as Merlin himself, trying in vain to find a cure for a condition that no one has been able to figure out. What's worse is the fact that all of the easily accessible books within the Hogwarts library don't have the information he wants, so he has taken to sneaking into the Restricted Section to find some semblance of a clue. Of course, this also means his record is marked with several more detentions than he needs on his plate.

He's lucky my father is friends with the Headmaster.

There aren't many things in this life that surprise me anymore. 

After being raised by such a despicable family, then taken in by two wonderful friends, to watching those same people fall apart at the seams, I can only long to understand stability. Especially when I've spent the better part of the past few months talking my best friend out of a dark and unforgivable future, no amount of reason or descriptions of my firsthand experiences will walk Sebastian back from the proverbial cliff. All I can do is watch with bated breath and a thin grasp on his shoulder, one pinky finger away from giving up on him. 

I'm tired of Sebastian begging to know where the entrance to Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorum is. Like I would ever willingly give that information up. It feels as though that's the final way I can prevent him from fully diving into the Dark Arts. Once he gets attached, there's no pulling his head above the water. It's sink or swim, and knowing Sebastian’s stubborn personality, he'll drop past the mermaids to the murky depths of the Black Lake. 

He's even dragged the new fifth-year student down with him, fighting a troll in Hogsmeade.

A troll.

I know he's reckless but did he not think to escape to safety like the rest of the villagers? They both got extremely lucky, from what I heard. News about the incident had reached the castle within an hour after it happened, spreading within my earshot not long afterward. While I normally would wait in the Undercroft or common room to question Sebastian, he hasn't returned yet and I can not wait much longer.

I scowl in vexation, rushing to put on a cloak and scarf before making my way down to the wizarding village. Muttering to myself the whole way, I let my wand lead me on autopilot, smoothly sliding past returning students and bracing my way up the stairs to find them. Upon hearing the familiar tones of my unbothered friend, I close in, ignoring the faint gasp of a stranger as I pass them with haste. 

Even the faint scent of lemongrass coming from somewhere nearby wasn't enough to calm my annoyance, Sebastian matching every one of my complaints with an explanation or joke of his own. A few were admittedly funny puns but I'll hold my laughter until the conversation is done. 

Sensing the silent presence of someone swaying near Sebastian, I could hazard a guess as to who they were. Though I will get them to introduce themself. Names are important after all. At the risk of sounding like my parents, their last name tells me just how much power they'll have in the school, at least while Black is the headmaster. 

Sebastian speaks for her, only heightening my curiosity at her continued silence. Though I couldn't help but tease Sebastian with her impressive dueling abilities, it was something he constantly bragged about. Especially when Crossed Wands season was afoot. 

I can feel piercing eyes on my face as I chuckle, though she still has not spoken a word. 

Curious. 

Perhaps she knows who I am and is intimidated by me. While normally I wouldn't mind, it does have its benefits, I don't want Sebastian's new friend to be that wary of me. When I next speak, I address both of them, though I focus on where my wand indicates the new student is. 

Nothing could prepare me for the scent of green apples as she steps forward. Fabric rustles as she likely lifts her skirt into a curtsey, her figure leaning down while introducing herself. Beyond the scent, she introduces herself in a way that only one other person would. Who else would bow to a blind person while smelling like a distant memory?

Adelia Rosewater.

I remember how I responded to her, though I'm unsure if she holds that memory in the same regard that I do. Is she just being polite or does she remember me?

Small dainty fingers squeeze around my own, bringing a faint chill to my senses. Her hand is covered in a glove, yet maintains that familiar cool sensation. Though I have no doubt she lives up to the old witch's tale of ‘cold hands, warm heart’.  

I'm not sure why, but I linger in her grasp for a few seconds longer than socially acceptable. My reflexes kick in once I realize, pulling away and stepping back from her overwhelming presence. 

“Well, let's not dawdle much longer lest the prefects set about their rounds.” I quickly turn towards the main road and stride back to the castle, not bothering to point my wand towards the unhurried footsteps behind me.

My hand flexes. 

A faint tingling sensation lingers.

~~~~~~

If I ever considered our encounter to be a one off then I was sorely mistaken.

After escorting Adelia back to her common room, narrowly escaping the beginning of curfew, Sebastian and I heard a plethora of wild rumors popping up in the following days.

“Did ye hear? The new fifth-year wrestled a dragon then provoked a troll! Barely ‘scaped with her life, she did.”

“Uhm, I heard she was sent here from Beauxbatons because she was breaking into other students' dorm rooms to steal their clothes and gold.”

“So, obviously, her animagus is a cat. That's why little Mittens bites her shoe buckles every time they cross paths. He's just trying to play, that's all.”

From being an undercover auror to Parry Pippin and Professor Sharp's lovechild, the ebb and flow of Hogwarts's rumor mill refuses to change its tide from their current favorite subject, Adelia Rosewater. 

It doesn't help that she has shown off incredible dueling abilities and crafted surprisingly skilled potions in class. Though I have no doubt that the outcome wouldn't matter, students would find hundreds of ways to dissect her existence without recognizing her dedication to finishing things in a specific way.

“The right way,” as she put it, though I don't believe there is one prevailing way to accomplish all tasks. My family believes that dark magic is the superior way to achieve greatness while discounting the thankless uses of everyday magic they rely on, like the Accio spell.

Nevertheless, she can be quite helpful during Potions, I reluctantly admit. Hufflepuffs always seem to have bleeding hearts.

“2 pinches of moonstone, oh, like your favorite gemstone.” Sebastian reads out with a teasing tone to someone approaching our table.

The loud thump of a book set down next to my station turns my focus towards the newcomer who’s audibly flipping through her book to find today’s potion. Adelia shuffles her feet in place and cracks her knuckles, sighing at Sebastian’s muffled laughter. Hopefully, he disguises it well enough to prevent Professor Sharp’s attention, though I'm not sure why his teasing embarrasses her.

“Shush. Focus on your own potion before it turns clear.”

“It's not gonna- oh Merlin's testicles,” His voice wavers, clattering noises echoing from his rapid attempts to fix his potion.

I feel fabric brush over my hand as she leans forward, almost dropping my container of powdered moonstone in the process. My face heats up when I struggle to right the jar, thankful that I haven't removed the lid yet.

“Stir it counterclockwise three times,” Adelia states assuredly. 

There's silence before the sudden tapping on the side of a cauldron like she's gesturing with her own spoon for emphasis.

“You may need to get your eyes checked out. The book says ‘stir clockwise four times’.” He reads out with confidence.

“Seb, do you trust me?” She asks.

“You haven't steered me wrong yet.” He responds with a short chuckle.

Yet, he says. Such confidence for someone you’ve known all of three weeks. I snicker, stirring my hopefully blue potion.

“This is a sensitive potion, the littlest mistakes will cause problems.” She pauses, rifling through her materials for something. “You have about thirty seconds before it needs to start simmering.”

More tapping sounds as Sebastian twirls his spoon inside the cauldron, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Hm, impressive correction on her behalf. However, seeing him fail due to his inability to pay attention would have been funny.

“I suppose that’s how Hufflepuffs seem to always be on time to class,” I joke, “Their newest addition has a built-in mental sundial.”

“I’ve always said her mind was bright,” Sebastian adds from across the table.

Adelia giggles, causing a smile to cross my face in response. 

“Not at all. I just have this.” She replies.

“Ah, yes. It looks mighty useful.” I state dryly.

Sebastian snorts while she stutters out a response. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright. Sebastian forgets I’m blind all the time and routinely leaves piles of clothes around the dorm to trip on.”

“Hey, those piles are sorted out properly.” Sebastian insists. “Ever heard of controlled chaos?”

“Yes, though I wasn’t aware you have. Chaos is quite on brand for you.”

A sudden boisterous bubbling from his direction causes him to curse, messing with the fire underneath his potion.

“Case in point,” I deadpan, unable to resist the perfect demonstration of his mayhem.

Ignoring his groans of disagreement, I add the second round of powdered moonstone, quietly tapping the table to time its simmering.

It's been three minutes, right? Or two and a half. 

“Ugh, my potion’s utter rubbish. Wish I could just replace it with one from J. Pippin’s.” I sigh, fingers brushing over the braille labels on my ingredient containers.

“It’s not so bad,” Adelia hums, footsteps clicking against the floor as she nears my station. “But here, I think you need this more than I do.”

Cool metal is pressed into my palm. I feel along the circular object to a few buttons, pressing down on one to hear a short mechanical whirring.

“This is a chronograph,” she explains, gently sliding my finger along the different dials to explain what it does. “It’s one of the few belongings I have that wasn’t eaten by a dragon. When you turn this dial for two clicks, it sets a timer for two minutes.”

Her gloved hand slips away, allowing my hands to explore the different features of this watch, rapidly gaining a new understanding of how potioneers can brew multiple potions at once. 

“Adelia, thank you,” I breathe out, reluctantly turning to hand the watch back to her outlined figure. “But I can’t just claim your possession for myself.”

Sebastian reads the next line of instructions aloud to himself, cutting through the quietly building tension between us. Both of her hands enclose around mine, fully securing the watch in my grip.

“Consider it repayment for the first time we met. And there’s no tears on it, I promise.” She pats the watch before sitting back down, consulting with Sebastian over the various shades of purple. 

I take a deep breath, tinkering with this new watch while refocusing on my assignment. I feel confidence building as I fully focus on the task ahead, and faint chattering from my classmates becomes a faint buzz in the back of my head.

“Ominis,” Adelia whispers after a half hour, lightly tugging my sleeve as I toss stewed mandrakes into the pot.

“Hm?”

“Your sleeve is dipping into your potion.” She pauses before pulling it out of the cauldron.

“Ah, blast it,” I swear, one hand preoccupied with my wand while the other is dirtied from my ingredients.

“...may I?” Her voice quietly asks, suddenly much closer than before.

I clear my throat. “If you insist.”

I sit as still as I can, trying my hardest to focus on timing the bubbling potion in front of me. 

Why did I choose today of all days to forgo my blazer?

Her fingers graze along my forearms, sliding the hanging robes further away from my concoction. My button-up does little to disguise her delicate movements which grow heavier with confidence, starting to wrap around my cuff and toying with the top button in silent question, hesitating to undo it without permission.

Every section of skin burns as her fingers dance along my sleeve, her gloves slipping tantalizingly along my bare wrist. My breath catches as her fingers press deeper, inadvertently stroking her thumb against my pulse point.

My heart thumps dangerously, grip tightening on the wooden spoon as I fight the urge to make a rude remark to end this interaction.

Is it the chronograph ticking or is that my heartbeat thrumming so thunderously?

Just then, an unbidden thought seeps into my mind, twisting its darkened shadows over the light she briefly shone onto me.

Does she do this to every person she meets or is it just me?

But why? We aren't even that close.

It's because I'm blind, isn't it. She thinks I'm helpless and need her to rescue me.

“Omi-”

“Don’t you have anything better to be doing?” I blurt out, my mouth moving faster than my mind can keep up with. “Not all of us have the luxury of learning from a famous herbalist father to rely on passing this class.”

Her hand twitches against my wrist before dropping it as though it burned her. A stool screeches against the stone floor, matching the sound of her heeled shoes swiftly shuffling to her designated setup.

It’s quiet for a while, only bubbling cauldrons and distant chatter filling my ears until I hear the quiet distracted muttering of Adelia, reassuring herself over and over again.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You’re okay. It’s all okay.”

My stomach churns at the realization I caused her this much stress, over squeezing the tube of boom berry juice as I add it to my potion. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard Adelia repeat words or actions to herself. While I figured it was some sort of odd self-soothing gesture to combat anxiety, my intention was never to cause her any undue stress. 

This is the first time she's tried to help me complete a task. It was only after I first complained that she tried to help, so it wasn't as though she automatically assumed I was incapable of completing my potions. These robes likely would have burnt or singed, had she not tried to adjust them to my preferred rolled-back style. With gloves on, no less, everything she did was within the bounds of propriety.

I'm a bloody fool.

I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat, grasping the fact that I’d need to apologize.

“Mr. Sallow,” Professor Sharp’s voice suddenly speaks, passing by our table. “Excellent looking Draught of Peace potion, 5 points to Slytherin. Miss Rosewater-”

He pauses, tone shifting to one of disappointment. “Your potion should not be that color. I’ve allowed you to change seats since you have shown competence but it appears that I may have been mistaken. Return to your previous seat after class today.” 

“Sir, I..” Adelia’s soft voice peters out, sounding unsure of her own response.

“Professor Sharp,” I say in his direction, placing the glass bottle filled with the remnants of my completed potion on the table. “It... was my fault. I distracted her. None of my potions get simmered properly since I cannot see it change colors so Adelia kindly lent me her chronograph, to her potion’s detriment. Please do not punish her for helping out a blind fellow classmate.”

I knew that I laid it on a bit too thick but Professor Sharp understands how much I struggle to pass his class without any additional help. Based on his observation of my completed potion, the weight of his judgemental stare lessens at Adelia’s display of teamwork. 

“Don’t let helping another student prevent you from getting the work done. I’d award you house points for your display of selflessness but I’d then have to take it away for the state of your potion.” He grumbles, boot thumping against the floor as he limps to the next table. “I expect better results next time.”

“Well well, looks like I’m not the only one Ominis will cover for now,” Sebastian remarks while packing up his things. “Just wait until you get in trouble with the headmaster, that’ll be a right treat.”

I sigh, barely hearing Adelia quietly thank me over the clanging of nearby tables also preparing to depart. “I apologize for what I said. I was simply frustrated with the difficulty potion making presents, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

While my explanation's partially true, I’d much rather keep up this deception than readily admit to her easily flustering me. Merlin only knows how embarrassing that would be.

“I- It’s alright, I appreciate your apology. In the future though, hopefully, the watch will assist you more than it did today.” She responds, voice bubbling up with renewed hope.

“As long as he doesn’t drop it out of a window,” Sebastian dramatically pauses, stepping in between us to enunciate his words. “Time would just fly right by.”

I let out a long-suffering groan, raising a hand to pinch between my eyebrows and lifting my wand higher to guide myself away from Adelia and Sebastian’s combined laughter. The pun wasn’t funny but I ignore the twitching at the corner of my lip, subtly slowing down for them to catch up with my footsteps.

Getting along with new people doesn’t come easily to me, even if she’s someone I befriended for a while in the past. Jesting with each other during classes and spending lazy weekends in the library or school grounds, Adelia is starting to become a close companion. Not quite a confidant but trust is slowly building, even with how different I’m realizing we are.

While Sebastian and Adelia seem to get on like a house on fire, we function on complete sides of the temperature spectrum. She’s reminiscent of the moon on a calm, cool night while I feel like the sun at times, my feelings burning up and bursting brightly like a hot summer’s day. 

In a way, that makes Sebastian the Earth, the middle ground that keeps all of us connected. The unwavering one who brings us all together, for better or for worse.

But no matter how many objects in his path towards the light that I either obliterate or steer him away, I can’t help the gnawing fear in my gut that he’ll lead us all over the edge.

Chapter 8: A Missing Letter & An Evening Excursion

Summary:

In the Great Hall, Adelia recalls memories of her family and discusses the chaotic atmosphere around her while interacting with her close friend and roommate, Poppy.

Late at night, Adelia gives her best attempt at stealth, so she can write a letter to someone dear. Key word being, attempt.

Adelia, in her fluffy woolen slippers: *Don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious*

Notes:

Hello!
I've been pretty busy with work & have had drafts for the next chapters just sitting, so I'm happy to finally put them out into the world.
I commissioned a few artists for funsies to enhance the story, so I hope y'all enjoy seeing them as much as I have.
Note for this chapter: I've tried my best to research Filipino culture & add elements to Adelia's backstory, but if I get anything wrong, feel free to let me know so I can correct it/learn something new!
Happy Reading!

Tendrils of steam swirl in the air as Adelia lifts a spoon up to her mouth, humming in delight at the savory taste of chicken and dumpling soup.

It's no Pancit Molo but this is the closest taste she'll have of her beloved dish outside the Rosewater villa.

Admittedly, she would fight 100 more trolls if it means Hogwarts starts serving rice at even one mealtime. 

The cold sting of homesickness bites at her veins, rapidly staving off any warmth from her meal. She sighs, dabbing a napkin at her lips and allowing the dull murmurs from fellow Hufflepuffs lull her into a rare moment of isolation.

I wonder how Mum's faring. This is the longest we've been apart, save for a few instances of premature hospice at St. Mungo’s. Has Norby been able to get her to finish a full bowl of soup like me? 

She pushes bits of chicken around with her spoon, posture slipping to lean closer to her food, absentmindedly breaking up spare bits of thick noodles.

Even though most of us have adapted to English food, I understand her longing for authentic Filipino dishes like bistek or kare-kare.

She remembers old kamayan dinners where all of her family gathered to eat together, the sweet scent of banana leaves underneath the dishes adding to the overall taste. Times when her grandmother wasn't so worried about appearances and easily scooped food from the leaves to her mouth, exchanging words of gratitude with her grandfather for reminding the house elves to add extra pickled vegetables nearby her seat. Even Carina put aside her usual picky tendencies to grab whatever food she could to shove into her mouth, knowing she wouldn't get scolded for eating with her hands.

Wherever Tatay is right now, I hope he has eaten. As much as I wish for some sort of letter saying he's safe, or even that he misses me, I… I just want to know that he's alive.

While wondering about the status of her father's search for a cure, the chattering around her begins to pick up as more people finish their meals and begin looking towards one of the Great Hall windows, some even pointing and whispering.

Adelia's eyes wander over to the High Table, pausing in amusement as she watches Calyx and her cousins getting a light reprimand from Professor Ronen, who's currently caught between wagging his finger and waving his wand to clean off excess glitter from Headmaster Black's new sparkly form. 

Jiho's exaggerated hand gestures, likely raised in a flurry of excuses, alongside Phineas with his face buried in his hand paints an amusing picture.

Kicking off a Friday night dinner with a false package delivery and glitter explosion prank wasn't how Adelia expected to enjoy her meal. The sight of a green, sparkly, and very unkempt Headmaster, however, was more than enough to set a positive tone.

A breathy sigh blows past her ear, causing Adelia to quickly turn to her right side in time to catch Lenora Everleigh staring over at the front of the room with pink cheeks.

More specifically, at Jiho.

A guy who decides to slowly drop his waving hands, useless as they likely are in distracting Professor Ronen, and focus his attention towards the rest of the Great Hall. 

Upon noticing a few pairs of eyes his way, Jiho gives Adelia a lopsided smile at her mildly amused face, winking back his appreciation at her undivided attention.

Unluckily, or likely luckily in her eyes, Lenora interprets that wink as Jiho flirting with her. 

“I knew he noticed all of the paintings I uncovered.” 

She turns to speak to Arthur Plummly, who jumps in surprise with his glasses in hand, almost crushing them against his sweater vest while cleaning the lenses. “I totally should have been sorted into Ravenclaw with my puzzle solving skills. If I had a few more tries on the portraits…”

Observing her practically melting body in both question and concern, Adelia's mouth opens and closes a few times, deciding to not ask why her roommate practically turned into a puddle of yellow robes. At least Arthur seems willing to indulge her sudden interest in discussing puzzle solving.

Try as she might, Adelia has yet to pluck up the courage to discuss Jiho's lack of interest, or more likely, lack of knowledge that Lenora exists. Especially after finding out just how much money Finn extorted from her, she's worried that Lenora's investment in him has made her overprotective of her crush. And while the thought of admitting she exposed this secret directly to him makes her feel violently ill, Adelia understands the right thing to do would involve revealing her blunder.

Ugh. Just the thought of facing her disappointment  and anger is making this soup churn in my stomach.

Hoping to distract herself with the snake house's ruckus, she finally locks eyes with Calyx, his apologetic expression dropping to one of smugness, fully outfitted with a singular raised scarred brow and a smug smirk. Even after his poorly timed prank, missing the window for owl deliveries by a scant few minutes, Adelia's certain he'll receive a paper mache medal in his honor from their dear younger sister. 

She drops her spoon to slowly clap for him, rolling her eyes with a small smile as he bows to her applause then jumps in place from hearing Headmaster Black's booming voice.

“Mr. Rosewater!” He calmly spits out a mouthful of glitter, too angry to even roll his r's.

“Looks like Slytherin is going to lose a lot of house points. Almost thought he was angry at you, not your brother,” Poppy giggles, her body tilting oddly to get a better view of the Slytherin troublemakers.

“We may look alike, but the mischief is all on him. I certainly couldn't take credit for, ehm, that,” Adelia gestures a finger up and down at the Headmaster’s new appearance.

“Black looks like he's run away from a magical mishap photoshoot for Witch Weekly.”

“All that's missing is a stylish hat and swoon worthy pose.”

“Please,” Adelia starts, her accent slowly merging into an imitation of Headmaster Black's. “All of those foolish teenage fashion articles are beneath me. A real charming, renowned wizard from the Ancient and Noble House of Black, such as myself, deserves a front page spread in the Daily Prophet.”

Poppy's eyes bulge, taking on a bug-like quality while Adelia speaks.

“Ahaha, yes, Sirius Black could definitely model for the front page. You're such a supportive cousin, Adelia!”

Adelia fumbles over her words for a moment, beginning to comment on Poppy's panicked state before catching a glimpse of a teacher's robe out of the corner of her eye. 

“Yes, well, you know what they say… cousins that… play together, ehm, stay together?”

Her words are accented by an air rendition of Sirius's violin playing, not daring to look up from her mock performance to catch the professor's attention. 

“Good evening ladies. Having a pleasant night, are we?” A stern voice with hints of amusement cuts in, causing Adelia and Poppy to simultaneously look innocently up at their Transfiguration teacher.

“Yes, Professor.”

“O-Of course, Professor.”

“Good, as am I.”

Her straight lips curve a bit at the edges, eyes taking on a look of knowing at the two guilt-ridden Hufflepuff students.

Perhaps deciding to take pity on them, she turns to address Adelia after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Miss Rosewater? How has your new study room been treating you? I trust you've been practicing your Transfiguration spells?”

Adelia quickly takes a sip of her pumpkin juice then turns to face the professor with all the imposing pureblood training she can muster up.

“Yes, Professor Weasley, I've found it a bit difficult in comparison to Charms class. It might require a lot more theoretical and practical studying than I first thought.”

“Hm, Transfiguration magic can certainly be tricky if one is not precise in their focus and wand movements.”

She thinks to herself before turning to look down at Adelia's stiff and unblinking form.

“Perhaps I could assign an additional Field Guide assignment for you to learn before our upcoming class. One that you could work on with a fellow student.”

Adelia's head immediately swivels over to Poppy, who has gone back to eating close to her plate, in a bid to keep Professor Weasley’s attention off of her.

Traitor. 

Not that I wouldn't do the same thing.

Should we make a roommate pact about getting each other out of conversations with teachers?

Adelia swirls pumpkin juice around in her goblet, downing large gulps while Professor Weasley continues.

“Transformation magic needs to be very precise, I can think of a few students who do exceedingly well in that. Mister Gaunt, for example,--”

She quickly swallows the mouthful of juice, flavors of pumpkin burning her throat from the effort to prevent herself from choking at the name of her… friend? Acquaintance? Fellow member of the Keep Sebastian Sallow Out Of Yet Another Detention Club?

“--would be an excellent choice given his penchant for focus and unique circumstances, which may provide a helpful perspective on the topic.”

Quietly coughing a few times, Adelia licks her lips, swiping the remnants of her panic-based chugging, attempting to hide the evidence of her blundering from everyone's view. Poppy may be appearing to enjoy a bowl of baked beans, but the lack of sauce on her spoon and suspicious clanking of her silverware missing the bowl tells her that Poppy was still paying attention to them. 

“Ominis?” 

Adelia can't help the way she barely needs to search for him in the crowd, instinctively following the familiar pull of her ancient magic towards a warm and brilliantly bright magical core three tables away.

“I trust that isn't an issue?”

Professor Weasley’s words speak with an air of knowing, though what she's able to glean is beyond Adelia's understanding.

“From what I've heard, you seem to get along well with Mr. Gaunt and Mr. Sallow. Though Mister Sallow’s talents lie more within the fast paced duels of Defense class, I could request that he teach you, if you would be more comfortable in that arrangement.”

“I-I’m fine with Mister Ga- Ominis, Professor. Thank you.”

“Very well, I shall let him know.”

Adelia watches the teacher walk away, waiting until she's a comfortable enough distance to slouch, gloved hands coming up to press into her temples.

“Soo, you know Ominis Gaunt?” Poppy rests her cheek against a fist, face bright with curiosity. 

No longer pretending to be preoccupied, her spoon lazily sways in a loose grip, unevenly swinging through the air like a broken pendulum. Adelia follows its movements, matching up her blinks every time it begins moving in the opposite direction, becoming frustrated at its randomly timed directional switches.

Left, right. 

“I'm no more acquainted with him than you are with Natty.”

Left… right, left.

“Hm, I don't speak to her much outside of class but she did mention lending me a book about magical animals native to Uganda. I'd say that's closer than I am to others.”

…Right, left.

“What about Highwing?”

Pause.

Her left eye twitches.

Poppy leans in close, an earthy and delicate scent of grapefruit and poppy flowers filling Adelia's nose as her head tilts up. 

“Shh, we shouldn't mention her here. Besides, animals and people are kept in separate categories in my head. It's like a staircase, leading up to the top where my favorites are at the moment.”

Adelia chuckles, lifting a hand off her face to playfully poke a finger at Poppy's forehead.

“Animals being at the top of the staircase, while everyone is… somewhere towards the bottom steps?”

Poppy giggles, lightly swatting away the hand in denial, beginning to explain how much more animals need her love than people do, when a distant screeching noise grabs their attention.

Glancing away and up at the sudden hooting from a rush of delivery owls, Adelia’s breath catches in her throat, eyes scanning for a speckled, lanky barn owl.

Feathers fall during deliveries, urging students to cover their plants and goblets in a hurry, unwilling to risk droppings from the creatures that are of the unwanted variety. 

Adelia almost knocks over her pumpkin juice in her haste, a name forming on her lips as she shoots up from the bench.

The words die on her tongue, however, as the bird her eyes were hunting drops off a few letters to Adelaide Oakes then flies back through the open window.

Feeling dejected, Adelia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Due to her lack of focus, she's unable to hear a sudden swooping noise nearby, instead coming face to face with a pair of piercing yellow eyes a hair's breadth away from her own. 

“EEEH-”

She gasps, cutting off her own sudden screech of surprise and wobbles backwards.

Icy panic rushes through her veins, surging through her gloves in a sweeping gust of wind that wraps around her back and stabilizes her feet back onto the stone. 

A cold hand reaches towards the fuzzy grey owl’s beak, fingertips frosting over the edges of the envelope as the bird completes its job and flies back through the open window. 

Her heartbeats quickens from the adrenaline spike in her veins, noting the unintentional casting of ancient magic again that she should definitely try to figure out more about later.

Voraciously scanning every square of the envelope, Adelia rips open the seal and reads over the two sentence letter with a pounding heart.

------

Come and see me. I've discovered something in the locket we found at Gringotts.

------

Frowning at the simplistic message, she flips the paper around, even holding it up to the light, as though her father's letter had accidentally gotten stuck to this one.

Lowering the letter in disappointment, Adelia's eyes dart over to the High Table, noting Professor Figs's usual absence still holds true tonight.

A clenched fist crumbles the paper awkwardly at her own foolish display, her body aware of all the stares she's attracting but carefully avoids meeting anyone's gaze.

She slowly sinks back in her seat, acknowledging the barely felt pats of pity from Poppy with a weak smile, forcing herself to avoid staring jealously at the lace ribbons and floral decorations of Poppy’s letter pile back to her lukewarm stew.

Perhaps it's me. My wish to receive a letter is causing the universe to prevent that from happening.

This is what happens when I get too comfortable.

Letting out a deep sigh, her eyes slowly drift around the Great Hall, skipping over happy students receiving packages or voraciously reading the latest copy of the Daily Prophet.

So many people have been asking for favors or requests and it made me feel important. 

I should remember my place. Girls like me shouldn't pine for dreams far out of their reach.

Even after repeating her former governess's words in her mind, her view subconsciously locates the Slytherin table, honing in on a particular elegant man with stormy eyes strong even to rival even the strongest of sea tides. 

A boy that's currently wielding a butter knife like a shield against Sebastian's torn-up potato farl sword, while pointedly ignoring the owls dropping off a few dark envelopes with emerald green wax seals onto his gravy.

Ominis. 

One of the only boys who has yet to ask her to fetch a potion ingredient for him or to ask around for their missing homework assignment. 

Seemingly someone only content to speak to her when Sebastian ropes them into group study sessions or a round of Gobstones. A boy with a polite smile but a thousand comebacks prepared to spew out in response to banter and someone who refuses to show the cards in his hand unless absolutely necessary.

I just can't understand him.

I sit next to him in History of Magic class. We even once shared a textbook once when I accidentally dropped my bag into the Black Lake while diving for Grace Pinch-Smedley's astrolabe.

Just when I feel like we're making progress, he says something rude and shuts the conversation down. I hate seeing his amused smirk turn into a scowl if I ask too many questions or behave overly familiar.

Can I really say he considers me a friend or even likes me when we've talked to each other without Sebastian a handful of times? For all I know, he sees me as Sebastian's stuttering Hufflepuff friend.

Lovely.

Not even her subconscious understands the relationship they have.

The tips of his ears turn pink sometimes when we talk closely or our hands brush.

Though that's normal, isn't it? For purebloods who have little to no experience around the opposite sex, that is.

My governess skipped the lesson on friendship, but given my circumstances, I feel as though I’m doing unexpectedly well.

Either way, I'll figure out how to make him more comfortable with me. That way the three of us can all hang out without it becoming awkward. And I’ll ascertain why his presence causes my ancient magic to go haywire. 

Ominis Gaunt may not consider me a confidant yet, but he should get ready.

We're going to become the best of friends .

~~~~~~

Skulking along the shadowed walls of the Clock Tower Courtyard, Adelia sharply inhales as the sound of footsteps near her position crouched behind a glinting set of armor. Moonlight shines off the surface of the recently polished chest plate, casting funky shapes along the opposite wall. 

Almost tripping in her haste to hide, Adelia smashes a hand against the floor, quickly grabbing her bottle of ink before it smashes into smithereens. She wills her body to come to a complete standstill, holding her breath and clutching an open bag to her chest, hoping glints from the knight's armor will cover any gaps in her disillusionment charm.

Merlin's tap shoes, this floor is way too slippery to hold duels on. Lucan, we are going to have a chat.

This is the first time she's putting the spell to use after pulling Sebastian aside after dinner to request his help. Unsurprisingly, Sebastian was incredibly eager to teach Adelia the intricacies of this spell, proud of himself for “already corrupting his new charge”. She could practically smell the smoke from his brain as he plans their future pranks and stealth missions, sneaking out of the school at night or into the restricted section of the library. 

She didn't bother correcting him, rather wishing to utilize this spell to write a letter away from the prying eyes of her roommates, eager for gossip about their newest classmate. As much as she adores Poppy, the witch has a terrible habit of reading over her shoulder and audibly reacting. Like clockwork, writing a letter means drawing the unwanted attention of both Adelaide and Lenora, the latter of whom is incessant on not keeping secrets within the confines of their room.

We shall not repeat the Demiguise incident of September 14th.

Hence why Adelia chose to brush her hair in front of their vanity, patiently awaiting closed curtains and light snores before sneaking off in her cotton nightgown and slippers to compose an overdue letter.

Sensing the dress shoes pause, Adelia takes the chance to peek around the knight's trousers, getting an eyeful of a long, blue-lined cloak. She traces the edges of the cloak up to a head of windswept cinnamon hair, a tall body barely twisting in place as though taking a lackadaisical approach to his prefect duties. 

When he finally turns around, Adelia compresses herself into a ball, wand in her lap digging uncomfortably into her chest as she huddles against the stone wall, the limestone scraping her back and pulling on her loose curls. Biting back a noise of discomfort, Adelia tilts her head back, inadvertently locking eyes with the Ravenclaw boy. 

Can he see me? 

Her mouth drops open in shock, desperately refocusing to hold concentration on her spell, wishing his sudden interest in the coat of armor next to her was just a fluke. 

Just keep breathing steadily, it'll be okay.

The boy blinks slowly, his hooded eyes sharpening for a moment behind a silver monocle at her crouched figure, before an almost imperceivable twitch upturns his lips. His gaze flickers up and down, catching on a lone periwinkle handkerchief that had fallen out of her pile, laying innocently against the dueling ground. 

No! Please don't look over here.

His brown eyes soften, then he seems to consider something before his whole body swivels around, taking an exaggerated look at the empty hall.

A soft, melodic voice fills the quiet courtyard. “Someone must have forgotten to reattach this knight's favor. I sympathize with him.”

Approaching closer, his nimble fingers reach for the piece of cloth, lace edges catching on a couple calluses. Fluffing the handkerchief, the boy leans over Adelia's figure, neatly tying it around the knight's arm. 

He's so close, enough that my slipper is hovering over his shoe, but it's like he's purposefully trying to avoid touching me.

“A gift of devotion presented to a knight must be cherished. If a lady took the time to bestow this upon me before a Quidditch game,” He secured the knot in place, glancing down at her with a playful smile, dimples briefly appearing on his cheeks. 

“I would never allow it to drop.”

Ba-dum. She presses a hand over her thumping heart, cursing at it for not slowing down.

Striding away with a hum, his long legs cross the room in very little time, Irish lilt ringing out clearly. “Well, no one is over here. I better double back and find Alison.”

Shutting the door with a resounding thump, Adelia shakily stands up, still tracking the Ravenclaw's path as though he'll saunter back in at any moment. 

Who is that guy?!

Taking a deep breath in wonderment, Adelia dusts her pyjamas off and swiftly unties the handkerchief, checking the embroidery for any snagged string before carefully folding it into her bag. Doubling checking for any other lingering prefects, she sneaks her way across the mossy cobblestone and creaking covered bridge, trekking through grass-lined dirt paths and uneven steps until she finds herself in front of a heavy wooden door. Reversing her charm, Adelia forces the door open and climbs to the top, ignoring the lingering scent of mildew and bird droppings the whole way up.

Amongst the numerous stone cubbies lining each circular wall, owls of different breeds and patterns hoot and turn their heads to watch her wool-lined feet attempt to dodge their messes. One barn owl in particular, Adelaide’s speckled avian that she calls Flakey, has his head fully turned around to make direct eye contact while creating a greater stench off the side of a railing. 

You’re here for a reason. It’s a good reason. This is a good thing. Everything here is fine.

Muttering the mantra to herself, Adelia grabs and spreads out her periwinkle handkerchief, covering just enough ground for her white frills to not scrape against any splinters or loose straw. Uncapping the inkpot’s lid and dipping a long quill into it, she hesitates for a moment then begins scratching against her parchment. 

------

Dearest Mother,

Mum,

I apologize for not writing sooner. Hogwarts has kept me too busy to even think preoccupied, but you were right. 

I am a Hufflepuff!

It wasn’t my first choice but I’m surprisingly really enjoying it. The common room is always warm and I’ve even made a few close friends, from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin! I’ll tell you more about them in my next letter. By then, I’ll probably have made a Ravenclaw friend to round ourselves out. Everyone has been so kind, sharing their treats and helping me find the kitchens to request snacks from the house elves here.

By the way, Nonsuch wishes you well. He also says that Norby and Yavvy better make you a pile of lumpia when you’re feeling up to eating solid foods, otherwise, he’d have to send you a package himself. 

I’ve been doing decently in my classes, as well as I can when starting so late. Professors have given extra assignments which have helped a lot. I actually got one during dinner earlier, for Transfiguration. 

That was your favorite class, right? If you have any tips, I’m all ears! 

Well, all eyes, since I’ll be reading your response.

Grandmother hasn’t sent me a letter yet about avoiding muggleborns my sorting or her plans for the debut ball. Last I can recall, she commanded Yavvy to rearrange and deep clean our ballroom for winter, but she hasn’t requested my preparation for any rituals or dress stylings. No one from Slytherin has mentioned it yet either but that could just be due to the ages of our family members. 

In terms of my debut dress, I’ve had one previous appointment for measurements and to submit paperwork to Gringotts for a deposit. The second appointment is scheduled soon, where I'll be choosing from a catalog of Mr. Hill's designs.

What dress did you wear back then? Grandmother insists on getting a new dress but I wouldn't mind repurposing yours for the evening.

I’ve only visited Hogsmeade a few times but the village is louder and more crowded than I thought it would be, even without the first school-wide trip of the year.

There’s even a street musician, Ernie Lark! He doesn’t play any instrument himself, but I’ve seen him concentrating magic on two at once, which is still pretty impressive. I wish I Could you imagine if I did that with the piano and the violin? Sirius would be out of a job! 

Speaking of our family, I just want to let you know that Calyx is behaving himself. Well, more so than usual. It took a whole month for him to get detention this time! 

If I knew how to charm this paper to send confetti, your bed would be filled with it right now! (I’ll compensate by drawing it around the borders of this letter instead)

Is Ria still a ball of energy? I bought her a pair of gardening gloves before I left, so I hope she’s been able to plant something in her corner of the greenhouse. Please inform her that I love and miss her. Her drawing has been attached to the wall of my room with a sticking charm and it reminds me of home her every time I see it. 

Your health i Have you been sleep

I found a puzzle from Tomes and Scrolls that I think you may enjoy putting together. It’ll be in the attached package, along with a Wiggenweld potion and a bundle of lavender, sage, and mugwort. Professor Garlick allowed special permission to harvest these plants from one of Hogwarts’s greenhouses, so I chose ones for calming nerves, protection, and remembrance. 

Do you think these will help? If there are any other combinations with benefits you prefer, please let me know right away, so I can prepare them posthaste. 

All Hallows’ Eve is right around the corner, and then it’ll be winter break. We’ll be cutting it close, but I may get home in time to celebrate my birthday with you! You only turn 16 once, after all. Depending on the timing, I’d love it if you could help me get ready for the debut ceremony—not the midnight one, but the winter solstice party that marks the beginning of Yule.

I miss yo 

I’m excited to celebrate the upcoming season and can’t wait to celebrate Yule, this year. It’ll be lovely to come home for the holidays and have Filipino food again. 

Please take care of yourself and write back whenever you can.

Sana masarap ang ulam mo!

I love you. Mahal kita.

Your anak,

Lia

------

Crossing out and re-editing her mistakes several times, Adelia finally finishes her letter just as the sun has completely dipped over the horizon. Passing off the envelope and package to the friendliest (and most bribable with Poppy’s extra owl treats) bird she can locate, waiting for its wings to flap far into the starry distance before heading back to the castle. 

Her nightgown is thin enough to feel the slight chill from the night’s fall breeze, but it’s not enough to deter her uplifted mood. Smiling to herself and rolling back her shoulders, feeling as though she’s lost a moderate amount of weight from them, Adelia eagerly slips back into the castle.

Greeted with the sounds of snores and rustling blankets, she slithers into her soft bed sheets, ready to face anything that comes next.

Notes:

Tagalog translations:
Tatay - father
Sana masarap ang ulam mo! - I hope your food is tasty!
Mahal kita - I love you
Anak- daughter

I've included commissioned art in this chapter by giselsann-opencommissions on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 9: A Gathering of Two Mentors & A Swarm of Butterflies

Summary:

Adelia finally reunites with George Osric and Professor Fig. They all work out the next steps of the plan, starting with lessons from Professor Hecat and leading to the school library's Restricted Section.
First lessons with Ominis kicks off with learning a creation charm, allowing Adelia to create butterflies. While she begins the lesson a bit frustrated, she discovers a different side of Ominis and enjoys herself far more than she expected to.

Notes:

Hello!

This may or may not be my last upload before the end of the year, so I'll say now:

Happy Holidays!!

Enjoy!

Pushing open a creaking wooden door, Adelia peeks inside a cozy-looking office to find two of her mentors hunched over a decorated desk in the center of the room. Gently shutting the door behind herself, her lace-up boots click over the stone floor and cheerful red rugs to place herself in front of Professor Fig and George Osric.

“Greetings. Professor, I’m glad to see you.” 

Adelia gestures to the aegean blue-robed man, before turning to a bespeckled man in mahogany robes to address him. “Same to you, Mr. Osric. I’m even representing your former house colors.”

George lightly chuckles, observing the perfectly tied golden bow at the apex of her collar with a smile. 

“You wear it well, my dear. I'm delighted to know you’re amongst kind peers while adjusting to Hogwarts.” 

His forehead wrinkles as the smile drops, scanning her form as though investigating for something. “Fig and I heard about the troll attack in Hogsmeade. Truly a wonderful feat, if not worrisome for such a young student. Have you visited…”

George turns to Professor Fig in question. “Madame Bliney?”

“Nurse Blainey.” Professor Fig corrected.

Both men glance questioningly at Adelia.

Her hands raised placatingly, an inappropriately timed smile at their care creeping across her face before she smooths it over. 

It’s been so long since I’ve had an adult worry about my well-being. I haven't even flinched much around the professors, which is the best indicator that I've become more relaxed at Hogwarts than home.

“Everything turned out fine, especially since my escort is well-versed in dueling. Although… the trolls were determined to attack us. Both were wearing armor with a dark glow, like on the dragon’s collar and the bank goblin’s armband.”

“Goblin silver!” Fig exclaims, a fist hitting the side of his desk in emphasis. “Ranrok used it to control both of them. But how? And why send trolls to-”

A deep sigh cut him off, Adelia’s teeth beginning to worry at her lower lip. 

“They were there… because of me. I overheard Ranrok talking with Victor Rookwood.”

“Rookwood?” Mr. Osric replies, his eyebrows shooting up at the mention of his name. “With Ranrok?”

Adelia nods, further explaining the unsuccessful trap Rookwood laid out for her to allow Ranrok access to her for the locket from Gringott’s vault. 

“This is grave news indeed,” Professor Fig remarks, his hand lifting to his chin in thought. 

“The locket. You wrote in the letter that you discovered something?”

“Yes, yes.” 

Fig’s exterior brightens, showcasing a more excited and adventurous spirit.

In a flurry of movements, he signals for George and Adelia to gander at a map laid out on his desk, detailing a floor plan for the Hogwarts castle with no visible indications or clues to follow beyond that. 

George hums, his fingers dancing over the light etchings in the paper, tracing a nonsensical path along various courtyards and staircases. 

Adelia on the other hand freezes in place as clear dew drops undulate around the sketched Hogwarts Library. 

More specifically, the Restricted Section.

Of course it’s at an area off-limits to most students. Though I think Sebastian suggested we sneak in there before, for some reason. 

“It’s there,” She points out, her ancient magic guiding her hand along the dew drops, swirling and intermingling with the map. “Shall we go?”

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm-” Professor Fig starts, explaining his worries about the possible dangers that lie ahead, especially after what happened to his wife, Miriam. 

Reluctantly nodding her head, Adelia agrees to meet with Professor Hecat to hone her defensive magic, hoping to strengthen her skills to meet with Professor Fig again quickly.

Just as she turns to leave, Mr. Osric calls out for her, walking around to the desk to face her with a jolly smile. 

“On a better note, wouldn’t you like to hear about what I’ve learned at the ministry? I’m curious if either of you were able to figure out anything while I was away.”

Hopping in place in an undignified manner that her Grandmother would turn her nose up at, Adelia quickly nods her head in excitement, jumbled words tumbling out her mouth about the idiosyncratic behavior of her ancient magic. 

It feels so nice to tell someone about my ancient magic woes. 

I’ve tried subtly asking Poppy for advice without hashing out all of the details, but that just led to a few late-night Hogwarts Kitchens trips for gossip sessions with her and Natty over tea and biscuits. 

As comforting as it was to be surrounded by house elves again, it felt too similar to holding my tongue in front of Grandmother Isa when I hid information from her, with my only allies in the vicinity being our house elves setting me aside a plate of cut fruit behind her back. 

I can only tell half-truths for too long before she asks for the whole story. Natty has taken to patting my back while I dodge her questioning glances, respectfully choosing to not indulge her curiosity over my secrecy. While I do think they’d understand, I’m not quite ready to put them at risk of Ranrok and Rookwood. 

If information is power, then I may inadvertently place them directly into their line of fire. 

“Hm,” George hums, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I remember my magic being uncontrollable before attending school. There was a time when my father had a wand at the ready, to counter flying dishware when I had tantrums.”

“Eleazar?”

“Yes, George?”

“Do you believe the random bouts of ancient magic could be Adelia’s magical core experiencing what we all did as children?”

Professor Fig crosses his arms in consideration. 

“That could be possible. If she were to experience a strong enough emotion that her magic surges in response, then that would be a matter of meditation and regulation. It’s harder to understand the magical theory in Miss Rosewater’s case though, unless we were able to research and study ancient magic more thoroughly. If only it wasn’t so rare.”

“Even as the Head of the Department of Mysteries, I have limited access to certain types of information that Unspeakables assigned to that focus can freely access,” His mustache twitches in displeasure. 

George twists to look over his shoulder at the locket’s map. 

“However, I was able to find some information that may help. It seems as though Hogwarts itself may have been built using ancient magic. Like in the memory from the vault in Gringotts with the two wizards building the interior with their magic, it’s possible that one of the reasons why this school has maintained sturdy for so long was due to its initial construction with ancient magic.” 

“Do you think that’s why the library is flowing with ancient magic on this map?” Adelia asks.

“That could very well be it,” George agrees. “It seems like the originators of this locket wanted to keep the secrets of ancient magic hidden in one of the safest places in the wizarding world.”

From next to a window across the office, Professor Fig speaks without looking up from a towering book pile. “If there was any place to protect a secret from ne’er-do-wells the likes of Ranrok or Rookwood, Hogwarts would be the ideal location.”

“All the more reason to find what Ranrok is searching for before he does.” Adelia voices aloud, echoing the same conclusion her fellow wizards had come to.

“Though it will likely take more time than what we’ve been granted, I’ll continue working towards uncovering any helpful information. Of course, the only people privy to this will be the two of you,” George acknowledges. 

“Wouldn’t want Rookwood to catch word of my assistance any more than he already has.”

Adelia nods, exchanging goodbyes and pulling open the door to leave, ensuring she’ll visit Professor Hecat soon.

~~~~~~

“Review this chapter on Conjuration theory then alert me when you’ve finished or need clarification on something.”

Adelia hums, diving headfirst into a complicated web of intricate wand movements and key factors that impact the effectiveness of each spell. Solely focusing on the concept of concentration was enough to set her mind into a tizzy, her mind soon requiring a brief reprieve lest she dooms herself to spiral further into frustration.

The Astronomy Wing is quiet from where they sit, in front of a large semicircle stained glass window and brass telescope, surrounded by empty study tables and teetering stacks of library books. Most students had left for Hogsmeade or to bask in the sunny day a couple of hours ago, leaving her and Ominis as the few stray kids left inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, practicing their transfiguration spells. 

Adelia was very thankful that Ominis agreed to help her out, having wrongfully assumed that he would refuse Professor Weasley’s request, not holding the patience to teach basic spells to her. Beyond that, she was elated that he was willing to meet right away on a late Saturday afternoon, instead of heading out to Hogsmeade with Sebastian. 

Peeking to her side, Adelia soaks up the sight of a casually dressed wizard dipping his quill into a fresh pot of ink and inscribing something onto the assignment paper. His posture and expression are far more relaxed than it typically is, wrinkles along his eyebrows and downturned mouth have smoothed out, the youthful glow reminding Adelia that they are the same age.

While professors are strict about Hogwarts's dress code policy throughout the school week, weekends are the time they allow students to wear their own robes, given they are appropriate  and don’t distract from their studies. From what Sirius told her, this was a policy their mother had requested before he arrived three years ago. She wished to use this as a way to showcase their wealth and assert authority early on, in preparation for when he takes over as the heir to House Black. The Hogwarts Board of Governers currently hold mixed opinions on keeping this policy, so Adelia is happy to take advantage of it while still possible. 

Observing his current appearance, Ominis has also decided to forgo his uniform this afternoon. While his clothes scream of a familiar luxurious quality, the silk poplin shirt showcases a laid-back style and partiality for comfort. His sense of fashion surprises her, seemingly preferring simple designs and lightweight vests over current societal fashion trends. 

He may be the black sheep of his family but that's just another quality she’s realizing they have in common. 

After greeting each other, both students claimed spots on either side of a velvet couch, electing to review Professor Weasley’s instructions and notes respectively. Aside from an offer to split a cauldron cake from a bowl of sweets nearby, few words were exchanged between them. The silence that followed wasn’t as awkward as Adelia had expected, the pair enjoying the break in noise from their classes after a full week of quizzes and caring for puffskeins, in Adelia’s case. 

Adorable as they made be, the nasty buggers spent little time trying to jam their tongues into her nose after receiving them. She swears they were determined to steal part of her brain.

What’s left of it, at least. It’s practically withered away after the latest installment of extracurricular assignments, Summoner’s Court rematches with Natty, and Poppy's never-ending monologues about magical beast grooming techniques. 

“Have you finished reading?”

Ominis's voice breaks her thought pattern, the pages sliding to cover her hand as she startles, barely managing to keep a grip on the dog-eared chapter in question. 

“Ahem. Yes, I have.” Adelia clears her throat, straightening up to recompose herself.

“Good. Was there anything you found tricky? All of this is a review for me so pinpointing your confusion is the next best step.”

All of it? 

Ugh, my head keeps swimming with DADA and Charms spells, so the theoretical nature of Transfiguration just adds to my stress.

Adelia explains her Room of Requirement assignments, detailing the level of exasperation she faces when casting Conjuring or Vanishing spells, especially in comparison to DADA’s more instinctive Protego or Charms’s creative Accio spell.

“It’s like hitting a wall. I can say the incantation and wave my wand in the same way Professor Weasley shows us but nothing changes.” Adelia continues, trying to prevent the deep levels of exasperation from entering her tone. “I’ve reviewed the rules several times over, trying to follow the transformation formula to no avail.”

Adelia huffs, inspecting his expression for the usual disappointment or contempt of her governess. He appears in deep thought as if running through a mental checklist of possible solutions.

“Can you tell me what you think of when you’re casting a spell?”

“I… I guess I think about the outcome I want? Like, if I want to create a seating area for the room, I’ll think of a chair to use.”

His face pulls into a frown, setting the notes beside him and scooting closer across the plush sangria couch. 

“You guess? Transfiguration magic deals in absolutes.” 

His wand beams a bright red dot when turned towards her slouched figure. “Either you weave your magic efficiently to create a desired outcome or you don’t. Anything else is incorrectly cast magic.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“If something is drilled into your head for five years straight, it tends to become second nature.” 

“Right.” 

Adelia sighs at the reminder that she was thought to be a squib for almost all of her life, unable to utilize magic or attend Hogwarts until several years after her peers. Reclining against the back of the couch, she squeezes her eyes tightly until small fuzzies float around the back of her eyelids.

“You were considered a squib for a while, yes? I believe I remember hearing chatter about your magic not manifesting when we were younger.” 

She fights the instinctual snort curling in her throat, gently blowing out the air in a controlled manner before speaking. 

“I was.”

“What changed?” His head adjusts, ear tilting to her as though he wishes to not miss a single word. 

She ponders his question, her body shifting its focus towards him at the expression of pure curiosity for her condition.

“I think I did. The very first time I used magic, I was overcome with anger at someone, and ice just,” Her hands push out in emphasis, imitating her first accidental casting of magic.

“Shot out of me. It destroyed my parent’s vase, which I’m pretty sure was a couple of centuries old too.”

Once again, Ominis reacts in a way that she doesn’t expect him to. Rather than grimace at the mention, he seems to nod along, as though that’s a normal situation without any lasting consequences. 

It’s so easy to forget that he’s a Gaunt, even when he doesn’t blink at the destruction of a priceless art piece. Reading between the lines of how he mentions his family, it wouldn't be surprising if he gets punished no matter what actions he takes, which has developed a sense of pessimism within his familial dynamics.

Though no matter how intimidating or rude he may get, that streak of cruelty and sadistic tendencies that thrives in the Gaunt bloodline must’ve skipped a generation.

“Was it similar for you?”

“Many things get destroyed when I first accidentally cast magic. I was told that I had blown a hole in the side of our house when I was four years old. Apparently, I had wanted to follow after Aun- someone leaving but didn’t understand the concept of visitation, so I attempted to leave with her. Naturally, that plan failed and a few Muggles had to have their memories wiped.”

Adelia blinked a few times in disbelief, imagining the shocked look her house elves would take on if Ria’s tantrums got more destructive, causing the villa’s kitchen to have an open entrance to the back garden.

“Emotional regulation is one of the first things I worked on with Professor Fig,” Adelia says, recalling the various meditation sessions where she challenged her magic, later trying to tackle the impossible task of untangling her ancient magic from the rest of her magical core. “That and learning to extract the magic from my core to utilize it.”

Her fingers tapped against the hardcover of her textbook, the tune of a classical piano piece filling the quiet between them. 

He’s silent for a few moments before whispering an answer to her unconscious melody, eyes unfocused in thought. “Moonlight Sonata.”

Her fingers halt, stopping so quickly that one of her fingernails catches on the edge of the spine, causing an unholy scratching noise to ring out. Her head whips over to his surprised expression, almost as though she had woken him up from a daydream.

“Y-You-”

“That was-”

“...”

“...You may go first.” 

Even while looking completely thrown off by this situation, he yields to her in a gentlemanly manner. 

Adelia feels completely lost, her heartbeat rapidly picking up as she processes this situation, unable to tear herself away from his complex facial expressions, seemingly just as lost as her.

“You remember that song?” 

It wasn’t a commonly played tune in the wizarding world. Most trained pianists prefer to arrange their own music or interpret sheet music from wizard musical artists, rather than muggles. Even fewer know of the title itself. Adelia only knew of the piece from Carina’s instance that a true musician must ‘expand their musical horizons’.

“Yes, well… I believe so. It reminds me of larkspur and green apples, sitting in a garden with a gentle melody as my accompaniment.” 

Larkspur and green apples. A song that few others played after my ridiculed performance. Admitting all of this to me in a nostalgic tone. 

He remembers what happened between us completely and thinks of it fondly. 

I… 

What is this feeling?

Overwhelmed with memories and the sudden urge to tear up at his sentiment, Adelia shakily releases a breath and rolls her shoulders back. Understanding that she should steer the conversation towards their lesson, she continues speaking.

“Music helps me focus. If I use a metronome to guide me, then all I need to do is time the spell correctly and concentrate on creating something.” Try as she might, Adelia is unable to keep a newfound softness out of her voice while explaining her thought processes. 

Briefly shaking his head as though physically pulling himself back to the present, Ominis considers her words, face flattening into a neutral expression once more. “After understanding the technicalities of spellcasting, it’s important that you have a clear understanding of what you’re trying to accomplish.” 

He holds up an empty cauldron cake wrapper for her to see, then points his wand at it in concentration. 

“Evanesco.” 

In the blink of an eye, the wrapper disappears quickly enough that Adelia almost wonders if it even existed in the first place. It’s an excellent demonstration but even more than vanishing spells, she finds it extremely tricky to properly cast a Conjuring spell. Because it has many practical applications, both for the Room of Requirement and the N.E.W.T.S. test in seventh year, Adelia acknowledges its cruciality to her spellcasting repertoire. 

“What about conjuring spells?”

“Those tend to be far trickier, as you’re creating life rather than expelling it.” The hand not gripping his wand lifts to stroke his chin in consideration. “It also depends on what you’re trying to create, with living creatures requiring a far greater focus than non-living items. What situation do you think this spell would be useful for?”

“Like, if I traveled across the English countryside and found myself surrounded by sheep that need herding? I could conjure a border collie.” 

Though she wasn’t allowed any pets growing up, Adelia always admired the friendly and loving nature of dogs from afar whenever her neighbor’s animals got loose and wandered into her garden. 

Ignoring his bemused face, she continues to express the faults in her spell casting.

“In Charms class, all I need to do is memorize incantations and be creative. I fear Professor Weasley has higher expectations of me than I can live up to,” Adelia reluctantly admits. “It’s difficult enough to create a whole new object out of thin air, but for it to have details and be living? It sounds like an impossible task.”

Ominis shakes his head, disagreeing with her frustration. “I’m sure this’s why Professor Weasley asked me to help you out. This may come as a surprise to you, but I cannot see.”

Adelia pauses before theatrically gasping. “No!”

His lips twitch in amusement at her added dramatics and continues. “Since I’m unable to rely on sight, my other senses have become enhanced to compensate, so I make use of touch and hearing to picture an object or creature. Over time, I’ve acclimated to learning this way, so I have few issues ‘visualizing’ anything I wish to create.”

Adelia takes note of how confident he is about his condition, wondering if he’ll indulge her curiosity further. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like to see your magic?”

His face scrunches in contemplation, taking in a breath to explain. “Once upon a time, I did long to see what I’ve accomplished. I do have some advantages with this wand, though it certainly cannot compare to a set of eyes like yours. If anything, finding innovative solutions to solve any potential roadblocks presents an interesting challenge.” 

His smirk turns confident, almost appearing as a mirror image of Sebastian’s daily self-assurance. “And I’m not one to back down from a challenge.”

Goosebumps appear along her arms as a shiver runs down her spine at the display. Inside her core, ancient magic roars to life and spills out of her gloves, surrounding his figure yet never actually touching him. She forcibly swallows, rapidly pushing down the rising tide of confusion at her body’s reaction, thankful that he’s unable to see her flaming cheeks while she struggles to compose herself. 

What was that? How did he make my magic flare up again? Why do I feel so overwhelmed?

The weather was cool enough that I didn’t need my fan but now my body’s starting to sweat.

Oh, Merlin’s braided beard, I need to focus on the lesson and repress whatever this is right now .

“It’s said beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What if the beholder never has any visual stimuli? Then what is considered beautiful?”

A fascinating question indeed. 

What would Adelia do if she were in Ominis’s position, having no concept of the world through her eyesight?

The answer depends on the perception of my other senses.

Soft things appeal to her the most. Blankets, laughter, and hugs are all gentle things she loves, yet doesn’t have to rely on her eyesight to appreciate them.

I have a feeling he prefers a well thought out response than if I listed something less personal.

Somehow he always seems to know whether I’m being truthful or not. 

“I think… it’s a raw form of beauty. Not the kind that we’re conditioned to look at and hold as the highest standard to achieve, but what appeals to your other senses the most. I enjoy soft things, so materials or actions considered soft are beautiful to me.”

Ominis hums at the answer, his fingers running over a recently transfigured page filled with lines and lines of little bumps. 

Having gotten used to his nonverbal casting of this spell from their time sharing a textbook in History of Magic, it hardly came as a surprise to see him immediately whip out this spell for their first Transfiguration tutoring session. 

Braille feels daunting to learn but it may be helpful for correspondence with Ominis, so he doesn’t need to transfigure my letters each time we schedule a study session.

Maybe that’ll be the next thing he teaches me. Well, assuming this arrangement works out, that is.

“You’ve mentioned in History of Magic that you don’t like animals, right?”

Adelia makes a noise of disagreement, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s more that animals don’t like me. Poppy, my friend Poppy Sweeting, has been getting an uh, companion of hers acclimated to me, but most animals would rather avoid me. I assume they can sense my anxiety but I’m not certain. That’s my only theory at the moment.”

“Are there any animals that you do get along with?”

A faint memory of dirty hands planting honking daffodils crosses my mind, the sound of wheels over rolling pavement as my grandfather stops alongside my kneeling form showing off the freshly planted daffodils. 

“Look! Look! Nanay said you can see the daffodils right from your window. Even if you can’t get up to see them, you’ll be able to hear them if the window is open!” I look up at him, eyes full of hope.

A shaky, weathered hand reaches for my head, taming down the loose curls with a few pats. “You can plant as many as you’d like. One day, I hope to look out at a garden full of your plants.”

I beam up at the ashen elder with a big grin missing two front teeth, handing over an extra flower too withered to replant.  “They’re yellow, which means they’re happy! So every time you see them they will make you happy too, Lolo.” 

“That’s very-”

A heavy cough cuts off his words, trembling with the effort to clear his throat while not scaring me. As he tries to regulate his breaths, a small blue butterfly flutters between us, delicately landing on his flower. 

My eyes and mouth open wide, and I slowly creep over to his wheelchair so as not to disturb the pretty creature. We both observe the butterfly absorbing nectar from the plant, hearing fluttering sounds beside us, as a kaleidoscope of butterflies replicates that lone butterfly’s actions and drinks from the freshly planted flowers. An explosion of colors and movement burst around me as these creatures ate from something I gave them.

Overcome with joy at the garden’s success, I almost miss the odd expression on my grandfather’s face, but I am too young to discern the complexity of emotions. 

“Apo, we are blessed to see these butterflies. They will bring us good luck and wealth.”

He gestures for me to hold out my hand, gently transferring the flower to my awaiting palm. It doesn’t take much longer for the butterfly to finish, but before it glides away, it lingers above the flower, hovering with a flapping of its wings. Flying forward for a movement, it delicately flits around my head and rejoins the others in their flower feast. With a giddiness in my chest, I grip the flower stem tighter in my palm, feeling more excitement for the future than ever before.

Fluttering her eyes at the memory, likely having spent too long recalling it, Adelia tenderly answers his question. “Butterflies.”

Her hushed words linger, and only the faint chatterings of distant portraits fill the cozy air, which is made all the more comfortable by the warm heat radiating from the stained glass behind them. She slowly takes a few deep breaths and closes her eyes, wishing to remain in this floaty atmosphere for a bit longer. Fabric rustles beside her, brain uncomprehending of the mutterings and swishing motions of her companion, while recalling the iridescent sheen of the only creature she feels a kinship with.

“ Papilifors.” 

Taken aback by a sudden whirring sound next to her ear, Adelia’s eyes shoot open, coming face to face with an icy blue, uniquely shaped butterfly. She gapes at the dusty-looking creature emanating faint traces of magic behind as it cuts through the air, swirling into a figure-eight pattern before landing on a motionless pale finger.

Trailing from the pale wings up to a deeper set of pale eyes, Adelia finds herself unable to pull her focus away from the tender smile on Ominis’s face. Her body unconsciously slides closer to his, the edge of her flowy skirt pressing against his slacks as she reduces the gap between them even more.

“I’m quite fond of butterflies too. I’ve spent a lot of time in gardens growing up, especially when receiving visits from my aunt.” 

“Your aunt?” Adelia responds gently, thoughts filled with curiosity.

“Yes. She was unlike anyone else in my family.”

Ominis uses his wand to detect the witch’s presence, steadily moving his finger to rest between their bodies, as if to show off his creation. “Aunt Noctua cared deeply for the insects and bugs in our garden, allowing me the chance to feel the shape and texture of butterfly wings.”

Reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the most vulnerable expression he’s allowed her to see, she observes the accurate anatomical features of this butterfly. 

She deftly slides her manicured fingernails free from her lacy gloves and piles them on the couch. Cautiously lifting a hand to glide along the butterfly wings, it flaps a singular time, spreading them out in invitation to her awaiting fingers. 

Even though its whole body and small scales are a translucent light blue shade, its wings release a powdery substance, not unlike the chitin from a non-magical one.

“ Wow.” She breathes out in reverence, her mind silent for once as she delicately pets the butterfly and thoroughly experiences this moment.

“Adelia,” Ominis voice drifts through the air, grabbing her attention. “Look up.” 

Following the direction of his voice, her head tilts up to the most brilliant display of magic she’s ever experienced. While she had been preoccupied earlier, he had taken to casting this spell several times over, creating a similar yet unique kaleidoscope of shimmering butterflies. Her ancient magic, which has begun to leak out and swirl around the dancing butterflies, pales in comparison to the emotions his magic is causing her to feel.

If this is what it’s like to be friends with Ominis Gaunt, I wish never to leave his good graces again.

He once said that I was talented on the piano. If my melodies can capture even a fraction of his transfiguration talent then these butterflies have truly blessed me.

“I can cast this too?” She breathes out in disbelief.

Her ancient magic gently cups around the butterfly lingering on Ominis’s finger, the edges of his magic and hers swirling together, like the blending of paint to create puffy clouds against a gradient skyline. 

“Assuming you’re willing to work hard at it, then yes,” His voice teases. “That shouldn’t be too challenging. You are a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?”

Understanding the implication of a challenge in his voice, Adelia meets it head-on with a freshly inspired confidence. 

“Yes, I am. And I will.”

The responding huff of amusement only fuels her smile more, mentally thanking Professor Wealsey for choosing the exact person she needed. Even though she’s unaccustomed to spending time individually with Ominis, he somehow agrees to continually meet after classes the next week, until she’s able to cast this butterfly-conjuring spell on her own. 

Once she’s back in the comfort of her dorm room, freshly bathed and into a comfy nightgown, Adelia tightly grips a pillow to her chest, finally willing to sift through the complicated range of emotions Ominis Gaunt inspired in her today. Her acquaintanceship with him elicits an almost familiar feeling, yet if this afternoon was any indication, several hidden emotions are waiting to reveal themselves when the timing is exact. 

Being around Ominis, it’s completely incomparable to being with Sebastian. 

Seb's disarming smile and flirting remind her of Jiho, while his self-assured attitude and single-minded focus are just like Carina and Phineas. It’s almost too easy to view Sebastian as either an old friend or relative, their natural banter and joke flowing in a way that feels like they've been friends forever.

Ominis, on the other hand, is a complete wildcard. 

She both wants to impress and understand him more, peeling back those familiar pureblood layers to lay bare the boy that she knows is hiding underneath, waiting for someone to pull him up to the surface. The side of him enveloped in bushes of larkspur and roses that only Sebastian and Anne are permitted to perceive. 

She buries her face in her smooth pillowcase as an unbidden thought crosses her mind, wishing for its chill to soothe her now burning cheeks.

Is it selfish if I want to uncover him too?

Notes:

I've included commissioned art at the end of this chapter, first by silvyadrakkon , then by chrisfroot on Tumblr.
Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 10: Interlude

Summary:

A brief collection of snippets from the week of Adelia & Ominis’s Transfiguration lessons.

Notes:

If you're interested in listening to music while reading, there's a specific piano piece that I think goes well with it.

https://youtu.be/yTyiwtfpO8s?si=juLvUBznLCiCbPsT

Interlude: Conversation Excerpts From Transfiguration Lessons

Hogwarts Astronomy Wing 

Adelia & Ominis

To the tune of Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Variation 18

 

“Adequate. One more time.” 

“Ominis, I’m begging you. This is the third session in a row that we only discussed wand techniques and the anatomical structure of butterflies. Can we please move on to the incantation now?”

“You wanted to learn this all by the end of the week, didn't you?”

“Well... wanted is a strong word. Yes, but-”

“Then focus, Miss Hufflepuff. Picture the shape and feel of its wings.”

“I'll try, Mister Slytherin.”

~~~~~~

“Fine. You’ve worn me down. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Have you heard about the Daily Prophet’s new butterfly journalist?”

“Nope.”

“It’s travel articles are really taking off. Some even say they’re a flight read.” 

“... snort. S-Sorry… that’s a uh, bad habit of mine.”

“You need not be apologetic for laughing at my pun. Sebastian snort-laughs far more and much louder than you do.”

“I appreciate that. But when I’m around you, I-I don't know. I just… get the inclination only to show you my proper side. You always seem so elegant, even when you’re only casting a spell. It calls my governess’s teachings to my mind like when she said I should ride sidesaddle on a broom or only wear skirts, rather than trousers.”

“From what I’ve heard from Anne, forgoing dresses for trousers isn’t as much of a stigma nowadays. However, she may be biased, considering she was a Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team. It's not as though I could tell the difference in your attire preferences anyway.”

“Somehow, I feel like you would know. Besides, you could always find out if you were interested enough.”

“How?”

“ Hm, by using your other senses?”

“…”

“Your sense of hearing is impeccable, after all. Or your wand? You navigate around the school perfectly with it.”

“…Yes, perhaps.”

“ Ehm… did I say something wrong? You’re making an odd expression.” 

“No.”

“...?”

“Ahem. Enough distractions, I’ll teach you the incantation now. Repeat after me. Papilifors.”

~~~~~~

Whiffs and swooshes resound as Adelia's wand cuts through the air briefly.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

“What are you- oh-”

“I can feel the grooves of your wand causing your grip to slip. It would be easier with a wand handle, but if you place your index finger here-”

“-Over this notch?-”

“-Exactly. Then curve your pinky just like so… perfect. Now, try again.”

“Alright.”

Crisper thwips fill the air, much faster than before yet lacking in confidence.

“Could you show me the wand motion one more time?”

“It will be easier if I guide you through it. May I?”

“Yes, of course.”

A quiet vibration from the witch's wand shakes Ominis's hand, placed atop hers once more. The wand protests the unfamiliar touch but reluctantly allows itself to be maneuvered.

“Flick your wrist quicker to the left after completing the number three shape. Again.”

Unlike the timid motions from the last few tries, her wand slices the air just as intended.

“Very good. Do not waver in your convictions, you must cast this spell with certainty.”

“Thank you. I think I can see the bigger picture now.”

“Excellent. Let's see it together, using the incantation this time.”

“With or without the additional hand on my wand?”

“Ah, my apologies. You may proceed.”

“Heh, sure. Papilifors."

~~~~~~

“I-I think its wings just moved. Ominis. Ominis!”

“I'm blind, not deaf. No need to hit my arm, I can hear its wings flapping.”

“I... I did it. My butterfly is actually flying!”

“See? I’ve said it was possible so long as you're not allergic to hard work.”

“You're surprisingly helpful, Professor Ominis. Since I finished the assignment, will you grant me a reward?”

“Very well, my dedicated student. The pile of cauldron cakes is all yours.”

“YES! Sugar rush, here I come~”

“Mm, perhaps we should wait until Sebastian arrives then.”

“No way, he’ll steal my hard-earned reward. Besides, don’t think I overlooked you trying to pawn me off on him.”

“Was I that obvious? Oh no...”

“...”

“...Anyways.”

“Don’t walk away from me. Ominis! Let’s go to Herbology class together. Ya know, last time I dealt with a tricky plant, it ended with gifting Duncan Hobhouse a Venomous Tentacula leaf.”

“Hobhouse asked you to do that? Tsk. I’m not surprised Puffskein Dunkein is resorting to favors to rid himself of the allegations of cowardice.”

“Allegations, nay. It’s all true. Poppy even offered to help get him over his fear but alas, he restored to asking me for help.”

“I’ve heard you regularly do favors for other students. Regardless, it sounds like you have an arsenal of gossip at your fingertips.”

“One could say that, yes. Though I know you hear a lot of whispers around the school too. Would you be interested in trading information with a… a friend?”

“Miss Rosewater, I do believe this is the start of a wonderful friendship.”

~~~~~~

 

Notes:

I've included art at the end of this chapter by Olivedraw on Ko-fi.
Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 11: A Trip In The Right Direction & A Slaughtering Of Loyalists

Summary:

Life for Adelia is going well, despite her busy schedule! Expect for when she accidentally falls onto Ominis. Again.
Finally progressing with their ancient magic research, Adelia & Professor Fig discover she needs to do a series of trials to prove herself.
Before that commences, she spends her day off attempting to get that debut dress, only to uncover a devastating, yet somewhat open secret.
At San Bakar's tower for the first trial, Adelia goes through an emotional rollercoaster of the worst kind, giving way for a bittersweet and necessary conversation.

Notes:

Hello!
I have been writing a few different chapters at a time, really choosing scenes I wanted to write which caused later chapters to finish before this one. It starts nice and really ends in an odd place, but ties into how Adelia was raised to think & her OCD.
Please enjoy & remember to read the warnings before reading the chapter.

Btw, I've moved this work into the Mature category & will add more warnings if I get more descriptive later on.

Warning: Dissocation, Slightly graphic description of violence near the end of the chapter during a fight

Rummaging through her bag to pull out the Field Guide, Adelia sticks to her promise to visit the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Who let her know that not only did she know about Lucan Brattleby’s student-led dueling club, that Adelia only participated in with Natty once, but that she should practice spell combinations with him. 

Lucan’s excitement was as charming as it was a few weeks ago, reminding Adelia that she should visit him more often—if not to get tips, then to absorb more of his encouragement. 

Fire magic wasn’t her forté, necessitating several examples and mental coaxing to turn her typically chilly magic into a fiery inferno so blazing that Lucan almost signed her up for a duel in that second. Adelia had to physically hold his quill hostage until he acquiesced, allowing her to fight the next Saturday instead. 

Even when she tried to leave the Clock Tower Courtyard as soon as possible, the Incendio practice went on far longer than she had anticipated, leaving little time to update her professor before the corridors came alive. 

Just like every other late Saturday morning, students mill about with their friends, loudly prattling on about homework or their weekend plans while filling up the more populated areas of the school.  

The only enjoyable parts of days like this are testing new Honeydukes sweets to find the sourest one and styling one of my new outfits from Gladrags.

Though she had to spend almost every galleon found in caves and chests near the school, Adelia is satisfied with her new selection of robes, hair ribbons, and jewelry. Since she's accustomed to dressing her best, owning a few outfits that aren't her school uniform or pajamas is very comforting. 

Striding along the Defense Arts the Dark Arts tower laced in a pair of sky blue heeled boots with red ribbons, Adelia sports a matching pinstripe dress fitted with frills and puff sleeves. A golden gem rests against a perfectly tied satin bow, casting a shimmer onto nearby paintings with every dispersion of light.

Bounding with newfound confidence, Adelia's roommates successfully convince the witch to swap her typical bun for two purposefully messy twin buns. While not a look she has tried before, their whoops and cheers of compliments incite rosy cheeks and an almost imperceivable spring in her steps. 

Might just be the weather but today feels like it’ll be a great day!

With a giddy smile and mouthful of sour strips, Adelia pages through the back of her book for blank pages, pausing briefly to write a new entry into her makeshift journal. After a few minutes of propping her tome against a railing, Adelia remembers the task she has to complete. Capping her inkpot and stowing a lilac quill, she fans the parchment dry and flips through her field guide for its map. 

She’s been to the classroom enough to vaguely know the route, but using a guide ensures she’ll safely end up at the Professor’s door without embarrassingly asking an upperclassman for directions. Casting an enchantment to relocate Professor Hecat’s classroom, Adelia has her nose fully stuck in the book, unaware of the students joking and playing Exploding Snap nearby until it’s too late.

“Woohoo! I win. Pay up, Imelda.”

“You bloody cheater. Come back here.”

“Gotta catch me first, slowpoke.”

“Aye, I’ll slowly poke out your- ugh-”

“WhaH-”

Colliding into another girl, Adelia stumbles with wide eyes, her book loudly thumping on the floor as she falls forward onto someone. Her forehead hits something hard, eyes closing with a groan as a pounding headache rushes in at full force. 

Cracking open her eyes, a Slytherin girl blurrily stands up with a dark scowl that refuses to lighten at Adelia’s profuse apologies.

“Watch where you’re going, ‘puff.” 

The dark-haired girl glares, tightening her ponytail and stalking after a Ravenclaw boy who begins to run after witnessing her wrath.

“Agh.” 

Adelia groans and hangs her head, inadvertently hitting something hard again. 

“Is this a habit of yours? I cannot say that I particularly enjoy it.”

An unamused voice rings out beneath her, the boy remaining still while she lifts her head from his shoulder at a dizzying pace.

Stormy grey eyes lock onto deep ocean eyes, their bodies caught in an impolite position that shouldn’t be as familiar to her as it is.

“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” Dad expresses, securing my body on his lap while we read a storybook together. “Just like how the main character now thinks of the man as prideful. Even when he no longer acts that way, she still believes he is arrogant.”

“Is it possible to change her mind, Dad?”

His large body hugs me against his belly, and his laughter tickles as he presses a kiss to the crown of my head.

“Over time, they’ll understand each other more. Though I’m sure if that was you, iha ko, it wouldn’t take much time at all.”

Adelia scrambles off of him, stuttering apologies as he reluctantly accepts her frantic gestures to help him stand up. 

“O-Ominis, I didn’t- I’m sO SORRY. A girl hit- bumped into me out of nowhere, well… m-maybe I bumped into her too but- either way, I happened to fall on you again. Not that I meant to the first time, o-or this time-” 

“Adelia. Breathe.”

Obediently her lungs suck in a greedy mouthful of air, choking on the sudden aid to her burning throat. Her eyelids blink back the stinging threat of tears, trembling in place over yet another mistake she has made.

It’s my fault. I messed up. Why am I like this? It’s all my fault.

“Seriously, how difficult is it for both of you to stay out of trouble?” Ominis grumbles.

Even though he protests his role as Sebastian and Adelia's supervisor, he mutters small reassurances and reminders to continue inhaling air while grasping for his wand.

Searching for anything around her in distraction, she does a double take after scanning his thankfully uninjured body. While she's used to his typical emerald Slytherin robes, Ominis is notably wearing fewer layers this afternoon. Once again, she's reminded of how simplistic his style is in comparison to the typical garish large jewels and furs of the Gaunt family.

His fitted black slacks smoothly slide over polished dress shoes as he extends upright, using his wand hand to quickly run his fingers through disheveled blond locks. He's clothed in a white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a tailored black vest that, while admittedly looking incredibly fleecy, didn't do anything to lighten his shoulder bones' impact.

Huh, he looks cozier than normal. 

Still, why did I trip onto him of all people in this blasted school?!

Her inner and outer rambling cuts off as he stretches to his full height, silencing her with a discontented blink and a gentle squeeze to her trembling fingers. His lips purse and eyebrows furrow, but he seems reluctant to fully scold her.

“I accept your apology. Though I do question why you choose to wear shoes with a heel when you constantly trip onto people.” 

His lips twitch before relaxing into a more neutral expression, letting out a quick yawn before continuing. “One would assume you’re trying to use them as a cushion.”

“It wasn’t even a soft landing,” Adelia grumbles, feeling more comfortable voicing her complaints now that the scary girl from earlier left and Ominis seems willing to banter with her. “Your shoulders are too bony to rest my head on.”

“And yet, you chose to do so anyway. I know you weren’t here for the medical emergency seminars in our first year, but shoulders are meant to be bones.” 

He lifts an eyebrow with a challenging stare, the ruby gem situated at his collar matching the gleam in his eyes. 

“In the future, I'd prefer to be woken up with chocolate frogs or even Papilifors, rather than the full force of your skull.”

“You were asleep? …In the middle of the hallway?”

“Not quite the middle if I’m against the wall.” He tilts his head and leans closer, a boyish smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sure the stained glass above me held quite the view. However, it seems you were more interested in testing out the sturdiness of my shoulders than the window.”

I was missing this the whole time—or rather, a part of his personality he intentionally obscured behind a wall of sarcasm and wit. 

Audacity.

No wonder he's friends with Sebastian. His cheekiness is simultaneously annoying and ruthlessly endearing.

“You fall on someone one time!”

“Two times.” He interjects.

" Two times!" Adelia amends, her voice laced with fond exasperation.

“Fell for my best mate, did ya?”

Footsteps clack on the stone tiles behind them and Adelia inhales a breath, an explanation on the tip of her tongue until her mind registers the voice. 

Her head whips around to see an intrigued expression on Sebastian’s face. His eyes dart between their proximity, completely rapt in each other and oblivious to his approaching form. A smirk crosses his lips while lifting a hand to his chest in mock upset. 

“Adelia, I thought we had something special. I’m hurt~”

Suddenly feeling the weight of Sebastian’s penetrating stare, Adelia avoids eye contact, quickly tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. Her boots scuff against the stone while hastily placing a wide berth between her and Ominis. 

Ignoring the growing flush on her cheeks, Adelia responds with a playful pout. “Oh no. Whatever are we to do about your crumbling honor?”

“Shall I seek satisfaction in the form of a duel?”

“Based on your descriptions, it’s unlikely her gloves would come off long enough to elicit one.” Ominis cuts in while fixing one of his sleeves. “Even if it means getting to smack you with it.”

He has more moles on his arms than I guessed he would. They stand out more on his fair skin than mine so that’s likely why they seem countless.

Wait. Focus.

Seb has described my appearance to Ominis before?

Setting aside that piece of information, Adelia speaks again. “Unfortunately, you must wait until next Saturday for an opportunity to restore your honor. As is decreed by our duel coordinator, Sir Lucan the Fiery Third Year.”

“Fiery?” Sebastian questions, crossing his arms with an amused smirk.

“Blazing?” Adelia suggests. “He helped with my Incendio spellwork, so whichever moniker sounds the most rewarding.”

“Gryffindors at it again with their need for glory,” Ominis comments aloud to the space between Adelia and Sebastian. “Their sense of chivalry always charms the crowd. Prepare flowers to throw now before they're all snatched up.”

“Luckily for us, she prefers Slytherins,” Sebastian remarks confidently. 

It’s not like he’s wrong, life just happened to work out that way. Beyond my house placement, this would be a standard friendship circle for any fellow pureblood.

“No comment.” She cheekily replies, finally maneuvering around Sebastian to resume her previous task.

“You can’t deny your destiny!” He playfully shouts after her. 

“Who says I’m trying to?”

Adelia cheekily curtseys at the duo with a giggle before weaving herself into the crowds, quickly fading from view. 

~~~~~~

Upon Professor Fig’s return to Hogwarts, Adelia regales him for the multiple quests she went on while he was away, from visiting a woman in Azkaban to obtaining the missing pages necessary to find the map chamber from Richard Jackdaw. Setting the book in its rightful place, in a hidden room underneath Hogwarts, magic spills out and brings the chamber to life. Specks of magic dance along the floor as they form a map of the surrounding area, even bringing out Professor Rackham who explains about the upcoming trails she’ll partake in to gain access to invaluable knowledge. They’re trials she’ll need to do alone due to her ancient magic abilities, and no matter how much anxiety fills her at that thought, Adelia understands the treacherous task ahead.   

“Until then. Be careful. And do not tell anyone where you’re going.”

Considering Professor Fig’s advice, Adelia keeps her head down the rest of the day, busying herself with tedious assignments for Professor Sharp and Professor Garlick in Hogsmeade. After speaking to Albie Weekes at Spintwitches, she spends the rest of her money on a broom to ride to the tower when meeting Professor Fig. Noting down the name Imelda Reyes in her field guide, Adelia writes to ask her about flying timed trials.

Arriving at her appointment at Gladrags Wizardwear with 30 seconds to spare, she wastes little time looking through Augustus Hill's binder of designs to find the most practical and comfortable option. After flipping through for at least 15 minutes, her fingers stop on a particular silky design, the dress itself almost glowing at her in enticement.

“This one, please.”

Mister Hill stops cleaning his glasses and holds them out to the page, blinking as he processes her choice.

“Forgot that was an option… hm. No matter, let's take new measurements.” 

Clapping his hands, two measuring tapes fly around her, cozily wrapping themselves around her arms and legs while a feather quill writes out the measurements he lists off. Marking up a detailed order form, he passes it to Adelia, indicating her signature. Right as she dips the pink quill in an inkpot, he raises a hand to stop her, frowning at a recently opened letter.

Clearing his throat, Mister Hill passes it over to her with an unimpressed stare. “Before we waste my precious fabric, you need to provide a form of payment. Granted I've done charity work in the past but only donating for banquets or fundraisers, never for an esteemed pureblood family.”

Gaping like a fish, Adelia reaches for the letter and skims its contents. In clear ink, Gringotts has rejected Augustus Hill’s invoice, stating the reason as ‘lack of funds’. 

That can't be right. My family has never hurt for galleons, despite owning a fraction of the wealth a Malfoy or Gaunt is born into. 

“Since both of you use the same vault number, I’ll pass off these unpaid invoices to you. This store has outstanding payments for Isa Kadara Black, for a few heavily adorned taffeta dresses and hats. A little elf came by to collect them before Gringotts sent these back.”

While she processes this rejection, Augutus unfolds a few other invoices and adds them to her growing pile of unpaid commissions.

“I apologize,” He states, lifting a dainty teacup and taking a long sip. “However, I must receive payment for at least half of these clothes before making your dress. You bought from here last week, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to scrounge up 946 galleons, yes?”

Her neck snaps up to ascertain his candidness so quickly a few bones crack and pop. His mustache twitches as he stares her down over the teacup’s rim, appearing none-too-pleased. 

“Sir, I-” Her head spins. “One moment, please.”

Adelia gives her best placating smile and speed walks behind the store’s floral room divider, needing space to think in this open, one-room shop. Her mind thinks through the meager galleons found in caves and abandoned chests that she recently spent all of on other clothes and a broom. The newly grown confidence stemming from her wardrobe immediately declines and she blames herself for not planning well or asking her grandmother to send replacement funds like she originally intended. 

That would’ve been a fruitless venture, from what Mister Hill claims. If I speak out of turn she hexes me, but if she steals from my parent’s vault, that’s justified? How is this remotely fair? 

Okay, let’s think this through. My first priority is getting my dress made. It will take time, but could be finished the same day if I pay extra. In terms of obtaining the funds, I may have to give him my personal bank account information. Father will be so disappointed in me, but I don’t have many other options. It would take far too much time to find loose change around, so I’ll take from my dowry fund now and replenish it later. There won’t be much left after I pay this off and commission my dress, but a hurt wallet is better than a hurt body if I return home without following Grandmother’s orders.

Coming to an unfortunate solution, Adelia forces on her best calculating, pureblood persona and marches to Mister Hill, curling a demanding hand towards him. Her foot taps impatiently against the ground, mustering up enough courage to stare him down with a haughty huff of impatience.

“There has been a misunderstanding. My family has too many vaults to keep track of, so mistakes will happen. I’ll correct the paperwork for now.” 

I’ve seen the type of man he is in many other merchants. He is driven by money and conviction, not necessarily greed, but the confidence of someone with enough wealth to buy several clothing items from his stock. 

He swallows his mouthful of rose tea, eyeing her for a prolonged moment, then flashes a wand to her order form and slides it over the counter. Observing as she pricks her finger and presses a thumb against the sheet, his lips finally twitch into a smile. Carefully sliding her new invoice into an envelope, he attaches it to Gladrags’s delivery owl and sends it off. Once the bird sails over the triangular-roofed shops of Hogsmeade, Augustus walks back inside and instantly gets started on her dress. 

“Please have it sent up to the castle,” Adelia requests over her shoulder, checking one last time for his cheerful response.

The chiming of bells signals her exit and acknowledgment that she can drop the act, slumping her shoulders and rubbing away the growing pain in her temples. An insatiable itch creeps over her bones, feeling gross after becoming a replica of the little doll she was trained to become. Tapping out a rhythm against her head scratches that itch enough to think, standing in place for at least 10 minutes until her body feels right again. 

At least that’s dealt with, I suppose. Perhaps it was too naive to believe Grandmother draining the Rosewaters’ vault dry was an exaggeration. If Father’s funds from his expedition weren’t going directly to St. Mungos, I’d try to alert an auror or the Ministry about her theft. Not that they could do much, seeing as she holds a prestigious position there and is the acting Head of the Rosewater household, making her an authorized signer to our vault.

Adelia sighs, casting a quick Crinus Muto to fix her frazzled hair, and starts toward her common room. Quickly greeting her friends passing by between locations, Adelia changes into a comfortable adventuring outfit to follow Miss Willardsey’s request to follow butterflies into the Forbidden Forest. While it’s not the first time she’s ventured inside, fighting off a poacher camp nearby sets her on edge, dealing with them fast enough to move on to the next task. Listening to a nearby conversation only worsens her anxiety.

“Filthy Mudbloods shouldn’t be allowed to associate with the rest of us decent folk,” A dark witch spits out to her companion.

“I can’t imagine how embarrassing it must be to have a Squib for a child,” An uppity dark wizard responds.

Holding her breath as she sneaks around them with a disillusionment charm, only able to breathe with a distance of several trees between them. 

Focus on the butterflies. You love butterflies. They’re very pretty. Where are they going?

A letter from Narra Rosewater finally arrives for Adelia later that evening. Though her impulse is to tell Calyx about it, her homesickness attaches itself to her selfishness, wishing to keep it to herself for at least one night. She waits until all her roommates have gone to bed, shutting her muslin curtains for extra privacy and casting Lumos. 

In shaky handwriting, Yavvy transcribes her mother’s joy over her house placement and enjoyment over Hogwarts’s consideration towards her. Like always, her mother can sense Adelia's anxiety and reassures her, saying her healer cleared her to eat lumpia again. Her mother's health is currently stable, and Adelia needs to focus on herself, then expresses excitement for her debut. 

Reading the words over and over until she can recite them aloud, Adelia hugs the letter to her chest. Tentatively smiling to herself, Adelia carefully folds the letter up and places it into her nightstand, buried underneath old assignments and pieces of sour candy. And for the first time since she can remember, Adelia swiftly slips into a peaceful dream.

~~~~~~

To bolster her attempts to fade into the shadows, Adelia elects to sit at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast. Lazy Sunday mornings allowed all her roommates to lie in past their typical wake-up hours, bestowing Adelia the benefit of dressing in gray voyager garb without an abundance of questions. It also provides time to swap out herb satchets she left drying near their door without hearing complaints of fallen dead leaves scattered over the entry rug.

The Sunflower Room girls may be growing closer but that doesn’t prevent Adelaide and Lenora from hearing ridiculous rumors about the new fifth year and ascertaining the truth.

“Is it true?” Adelaide asks while I pile recently obtained clothes from the Highlands into a convenient spot for the house elves. 

“Is what true?” I mutter distractedly, refolding the stubbornly stiff blouse for the fifth time. 

“That you rode around the castle grounds on a hippogriff,” Lenora butts in, rotating around in her desk chair to point a feather quill at us. “Arthur Plummly said you flew so close to the water that he was afraid you would both get swallowed by the Giant Squid.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Poppy’s anxious gaze pierce the side of my head, silently begging me not to tell them about Highwing. 

“Ah, that's just another one of those barmy rumors,” I laugh, too sharp to be natural.

Adelaide nods, placated by my barely convincing lie. “I heard someone else say you visited a prisoner in Azkaban. That goes to show you can’t trust everything you hear.”

I actually did both of those things. She truly could’ve chosen any other rumors, like the ones saying I tap danced with a mountain troll or turned the old Herbology professor into a vampire, and they would’ve been false. 

While Adelaide refocuses on brewing tea, Lenora isn’t entirely convinced. Wrapping her burgundy cashmere shawl tighter around her arms, her mouth opens to press the topic further. Briskly changing the subject, I mention the same person she’s been noted promenading with around Hogsmeade.

“I must say I’m surprised you weren’t beside Arthur Plummly to verify that story, Lenora,” I start, brushing out any wrinkles on the folded fabric. “Rumors say the two of you have started courting.”

All it took was a few mere words to break her focus and Lenora began stuttering out a long-winded rebuttal, her cheeks darkening to match her shawl. Adelaide pours herbal tea into a teacup for her, not resisting the chance to tease their boisterous roommate. Poppy bursts into a round of relieved giggles, dusting her hands off on a dirty blanket filled with crumbs from measuring and portioning the animal treats stored in her trunk.

While she’s not proud of manipulating the conversation, though Carina would be filled with pride if she ever learned of it, it allowed her to keep Poppy’s secret safe. That trust was worth all of the awkward denying and side-stepping required to protect both her and Highwing, who finally granted Adelia a ride on her back, after weeks of earning her trust. 

Swiping one last bite of bacon, Adelia pats her mouth with a napkin and then sets off to fetch her broom. Squishing down tall patches of grass, she gets a good foothold and kicks off, soaring through the sunny sky to touch down on a dilapidated dirt path with an awaiting Professor Fig. Unfortunately San Bakar’s tower is surrounded by Ranrok’s loyalists, so Professor Fig suggests they investigate their camp to find out why they’re there. Rather than apparate into a tower without knowing what’s inside, they plan on sneaking past the goblins to go through the main entrance. 

“Well, this isn’t ideal,” Adelia mutters, casting the disillusionment charm.

“Quickly now.”

Creeping alongside wooden chain link fence posts like a set of overgrown chameleons, the pair sneak up behind an unsuspecting goblin stationed in the middle of a narrow cobblestone tunnel. Squatting behind a short stool, Professor Fig gives her instructions in a hushed tone.

“Stay hidden and cast Petrificus Totalus.”

Crouching lower, Adelia awkwardly waddles her way up to the shifting goblin, balancing the instructions and spell concentration in her mind. Her pointed boots accidentally kick a few stray pebbles toward his stool and she apologizes as they smack against one of its legs causing Professor Fig’s spell to flicker. Refocusing on the distracted goblin carrying several weapons, she shakily holds up a wand to the crossbow strapped against his back.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She whispers.

Thump.

The beating of her heart matches the crash of the goblin’s body as he stiffens up and collapses against unkempt splotches of weeds. Her chest heaves in a breath while backing away from the evidence, feeling wild and all too ready to move on to the upcoming trial. 

“Well done.”

“Thank you, Professor.” She proudly smiles in the direction of his voice, a hidden flush growing on her cheeks at the praise from her mentor.

Scurrying to the other end of the tunnel, they scour for goblins inside a crumbling courtyard, counting at least three nearby wielding sharp axes and knives. Sweat drips down Adelia’s neck while nervously shifting behind Professor Fig’s crouched figure, a restless thrumming buzzing beneath her skin. Unlike the Pensieve Guardians or poachers, goblins have proven unpredictable and reckless in battle, unafraid to use dirty tricks or throw weapons to get what they want. 

This isn’t a Crossed Wands battle, it’s a real fight. Her fingers curl around the notches of her wand, following the memory of a warm hand guiding her own to adjust her grip. Ancient magic sparks around her, creating a tension that’s itching to be released. 

Sticking to the original stealth plan, Professor Fig guides them around a broken stone pillar and open crate to knock out another oblivious loyalist.

“There must be something here. Ranrok said so,” One of the loyalists utters to the other in a grumbly voice, passing right by their hiding spot.

Sucking air between her gritted teeth, Adelia scooches forward in an awkward squat, aiming her wand at one of their backs.

“Petrificus Tot-”

“HAH!” A voice from above cuts her off, sending a crossbolt directly between her eyes. 

“Protego!” A purple shield protects her at the last possible second, rolling away to avoid a second arrow and axes swinging her way.

Slinging spells left and right, Professor Fig and Adelia turn back to back, trusting the other to ward off any stray weapons. Emerging out of a bilious green tent, a taller goblin with gleaming red armor fires up a shield, running over to the pair with a sharp, murderous grin. Backing up until she almost forcibly pushes her mentor over, Adelia freezes at the sign of an unfiltered sadistic grin. Every tiny hair stands up, her whole body tensed in preparation to run, uncomprehending of anything Professor Fig is shouting at her. 

Run. Pain is coming. They will kill you. RUN.

Stumbling over a steel plate beneath her boot, Adelia drops onto her knees, narrowly avoiding the full swipe of a silver knife slicing at her neck. Pain erupts at her neck as rivulets of blood drip from a thin cut onto her tightly wrapped plaid scarf, intermingling with her sweat to create a rank metallic odor. She presses a hand against the wound, ignoring the sensation pooling onto her glove while fighting to right her weakened legs. Mindlessly throwing up shield spells to the goblins forming a semi-circle around her, the larger goblin finally arrives within attacking distance, noisily shouting a war cry and aiming for her beating heart. 

No, I can’t die like this. Professor Fig and Mr. Osric are relying on me. Poppy, Natty, and Sebastian would fight to avenge me. And my family... my mother wouldn't survive her child’s early death.

No. There must be another way to clear my path. I will not die today. I refuse to.

Vibrations buzz in a rough current through her veins, zapping through blood-stained lace gloves to surround the courtyard in a hazy chill of icy blue. Staring down the bloody eyes and grisly grin of a goblin determined to undo her existence, their rough movements almost appearing calculated as their entire body slowly stretches closer. Tendrils of magic go haywire, sending pulses centralized from her magic core to the tip of her outstretched wand. Adelia’s body convulses and her eyes roll back from the force of this power, an incantation piling onto the tip of her tongue, fighting for control over this powerful impulse.

I REFUSE TO DIE. NO!

Lips stretch into a wide scream as raw ancient magic showers the frost-covered courtyard, sending spikes of pure dry ice to jam directly into the eyes, lungs, and hearts of these goblins, burning out eyeballs, knocking two unconscious and asphyxiating the final loyalist. Ruby red eyes become punctured with icicles, collapsing to the ground with delicately carved horns of ice jutting out from their skull. Not stopping at living people alone, build-up spurts of ice pierce uneven structures and misplaced powder barrels sparking up fiery explosions that barely alight the frozen-over clumps of grass. Shaking on uneven footsteps, Adelia’s arms slowly lower as her eyes return to their rightful place, blinking in disbelief at the gory carnage crunching under her heeled boots.

“Miss Rosewater.”

Swallowing dryly at her professor’s shocked tone, she feels her lower lip begin to quiver as she’s unable to look away from her blood-stained boots squishing a spare bit of intestines. 

“Miss Rosewater.”

I brutally murdered all of these goblins. Me, with these hands. With this wand.

Disregarding the persistently uncomfortable sensation on her neck, Adelia’s hands rise to her face, examining them as though she were a baby discovering the world. She clenches one hand and softly counts to the number five, repeating the same dazed gesture with her other hand.

This magic, this… sickness. I once believed it to be a gift. That finally, I was like the rest of my family. All the awful words whispered into my innocent ears were never true. Not only was my existence justified, but I had a purpose and reason for being born. 

What a cruel joke indeed. Is this justice? Maybe Grandmother finally cursed me enough to go crazy and I imagined this all while trapped in my own head. Or I’m finally living up to her expectations of me. 

She was right. I am crazy.

“Miss Rosewater!” 

Two weathered hands encase her own with a plea desperate enough to wrench her attention away from her blood-soaked gloves to refocus on a pair of concerned blue eyes.

Oh, Professor Fig is here too? How did someone as wise as him end up in such a savage nightmare?

“Hi, Professor!” Adelia giggles, her eyes blurrily unfocusing and refocusing.

Starting as a tiny giggle, her laugh intensifies, cheerfully filling the darkened courtyard until it gradually strings into strained sobs. Vulnerably offering up his arms to a sinner, she collapses against his gold-trimmed cloak, burying her snot-covered nose into a silk scarf. Time almost freezes as Adelia's cries fill the empty courtyard, gently squeezing her mentor in time to his hand rhythmically patting her back. 

Once her thoughts are organized, she slowly leaves the warm embrace, blowing into a delphinium-embroidered handkerchief with embarrassment at her mess. Examining her less tense but still alert figure with a frown, the wizard reaches into his bag to offer a health potion after observing her grimy neck. Reluctantly taking the vial, she gulps down the sickly sweet potion with a grimace and pockets the empty bottle. 

“Miss Rosewater,” He cautiously begins, concern evident in his expression. “How long have you experienced severe anxiety?”

She tenses, adrenaline rushing through her veins again, and taps against the handkerchief clasped between her palms. 

“I’m not crazy,” She immediately rushes to defend herself, an unsure expression flickering across her face. “I’m not.”

“Adelia,” He says seriously, the change in tone and use of her first name draws attention to his sincerity. “I do not believe you are crazy. Anxiety is normal to have. Some people experience higher levels than others and that is okay if you’re one of those people. It’s not a disease to cure but a medical condition to treat.”

Gaping in awe at his words, tearing up at the genuineness of a guardian figure that she had unknowingly been seeking out for years calms her nerves. 

My anxiety, this urge to touch things a certain number of times, is a medical condition? Something that other people experience too? 

I- I’m not alone.

At a loss for words, she can only gawk at his slicked-back grey hair while reaching into another pocket to offer up a familiar turquoise potion. 

“It may be difficult to return if we leave now but I don’t want you to feel obligated to complete this trial if you are mentally or physically incapable at the moment.” He sighs, swirling the vial between his fingers. “Before I give you this, how are you feeling? Be completely honest.”

Though she’s been through the emotional wringer in the span of an hour, and despite dissociating and experiencing a panic attack in front of her mentor, Adelia feels an eerie sense of ease wash over her nerves like the calm before a storm. Their conversation placated her anxiety but once the shock wears off, she has no clue what’ll happen. 

“Well enough to attempt the upcoming trial but unsure if I could last the whole way through without breaking down again,” She replies honestly.

“I prepared a few of these just in case. You’ve shown signs of having a lot of anxiety and well, Nurse Blainey can explain potion dosages to you when we return. For now,” He says, offering her a Draught of Peace potion. “Drink half of this the moment you feel yourself slipping away from our reality.”

Nodding, she pockets the vial with her other potions, taking a deep breath of relief for the end of the mentally taxing conversation. The draught’s glass rings a pleasant clinking noise against her other vials as she navigates around the melting bodies. Pointing to the green tent, the taller wizard and nimble witch stride over to resume and complete their intended task.

Notes:

I've included commissioned art at the beginning of this chapter by giselsann-opencommissions on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 12: Obstinate

Summary:

Ominis chats with his best friend and obnoxiously loud early riser, about the newest fifth-year. From what happened between her and Sebastian the previous night to the reason behind Ominis’s acceptance to become her tutor, both have plenty to discuss while walking to the Great Hall.
Heading to class together, Adelia almost has an epiphany before needing comfort from someone reluctant but willing to provide it.

Notes:

Almost wrote another interlude before this chapter & was considering posting another after this, but decided to just do regular ones. I might add it in the future, depending on how necessary it feels to the plot.

Happy Reading!

Bright beams of sunlight warm my skin through the stained glass windows of the Great Hall, the only comfort afforded on this tiresome day. 

Sebastian elected to wake up early this morning, not allowing anyone else in our dorm to sleep in. The big oaf has never been quiet and decided today was the day to rifle through his trunk while the sun rose. 

Fine by me, I can wait until he leaves to sleep again.

"Ominis~"

Nope.

“I know you're awake. You forgot to shut your eyes.” 

I can hear the smirk on Sebastian's face from my mattress but I will get more rest.

“Guess I’ll go down without you. What a shame. Suppose I’ll have to stuff myself with all the toad-in-the-hole in your absence.” 

I immediately sit up, ignoring the dizzying head rush, and turn to face the direction of Sebastian’s voice. “They’re serving toad-in-hole today?”

“The house elves are serving us a right treat to celebrate the last Friday before autumn break. You wouldn’t want their hard work to go to waste, would you?” Sebastian teases, his feet thumping on the stone flooring as he steps closer to me. 

I sigh in defeat. “Fine. I’ll make myself presentable.” 

“Mhm,” He hums, sounding far too smug for my liking. “You’ll want to look your best for your little study buddy. If that’s what we’re calling it these days.”

My fingers pause halfway through unbuttoning my nightshirt, head snapping in his direction. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing~ nothing. Just making an observation.” 

“An observation?” An eyebrow raises at his choice of words. “If you're so keen on studying my behavior like an obstinate herbologist then what conclusion have you come to, Mr. Sallow?”

Nimbly switching one button-up for another, my body unconsciously positions itself to avoid displaying any scars for longer than necessary.

“The formidable iceberg known as Ominis Gaunt has started to melt, thanks to the efforts of our sunny Adelia Rosewater.”

Is that what he thinks?

Laughter spills from my lips, slightly hoarse from the lack of water after waking recently, but effective enough to set Sebastian into motion. 

“There, see? You’ve been laughing a lot more than usual. Not to mention the sudden lack of personal space between you two, which we both know you set strong boundaries to maintain. After returning from meeting Adelia two nights ago, I even caught you smiling to yourself in the common room. You would never agree to tutor anyone unless it was me or Anne. And yet, you spent almost an entire week teaching her one spell.” His voice is triumphant, believing his argument to be infallible. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Sebastian. Did you forget who convinced me to accept Professor Weasley’s request in the first place?”

~~~~~~

“You’ve got mail,” Sebastian says in another distraction attempt, swinging his potato farl closely.

“Yes, I can feel that,” I reply dryly, wiping gravy off my wand while defending myself with a butter knife. 

Three people send me letters. Therefore the source of communication is easy to narrow down. Sebastian is currently dodging flakes of potato farl like his life depends on it. Anne employs one of Feldcroft’s community owls with a distinct, lingering scent of skunk. My father utilizes selectively bred owls for hunting and takes advantage of their obedience training to create difficulties for me. 

Judging by the bundle of letters dropped half-haphazardly onto my plate, I’d say it’s the latter.

“It’s likely regarding my birthday in two days’ time.”

I wait a few moments before slashing back, ripping his makeshift sword into two pieces.

“Merlin’s chest hair. I really thought I had you that time,” Sebastian sighs, chewing on a sizeable bite of potato.

“Get better.” 

With a cast of Scourgify, the letters are restored to a readable state. Hooray.

Slicing through the envelopes and tapping my wand against the letters to translate them into Braille, my fingers scan their contents for useful information. 

“Mfmghmf?”

“Yes, it’s my father,” I respond after double-checking the sender’s name.

“What d-dffirfimt?” 

“It’s unclear. He’s demanding I get fitted for a new suit and prepare for a luncheon hosted by Lady Black. I didn’t believe he cared about my future career… but he has a meeting arranged with the Head of the Department of Magic Equipment and requires my attendance.”

Sebastian chokes on a mouthful of pumpkin juice, trying to wash down his food long enough to speak. Tossing over a napkin in his general direction, I continue to read.

“I am instructed to sit in on the meeting to understand his business practices. You remember he owns The Spiny Serpent in Knockturn Alley, correct?”

Coughing a few times, Sebastian spits out a noise of agreement.

“Before he sells me off like a stud to sire a pureblood heir, I am to acquire knowledge of commercial practices and receive a pre-martial education.”

While Sebastian sputters at my matter-of-fact tone, I tear open the last letter, comprehending it as a formal invitation to the House of Black for a luncheon over autumn break. Lady Black must’ve written to the Headmaster for special permission to travel that far. I’m half surprised he acquiesced to his wife's demands. It must’ve been added pressure from Lord Gaunt that tipped the scales.

“Hold on,” Sebastian grabs my arm, shaking it like this whole conversation is a figment of his imagination. “Your father not only is going to give you one of his businesses, but he’s going to marry you off and give you ‘the talk’?”

Huffing a laugh at his gobsmacked tone and pushing off his hand, I reply. “We have tomes with step-by-step instructions. Though I wouldn’t put it past him to believe me so inept that I’m incapable of grasping the concept from a simple manual.” 

“Wha- Ominis, you can’t be serious. You’re not actually going to let him control your life like this, are you?”

Running my fingers through loose strands of hair, I sigh and continue with a bitter tone. “I don’t exactly have a choice, Sebastian. I don’t have the privilege of forging the life I want. Not while I live under his roof and take advantage of his connections to bail you out of trouble.”

“Of course, you have a choice. You can’t-” He cuts himself off, making a noise of frustration. “Don’t just keel over in the middle of a road and let the carriage of destiny run you over. Take initiative. Don’t accept this decision lying down.”

Hearing Sebastian’s words stirs my resolve slightly. Still, not enough to suppress the waves of fear and indignation toward my father, knowing what would come after denying him something this important. A shiver runs down my spine at the memories of his ‘discipline’ and a cold sweat forms along my back as it stiffens up, attempting to prevent displaying any more visible curse aftereffects.

A compelling voice suddenly appears behind our bench, drawing our attention to them. 

“Good evening gentlemen. I hope I’m not intruding on your dinner.”

“No, Professor Weasley.”

“Not at all, Professor.”

“Good. Mr. Gaunt, I have a request to make of you. Our newest fifth-year student, who as you know arrived quite later than your peers, requires some assistance with my Transfiguration class. Seeing as you are one of my top students and also have a unique set of circumstances for your spell casting, you would be the ideal student to tutor her for an extracurricular assignment or two. House points would be rewarded, naturally. Would you be up to the task?”

Tutoring? My first inclination is to say no. I had to develop my own techniques and habits for casting spells that likely wouldn’t translate well to others. Even for someone who’s a blank slate, learning spells the rest of us already know while keeping up with the current fifth-year curriculum. 

In addition to that, I have no interest in being someone’s tutor. Rumpling the letters between my fingers, it’s clear that I have too much on my plate anyway.

“Adelia?” I hear Sebastian’s uniform rustling when he turns to face our professor. “Does she need help? In all my classes with her, she’s outperforming at least half, if not most everyone there.”

“I can’t speak on behalf of her other classes but upon my prompting, she recalled difficulties with the subject matter. Naturally, I believed Mr. Gaunt to be the best student tutor for her and she agreed.”

Me? I understand Professor Weasley’s reasoning but it’s odd to think she wanted me to be her tutor over any of her friends. Like, oh I don’t know, Sebastian?

“Not me? I’d be happy to help out our little Hufflepuff,” Sebastian pouts though his tone is laced with too much lightheartedness to be taken seriously. “That’s alright. Ominis is up to the task.”

Snapping my neck over to his voice, I scowl. “What? Don’t agree on my behalf.”

“Professor, one moment please.” His hand clasps my shoulder, giving the illusion of a secretive sidebar. “What have you got to lose? She’s our friend and needs our help.”

“She’s your friend, not mine.” I remind him, going along with his inane shenanigans. “If you care so much, then why don’t you do it?”

“Because I’m busy with-” His voice lowers, an undercurrent of seriousness flowing through his words. “-research, as you already know. C’mon, Omi. We’ve spent countless hours with her since she first started. Are you seriously going to tell me that you feel nothing towards her?”

I wouldn’t say I feel nothing regarding Adelia. It's just not anything relevant to this conversation.

His hand squeezes my shoulder, conveying his sincerity to me. 

“If it means that much to you then fine. One spell. Then we can go back to giving each other passing acknowledgments.” 

“You do a bit more than that but if you so,” He snorts, whispering that before turning back to Professor Weasley with a confident smirk. “One spell it is.”

“Very well. Slytherin shall preemptively receive 10 points for your cooperation and I’ll award more after you complete the assignment. Here you are.”

She slightly shakes the paper, allowing my wand to pick its location. Taking the parchment with a small nod of thanks, I ready my wand to translate it while ignoring Sebastian’s booming declarations of pride.

~~~~~~

“I’ve started a tentative friendship with her for your sake. That’s all there is to it.” I say with finality, tightening my tie’s knot. 

His response is too quiet for my ears to pick up. He utters something like "Daft ,” hidden behind a low groan and muttered under his breath. 

The sound of a heavy object thumps against his walnut desk, the vibrations allow my wand to sense a thick tome in the middle of his mess of loose papers, bent paperweights, and unfolded laundry. 

Is that another dark magic tome? I told him not to mess with those again.

Oh, Sebastian. What would Anne think?

Staying silent while changing into my trousers, I hear the intermittent flipping of pages and take the time to choose my words carefully. 

“Were you able to find anything at the library last night?” 

I run my fingers over my collection of cufflinks, keeping them preoccupied so as not to give my apprehension away quite yet. 

“Not really,” Sebastian sighs, flipping over a few more pages. “At the last minute, I grabbed a book I had been eyeing. My main focus was that blasted Peeves. If it wasn’t for Adelia-”

Cold steel presses into my fingertips, nonchalantly rotating a pair of snakehead cufflinks between my index finger and thumb.

“Adelia?”

Her again? 

In the span of one and a half months, she’s managed to creep into practically every corner of my life. It wouldn’t be a half-bad situation if only Sebastian spoke of their friendship. However, I’ve resigned my fate to hearing whispered rumors and gossip exclusively of her odd behaviors and accomplishments for perpetuity. Not to exaggerate or anything. 

What is it this time? Did she fight an acromantula or entrap Peeves in another flaming juggling competition? Well, hopefully not the latter. That set of robes still needs to be patched up.

“Yeah, well,” He suddenly deliberates over his words, shutting the book. “She happened to need my help to sneak into the Restricted Section. At some point Peeves materialized and flew away, threatening to tell Madame Scribner what we were doing. We split up, but just as I was telling her I went there alone, Adelia revealed herself from behind a nearby bookshelf.”

My eyebrows raise, listening more intently while throwing on my plaid blazer.

What does she need from there? If nothing else, she did choose the most experienced classmate for the job. Though she really needs to help prevent Sebastian from getting detention rather than encouraging him.

“You should’ve seen the look on old Scrib’s face when Adelia told her Professor Fig gave us permission to be there.” 

I hide an amused smirk at the thought, practically able to hear Sebastian’s triumphant gloating for evading detention. 

“We attracted the prefects’ attention from outside and guess who backed our story up?”

There’s hardly anyone that’d cosign Sebastian’s madness, apart from myself or any misguided Slytherin attempting to preserve our house’s reputation. 

“McDowell?” I guess, snatching my bookbag from the top of my trunk.

His chair scrapes against the floor, neatly placing it against his desk dramatically. “Isaac Cooper.”

Quickly snatching my bag before it slips further through my fingertips, I grip it tightly, ignoring the sudden pain in my hands, and swing it onto my shoulder. 

“Your next-door neighbor, Isaac Cooper? The Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and sixth-year prefect?”

“The very same.” Sebastian enunciates every word, plopping onto his bed beside mine and tying his shoes. “I have no idea how they know each other, but one second we were trapped by prefects on both sides while sneaking inside, and the next they scattered like mice.”

That doesn’t sound right. “The Ravenclaw prefects? I’ve heard Cooper goes easy on the younger students but not when there’s a murmuration of them.”

Sebastian chortles at the pun, testing out his shoes with a few creaks against the stone flooring. “She must have a hidden charm or two. We were crouched beside the banister until he crossed in front of us. Then she said something like, “Second time’s a charm”, and tossed a handkerchief before his feet. Poor bloke tripped almost immediately.”

“He didn’t leave a face imprint behind in Central Hall, did he?” I ask, hopping over his usual dirty clothes piles to reach the doorway.

“No,” Sebastian opens the room to our doom for a moment, closing it after we’re out into the common room. “It’s those bloody Seeker reflexes. Surely there’s something Cooper can’t do.”

Pretending not to notice the selective greetings from the few students lingering on the sofas to Sebastian, I instead inhale the scent of sea brine and oakmoss, mentally biding ado to the comforts of the Slytherin common room before navigating to the Great Hall. Once the snake guarding the entrance to our common room slithers back into place, I speak again.

“You’re just jealous, Sebastian.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I respond, purposefully directing the glowing tip of my wand toward his face.

“Stop that,” He sulks like a petulant child, knocking my wand back to its rightful place. “The light hurts my eyes.”

“Perhaps Black did something right for once when banning Quidditch. Take this time to practice your broomwork and maybe you’ll make the team next year.” 

Tensing up at his sudden silence, my heart stammers at the slip-up, knowingly waiting for his response.

“It wouldn’t be the same without Anne.” He finally responds in a small voice, sounding like his mind is a thousand kilometers away.

This is the crux of the matter, isn’t it? With Anne on sick leave, I’m the only one left willing to steer Sebastian down the path of the light, of good. 

It’s not like I’m jumping for joy. My heart aches in her absence, cursed with the knowledge that she’s likely bedridden and struggling to breathe without feeling excruciating pain. We’ve even discussed how much time she has left, and she is likely only able to continue for another year or so. 

“Ominis,” He starts and my jaw clenches, already waiting for the request I’ll have to deny over and over again.

“I know you don’t want to deal with your family matters anymore, but Anne needs our help. The Scriptorium could be that chance to cure her,” He continues, desperation ringing from every word in his mouth.

“Don’t you want to see her healthy and attending classes with us? Back on the field, blocking every opposing quaffle and winning Slytherin the Quidditch Cup?”

Is it so bad if I wish to respect her wishes to stop looking for a cure? She wants to continue living with the short time left, not waste it all on a fruitless venture that’ll only cause her more worrying and pain. 

“Of course I do,” I spit out, angry that he would even ask a question like that.

“That doesn’t mean walking into danger and rifling through Dark Magic relics, risking getting cursed or injured ourselves, for the slim chance it holds an item that may cure her.”

“Ominis, I don’t understand why you can’t just-”

“Sebastian,” I firmly cut him off, stopping in my tracks to levy a disapproving stare in his direction.

“My decision is final. No amount of begging or guilt-tripping will change my mind. It only worsens my mood. Now, before I decide to forgo breakfast and sleep longer, can we just get to breakfast like civilized individuals?”

Multiple portraits around us have ceased their usual inane chattering. They obviously prefer listening to us quarrel over discussing which portrait has the best facial hair or prime hallway placement. 

“...Fine,” He relents, clacking sounds resuming as he passes me by. “For now.”

Choosing to ignore his whispered words of rebellion, we fall back into synchronization, easing into safer conversational topics. After a few minutes of listening to Sebastian’s nonstop chatter, we find ourselves inside the Great Hall, walking over to the Slytherin table. There are small collections of chatter as we pass by, not too many people willing to wake up before the sun does, unlike a certain mischief-maker beside me. 

The scent of fresh eggs and sausage is quite nice, though I would never willingly admit that aloud, lest I’m on the receiving end of the loudest smirk in the wizarding world for the next half hour. 

“Sebastian, over here!” A light voice calls out, sticking an arm to the side to wave him over. 

I can feel him perk up, grabbing my arm and tugging me over to a group of people sitting nearby. “Goodness. It’s not a race, Sebastian.”

As I attempt to pry my arm out of his grasp, my wand pulses in my grip in response to a slightly shorter figure getting off the bench to greet us. 

“Hey, I saved you a seat he-” Her voice cuts off, replaced with the sound of fabric shifting.

When she speaks again, her voice is softer. She leans closer to fill the air with the aroma of lemongrass and green apples. 

“Oh, Ominis! Hi.”

“Hi.”

I also reply in a quieter voice, fully freeing my arm from Sebastian and running a hand through my hastily styled hair. I curse under my breath for forgetting to apply its usual products. 

A throat clears beside me and I jump, gesturing for Adelia to take a seat before climbing onto the bench beside her. Ignoring the huff of laughter from Sebastian, my wand begins scanning for the toad-in-the-hole, immediately plating some up silently while they converse. 

I should've expected Adelia to be at the Slytherin table again. It seems she exclusively eats all her meals here bar dinner, as per Black's inter-house rules. It's hard not to notice her, quite frankly. It's uncommon for outsiders to receive an open invitation for meals at our table, even though other house tables frequently do so. 

She's not an unwelcome addition, in my opinion. 

The more time we spend here, the more the sun slowly peeks through the windows. I finish the last of my pumpkin juice to the sounds of steadily growing chatter, noticing the table filling up with more and more people. My goblet is pressed onto the table, stretching with a quiet sigh as I close my eyes and soak up the warm rays of sunlight. Voices fade in and out of my awareness as I sway, trying not to fall asleep.

“Another mysterious death. Daily Prophet says a pureblood this time… Marcus Goyle…”

“Give that back! Now look at what you did… boys and their tempers…”

“...admittedly a bit wary of what favor you’d request, but…” 

“...friends in my debt. Especially ones as pretty as…”

“... never snuck into the library until last night… found a book you mentioned before, Carina. I couldn’t find any peppers on it but…”

“Peeves can shove it right up his ghostly ars-” A voice angrily begins, getting cut off by a higher-pitched one. 

“Class starts soon. We need to get going.” I feel a gentle press on my shoulder and my hand rubs at my eyes when I realize I have fallen asleep. 

I turn my head, nudging my cheek onto the hard pillow like a cat. A soft gasp turns into an airy giggle, and goosebumps erupt over my arms as something chilly presses my wand into my loose fist. 

I’m still at breakfast. What did I fall asleep on?

“Don’t fret. We have Professor Binn’s class next, so you’ll have ample time to fall asleep again.” Adelia’s voice jokes right beside my ear.

Shooting up in surprise, I barely avoid knocking heads with her while stumbling over the bench to separate myself from her quickly.

“I-I apologize. That was unbecoming of me.”

My cheeks feel hot when I apologize, wand raising to locate her fidgeting figure standing up as well.

Salazar knows what unfortunate rumors may spring up from this. I don't mind hearing negative opinions about myself, but she doesn't need her name dragged through the mud by mere association with a Gaunt. 

Sebastian’s early wake-up must’ve caused my guard to lower far more than I realized. Normally I have issues falling asleep right next to someone but her scent-

No, I… I simply require more rest. 

Yes, that’s it. It has nothing to do with Miss Rosewater. Lemongrass is a scent that has always aided my relaxation as a child. My sleepless nights in the common room are catching up to me, however unfortunate the timing may be. 

“Look who’s the cushion now. It’s alright though, you looked quite tired. Let me know next time and I’ll uh- my scarf can double as your pillow.”

She clears her throat, tipping her head towards the exit doors. “Should we, um- let’s go.”

I nod, straightening up properly and scurrying to catch up to her quick movements. We move in silence for a while and I take the time to decompress, enjoying the quieter hallways as more and more people shuffle into their assigned classrooms. 

“Do you,” She pipes up suddenly. “...um, know of the Goyle family?”

The Goyles were a former sacred pureblood house. While most branches of their family are still purebloods, many from their main branch have married half-bloods or muggle-borns, leading to their fall from esteem. No Goyle currently attends Hogwarts, as they're either too old or young. I cannot remember anyone named Marcus Goyle, but I explain everything else to Adelia.

“Yes, a bit,” I respond curiously. “Why do you ask?”

She requests permission and then takes my wrist, guiding us against a secluded alcove. Once we’re alone, she adjusts to become taller. Her skirt rustles as she leans in to mutter near my ear, explaining a recent article from the Daily Prophet over a string of unresolved deaths where the victim withdrew from their usual activities for over a year due to deteriorating health before eventually succumbing to their death. It's an uncomfortable and graphic topic but she repeats it coherently enough to understand, albeit with a few uneasy breaths in between.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I knew him,” Adelia whispers, sounding lost and a tad frightened.

“The paper never listed his age, so maybe he knew my parents or grandparents. Grandmother invited numerous visitors to our villa but I never knew any of their names.”

“Is it possible you’ve met before?” I ask, raising my wand to follow her now pacing figure. 

“Not likely,” She waves off. “Unless our cousins visited, I never had any guests. Grandmother Isa’s been in charge of my care since I was 7 and his name feels too recent in my mind to be a far-off memory. The only times I was allowed to meet someone under her watch was…”

Under the glow of my wand, her figure suddenly disappears, meaning her body came to a complete standstill.

“...Was?”

“Ria,” She responds breathily, almost swallowing her words before I can process them.

“My little sister, I look after her most of the time. And if she had a playmate- UGH-”

Jumping back into focus, she appears quite smaller than before, almost hunched over. Small whimpers of pain follow her large outburst and I reach forward to comfort her. 

Adelia has made it known that she willingly accepts and enjoys physical touch, though there’s a distinct line between a pat on the back and holding on tightly to prevent her from shivering. Unfortunately, based on my light touch that landed on her neck, I feel obligated to initiate the latter. Physical touch from another person has always been a bothersome chore, even with Anne and Sebastian. 

Private displays of intimacy between two unmarried witches and wizards before marriage are frowned upon, especially without a chaperone present to oversee it all. However, this trembling and frail version of Adelia is quite discomforting. 

Testing the waters, I lessen our distance until my dress shoes toe her own, hoarsely requesting permission before wrapping my arms around her. Wasting no time, she relaxes her entire body against mine. Given that I'm unprepared for the sudden reliance to hold her up, we uncomfortably stumble against the rough wall of this enclosed alcove. Somewhere between the entrance arch and stone wall, my wand clatters to the ground as both my hands fist onto Adelia’s wool cloak to keep us upright.

Forcibly having to rely on my hearing and touch instead, I gently pat her back and rub soothing circles in the same way that calms the twins. Hopefully the friction from my fingers will warm her trembling body.

“Did you remember something?” I tilt down to quietly ask, not wanting my voice to carry and alert anyone who may get the wrong idea. 

Her head shakes, burying her face against my neck. Rapidly cooling tears drop onto my collar, her nose brushing my neck before settling against my shirt seam. My jaw muscles tighten at her unconscious movements and my back stiffens, no longer having a wand as a visual buffer.

“C-Can’t think… My head,” Her hands slide up from their place pressed between our chests to tightly latch onto my blazer lapels. “Feels like someone cast a combination befuddlement charm and stinging hex.”

She shivers again, and I squeeze her middle, reminding her of my support. Anne has had bad episodes recently, but they involved a lot more coughing and giving a wider berth than this. A few feminine voices pass by, and I hesitate to speak, waiting a full minute after they’ve passed.

“Is there anything I can get you? I’m not strong enough to carry you to the nurse’s office but there should be a professor or two nearby that could help.”

“L-Left pocket.”

Slipping my hand from around her waist, I will myself to remain unflustered while hesitantly trailing down her side to find the pocket. Following the curve of her waist, which I will not be thinking about later, thank you very much, I locate an opening and pull out a triangular vial. Pushing the vial against one of her fists, she weakly flicks off the lid with her nail, tilting back to drink it.

After a few seconds, her body heaves away entirely, leaving me lurching forward from the weight change. A clearing of a throat brings my attention to my right side, where a cold hand is poking at my fist.

“Thank you,” She says shakily, taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure while pressing a familiar piece of wood into my hand. “I was so overcome with pain that I couldn’t think. Wiggenweld potions are incredibly handy to have around.”

Her laugh is stronger as she rises to her full height around my chin, finally sounding like the Miss Apple I remember.

“I won’t question why you have one prepared but it did come in handy,” I stretch, wincing as my back protests in mild pain. “I can walk you to the nurse unless you’re well enough to attend class.”

“I’ll be fine. It was probably caused by a lack of sleep or was stress-induced,” She says, flickering her wand around my body as though dispelling a charm I had never heard cast, and the temperature of the alcove warms up.

“Blasted magic. Sorry about the detour. Shall we go?

She’s clearly not fully recovered, mind likely somewhere between here and a few minutes prior, voice taking on the same quality as when daydreaming during our lessons. Still, everyone is allowed their secrets and I certainly won’t pry for answers. After all, I know how to mind my own business when I want to.

“Yes, let's.” 

Inhaling the scent of freshly steeped tea while passing by a table of quietly chattering, my throat longs for a taste of breakfast tea. Perhaps if my next nap is long enough, I’ll wake up in time for afternoon tea and cakes. That is Anne’s favorite time of day to drink Darjeeling tea and eat madeleines while relaying the ongoing Slytherin Quidditch team’s dynamics or describing the latest item she knitted for someone. 

Should I visit her over the weekend? This is the first school year she hasn’t been able to attend, and while her last letter was written positively, I worry that she may be lonely with just her uncle around. 

Today is Friday, so Saturday would be an ideal time to go, though I should try to send an owl ahead of my arrival. Tomorrow will be another Crossed Wands tournament. While Sebastian would skip it to meet Anne, I don’t want to take away the one event he still gives time and effort to over searching for a cure. Let’s just hope to Merlin that he holds onto it like a vice, for I fear the outcome if he loses himself to his research.

“I hear you’re attending the next Crossed Wands duel,” I say, our footsteps synchronizing as we walk side by side. “Don't get too cocky simply because you had one victory over Sallow. He never backs down from a fight.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she hums, seemingly taking my advice to heart. “Though I was considering choosing him as my dueling partner this time. Have you ever participated before, Ominis?”

“No. Although I have assisted Sebastian in training for duels more times than I can count, so he does have Anne and I to thank for his past victories.”

Memories flicker in my mind of hot bursts of fire shooting past my body, throwing up another shield after unleashing a combo attack on the twins.

“Oh, is Anne adept at fighting?” She asks cautiously.  

“She is. Better at Charms than dueling but could keep casting spells even when on the brink of exhaustion.” I reminisce, thinking back to their first Crossed Wands victory. 

The deafening cheers and whoops of joy from spectators, coins jingling upon exchange from palm to palm, my fingers stinging from outclapping everyone around me. Two sets of arms slide around my torso, tousling up carefully set strands of hair and squeezing me into two solid, sweaty bodies. 

A smile stretches my face in an odd but welcoming way, shaking my head before jumping in time with Sebastian and Anne, vocally repeating their booming celebration chant.

“Blimey, I didn't know you could smile like that.”

Adelia's voice brings me back to the present, reminding me of Sebastian’s teasing words from earlier, wiping the soft smile off my place to replace it with a refined, neutral expression. 

I clear my throat. “I'm sure you'll come to find that during Crossed Wands, our Defense class lessons can-”

“--Revelio–”

“-come in handy wh…” I pause. Both in the middle of my sentence and in the hallway. “...what?”

“What?”

“You, you just-”

“Oh, look at that broken broom. Did you know that it once belonged to a witch named Selene Wartnaby?” She deflects, prattling on about one of the various artifacts lining Hogwart’s hallways.

“Not really,” I respond with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s true,” She continues, her voice getting quieter as she speeds ahead. “After demonstrating an experimental Lunar Apparation Charm, it’s said that the broken pieces of this broom are all that remain.”

“Spooky,” I state dryly. “I shall await her ghost during our next Astronomy class.”

“She did seem rather starry-eyed, huh?” She jokes, heels clicking on the stone staircase.

“Better than being moony-eyed,” I say. “That may have been her last view before entering the ethereal plane.”

“Ominis!” Her voice creeps higher, tone teetering between reprimanding and amusement. “That was dark.”

“Yes, the night sky is. Though I find everything else to be dark too.”

A loud thumping noise resounds through the mostly empty corridor and I lift my wand to reveal her figure leaning against a door. Her shoulders shake while holding her mouth as though concealing something. Slowly stepping closer, my head tilts to catch any potential sound escaping her mouth. Holding my breath, a quiet tension fills the air at her continued hushed noises, our arms almost brushing as I saddle up beside her.

…Snort.

There it is.

With little to no preamble, her typically soft voice bursts into bright giggles. Likely having held herself back from snorting turned her laughter into an amplified, breathy mess of endorphins and joyful tinkering notes. 

It’s loud and unrefined, completely dissimilar from who she appears as yet wholly and uniquely Adelia Rosewater. 

Unknowingly, a soft smile slips onto my face, filling my chest with a warm and fuzzy sensation. Short, low chortles unwittingly pass my lips in breathy amusement at her predicament. 

Even after all these weeks spent together, she continuously finds ways to surprise me. Observing her shake off the last peals of laughter, my wand can almost make out the shape of her smile and joyous expression, causing only one thought to cross my mind.

Cute.

“I-I’m sorry,” She gets out, raising a hand to her eyes. “The more I tried to keep the laughter in, the worse it got for me. I apologize for acting so unladylike.”

Class. We have a History of Magic class. It should be starting in a few minutes.

I clear my throat, restructuring my thoughts until they make sense again.

“That’s quite alright. It’s only natural, after all. Shall we get to class?”

“Yes!” She beams up at me and my heart jumps in response. 

She needn't express that much enthusiasm for my words. Her responsiveness would directly feed into my ego if I were a lesser or more self-absorbed man.

Through all the rotting and withered sections of my heart, neglected from years of mistreatment by familial blood and temporarily patched over by the Sallow twins, a deep-seated mistrust holds dark, intangible roots. Time and companionship can only temporarily staunch the bleeding they've caused. And even though Sebastian and Anne have carved out a corner for themselves, that beacon of hope has almost completely flickered out.

Even still, impossibly, a small and deeply hidden passage dimly pulsates at her attention.

I groan, rubbing one hand along my temples as we climb the final staircase to our classroom.

“I hope I’m able to take a nap later. Sebastian wants to train for Crossed Wands after class and he sounded pretty determined to win,” she says.

“Not likely,” I reply knowingly. “Resting isn’t a word in the Sallows’ vocabulary.”

She giggles, hopping up a few steps ahead of me. “I understand that. There’s so many places to find and people to help, it’s difficult to find time to unwind.” 

Frowning at her boundless energy with concern, I recall her rumored activities and not-very-believable excuses as she rushes off to do who knows what directly after classes end. 

I’d almost considered introducing her to the Undercroft out of pity, so she could escape every student’s request, before thinking better of it. We don’t know her well enough to do that yet, especially with a sacred room meant for only Anne, Sebastian, and me. 

No matter how much Sebastian trusts her, earning mine takes way more time. Besides, she hasn’t met or earned Anne’s approval yet, and that sobering thought is reason enough. 

Feeling my previous lethargy creeping up as we arrive at the History of Magic classroom, I try to conceal a yawn while providing advice. “Sometimes it’s better to let others solve their own problems. There is such a thing as trying too hard, you know.”

Once we pass through the doorway, chattering students shuffling papers and screeching chairs fill the air. She silently walks around my body, and I turn in disoriented confusion. I follow her indistinct figure and we take our usual seats, setting out parchment and a quill for decoration. I cannot tell what she’s feeling, but her muttering and repetitive tapping both seem discontented. 

Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

“We will now return to discussing the Goblin Rebellion of 1752, paying close attention to Urg the Unclean.” Professor Binns drones on, cutting off my curiosity.

Professor Binns has unfortunate timing, but what else is new? That’s alright. I’ll speak with her once the class ends. Perhaps Anne would be interested in having another visitor too. 

All things to concern me another time, when Sebastian deigns to wake up after the sun does. For now, Professor Binns’s voice is the perfect catalyst to lull me into the depths of dreaming.

Chapter 13: Interlude II

Summary:

Adelia and her roommates in the Sunflower Room have a sleepover. From finding their inner style icon to experimenting with tea flavors, these girls navigate slightly awkward discussions as the differences in their personalities become quite apparent.
Poppy has a question for Adelia that has her questioning one of her friendships.

Notes:

Happy Reading!

If you'd like to listen to music while reading this chapter, here is a recommended tune: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv4nkfMG2Iw&t=11

Interlude: Girls Night Sleepover

Hufflepuff Girls Dorm, Number 4: Sunflower Room 

Adelaide Oakes, Adelia Rosewater, Lenora Everleigh, & Poppy Sweeting

To the tune of Chabrier- Scènes Pittoresque: No. 10, Scherzo-Valse

 

“Could you repeat that?” Poppy requests, repositioning her knees so they no longer press into Adelia’s back. 

“According to the results of your answers, finding out who your style inspiration is,” Lenora starts, prattling on about her favorite magazine. “In a quiz written by Bessie O’Neill, co-founder of Babbling Banter Teen Magazi–”

“I think she only meant the test results, Nora,” Adelaide cuts her off, placing a freshly poured cup of hawthorn and knotgrass tea next to her position on the floor. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Poppy gives a quiet sigh of relief against Adelia’s bare neck, causing her to giggle as the cool air tickles her neck. Poppy shuffles strands of Adelia’s hair between her fingers, her tongue slightly sticking out as she refocuses on weaving a bumpless braid. Adelia attempts to remain still while working a needle and thread through a spare pillowcase, creating small goldenrods next to a larger sunflower. 

Lenora grumbles, flopping her stomach against a frilly cushion and dangling her feet in the air. “Your style inspiration is Marguerite de Montmorency, known for spearheading the artistic dress movement by wearing uncorseted tea gowns in colors like sage green and taupe.”

“We have the same one,” Adelaide comments, setting the last teacup onto Poppy’s trunk. 

“Sounds like it,” Poppy comments, not sounding at all convinced. 

While her weekend clothes lean towards simplistic and comfortable, Poppy has also worn multiple brightly colored sweaters, funky hats, and beast-embroidered bags. If anything, her eclectic fashion sense is a closer match to Joséphine Gage’s, who’s known for asymmetrical sweaters and Eye of Newt goggles. The latter of which Adelia graciously gifted to Poppy after finding a few pairs inside a poacher camp’s tent. 

“It could be worse,” Adelia shrugs.

“You’re the distinguished pureblood here,” Lenora comments, a bitter tone prominent in her words. “It makes sense you got Marcia Gaunt.”

The silver needle presses too hard against the pillowcase, poking directly into an unblemished finger. Adelia winces, flapping her hand to relieve the sudden pain. 

Ouch. Note to self, wear a thimble while distracted. Okay, only a few drops got onto the silk. I can fix it.

That name will catch me off guard, no matter how many times we’ve spoken it. With my bloody finger, it almost feels like we’ll accidentally summon her. From the brief descriptions, Sebastian told me she’s one of the last people I need to be involved with. A typical Gaunt, so it seems.

Seemingly unfettered by the uncomfortable atmosphere she’s creating, Lenora proceeds to speak, full steam ahead.

“Speaking of Slytherins, people have said you and Sebastian are best friends now?” Lenora rhetorically asks, taking a sip of her lukewarm tea. “Don’t let Ominis hear about it.”

Sucking in air through her teeth, Adelia wipes the needle against her handkerchief, cursing her attention span for the repeated injury. Poppy frowns and maneuvers her fingers to reach for a health salve, managing to throw it onto Adelia’s leg without dropping any hair strands. 

“They’re acquaintances,” Poppy replies for her, tying one braid with a ribbon. “Ominis is aware Adelia and Sebastian are friends.”

“Actually,” Adelia starts, pausing to rub the salve onto her ring finger. “Ominis and I are friends too.”

Noise in the room comes to a standstill, both Poppy and Lenora looking at her with differing expressions of hesitation and shock though she can glean half of Poppy’s face at most from her peripheral vision. Only Adelaide remains unaffected, mumbling to herself over this round of experimental tea blends while writing which ingredients worked and which didn’t. 

Not even glancing up from her fast-paced cursive, she remarks, “I noticed you getting on with Ominis Gaunt, cozying up while studying in the Astronomy tower to boot. Nice chap, that one.”

Adelia feels a tug on the right side of her head where Poppy accidentally tightened a braid. She whispers a quick apology while loosening it, distractedly sectioning the strands once more. Letting the awkward silence fester, Adelia carefully threads a fern green thread through the needle’s eye, absentmindedly adding greenery to her flowers. 

I may have forgotten to mention how close Ominis and I are now. I’ve been too busy to discuss it with her. In my defense, Poppy has been busy lately too. After I gifted her the animals from my nap-sack, she’s been taking care of a variety of beasts in the Room of Requirement. Not to mention her growing friendship with Natty, and to a lesser extent, Samantha Dale. 

She’s just been- We’ve been too busy for each other. That’s all.

Lenora chatters to a distracted Adelaide, who has set about brewing a new tea concoction of honking daffodil and mugwort, while flipping through a magazine article. The topic has changed to crushes with Lenora loudly proclaiming she is no longer interested in Jiho, having traded her prized photograph of his for an enchanted music box. Adelaide calmly mentions her crush on Isaac Cooper which causes their conversation to flip to Quidditch. Lenora's boisterous voice fades into background noise as Adelia lightly hums to herself.

“Peppermint?” Poppy's voice questions from behind her, slowly tying the ribbon to her final braid.

Adelia blinks down in surprise, weakly grasping her needle while observing her unintentional blunder. Having been lost in thought about Ominis, her pillowcase now has hints of peppermint leaves sprinkled around the other flowers. Her lips twitch involuntarily, a subtle pink blush rapidly expanding along her tan cheeks. 

At least the peppermint doesn’t smell like his cologne. Then, I'd never be able to fall asleep.

Poppy hesitates for a moment, straightening up the ribbon’s bows. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ominis?”

“What?” Adelia whirls around to face her, catching the tale end of Poppy’s surprised expression.

“What would there even be to say?”

“Well,” She stiffly scratches her head. “Our last conversation about Ominis was in the Great Hall a while ago, and you didn’t know him that well. It honestly didn’t sound like you cared to either. Then you had the tutoring with him, which you said helped your spell casting, but that was it.”

Poppy grabs the teacup beside Adelia, sipping on cold tea and scrunching up her nose at the taste. Draining it all in one go, the witch sends it over to Adelaide and hops back onto her bed. A contemplative look crosses her face, eyes darting to the sprigs of peppermint attached to Adelia’s needle. 

“You said he smelled like peppermint.”

I did?

Adelia appears lost for a moment, completely unsure where this conversation is going. On the contrary, that look strengthened Poppy’s resolve.

“After your last lesson with him, when we were debriefing in this room, you immediately went to make one of those herb bundles you enjoy carrying around. Kept saying that he reminded you of how much you enjoy the scent of peppermint. And the smile on your face…”

She trails off, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It was the biggest smile I’ve seen from you yet. The kind of rosy-cheeked smile girls have when returning from a date in Hogsmeade.”

Adelia reaches for her face, dropping her design to press cold fingers against warm cheeks. Her heart rate speeds up, adrenaline spiking as it concludes something that her mind hasn’t understood yet. Poppy peeks over at the two witches still locked in a conversation and leans closer to Adelia to whisper a question burning in her mind. 

“Do you… have a crush on Ominis?”

"…"

A… crush? I’ve never had one of those before. At least I don’t think I have.

I mean, I used to follow Jiho around as a child because I thought he was the coolest person ever. My favorite storybook growing up was Cinderella and I thought the prince was charming and handsome. Though I also felt that way about a stuffed niffler my parents gave me at Yule, when I was 5 years old. 

Does it just mean you find someone attractive? Of course, Ominis is attractive.

His soft-looking hair is always neatly styled in a manner that compliments his features. He has a soft and quiet laugh that could make even the grumpiest of creatures smile. His quick wit and sarcasm are biting but thrilling to listen to, especially when pointed my way. He has a bazillion moles that add to his charming yet simple fashion sense. His moonstone eyes sparkle when he laughs and when he rolls up his sleeves in a way that shows off his arms, my heart beats out of my chest which makes me want to grab him and-

…Um, okay. So maybe I find him a bit attractive. But that’s it.

We also argue over Sebastian, whether or not I indulge his bad habits or Ominis doesn’t trust us enough. Whenever I mention my workload, his face gets all twisted and funny. Then he starts monologuing about the health benefits of taking breaks and setting boundaries. Which I understand, but when he does that every time I mention it offhandedly, I no longer want to mention what I do around him.  

He’s just a friend, a new friend. We may be a little awkward around each other but we’re still figuring each other out. I do not have a crush on him but I can admire his appearance for a moment.

Watching as Adelia shuts down in front of her, her brain uncomprehending while a rush of emotions and memories floods her mind, Poppy’s hand grips her own. Her smaller, worn hands squeeze tightly, not quite hurting but strong enough to ground Adelia back into reality. 

“It’s okay if you do. I haven't had a conversation with him,” Her head tilts in contemplation. “I’ve talked to Sebastian Sallow a lot more than Ominis but someone who’s friends with Sebastian is probably a good guy, right?”

Adelia slowly nods, clarity filling her eyes and she softly smiles. 

“Yeah, but I don’t have a crush on him. Trust me, we’re just good friends."

Poppy simply blinks at her then nods in acceptance. She reaches for a tin of ginger newts before addressing the whole room, shaking it to seize their attention.

"Well, ladies. My Gran sent over biscuits during breakfast this morning. Shall we play a game? Winner gets first pick of the lot."

Notes:

For funsies, here's some details about the magazine featured in this chapter. It was created with the concept of early 2000s teen magazine quizzes in mind.

Babbling Banter Teen Magazine is run by Bessie O’Neill and Maud Byrne, Irish fashion and pop culture journalists.

There were four possible fashion styles and style icons to match with based on answers to their quiz.

1) Marguerite de Montmorency, Niece of famed love potions creator
Artistic style: uncorseted sage green and taupe tea gowns

2) Marcia Gaunt, Daughter of Gaunt lineage
Aristocratic style: wide hats and high-collared fur capes

3) Joséphine Gage, Creator of the folk musical group, Kooky Kneazles
Eclectic style: asymmetrical sweaters and Eye of Newt goggles

4) Starling Weaver, Chaser for the Montrose Magpies
Sporty style: embroidered shirtwaists with sashes and split skirts

Chapter 14: A Turmoil of Unbridled Frost & A Hidden Room For Snakes

Summary:

Crossed Wands heats up as Sebastian swoops in to claim a victory while Adelia struggles to control her ancient magic. Luckily something, or someone, may be the perfect distraction to assist her problem.
Sebastian decides it's time to show Adelia a secret room that few others know about. However, she must keep it a secret from their other friend. How hard could that truly be?

Sebastian: Keep this place a secret
Adelia: *foreshadowing looming in the distance* What? Like it's hard?

Notes:

Been cooking up this chapter for a minute, glad to finally start to move into the story I was planning out, starting with the famed Undercroft.

Enjoy!

Rolling past another shock of red light, Adelia aims an Incendio towards Sebastian’s legs. Dodging her spell with finesse, Sebastian shimmies past a few of her basic casts and leans back in a pose of easy confidence. While this isn't the first time he’s avoided her attacks, Sebastian almost seems to become more cocky every time he sidesteps her shaky wand movements.

After a few rounds of completely dominating all of their opponents, Lucan requested Sebastian and Adelia duel themselves for the ultimate reward, bragging rights. And a 17 sickles voucher for Honeydukes.

So naturally, this is the fiercest and most anticipated round of the day.

Stubborn as ever, Sebastian is determined to win that reward and declare himself the ultimate Crossed Wands reigning champion. Thus, he refuses to pull his punches or call for a rest until Adelia knocks him over for the third and final time. 

Given that she stayed up late with her roommates the previous night and missed her earlier intended nap, lethargy seeps out of every bone in her body, struggling to keep up with Sebastian’s well-rested and more experienced wand flourishes.

We really should’ve gone to bed before dawn, but it was so fun, having a group of girls my age to swap biscuits and stories with.

This morning was the first time I've been able to visit Nurse Blainey. I'm still embarrassed that Professor Fig asked me about it yesterday and I had been too busy all week to see her. 

She doesn't understand why I have anxiety, saying something about doing rounds in the creature-induced injury floor rather than the myalurgy ward. Still, she'll write to St. Mungos for their advice and alert me when there’s a response. I hope they'll know what to do.

In the meantime, I will take half a Draught of Peace when my symptoms become difficult to manage and work on meditation with Professor Fig once a week. Considering how often he leaves to research or regroup with Mr. Osric, that'll be difficult to do but it's worth a shot.

“Is that all you’ve got? Levioso.” Seb’s clear voice rings out, refocusing her attention on their mock duel.

A sickeningly yellow light hoists Adelia in the air again, her legs dangling in a mimicry of the Giant Squid’s dancing tentacles. Struggling only further amuses her companion, who appears awful smug at his successful one-up attempt. 

Lucan cups his hands around his mouth, standing on top of a spare crate to commentate on the duel without missing any action.

“OOH, another charm that Adelia Rosewater just could not avoid. How does Sebastian Sallow do it, folks? Is it skill or a Slytherin’s pure luck?”

A few fellow Gryffindors boo from the sidelines, likening a Slytherin win to cheating, but that doesn’t deter Lucan’s amazement for his star dueller. 

“Don’t tell me you plan to keep me here all day?” Adelia questions, not realizing her response would prompt his competitiveness to kick in, concentrating harder on his spell.

Smugly strutting up to her with his arms crossed, Sebastian smirks at her exasperation. “C’mon Rosewater, you’re stronger than this. What happened to your special magic?”

He wouldn’t dare say anything. Not while there are other students nearby.

But what if he does? No one else can know.

Snapping her head over with a panicked expression, Adelia feels the familiar icy sensation of her magic spilling out from her bound fingers. It creates a chilling path from her chest down to her toes, slithering a spiky, menacing path around Sebastian, inching closer and closer with ill-fated intentions. 

No, no, no. This isn’t it. This magic… that’s not what I want it to do.

Lucan’s voice shouts out, not requiring an amplification spell to be heard among the cheering crowd.

“Well, would you look at that folks! Sallow has Rosewater trapped in a strong Levioso charm. Will our rising dueler break free from the bonds or will Sebastian take the ultimate glory?!”

Translucent stalagmites peak into sharp stripes of ice, zig-zagging across the slippery cobblestone practice floor of the Clocktower Courtyard, headed directly towards his unassuming footsteps. While appearing to the crowd as fog clouds ominously seeping out of her body, only Adelia can see beyond its harmless facade. Murmurs from fellow Crossed Wands participants pick up in her ears, harsh whispers and snickering at the scene they are making, seemingly no one else understands the gravity of her jagged and volatile magic.

Grandmother would do this, not me. I-I’m supposed to be good. Act like a good little witch and not cause problems or draw attention to myself.

“S-Seb, look out.” She whispers, barely able to get the words out.

The warning dies on her tongue as anxiety strengthens its chokehold on her throat, the gravity of this situation sinking in. Memories of a set of ruby red eyes slashed with ice fill her mind, replacing a goblin’s bloody injuries with Sebastian instead. Pinpricks of tears press against the corners of her eyes and the courtyard flickers in her vision, becoming slightly blurry with every other staggering breath. 

Why- Why won’t the spell break? No matter how hard I try, it only gets sharper.

 I’m going to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him. He may be a little loose-tongued but it’s Sebastian. My friend Sebastian. Please, just stop. I don’t want to hurt him.

“What’s the matter? Animagus snatched your wand?” Sebastian gloats, speaking towards the crowd now, rather than to her. Completely unaware of his partner’s turmoil and the low fog clouds circling him.

NO! He’s going to step on it!!

“Could this be it? 10 more seconds and Sebastian Sallow wins it all!!” Lucan shouts, ripping the Honeyduke’s gift card from his assistant’s hands and excitedly waving it above his head.

“Eeep!” A shriek weakly rips from her throat, guiltily unable to keep her eyes open to witness the aftermath.

Why won’t it just stop?!

They were all right. I’m not a witch, I’m a failure. 

“Filthy squib.” “Who let the glorified Muggle onto your stage, Flint?” “Did their family fly on brooms all the way to England? Look at how messy that ankle-biter’s hair is.” 

Memories flood her mind in a second, easily reminding her of every moment someone has disparaged or denigrated her for irrevocable factors of her life. A wave of raw anger unwittingly fills the back of her mind, unable to overpower her anxiety but feeding into her magic rapidly closing in. Attempting to break free only tightens the spell’s hold on her body, uncomfortably placing her fingers against her collarbone and far away from a half-full vial of Draught of Peace.

Feeling helpless and frightened by her power, Adelia faintly whimpers, desperately wishing she hadn’t deprioritized learning about or underestimated the potency of this unknown magic coursing through her veins.

Holding his wand up to her floating body, Sebastian glances everywhere but the lurking danger ahead as he gracefully steps one foot towards Adelia, chest puffed up with a confident smirk. 

“5… 4… 3… 2…”

STOP!!

“Overconfidence doesn’t sit well with you, Sebastian. Rather, your complacency dooms you to failure.”

A sharp voice cuts through her nerves, ringing in her ears like an angel’s harp. Sucking in a stinging breath and focusing on that familiar posh tone, Adelia’s eyelids slowly flutter open to take in the angel’s visage. 

Nay, not a mere angel. Mister Angel. 

Ominis.

Bathed in the afternoon sunlight, which forms a halo behind his sleek hair, his mere presence covers everyone else in shadow and attracts the attention of every single student in the courtyard. Akin to the sun melting away an early morning frost, warmth seeps through her body and burns all remnants of her ancient magic from the tournament grounds but not before revealing their true form. His steady presence walks up to Sebastian’s wide-eyed figure millimeters away from a protruding icicle, having suddenly grasped the severity of the situation right before impact. 

Ominis breathes new life into her predicament, relaxing her body enough to redouble her concentration. His calming aura charms her, easily forgetting her resentment towards his thoughtless remark during class yesterday. Snapping her right hand free, Adelia takes a deep breath and casts a countercharm. Though it’s a momentary fall to the ground, her legs wobble on impact as the weight of what happened truly sinks in.

“Sebastian Sallow is the winner!” Lucan’s voice declares once Adelia has both feet back on the ground. He eagerly shakes hands with his assistant and exchanges money with some students nearby.

In a flash, two hands reach out to her extended arms. Glancing to her right, Sebastian offers a complicated smile, easing her arm around his shoulder with hesitation. Apologetically returning his smile in silent understanding, the two grin at each other like idiots, thankful that everything was resolved peacefully.

“I leave for one afternoon and you two immediately begin a catfight. Unbelievable,” A grumble by her left ear pulls her from their tender moment, unconsciously swaying toward the hand steadying her left side.

“It was the biggest smile I’ve seen from you yet. The kind of rosy-cheeked smile girls have when returning from a date in Hogsmeade. Do you… have a crush on Ominis?”

I didn’t quite believe it at the time but now? 

Adelia’s ancient magic is lukewarm in her chest, retaining some residual heat from Ominis’s presence right next to her. Like ice cream set by a fireplace, her insides feel melty and goopy when his determined fingers grip her tightly, her ancient magic not yet returning to its frozen solitude. Her breath catches as his gentle hands shift from her upper to lower arm, the distraction allocating time to focus on steading her breathing and mind.

I’m not so sure.

Her hands tremble under her lacy gloves. The urge to rip her arms away from their warm bodies to check her pockets and herb sachet remains strong, thinly restrained by her grandmother’s reminder not to make a fool of herself in public.

“No smarting off, looking unkempt, saying any weird words many times over, or tapping at things endlessly.”

“It’s alright. Mummy Ominis always returns for his kits, to break it up,” Sebastian’s arm slides around hers and Ominis’s shoulders and leans closer to form an intimate triangle.

“I bet that’d be your patronus,” She joins in the teasing, turning her head to avoid getting a mouthful of Sebastian’s fringe. “One of those fluffy, elegant cats always sleeping in the windows of the Magical Menagerie.”

“Oi, what about me?” Sebastian asks, a hand rising to ruffle her braid menacingly.

“Ah, I can see it now.” Adelia moves her fingers to her temples, pretending to have a divination prophecy. “Maybe one of the stray cats in Hogsmeade that begs Poppy for attention? Or the bowtie kitty that enjoys chewing on my shoes?”

Sebastian puffs up his chest in indignation, opening his mouth with a retort, only to get cut off by his best friend. 

“You’re a sphinx. A hairless cat.”

“Hairless?” Sebastian practically yells, grabbing Ominis’s hands to feel his hair. “What’s this then?”

“Hm.” His face becomes serious while half-hazardly rubbing Sebastian’s scalp and pushing back fringe to reveal his forehead.

“Perhaps I was mistaken. A balding Sphinx cat, then.”

“Adelia, mate. C’mon.”

He turns back to her with a desperate pout, seeking comfort from his Hufflepuff friend who’s less likely to take the piss out of him.

"No love for your favorite dueling partner?”

Not even taking a second to think, Adelia pats the arm still wrapped around her shoulder and speaks.

“Natty? I thought she was in the crowd earlier. I’ll go ask how well we did, then.” 

Ducking out from under his slackened arm, she leaves a sputtering Sebastian and smirking Ominis behind to locate her favorite Gryffindor. Inhaling with a few deep breaths, her nerves calm enough to smile to herself truly.

Thank you, Sebastian Sallow, for distracting me with your inane banter. That thought process could've been a dangerous, slippery slope. 

I think Professor Fig may have been right about my anxiety. I should take Nurse Blainey's advice more seriously.

It doesn’t take long to find Natty with a redhead from her house, a mischievous guy Adelia hasn’t spoken to since rejecting his request to steal a Fwooper feather from Professor Sharp. Greeting both of them with a soft smile, Adelia and Natty exchange compliments, with Natty complimenting her quick casting times and Adelia practically begging Natty to teach her the graceful footwork executed during her duel with Garreth Weasley. Garreth chimes in with a few quips, mentioning the results of the potion he intended to use the Fwooper feather for, to the bemused yet amused faces of the girls. 

Someone abruptly shouts from across the room before storming off, cutting off Adelia’s laughter upon hearing the loud, angry tone, raising her hackles. Turning around reveals both Slytherin boys with disgruntled faces, each marching off to a separate exit, steam practically roiling out his ears as Sebastian barely avoids knocking shoulders with a trio of third-years. 

What was that all about?

~~~~~~

“Over here.”

Hopping off the last stair step in the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway, Adelia sharply turns left to greet a slightly smiling Sebastian with a hand raised in greeting.

“Hello, is everything alright?” Adelia asks gently, remembering his fight with Ominis earlier.

“Yes, nothing to worry about,” He shakes his head. “I’m glad you received my owl. There’s something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh?” She glances around the empty corridor, realizing that it won’t be long until curfew. “I actually have something I wanted to discuss with you too.”

“Understood,” He uncrosses his arms, gesturing toward the dead end of a corridor. “We can talk more in a moment in the Undercroft. Not even professors know about this place.”

Adelia’s eyes widen, memories of her first Hogsmeade trip and her momentary confused attraction to Sebastian flashing in her mind.

A boy and girl alone in a room at night without a chaperone? It’s one thing if we were in the corridors like during my lessons with Ominis, but somewhere not even the professors could find us?

Grandmother would despise this.

As though he can somehow sense her apprehension, Sebastian gives her a playful smile, folding in on himself as though he is trying to appear less intimidating.

“There won’t be any cats inside, I promise.” He tilts his head, freckles becoming prominent under the golden light of nearby braziers. “This way.”

It’s just Sebastian, he’s practically harmless. If anything, he’d be the one to protect me if someone were to try to take advantage of a private, secondary location. Everything will be alright.

Letting out a sigh, Adelia nods in agreement, following his long steps with a half-smile.

“There’s a secret passage just here.”

“It’s well disguised,” She whispers back to him. 

Walking around a large circular pillar reveals an ancient carved walnut cupboard with intricate sundial and astronomical designs in deep blue and gold. Though Adelia stumbled around the school many times before no longer having to rely on her field guide to find every single area, this is one spot she doesn’t remember finding at all. Tucked beside light blue stained glass windows and in front of a detailed skull painting, this cupboard is safely hidden from any prying eyes.

Sebastian steps forward, brandishing his wand. “To open the door, you need to flick your wand in an S-shape, like a snake. While you do so, say the incantation, Recludo.”

Demonstrating the spell’s somatic components, Sebastian doesn’t utter a single word before the clocks spin to swing open the cupboard door. 

“You don’t need to say anything?” Adelia questions, her hand wavering over her wand holster in confusion.

“Old magic,” Sebastian explains, simply waving away her bemused glances. “Once the room registers your presence enough times, you no longer need to give the incantation. And trust me, I’ve been here a lot.”

Knowing better than to question further, Adelia waits until the door shuts behind him and tries the spell herself, successfully gaining entry to the hidden room. Riding down a creaky elevator shaft, Adelia pulls on a lever, raising a dirty metal gate that shuts directly behind her once her body fully moves into a large room. 

“How did you find this place?” Adelia asks with amazement.

Eyes darting around to every possible corner of this cold dungeon, skipping around the open areas to observe several crates and barrels shoved against walls next to broken suits of armor and old chalkboards filled with fading equations and drawings. Unlit braziers hang from the ceilings above freshly lit candles, showing off long stretches of stone walls surrounded by towering empty cauldrons and stacks of tomes with wavy pages smelling of moss and sea salt.

“Ominis. He’s the one who named it the Undercroft, though someone in his family was the one who knew about it.” Sebastian says, observing as Adelia opens up a few hand-carved chests.

“The Gaunts are full of secrets. I’ve never heard anyone else speak of it and I’ve certainly never seen anyone else here. I should tell you: I swore to Ominis I would safeguard this place, so, please keep this between us.”

Pushing down the lid of a silver chest, Adelia’s gaze flickers over her shoulder to a rare, pleading expression on Sebastian’s face. Gently shutting the lock on a chest full of old prefect robes, she makes her way over to his position in between four large pillars and nods.

“He never confides in anyone,” Sebastian adds further, “but he’s trusted me since the day we met. I wouldn’t want to jeopardise that.” 

“Since the very first day?” Adelia echos, a strange twisting sensation filling her heart at the admission. “I could only dream of having that level of trust. We recently agreed on being friends, maybe over a week ago.”

A dark and twisted jealousy fills her veins, rot seeping into every thought flitting across her mind, wishing to have just one person as close to her as the three of them are. She shuffles her feet, suddenly feeling incredibly out of place like she’s accidentally treading on sacred ground, bound to cause issues.

Sebastian and Ominis, Ria and Calyx, and even Carina and Jiho prefer spending time together rather than with anyone else. I wish I could say Poppy is my best friend but most of her time is spent with Highwing or the Room of Requirement's animals. The troll incident in Hogsmeade, trapped inside the tea store with Natty bonded them. I still remember catching them laughing about some sort of odd-looking plant together, when I was climbing a fountain to reach one of Zenobia’s gobstones. 

It feels like I’m still stuck in my room sometimes, wishing for my mother to get better while avoiding my grandmother’s gaze, waiting in vain for my father to return with a hug or smile like he used to. A chill and uncomfortable feeling lingers, even in my dorm room, buried under the warm quilts, where I am tossing and turning while trying to sleep. It feels like no matter what I do, similar to trying to jam a triangle peg into a square hole, I just don’t belong. 

Am I that unlovable? It doesn’t matter. I need to remember my governess’s words. A lady should put others before herself. To be selfish is the height of impropriety and who would want a woman like that? All I need to do is keep my head down and graduate, hopefully finding someone okay enough to spend the rest of my life with along the way.

Adelia's standard smile slides into place. She suppresses the bitter taste tarnishing her tongue and ignores the swirling protests of her ancient magic as she locks away those ugly feelings. 

“It was a surprise to us too. Didn’t even realize he was blind until he chastised me for leaving my clothes on the floor, which he happened to trip on.” He chuckles, not noticing her inner turmoil. “Anne somehow charmed him into forgiving me and we played Gobstones in the common room for hours that night. Together, we made a promise, declaring our friendship would never be broken.”

She giggles at the thought of them as first years, a little Ominis chastising an even smaller Sebastian. “No wonder you two are such good friends. I remember you telling me a bit about Anne. Has she always been so convincing?”

“Absolutely,” He grins, leaning against one of the room’s support beams.

“She used to reach across the aisle, you know. Become friends with people from all houses, mostly through Quidditch. Gobstones is one of her favorite games to play, we used this room all the time to play that infernal game. What I wouldn’t give to lose to her again…”

Sensing where his thoughts are going, Adelia pivots the conversation towards a lighter topic. “You know, for all the time you’ve spent down here, one of you could conjure up a sofa or chair. Perhaps even a fireplace.”

Sebastian chuckles as though not realizing how this place would appear to an outsider. “We usually brought pillows or blankets from our dorm rooms. We need a lot of space to cast spells and since this is the perfect place to practice spells the school forbids, we avoided transfiguring furniture that could get in the crossfire.”

Adelia hesitates, remembering how he expressed an interest in dark magic before. “What sort of spells?”

“Like the Blasting curse. Professors say it’s not an appropriate spell for students to learn, but I think a proper education involves all forms of magic. Confrigo is a spell only truly dangerous in untrained hands.”

“Confrigo?”

“Would you like to learn it?” He smirks, watching as she rubs her arms for warmth. “It should cozy this place right up.”

“Yes, please!” Adelia cries out, desperately hoping he chooses to transfigure a stack of crates into a hearth next. 

Over the next half hour, Sebastian teaches Adelia how to cast Confrigo, lighting up the room until the chill completely disappears. Because they’re already casting spells, Adelia shifts a few boxes against a far, stone wall and sweetly requests Sebastian to change it into a fireplace. Being incredibly responsive to compliments, Sebastian creates a tan stone fireplace decorated with snakes and a deep interior with burning logs, a copy of the Slytherin common room’s fireplace. Through trial and error, a few cauldrons become a set of chairs, with a previously covered table becoming a velvet couch holding a plush yellow blanket along its back. Adelia and Sebastian smile at their handiwork, feeling proud of the cozy atmosphere they’ve created. 

“Sebastian? About our duel earlier, I’m sorry,” Adelia apologizes, smoothing down creases in the blanket. 

“It’s alright,” Sebastian shrugs, casting another charm at the fireplace. “Rule Number 1 of dueling is not to take your eyes off your partner and I broke that. Besides, Crossed Wands has far fewer rules than if we were dueling in Defense class. It was fair game.”

Even though her body relaxes as he waves her behavior off, something still plagues her mind. 

“I… um,” She hesitates, taking a few peeks at him from the corner of her eye. “That magic was going to hurt you. I was going to hurt you.”

“Not on purpose though, right?” His body turns to face her, still looking comfortable. 

“Not exactly.”

“And here I was thinking you were no bark or bite,” He chuckles, nudging her side with an arm. “Is this the infamous honey badger attack? It wasn’t very effective against my finely tuned dueling talents.”

Huffing a laugh at his remark, Adelia thinks for a moment then fully faces him on the sofa. 

“During our duel, you mentioned my special magic,” She starts, emphasizing his earlier words. “I trust you. I wouldn’t have told you about my ancient magic if I hadn’t, but I was overcome with panic at that moment. Professor Fig and I explored more and discovered that a lot of my magic is emotionally charged, hence why my panicking almost caused you to lose a foot.”

“Nurse Blainey is skilled enough to grow the bones back. Even if she couldn’t, I don’t need two legs to charm my way out of detention,” He winks, instantly met with Adelia's snorting laugh.

“I’m swooning already,” Adelia states sardonically. “You act enough like a swashbuckling rogue daily, no need to add a peg leg to complete the look.”

They laugh, exchanging enough puns to make a wheel of cheddar cringe from the cheesiness. 

“In case we end up dueling each other again, don’t fret,” Sebastian says after a while, stoking the fire with a few flicks of his wand. “I wouldn’t give up your secret so easily. After all, I like having friends in my debt.”

She smiles at the reassurance, cementing her decision to let him in on the details of her magic. 

“Professor Garlick is grading my latest assignment right now, so I have extra time to research curses if you’d like. Most of the books you’ve given me had information I already knew but there were a few lines about curse-breaking that are worth a second look,” Adelia offers, stretching against a pillow.

“Yes, that’d be brilliant! Could always use an extra set of eyes,” Sebastian whoops, grinning wider than he had all day. 

“Let’s do it over autumn break. I plan on spending most of my time researching ancient magic but it may be nice to focus on a different topic every so often. Perhaps you could give Anne an herb bundle for me,” Adelia offers, explaining the generic effects of the last one sent to her mother.

Sebastian nods, a questioning look furrowing his brows. “If you have the time to spare, would you like to visit Anne with me? Having a new face around may cheer her up.”

Blinking away her surprise, Adelia grins cheerfully in acceptance. “Of course! I’d love to.”

Seb invited me to meet his beloved twin? I’m absolutely buzzing! But what should I gift them for the invitation to their home? I can’t show up empty-handed. Sweets? Chocolate? Fruit? Flowers?

Suddenly realizing what time it must be, Adelia excuses herself to leave but gets stopped by Sebastian on the way out. 

“Again, mention this to no one, especially Ominis,” He reminds her seriously. “He has no love lost for his family or their secrets, but this place is special to him.”

Being connected to several pureblood families of varying beliefs, Adelia understands this request inherently. “Understood. I have family just like his and trust me, nothing could change their awful beliefs about blood status and superiority.” 

“Good. I’m a half-blood myself,” He confides, “but there usually aren’t many issues within our house. It depends on the student, but since I can easily show off my power, no one dares to question my abilities.”

“Even within the same family,” She agrees, having observed the growing difference of opinion between Phineas and Sirius Black. “But after taking down half a troll, I wouldn’t question you either.”

“Half a troll?” Sebastian complains, speed-walking over to her with his hands raised to mess up her dark hair again.

“I dealt the final blow, so yep,” Adelia calls out behind herself, pulling the lever for the elevator before he can even reach the metal gate.

She laughs to herself, stepping out the door to its entrance with a smile, and preparing to walk back to her dorm room, only to be met with the fading smile of Ominis Gaunt.

“You there. I can hear you.”

Frozen in place, Adelia’s breath catches while Sebastian’s reminder not to tell Ominis anything rings through her mind like a warning bell. 

“Oh, uh… Hello, Ominis,” Her hand raises in an awkward wave before realizing he couldn’t see it. “Lovely weather this evening.”

“Adelia?” His eyebrows raise before furrowing in a display of barely contained fury. “Did you just come from the Undercroft? How did you get in there?”

Avoiding the glowing red of his wand, her eyes dart around to lock with the empty skull portrait, preferring its empty eyesockets to Ominis’s irate ones. Feeling her luck running dry at his ominous aura, Adelia tries her best to cover for Sebastian.

“Under… croft? No, I was simply walking and tripped into this,” Her hand waves all around. “Secluded area. Perhaps our meeting here was fate, haha.”

The next few moments of silence cause Adelia’s insides to cringe until he resumes speaking.

“No, that’s impossible. You don’t just stumble into the Undercroft. Sebastian told you, didn’t he?” He growls, stepping closer until there’s barely any distance left. “You breathe a word of this place to anyone and not even your precious Professor Fig will be able to help you. My father is friends with the Headmaster and I’m not afraid to exploit that connection if I need to.”

Blimey, is he seriously threatening me? I understand how important this room is to him but aren't we friends? It’s not like I’m a complete stranger to him.

“I- My grandmother is friends with the Headmaster too,” Adelia mutters to herself, then tries to reassure him. “Trust me, Ominis. I won’t say a word. I mean, we’re friends, right?”

“Friends?” His voice repeats coldly. 

Though his blue eyes are looking over her left shoulder, the intensity is enough to freeze her in place.

“Miss Rosewater, I do believe this is the start of a wonderful friendship.”

“Of course,” She nervously giggles, shoes sliding backward enough to give her space to breathe. “You’re as much my friend as Sebastian is and he is a good friend. Pardon my saying so but you shouldn’t assume the worst of him. I know you two fought earlier, and that’s none of my business, but he tries to do the right thing.”

“You’re right. My friendship with Sebastian is none of your business.” His fingers ball into a fist at his side, emphasizing his frustration. “I don’t need you to tell me about my oldest friend, thank you very much.”

She flinches at his tone, touching her hand to the wall and rubbing her fingers along the smooth stone. Its cool temperature grounds her in mild comfort.

You're fine. You're still in Hogwarts, not the drawing room. Ominis wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't.

“Ominis, I just meant-”

“I know what you meant. Sebastian gets himself in enough trouble, he doesn’t need your help. You clearly don’t understand Sebastian well enough to be considered a close friend,” He points in Adelia’s direction.

“I’m not sure what twisted idea you have of me but no, I don’t consider us friends either. I can hardly stand to be around you at the moment.”

He sighs, kicking at the ground. “Sebastian’s going to get an earful about this.”

Every lingering rot of jealousy curled up tightly in her chest unfurls, seeking out weak and corroding areas of her heart. Ominis’s words are bruising with a pricking determination to carve out any hope left. Tan patches of skin are imbedded with a crawling sensation and her collarbone is overcome with pins and needles, while her sternum is subjected to a throbbing itchy sensation. Her ancient magic, naturally thrumming steadily in his presence, sharply mutates into a displeased hum.

“Ominis, I don’t want to be beholden to your temper’s whims. I thought that we were getting somewhere, that maybe you might care-” 

Her seeking gaze meets his distant one. His eyes are far away squeezing clenched fists while his ears point nowhere near her mouth.

Crack.

Ah. I misread this. I misunderstood everything between us.

Since the second time we met, under the twinkling night sky in Hogsmeade, I developed… feelings towards him. Of what nature, I’m not entirely sure. 

A nostalgia for the simplicities of my childhood, perhaps. Longing to be younger and still filled with hope, attaching myself to the sole outsider who took pity on my naive and sentimental self. A desperate bid for companionship, clinging onto the spare bits of warmth given by someone born with threadbare fabric to spare. Maybe even…

It was not love. No romance novel could trick me into believing it could be love, not this soon. My parents shared a flourishing love so whole and unique that no fable could even compare. And we are nothing like them. 

Infatuation. 

For his haunting aristocratic features, a sneering and dastardly front shielding a softly beautiful smile behind. His gloating, more of a knowing smirk than taunts, for knowing more about a subject or being better at a game than Sebastian and I. In the gentle way he describes his aunt. For the elegant casting of a spell chosen based on my preferences, creating a one-of-a-kind experience that no other boy could dream of recreating. And even in the gentle whisper of my name, wishing I could hear his voice repeat it at least once more.

Whatever it may have been, no matter the combination of feelings I hold, that isn’t what he wants. 

I know my place. And thus, I need to let him go.

“I apologize.” 

Her desperate voice becomes monotone, rattling off a response as though she’s no longer emotionally present, now just going through the motions.

“It appears I’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion and unwittingly involved you in my mess. Rest assured, I won’t make that mistake again.” 

Several emotions flicker across Ominis’s face, none lingering long enough to make itself known. No sound is made in this forgotten hallway, save for the slightly stuttered breaths of Adelia strengthening into a regular rhythm. His grip tightens around his wand, tongue darting out to wet his lips but no noise escapes his parted lips.  

Crack. 

Adelia softly sighs in disappointment, taking the initiative to end this conversation before her fractured heart completely shatters. Straightening her shoulders, she marches past Ominis with one last shred of confidence, leaving behind the clicking of her boots and a fading trail of magic that morphs into spikes of stormy blue. 

Slinking into a musty music room, filled with sleeping choir frogs and a wooden piano collecting dust, her fingers shakily tear off a glove and cautiously press middle C. A quiet note rings out, soft and untuned, perfectly imperfect. Drawing a broken sigh and tossing her gloves onto a long-forgotten music stand, she finally allows herself to shed the emotional weight of her responsibilities and mistakes.

And she plays.

For as long as she can hide, in a dark and neglected corner far from anyone else in the school, Adelia performs a melody solely for herself.

~~~~~~

“I apologize.” 

Adelia’s distinctive soft voice fades into a cold, emotionless tone. It's like the witch I knew is shutting herself off, emotions fading away until all that's left is a glorified marionette doll.

“It appears I’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion and unwittingly involved you in my mess. Rest assured, I won’t make that mistake again.”

Hearing her unwavering resolve causes my anger to lessen briefly, the fog lifting enough for a shiver to run down my spine at her sudden apathy. Though the hurt I feel won’t disappear from a few words, my heart stutters, an odd tension creeping over my nerves. Like if I allow her to leave without another word, something fragile that’s already been fractured will no longer fit back into place. 

But what would I even say? 

Wetting my lower lip in preparation to speak, my mind searches for something, anything to say. Words cannot accurately describe the emotions I’m feeling and the collective thoughts rushing through my mind, all as a result of Sebastian’s thoughtless actions.

I take in a few breaths but no words leave my mouth.

A soft sigh and the fading clicking of heels ring through my ears like an alarm, alerting me that the time to respond to her has well and truly passed. Swallowing my saliva, my lips press together and I reassemble my resolve. 

It’s a shame Adelia got involved in all of this, but I need to focus on the real culprit.

One of my hands uncurls itself while the other presses its fingernails deeper, embedding sense into my system. Flourishing my wand at the locked door, I repeat the same old gesture I could do in my sleep and walk into the secret room, ready to confront him.

Chapter 15: Interlude III

Summary:

A collection of conversations heard throughout the grounds of Hogwarts from a variety of students.

Notes:

Happy Reading!

If you'd like to listen to music while reading this chapter, here is a recommended tune:
https://youtu.be/OloXRhesab0?si=PRvhx-5imhyRANro

Interlude: Conversation Excerpts From Hallways

Hogwarts Corridors 

Various Hogwarts Students

To the tune of Gioachino Rossini's The Barber of Seville, Overture

 

“Didja hear ‘bout the new fifth year’s bethrothal?”

Audible sounds of choking on sweets ensue.

“No?! With who?”

“Sebastian Sallow, if y’can believe it.”

“How can you-”

“You’re telling porkies.”

“-be certain of that?”

“Heard it from Analise Meadows, who heard it from Lilith Park who overheard a conversation between Nellie Oggspire and Aditya Blackwood. His roommate saw Sallow hugging her closely in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower last night. The bloke dropped to one knee as well. Apparently, they’ve been sneaking ‘round, in and out the castle late at night. Looking for privacy, I’d wager.”

~~~~~~

“My shoes are definitely tied, Sebastian.”

“Keep telling yourself that. This’s the third time you’ve tripped this week. Lucky I caught you before the stairs broke your fall.”

"Ugh. Mr. Hill promised these boots were both popular and high quality."

Murmurs fill the air as Sebastian flicks his wand to Adelia’s other boot, ensuring the stubborn laces won’t come loose. He proudly beams at her while standing up, dusting off his knees with a smile.

“Careful. I can’t always be there to sweep you off your feet.”

“Blimey. Oh gosh. I’m swooning already.”

“Ah ah, what did I say about falling?”

~~~~~~~

Two Hufflepuff students sit on a wyvern fountain in the Transfiguration Courtyard, examining a linen herb sachet. 

"Someone must've dropped this."

"Let me see that."

The witch snatches it from the boy's loose grip, tearing open the drawstring to reveal wrapped bundles of lemon balm and spearmint.

"Oh, that's very interesting. It smells lovely too."

"This looks like the little bags Adelia has all around our room. This is one of hers then."

"Wow, Lenora! Your room must smell just like a Herbology classroom."

The girl glares at his enthusiasm, tossing the closed satchet into her bookbag and lifts her nose snootily.

"Don't get too excited, Arthur. Our common room has a more pleasant aroma than the Sunflower room. In fact, I've been taking care of the oblong woodsia fern growing along the staircase. Professor Garlick insists the best way to grow..."

~~~~~~

“Tanga ka ba?"

Thwacks of paper smack against a student’s head.

“I told you to set up the dungbombs when no prefects were patrolling the Faculty Tower. And what did you do?”

“I got lost… in your eyes.”

Wrinkled parchment creases further as the annoyed wizard rolls up his newspaper even together, wielding it menacingly at his taller friend.

“Okay okay, fine. I allegedly got caught immediately and she confiscated all of our equipment. Heavy emphasis on alleged.”

Heavy sighs release from the boy, and he looks around for a particular prefect, as though this conversation would spawn her.

“Tell me it was at least Rowle or McEwan.”

"In my defense, witches are normally flattered by my flirting."

"Jiho."

“...Pr..w…t.”

“Eh?”

“Alison Prewitt.”

A few painful moments of silence ensue before the other boy speaks.

“You had one job- Come back here! Pambihira.”

“Nah, gotta catch me first. C'mon Cal, you need to chase after your dreams~”

Heavy footsteps stomp past chattering portraits, chasing a pair of scurrying ones through amused crowds of tittering underclassmen.

~~~~~~

“Your last warning was issued over a week ago. Now I can give you detention.”

“I reject this. You’re clearly trying to issue detention, so I have no time for Sharp’s homework. Beyond your bias, you have no proof it was me.”

“Besides your partner-in-crime that confessed to reduce his infraction by 30 house points?”

“He was chatting you up; that’s what Jiho does. No harm, no foul.”

“And this receipt?”

The redhead holds up a Zonko’s receipt for him to see, with Calyx Rosewater written clear as day.

“Merlin’s bloody chamberpot. I told Jiho to throw that out.”

“Language. 20 points from Slytherin.”

“Not this shite again.”

“10 points.”

“Prewitt.”

“Yes, Rosewater?”

Her amber eyes dart up from her clipboard to meet his slate ones, their dark hue matching his sardonic smile. 

“I can’t bloody stand you.”

The edges of her lips curl up, busying herself with other parchment to conceal the beginnings of an amused smirk. 

“The feeling’s oh so mutual, Scales.”

~~~~~~

“Dalton. How do you do?”

“How do you do?”

Both students nod to each other in greeting, and the girl requests to fill the empty seat beside him. Seeing as few other seats are available in the library, he concedes, nudging a stack of homework closer to his leather bag. 

“I’ve noticed your roommate isn’t idling about in our common room like a dreary cloud anymore.”

“Lady Black requested his presence in London. Gaunt's likely sipping tea in her drawing room this very moment.”

“That’s not cricket! How come he’s invited while the rest of us are stuck in Scotland?”

“Perhaps they found a squib for him to marry? I overheard parts of his discussion with Sallow in the Great Hall.”

The boy adjusts a textbook to cover his mouth and lowers his voice, ensuring any eavesdroppers won’t hear.

“It sounds as though he’ll take over a few Gaunt businesses.”

“Not possible. He lacks charisma and eyesight. How could he possibly run a shop?”

The wizard gently shakes his head and puts down the book, turning his attention back to his homework, which is clearly more important to him than their chat.

“You’re not giving him enough credit. Unsettling he may be, but I’d hate to be on the other side of a road if he’s on a warpath. He is a Slytherin descendant, after all.”

~~~~~~

“Can you believe he won the Quidditch Cup the very first year he joined the team?”

A group of girls sigh dreamily. One Gryffindor kicks her feet and squeals, cupping her blushing cheeks.

“Must be Ravenclaw’s good luck charm. What I wouldn’t give to be on their team~”

“A little house rivalry never dulled any sparks. All you need to do now is figure out how to catch a snitch before he does.”

“While you stay on your broom.”

The girl nods along before getting the reminder of actual work she’d need to put in. She frowns with a huff.

“It’d be easier to transfer houses than fly those blasted brooms. Carriages are the best form of air travel by far.”

“And if your coachman is invited onto the pitch, I’m sure Isaac Cooper would give you a head start.”

The girls giggle as they exchange gossip about the newest popular book at school. It's a muggle novel that Isaac Cooper was spotted reading, which led many students to purchase their own copies and even establish a new book club. 

“I doubt anyone in the school could resist his charms. I wish I could figure out who he likes, if anyone at all.”

“Whoever it is will be one lucky individual.”

~~~~~~

(Adelia, male version)

Notes:

Tagalog Translations:
Tanga ka ba? - Are you stupid?
Pambihira - unbelievable

I've included art at the end of this chapter by Fried Meat on Ko-fi.
Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 16: Lover's Folly

Summary:

Starting with snippets of Isaac Cooper's early life, specifically how his relationship to his parents and neighbors affected his life. Especially one neighbor in particular.
Lamenting on a particular problem, Isaac finds himself on the Quidditch pitch when he notices a younger student in need of guidance. Taking it upon himself to walk them back to the castle, he may end up getting the advice himself.

Notes:

I've been cycling through chapters, typing out parts of a few different ones before finally finishing this & the interlude. I had the idea of doing a different POV, specifically Isaac's for a little bit now. It was fine to do but wow, is it difficult to write an Irish accent. I tried my best though. I even have been practicing using a semicolon, though idk how effective it truly was.
Glad to finally show off the famous Isaac Cooper & see where his head is at.
Happy Reading!

If you grow up shrouded in darkness, it’s all too natural to learn to shy away from the light unless someone is willing to plunge themselves into the shadows to pull you out. 

For Isaac Cooper, that someone was Anne Sallow.

As much as he tried, it was difficult for a child to control his father’s drinking habits and volume after consuming so many pints of mead. From his father’s belligerent behavior at night to his mother’s hesitant and quiet movements during the day, Isaac assumed the role of mediator before he learned to read. However, he became a voracious reader once his little hands grasped a book. No matter the topic, from cooking recipes to domestic medicine manuals, he refused to set his reading down until he understood every word. Losing himself in these lines of writing didn’t completely distract him from his duties, however, ensuring their home was perfectly tidy so his father had nothing to complain about. Nothing that stuck anyway. 

Understanding her neighbor’s plight, due to having a loud and angry uncle constantly fighting her twin, Anne took the older boy under her wing, giving him moments of reprieve from his suffocating household. After a few months of sharing digestives atop a rickety lookout point, Isaac worked up the nerve to ask her why she lived with her uncle. Through watery eyes and a tiny smile, Anne shrugged and said her parents were no longer alive, but as long as Sebastian was by her side, everything would be okay. 

The eight year old Irish boy looked at her with wonder. 

Although her clothes were tight around the arms and her nose was runny, she managed to contend with her situation, so long as her brother was with her. Her brother who tore into their uncle’s lack of parenting skills after ripping into a stale package of digestive biscuits. Though not before offering them one first. 

Gently nibbling on the biscuit, Isaac resolves to help the twins, becoming a figure they can turn to for help or advice. After all, he has plenty of practice helping his mother. What are another two people?

~~~~~~

Spotlights are difficult to cast away, especially when others decide to point its blinding beams at you. 

Being a muggleborn student in a school chock full of children from wizarding families naturally causes a divide. Though his mother is a muggleborn witch, his muggle father hated whenever her magic was used, forcing their home into a completely magic-free zone. That never prevented Isaac from gaining theoretical knowledge, reading all of his mother's textbooks from cover to cover until they were memorized. 

There was no hesitation when Isaac was sorted into Ravenclaw. Acing classes became second nature, especially if finishing lessons early meant more time to read a novel from the library. His luck doubled when realizing his presence fell to the wayside, only truly being acknowledged by professors and a few housemates. 

When the letter arrived holding his prefect badge, Isaac barely glanced at it before returning to his Astronomy book. Following rules was easy, but that didn't mean he cared if other students did, either. Growing up is difficult and confusing enough; why not allow students to sneak around a bit? Adventure is healthy for the growing body. 

Neither his impressive test records nor lackadaisical approach to leadership shoved him into the burning lights. It was his talent with a broom.

Flying was surprisingly not an easy task. Soft voices and comforting words were all Isaac knew to share. Commanding a broom felt awkward and clunky at first. But he took time to practice until the broom practically leaped into his hand due to his presence alone. At first, he enjoyed the breeze in his hair and appreciated the view around the courtyards through the lens of his monocle. But he rather quickly discovered a love for Quidditch and a talent for observation that overwhelmed the current Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. After a couple of years of quietly supporting his team captain, the mantel was naturally and enthusiastically passed down to him. 

Having hit a growth spurt at the end of fourth year, Isaac now towers over most of the student body. As if to compensate, he tends to hunch over in crowded spaces, like his height is an inconvenience to those around him. Puberty pleasantly shaped his features; newly grown muscles were aesthetically pleasing and his limbs became all proportional. When people, witches especially, began watching him for far longer than normal, Isaac had a bad feeling that this was the start of something new.

~~~~~~

Starting out his sixth year at Hogwarts, Isaac Cooper was a beloved prefect, top of his academic class, and the Captain and Seeker of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. He had a soft smile and kind words to share, often helping younger students with questions or directions. When he visited the library for the third time in a day, there were always at least two admirers looking on from a distance or waiting until his prefect duties to ‘accidentally’ get caught. Even when hiding his face in a book, under a secluded tree on Hogwarts’s grounds, love letters were sure to arrive and pile at his feet. And when he practiced flying? The Quidditch stadium would fill with spectators eager to catch a glimpse of the famed Ravenclaw.

He was in hell.

Akin to a typical shopkeeper's customer service smile, Isaac felt obligated to maintain a polite demeanor to make those around him happy. Not to say that he doesn’t genuinely enjoy helping others, but his fame has reached every spare corner of the castle, his name whispered from the deepest dungeon to the highest tower. It was overwhelming for someone accustomed to keeping the peace and fading into the background. This was especially true when he had to reject love declarations; they all reminded him of her.

Anne. His Anne.

Valentine's Day was the one day Anne snuck him back to Feldcroft, sharing heart-shaped chocolates and teasing each other over their respective Quidditch teams’ winning probabilities. And now, he'll likely have to spend Valentine's Day hiding out in his dorm room with a stack of library books and chocolates tested for love potions.

I miss Annie, but I can’t muster the courage tell her how I feel and burden her now. It would be cruel t’play with her heart. Every time the beour’s near I'm close to declaring my affection so my owl sees her more than me. ‘Specially after her uncle told me off for researching Muggle medical journals for remedies.

He adjusts his monocle, sliding it back over a healed scar on his nose bridge. Red packages of sour candies burn a hole in his pocket, taunting his inability to visit Anne. Instead, he sits on the soft grass of the Quidditch pitch, able to read a favorite book of his after having just been abandoned by Andrew Larson. An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms rests between his callused palms, acting as a conversational deterrent to the multiple witches whispering and giggling nearby. Almost all of them, that is.

A strong voice calls out from behind him. “Well.”

“Well,” Isaac responds, sliding a bookmark onto his current page.

“With so many admirers around, ya think one of them would challenge Imelda to catch your attention,” She continues, plopping next to him in the grass.

“Not when I have a book on me.”

“Like that would stop ‘em.”

Isaac closes his book to peer over at Carina Greengrass, who rolls his broom aside to sit right beside him and read off the bookmarked page. As soon as the cover thuds shut, three girls dart forward at his lack of distraction. Huffing a short, exasperated sigh to the cheeky Quidditch commentator, Isaac collects himself and greets the witches. 

“Y’alrigh’?” He asks with a crooked smile. 

An olive-skinned brunette sporting a Slytherin uniform steps forward. “Lovely weather today.”

Her spindly friend loosens her yellow tie, casting a cursory glance up to the sparse clouds above. “Perfect weather for a game, if Black hadn’t banned it. Are you going to race Imelda?”

“I could,” He shrugs noncommittally, fingers itching to open his book again.

“Best of luck,” The brunette smirks, ruby lips popping against her tan skin. “Reyes is almost a minute behind my time but everyone knows how well you fly.”

Their shy friend emerges from behind the two confident girls, nervously scanning the ground as though gathering up her courage. “I-I could wax your broom if you’d like. That’s okay if not, I always use a specialty wax my u-uncle makes, and the smell- not everyone likes, b-but it comfortably smoothes the wood and-”

While she stutters out her offer, Isaac gently places his book in the grass and picks up his broomstick, silently pointing it in her direction with a soft nod. “G’wan.”

Nodding with wide eyes, her sepia brown hands delicately grasp his broom as though it’s a precious prize. Isaac pats her hands in thanks, waltzing back to his position on the field. The other two girls form a semi-circle around her, assisting her in finding her wax kit while excitedly whispering words of praise and congratulations to her.

“That was a blinding success, Lottie. Well done!”

“A true bang-up job. And we haven’t even waxed his broom yet.”

“Ya think he’d let ya wax his other broom?”

“Ruby!”

“May help to polish his stiff wood.”

“Kezia, no!”

“I’m talking about his Ravenclaw broomstick, mate.”

Carina pointedly laughs at their antics, eyeing all three girls with an amused grin. Meanwhile, Isaac gazes over to a lit wooden platform set up on the pitch, scanning to find a Scottish teen sporting a dark ponytail. His gaze lands just in time to see a frustrated Imelda hop off her broom and engage her racing competitor in a discussion—a competitor who happens to be the famous fifth-year student who defeated a troll in her first week.

That Calyx Rosewater’s sister? Flying skills must run in the family. 

Her sienna brown skin glows healthily, contrasting with dark eye bags, and glossy black hair twisted into two buns behind her ears. Rosy plaid fabric swallows her body with puff sleeves almost drowning her arms, distorting her appearance into a frail and delicate doll. While her exhausted demeanor draws his attention, he is no stranger to sleepless nights himself, the familiar periwinkle handkerchief dabbing off her sweat is at the center of his focus. Stumbling off the rain-soaked racing platform like a newborn fawn, looking a hop and a skip away from passing out, Isaac watches with concern as she rips off a pair of flying gloves to fan herself.

So this is the girl sneaking around the castle with Sebastian. Ah, that’s gas. The lad needs a bird to stop acting the maggot. 

Looks like she hasn't slept in days, poor lass. Wonder if he’s been keeping her up, studying dark curses. Either way, it’s a fruitless venture. Mr. Solomon Sallow would sooner ban Sebastian from their home again than let him smuggle Anne experimental elixirs. 

“Sorry,” Isaac mutters to Carina, quietly pardoning himself. “Will you grab my broom so?” 

Carina nods distractedly, still eyeing Ruby as the trio wipes down Isaac’s broom. Entrusting the retrieval of his faithful broom to her, Isaac dusts himself off and strolls to the new student. Pressing his secondhand brogues into the lush lawn, the Hufflepuff’s eyes dart over to Isaac well before he is within speaking distance. Unwilling to let the awkwardness of the situation and her confused expression deter him, Isaac politely nods in greeting.

“Well. I’m Isaac Cooper,” He greets, extending his hand.

Blinking rapidly for a moment, the girl places a cool hand in his. “Adelia Rosewater. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

While shaking their hands, Isaac takes a moment to look closer at the younger girl. Though her height isn’t as tall as his, that would certainly be an accomplishment, the witch’s stature is lithe, towering over most girls her age. Dark, almond shaped eyes seem to gaze through him, rather than meeting his own. Surprisingly, there are a few small calluses on her delicate hands.

Elegant she may be, but he would do well to remember the rumors of her powerful capabilities.

Flexing her hand after pulling away, Isaac listens as Adelia mutters to herself while sliding her glove off and on numerous times before finally securing it in place. 

Interesting. Six times on each side? Wonder if it's a good luck ritual of sorts.

“Would you mind accompanying me on a walk?” The wizard requests, jutting out his elbow.

Her neck swivels as she glances around and her petal lips drop open slightly in surprise. Then she nods, uttering a few words of acceptance. Wrapping an arm around his elbow and tucking her body close to his side, the pair amble across the sprawling field to glimmering cobblestone pathways. Sunlight reflects off the damp stones to create a mosaic of golden light. Humming quietly to himself, the man adjusts a silver monocle over his nose. 

“Cooper,” Adelia begins, her eyebrows scrunched in focus. “I don't recognize that name. Which family do you hail from?”

“None you'd know of,” Isaac chuckles, gently patting her hand. “It's from my Muggle father, so.”

“You're a muggleborn?!”

The witch abruptly stops, turning to stare at him incredulously. His head tilts and his eyes narrow slightly behind his monocle.

“Aye. Since I was a wee lad.”

“But you're…” Her voice trails off, pink lips soundlessly opening and closing.

The wizard leans closer, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I'm…”

Like clockwork, the Hufflepuff’s pretty face flushes a lovely shade of red. It was reminiscent of the confident Slytherin girl from earlier, the almond tan of her skin melding with the petals of a brilliant rosy lip to form a view worthy of commissioning a portrait. That display would've charmed him immensely if he wasn’t in love with Anne. As though his simple teasing unnerved her, Isaac notes her demeanor shifts to something more nervous and meek.

“...so accomplished,” She mumbles, tucking stray strands of fringe behind her ear.

Isaac leans back to assess her. Rather than taking on a pitying or disgusted expression, the tall witch seems deep in thought. She’s a bit anxious, based on the rhythmic tapping of her fingers and inability to meet his eyes.

I’d wager my muggleborn status isn’t her issue. Not that I’d expect it to be, if she’s anything like that feen Calyx Rosewater. Anyone with a functioning brain can sense unresolved tension between him and Alison Prewitt. Smell it, even. Not to say all Slytherins are bigoted against illegitimate children but plenty of that house's purebloods turn up their noses or ignore her during our prefect shifts.

Enough to make ya want to punt the uppity little gobshites.

Not that I would, of course. But forcing them to choose between a muggleborn and illegitimate pureblood successor to accept a punishment from makes every prolonged school day more worthwhile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her hands unclasp and raise, as though physically waving away her words. 

“It is! It is. I apologize. I just,” She sighs, her shoulders almost comically drooping. “Wonder what it’s like to grow up without being surrounded by magic. I’ve heard some classmates can’t even practice magic at their homes since no other spellcaster could cover the student’s trace with their own.”

“It was a breeze,” He replies sarcastically. “For myself, I was after studying everything I could. Practical spellcasting was learnt later but I did grow up in a magic-friendly hamlet.”

“Truly?”

“Aye, Feldcroft. You may have seen it so.”

The lass’s head tilts for a moment in thought before collecting herself and rising to her full height.

“Mister Cooper,” The fifth year states, her soft voice flowing in the gentle wind. “Might I inquire as to why you’ve asked to promenade?”

“It’s improper to comment on a lady’s appearance,” He says sheepishly. “However, I noticed you look quite tired. Alright?”

It’s silent for a moment as she finds her words.

“I will be,” She shrugs with a tight smile. “I have to be. Too much on my shoulders to slow down now.”

The Ravenclaw frowns with concern, having heard similar sentiments from despondent underclassman. Especially fellow muggleborns who felt the need to prove their worth by studying excessively to overcome the gap with their pureblood peers. Even he has felt the urge to burrow into a stack of books to forget his troubles. Merlin knows he still would if he wasn’t taught to solace others’ problems before his own. 

The students halt as the winged guardian hog statues assess them before raising the wrought iron gates, granting access to Hogwarts’s grounds. While he immediately relocates to a slightly muddy path, the younger Hufflepuff slows, eyeing the flowing fountain and towering castle with awe. It’s that starry gaze that reminds the wizard of how little time she’s spent here, not unlike a typical first year student. 

“Have you talked your brother about it?”

“I've tried,” She sighs. “Sixth year is busy, as I'm sure you're aware. It's difficult to find him outside of mealtimes.”

“This may not mean much, coming from a new acquaintance, but y’are doing a good job. It’s not easy come into a new environment well after everyone else. If you’re struggling with understanding something, try talk your prefects. We’re here to help, so.”

“If all else fails, I can lend yourself an ear,” He offers kindly.

“Thank you. I’ll consider it,” She slightly smiles, brushing a hand over her hair. “Is there anything else you’d ask of me?”

“Aye, if you’re feeling up for it. Alison Prewitt mentioned you found her necklace, said y'were the perfect person for requests.”

“I'm not sure about all of that,” She shrugs, appearing shy. “That was kind of her, though I heard she lost it through my brother, unlike the usual approach and ask. I'm free at the moment, do you need help with something?”

“I have a request. A personal delivery for Anne Sallow.”

Adelia nods eagerly, her fingers flitting over a hefty book and quill. The sour candies nestled atop a letter create an uncomfortable heat in Isaac's pocket, prompting him to toss both items into her arms awkwardly. With quick reflexes, she catches the pair before they hit the floor and deftly stows everything in her bag. Once she’s settled, Isaac extends his arm once more, which she accepts with grace.

“You timed this well,” Adelia praises, barely hiding a yawn behind a glove. “I’m set to visit her for the first time this afternoon.” 

“Surprised you haven’t visited sooner,” His eyebrows raise. “What with your relationship with Sebastian.”

“...What do you mean exactly?”

Should I spare her the embarrassment? In exchange for this favor, I could.

“You two are close,” He states the obvious, recalling the bethrothal rumors and instances of spotting the Slytherin with a formerly blurry-faced Hufflepuff. “Figured you were going to visit Feldcroft eventually.”

A hum sounds from her. “I’ll be meeting his sister for the first time, and to tell you the truth, I’m a bit nervous. They’ve been described as two peas in a pod and I wish to make a good impression on Anne.”

His arm muscles subconsciously tighten at her name, fighting the urge to reply with a cheesy response like, ‘She’d apologize to a table after bumping into it, no need to worry about her liking you. No one possesses a heart as pure as Anne’s.’

She mumbles to herself. “But what gift would my hosts like?”

“Scotch for their uncle,” Isaac automatically lists off. “Sour candies, ‘specially acid pops, or floral tea for Anne. Sebastian likes caramel chocolates.”

“...”

Darting his eyes down to take in the dumbfounded expression on her face, the Ravenclaw realizes he assumes she already knew they were neighbors. Explaining their history alleviates most of her curiosity, though it’s clear something still pricks the back of her mind. Her lips twitch in a smile before smoothing to a neutral expression. Their walk continues, traversing past patches of overgrown wildflowers and dilapidated stone staircases, tramping over collections of moss. 

“So, would you say you know Anne well?” She asks pointedly, dark grey eyes focused on him.

One hand automatically raises to brush the back of his neck. A nervous tick that he can't get rid of, no matter how much he has tried.

“A bit. What d'ya want know?”

Humming in thought, she replies. “What’s her favorite color?”

“Garnet red,” He responds instantly.

“That’s… very specific.”

“It’s the colour of her favorite yarn, same one her Mum used make scarves and such.”

“Alright,” She snorts quietly. “If I were to engage her in a conversation, what sorts of things does Anne like chatting about?”

“Anything that came to her mind. She’s filled with boundless energy and wit. It’s a wonder how she didn’t end up in my house.”

His mind drifts off, remembering the mischievous twinkle in her eyes when she got away with a prank or talked Sebastian, and occasionally Ominis, out of trouble. He thinks of the way her nose wrinkles and hands rest on her hips when she is upset, planning how to find a solution moments after a problem presents itself.

“You fancy her, don’t you?”

Isaac stares at her curious expression with wide eyes, almost immediately relaxing upon remembering who he’s speaking to. Adelia isn’t one of his admirers who would blab about his attraction to the nearest spellcaster, nor did she have any interest in him beyond general curiosity. As cocky as it may be to say, this is rare for him.

“I do.”

She appears surprised for a moment before her features soften into a smile.

“Have you told her that?”

“I can’t.” 

He shuts that thought down as soon as it’s presented to him. Even though Anne likely returns his feelings, he doesn’t want to become a worry or burden to her at all. Friendship is the best option. Not matter how much it tears him up inside to not have the right to hold her in his arms.

Passing through a patch of vibrant orange pumpkins near the Beasts classroom, Adelia suddenly grabs his hand and speaks strongly.

“You must come with me to Feldcroft.”

“Ah… I cannot-”

“Please, Mister Cooper,” She continues, eyes sparkling like a begging puppy. “Even if you cannot confess your feelings to Anne, you should at least reassure her that you care.”

Letting go to retrieve his gifts to Anne from her satchel, she presses the envelope and packages against his chest, her face lit up with a determined expression.

“Let her make the decision to love you.”

Isaac's heart races as he finds his whole body frozen in shock for the first time in years at a sudden realization. 

Her choice matters just as much as his does. It wouldn’t be fair to ignore the unspoken tension between them because of his worries over how she’d react. Anne should be the one to decide what will happen. But no matter what fate befalls them, Isaac will still be waiting in the wings, waiting to be the one to pull her back into the light this time.

Isaac silently nods in agreement, hugging the gifts to his chest.

“I… Alright. I shall.”

Chapter 17: A Dream Born From Nightmares & A New Perspective

Summary:

Dreams can be scarily realistic, especially if your mind subconsciously replaces the main characters with you and your friend(?). After waking up from an unexpected dream, Adelia gets an unfortunate yet long expected letter.
Following the end of her conversation with Isaac Cooper, Carina Greengrass enters and has an important discussion with Adelia, leading Adelia to come to terms with her feelings.

Notes:

Hello!
Writing the dream sequence was surprisingly super easy & pretty fun, so I hope it's enjoyable to read too. I've been rearranging the order of chapters, but it felt natural to follow the last one, given that the end of this chapter is a continuation of the previous one. Once again, I curse myself with the amount of italics used.
Reminder that taking care of your mental health is important. You may feel like you're going crazy but you're not. Intrusive thoughts are called intrusive for a reason.
Enjoy & take care of yourselves!

Darting past grazing goats, the girl stumbles along a dirt road. Her moist lips faintly cry out in pain as she puts more pressure on her rolled ankle. Pushing open a creaky wooden gate, ignoring the sharp bite of a splinter, her untied boots hop directly into another rain puddle. With mud splashing along the hem of her worn dress, the brunette beauty runs on a flower-lined pathway. Large huffs of air leave her delicate body once she comes to a complete stop at a stone viewing point lit up by warm flickers of candlelight. 

She feels safe now. Alone and at peace. 

“-lotte!”

The dainty enchantress strains her ears, listening to the pattering of raindrops until a man’s deep voice rings clear.

“Charlotte!”

Her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. Desperate, dark eyes bore into her own, quickly closing the distance in disbelief. The affluent man, usually the epitome of calm, is now consumed with anguish at the sight of the humble woman. Ignoring the need to shield his silk dress shirt, he approaches with his body and coily hair soaked from the rain, losing any dry spots as he strides to embrace her. 

“Charlotte,” He breathes into her flowing hair, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. 

“Julian!” 

She inhales, allowing herself a brief moment to revel in the comfort of his masculine scent, before pushing herself away. 

“How did you find me?” She asks, holding herself for comfort. 

His veiny hand lifts to run through her hair, but he pauses as her head turns away. Dejected, his arm hovers in a clenched fist then slowly lowers to his side. 

“There is no place in all of England that could keep you from me,” He replies, an anguished look fixing itself upon his face. “I have traveled far and wide for a bride. Every one of those perfectly poised noblewomen are all the same. Even down to the niceties they utter to steal a hint of affection from me. Yet you…”

His eyes soften, hope matching the lightening of the sky’s downpour. 

“You’re different. You make me feel different, Charlotte.”

Her breath catches at his admission, her watery blue eyes carefully observing the cascading pink petals attaching themself to his wet clothes. Knowing he was driven mad enough to rush all the way to her new employer’s townhouse without changing from his casual garments was driving her mad. Especially as the sun dips below the horizon, casting streaks of warm golden light to kiss his glowing skin most alluringly.

But she cannot let herself be pulled into his charismatic aura again, not now that she has found a reputable job and is capable of making a name for herself. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Moore.” She brushes a tear from her cheek. “I must stay here and you must go. We both have responsibilities and it wouldn’t be right to throw them away for…”

“For what, Lottie?” His voice softens, warm brown eyes captivating her own.

His muscular body saunters over to her own, flexing his arms through his translucent shirt, causing her mouth to go dry. 

“For a mere attraction,” The girl replies, her voice softening to an upperclass accent. “No matter how much I long for your arms to wrap around me or to hear your voice calling my name-”

“Adelia,” The man states, his dark brown skin and hair becoming considerably paler. 

“Julian?” She questions, glancing at her darkening features.

Even her fingernails shift from scraggly and torn to well-trimmed with a fresh coat of polish. Determined to continue her point, the elegant woman tilts her head up to the suddenly less tall man in front of her. 

“You have hurt me before, even if you haven’t intended to. Perhaps you believe me selfish but I wish to focus on myself, Ominis.”

“Then why haven’t you?” 

A stormy set of moonstone eyes cast over her right shoulder pulls her focus, his ears tilted towards her voice. 

“You may find this difficult to accept but I care about your wellbeing. Do you truly believe the choices you have made are solely for yourself? Or is that what you’re choosing to believe?” 

“I-” The girl stutters, her grey eyes blinking in confusion. “I’m doing what’s right for everyone. Helping people is what I want to do.”

“At the expense of your own health?” 

His familiar warmth wraps around her cold hand, creating a comforting sensation in her chest. The bright sunlight dances around them, while a gentle breeze dries their clothes. As he pulls her closer, Adelia places her hand over his heartbeat, savoring the lively rhythm thumping beneath her palm. 

“An opportunity I’ve only dared to dream about for years has finally happened to me,” She speaks sincerely. 

“I know that I’m starting to run on fumes but why not help if I can? Why shouldn’t I assist Sebastian in studying curses if I’ve spent half my life doing that anyway? If I’m the only person who can stop Ranrok and Rookwood from taking over the world then shouldn’t I do everything possible to understand my gift to stop them?”

His fingers tenderly run through her waves, gently stroking while listening to her questions.

“What do you want?” He asks. “Beyond all of the expectations that have been placed on you. Push past that for a moment and focus entirely on your most selfish desires. What does Adelia want for herself?” 

Lifting a collection of black waves to his pink lips, Ominis gently kisses her hair. Adelia sucks in a breath, feeling her cheeks rapidly darkening at his boldness, causing all of her thoughts to shift to him. 

Ominis, the man who seems to either care about her wellbeing more than anyone else or only gives advice when it’s convenient to him. An enigma of a man. Brilliant blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes haunt her waking and dreaming. The man her heart sings for. 

Is it selfish? Absolutely.

But does she want to feel the sensation of his soft-looking lips against hers? More than anything.

“Could I… May I kiss you, Ominis?”

Her head ducks against his neck, peeking up at his side profile through tiny glances.

“Of course, my dear. I thought you’d never ask.” 

His lips quirk into a smirk as his fingers glide over her scalp, eventually finding her cheekbones and resting along her cheeks. He waits patiently while his thumbs gently stroke her flushed cheeks, making his smirk grow wider. Her dark grey eyes shine with excitement as they lock onto his matching grey ones. 

Her toes lift up before pausing, immediately flattening on the ground. Observing his features more carefully, Ominis’s smile is sharper than normal, teeth slightly jagged. It's like looking onto a distorted version of him, pieced together by descriptions only. Almost otherworldly. 

The brilliant sunset burns too brightly. Its varying shades of red ignite the burning sky in an omen of destruction, and she’s unable to observe it directly, for fear its visage will burn into her retinas.

Prying herself out of his grip, Adelia realizes her hand is stuck against his chest. Pulling it only brings him closer, where she can hear a low cackling emanating from his chest. A dark goo slithers out from his skin, encasing her hand and rapidly advancing down her arm. 

“Ominis!” 

She cries out, watching in horror as his body liquefies into a pile of black ooze, birthing a new form from the inside. Excreting a wrinkled hand full of sparkling rings and intricately patterned fabric, Adelia is unable to tear her eyes away from the horrific form of her Grandmother. Appearing several feet taller with sharp, dagger-like teeth and a manic twinkle in her eyes is Isa Kadara Greengrass in all her terrifying glory. 

“Tut-tut. Now, now Adelia. Don’t tell me you care for that pitiful boy.” The creature cackles, long manicured nails tracing Adelia’s chin. 

The girl whimpers, frozen in fear. Unable to avoid the sun’s rays scorching her skin; she feels too hot, too much.

“Pathetic,” She spits out, blood red nails digging into her skin. “You’ll never marry a Gaunt, even if he were to be swayed by your meager simpering. Remember your place, you hysterical half-wit.”

A giant hand winds back, aiming directly for Adelia’s face. 

~~~~~~

“Heughh,” A gasp sounds out from the now-awake Adelia.

Shooting out of her tangled quilt, a book falls off her chest and thumps loudly against the floor. Wincing at the deafening smack, she peeks at each of her roommates' beds for any sign of alertness. A snore rings out from across the room, almost causing Adelia whiplash as her head snaps over to it. Lenora shifts her entire body further to the side, about halfway off her bed. Other than the shuffling of blankets, no one else seems to have woken up.

“Eugh.”

Holding her pounding head with both hands, Adelia rubs at her temples to alleviate her growing headache. Delicate fingers reach underneath her underclothes to grab an herb bundle, filling her nose with the calming scent of lemongrass and citrus. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark, Adelia blinks at the dark room, locating her novel sprawled helplessly against the floor. Sliding her legs against the cotton sheets, tan toes slide the edges of the red cover close enough to grab.

Leaning over the edge of her bed, Adelia snatches the book and comfies herself in the retreating warmth of her quilt. Fumbling for her wand, she adjusts the direction her wand tip will appear in before casting Lumos. The shiny golden cover reflects underneath her silvery magic, lighting up the title, ‘How Charlotte Became (Known As) A Harlot' (Collector's Edition).

It was pure luck that she found this book in the Restricted Section, especially after the disastrous situation in Hogsmeade when she last attempted to read it. 

It took two weeks before I could muster up the courage to look at Mr. Brown’s face again. 

Augh, never again. I will sneak into the Headmaster’s office before setting off another childlock alarm. 

The book itself was proving to be quite an interesting read, far different from what Adelia had expected. 

Beginning with a peasant girl working for a farmer (this was where she assumed the peppers came in, but he never produced that crop), the rough older man produced oats, sugar beets, and potatoes. Charlotte, the down-on-her-luck beauty, was a hard worker who always had hands stained red from picking sugar beets. One fateful day, after celebrating the end of her work in the village’s local tavern, a cloaked figure spilled a pint of beer onto her only nice dress. 

“Good sir, would it be so much to ask for your beverage to stay within its glass?”

“If you were capable of keeping your elbows near your body, then that could be arranged.”

It was a catfight from the jump, and Adelia was enthralled. She had spent the entire night reading after a long meditation session with Professor Fig, hoping to fill her mind with someone else’s thoughts and worries.

The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was reading a sudden love confession from Julian, Charlotte’s love interest, who was recently revealed to be a rich noble. Their love story was one of misunderstandings, at times reminding Adelia of a certain gem-eyed man that she wished to escape thinking of. 

It’s no wonder my thoughts mixed like that. Though, why couldn't Ominis be more like Julian? At least he pleads for Charlotte to accept him rather than push himself away.

Setting a bookmark between rumpled pages, she places the novel inside her bedside drawer and covers it with dried herbs and old assignments. Peeking around to her sleeping roommates, the witch slides into a pair of woolen slippers and shuffles her way into the common room. Yawning while roughly patting down her tangled waves, she suddenly pauses at the sight of an owl. 

Not just any owl, Grandmother Isa’s personal owl. Meeting the piercing yellow eyes of the barn owl strikes fear directly into her heart.

How did she know about my dream?! Did she somehow cast magic on my sleeping body? Was that a premonition for the future?! 

Oh no, I don’t want to be a psychic. Merlin’s ratty beard, I’m already an ancient magic user. Spare me, I beg of you.

Low hoots pull Adelia out of her own head. The speckled owl drops a letter on the staircase in front of her then flies out of the room. Her head despondently looks down to watch the purple envelope flop from one step to the next until it unceremoniously lands at the bottom. 

Cursing out her grandmother with every foul word she knows in Tagalog, Adelia snatches up the letter. Plopping herself in front of the dying fireplace, she fans the flame like how Sebastian taught her, then mentally prepares herself to read the letter’s contents. 

------

Granddaughter,

Headmaster Black has confirmed there is no possibility of switching your house to the proper one. Until you graduate, remember your place. 

You are a fully bloomed flower among wasps. Do not allow their platitudes to sway you into becoming a filthy blood traitor.

I will not allow you to tarnish our family's legacy any further.

Lady Malfoy has agreed for the Rosewater Manor in London to host the first debut ball. As always, the midnight ritual will occur at Malfoy Manor, followed a night later by our evening soiree. Your debut dress should arrive in a fortnight. I also have procured this year's ritual dress according to your measurements. Both must fit perfectly upon your return to Rosewater Manor.

Lady Black, in particular, has expressed curiosity in your pianoforte talent. You will play for a selection of noble ladies at an advanced level. Ensure that no mistakes are made this time.

Do not disappoint me.

Most Sincerely,

Isa Kadara Greengrass

------

Grandmother Isa sees me as a flower now rather than a weed. A pretty, sweet-smelling decoration with the sole purpose of drawing eyes while staying still. Another one of her swanky trinkets meant to be seen, not heard.

Lolo would be rolling in his grave at that sentiment. I miss him dearly. He’s one of the loudest opposers of his sister-in-law, and I could truly use him right now.

Being at Hogwarts has been an eye-opener. Neither Professor Fig nor Mr. Osric would devalue my opinions or speak over me. I really trust them now. Far more than Isa or my governess, for that matter.

Folding the letter into a paper airplane, Adelia cocks back and throws the parchment into the fire. It smoothly sails into the flames, slowly burning up until all traces of her ink are gone. 

Lovely. Just when my headache had faded, it came back with a vengeance.

~~~~~~

“Finally talked the girls into giving me your broom. They weren’t too happy about it, but I managed to secure your broomstick and a Hogsmeade date this weekend.” 

Carina greets Isaac and Adelia cheerfully, sliding off Isaac’s broomstick to return it.

“Cheers.” 

He thanks her, taking a moment to examine the finework.

“Greetings, cousin,” Carina whirls around to Adelia with a crooked grin, looking all too much like the cat that caught the canary.

“Alright?” Adelia responds with an amused smile.

“Quite,” She chuckles. “You?”

“I’m okay.”

Not surprised she procured a date. It’s an open secret that Aunt Nydia and Uncle Luc allow her to date whomever she wishes. Carina, decidedly, takes full advantage of their permission. 

I often imagine what it would be like to date freely without worrying about my parents' or grandmother's opinions. But I realize I don’t have the time for it. 

Maybe it’s for the best. 

“I better be off,” Isaac interjects, nodding to Adelia as though to say ‘see ya later.’ “Slán.”

Isaac retreats up the winding staircase, rushing three steps at a time until he reaches the top and waves down at them. Waving back at the retreating prefect, Carina and Adelia wait until his tall figure disappears into the West Tower before turning towards each other. 

“What’s bothering you?”

The Hufflepuff nervously laughs. “What makes you think anything’s bothering me?” 

Carina pointedly stares, lifting a singular eyebrow. 

Guess Ominis’s words had a more drastic effect on me than I thought. 

Drat. 

I don’t need him to occupy more space in my mind. Ancient Ruins homework already takes up more than plenty. Speaking of which, have I solved the Astronomy Tower's door puzzle yet?

“Okay, fine,” She admits. “It’s Ominis.”

“Ominis Gaunt,” Carina replies knowingly. “What did he say to you?”

“It wasn’t what he said. Well, it was, but it was how he said it.” 

Her hands twist around, trying to convey his mannerisms. 

“Ominis always tilts his head at an angle to listen when someone speaks, but when I was spilling my feelings to him, he turned away.”

“Okayyy,” Carina draws the word out, appearing confused. “Do you know why he wasn’t listening?”

“He was mad that Sebastian showed me their secret room without asking. It was irritating! He even stepped closer like he was trying to intimidate me.”

“That’s not right,” She comments, brows furrowed. 

“Exactly!” 

Adelia raises her hands, shifting to speak while pacing rapidly. “He hasn’t been the easiest person to befriend, no matter how hard I’ve tried, but then he says he can’t even stand to be around me? And that I don’t know Sebastian at all. That we aren’t friends? Ugh! Why is he so infuriating?”

“Wait, go back,” Carina interjects. “He said you don’t know Sebastian Sallow at all?”

“More or less,” Adelia nods, taking a few impassioned breaths.

“Lia…” 

The Slytherin’s face contorted for a moment, suddenly appearing uncomfortable, as though she had to break bad news. 

“He's right."

"What?! You're supposed to be on my side!"

“Not in his delivery at all," Her cousin says, lifting her hands to placate Adelia’s hurt expression.

"Clearly, the boy has the emotional range of cardboard. But he was correct about one thing. You’ve only known Sallow for what… two months? Gaunt has known him for five years. Not to mention that his behavior has noticeably worsened without his sister to rein him in.”

Adelia quietly listens to her cousin’s words, unable to help the tinge of hurt at her shockwaves of truth. 

“I won’t press you for details about that room, though you should remember to be careful around boys you barely know.” 

Her deadpan expression causes Adelia to turn away immediately. 

“If that room was important to both of them, then Gaunt was projecting his hurt from Sallow’s betrayal onto you. It was never about you in the first place. You were just the unlucky girl to get caught in the crossfire.”

Oh. I’m the fool again. 

Carnation pink manicured fingers press into her tired eyes, rubbing at her accumulating headache until that new pain is all she can feel. 

I was so blinded by my own hurt that I didn’t think about Ominis’s feelings. Have I always been this selfish? 

Thoughts of previously selfish actions rise in her mind, churning away in her stomach. Air is rapidly sucked in through her nose, tamping down the rising wave of nausea building in her gut. 

“Ang tanga ko,” Adelia blurts out, burying her face in her hands. 

Carina huffs out a laugh at her flip in languages, uncovering Adelia’s face to hug her cousin tightly.

“It’ll be alright,” She mutters reassuringly while rubbing at her back. 

“How?” She utters, burying her face in Carina's collar. 

“I'm having trouble processing my feelings. No matter what Ominis says, I forgive him without even discussing why I was upset with him.”

“That easily? How often does he say awful things to you?”

“It doesn't happen too often. Well…” 

Adelia sighs deeply. His banter takes time to comprehend, especially when it seems that both he and Sebastian's anger is on a short fuse. Even though she understands how their conversation about the Undercroft was partially her fault, the pain of his words remains.

“Well, nothing. If he hurt you, he hurt you. That's all there is to it. Honestly, Adelia, it would do you well to give him a piece of your mind.”

She squeezes her cousin tighter, sore muscles finally loosening after a long needed hug. Tresses of Carina's silky black hair tickle at her forehead, grabbing her attention long enough to collect her thoughts. 

“I'm scared,” Adelia admits in a small voice.

Thin fingers scratch at her scalp, tucking loose strands behind her ears.

“Honesty is bravery. It can be intimidating to demand the truth from someone, but you know what? Bottling up your true feelings can be far worse. Take this from someone who couldn't admit their attraction to girls until fourth year. Once I accepted that I'd never be happy in a traditional relationship, my heart felt light. It may be unconventional, but it was not something I should've feared to feel.”

Adelia hums absentmindedly.

She’s right, but it’s not Ominis that I'm afraid of. 

I'm scared of myself. 

Of how ready I am to apologize if it means witnessing Ominis’s soft smile directed at me.

More than anything, I’m terrified of expressing my emotions. Given that if I don’t regulate my fear or anger, someone could be impaled by ice.

If my magic went wild because I couldn't control my emotions, then I'd rather not have magic at all. I've spent my whole life wishing to experience magic, but I'd give it up in a heartbeat if I harmed someone I love, simply because a boy hurt my feelings.

Speaking with Isaac reminded me that there’s a whole world of people who grew up never learning how to cast a spell or brew a potion. Muggles that grew up like me. Except they weren’t cursed with the knowledge that they’re different. No matter what I did, everyone around believed I was lesser because I didn’t have magic. However, muggles could continue on with their lives while I was hidden away and ridiculed.

What would it be like to be one of them, free of my responsibilities and power?

“And look at you now. A certified skirt chaser.”

Carina bats at her cousin's shoulder with a light chuckle.

“When you next see Gaunt, grab him for a chat and explain what happened. If that boy was worth his salt, he’d apologize back. Then you two can skip along your merry way to Friendshipville, or whichever end goal you had in mind.”

“Rrmm,” The Hufflepuff grumbles at her shoulder. “What if he never wants to see me again?”

“Then you make other friends and forget he exists.”

Impossible. That’s like asking if I could fly underwater.

Raising her head with a disgruntled face, Adelia squints at her.

“How?!” She whines, pouting down at the short-haired girl. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you don’t want to.”

“I…”

Truly pondering the question's implications, her leather boots scuff at the dirt path, kicking up a cloud of dust. 

“I should forget him but...” 

Her shaking hand clutches onto the puffy fabric of her skirt. 

“Despite all my best efforts, I can’t. Not even my dreams give me a reprieve. Every time I wake up, he's one of the first thoughts I have. Whenever he's near, my magic keeps trying to grab onto him. Even when he's far away, I feel an urge to secure him close to me.”

Her eyes well up, and she looks to her cousin in distress.

“I honestly feel mad. It's like a twisted desire my mind cannot let go of. My cheeks burn and my palms sweat, especially when he touches me-”

“-Addie-”

“-I can’t breathe right when he smiles.”

“Cousin.”

“I-I must be getting sick. Or truly going crazy. My anxiety is going to scare everyone away again-”

“Adelia.” 

Carina’s voice is commanding, cutting through Adelia’s troubled rambling. She softly presses against the Hufflepuff’s cheek, brushing away a few fallen tears. 

The sensation fiercely burns her cheeks. A sick urge to slice her fingers off flits over Adelia's mind. Panicked at the intrusive thought, Adelia laces her fingers together, stubbornly pressing them against her belly. Squeezing her palms tightly, she naturally falls into a rhythm.

Squeeze. 1. 2. Squeeze. 3. 4. Squeeze.

“You're not mad. Simply inexperienced with these kinds of things. You’re getting yourself all worked up over a crush.”

Magic centralized at her core pokes against her belly at the word ‘crush’.  The sharp sensation of ice shards churns in her stomach as it nestles deeper, discontented.

Prior advice given to Isaac Cooper chimes through her hollow mind, paralleling her inexperienced attempt at advice.

“Let her make the decision to love you."

We’re not like him and Anne. Ominis made his choice. 

She tries to convince herself of that, knowing it would hurt less to believe she is being rejected than to pine after someone who couldn't care less about her existence.

Squeeze. 1. 2. Squeeze. 3. 4. Squeeze.

Coward. He doesn't know how you feel. You can't even take your own advice.

An implied confession pulled from uncertain lips hangs in the silence between the two girls, neither willing to shatter the building tension. Slowly scanning her cousin from a pair of black leather boots to a flowy emerald dress, her eyes waver until finally bracing herself for a judgemental stare. 

Gathering up the courage, Adelia meets the soft gaze of her favorite cousin. Rather than a stare of pity or disappointment, it’s a shared feeling of understanding. As though Carina has walked in her shoes plenty of times before.

I wonder what face I’m making now.

“Oh, cousin.”

“I like him.”

Her breath catches on the last word while tears burn at the back of her eyes at the admission. 

Pieces of her heart that his words had cracked present themselves once more. Not mending or breaking further, but neutrally making themselves known. Ancient magic hums inside her body, sounding harmonic for the first time since her argument with Ominis.

I shouldn’t like him. He's the most frustrating boy I've ever met.

But somehow… I do. I really, really do.

I like Ominis Gaunt and that simple fact isn’t changing.

No matter how much I try.

A short, almost hysterical laugh bubbles out of her.

“I like Ominis Gaunt.”

Grandmother can never learn of this.

Notes:

Tagalog translations:
Ang tanga ko- I'm so stupid/foolish

Chapter 18: Tea

Summary:

Ominis returns home to attend a meeting between his Father and a Ministry official. Like most days in his household, he's made to prove his competence and worth against all doubts.
Attending House Black's luncheon is worthwhile for the sole purpose of finally consuming tasty tea. Good company is just an added bonus.

Notes:

I've written the first part of this before the second part, solely because I wasn't sure how to introduce the new characters in the way I wanted to. But here we are, yay!
I'll likely come back later to edit but here it is for now.
Happy Reading!

Either Mother’s teacups have shrunk or I’ve outgrown this tea set. 

Wrestling to properly grip the thin handle, I raise the porcelain cup to my lips. Assam tea normally calms all my senses, but somehow, she’s managed to mess even that up. Based on my chronograph, Gadrey steeps his leaves for 4 and a half minutes upon my request. Only Lady Gaunt would demand him to flaunt the potency of our tea blends by making them utterly intolerable to consume. 

Well, that’s my mother for you. Too far up her own arse while surrounded by subordinates propping her up even higher to further themselves.  

Mulciber, the Head of the Department of Magic Equipment and Father’s friend, continues telling his inane story. If you asked for my opinion, it’s about as exciting as Professor Binns’s lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289. A lesson I’ve only pieced together through condensed notes my quill was charmed to transcribe. If I had tried to manually write it, my notes would have involved a lot more zzzz's.

“As I was telling Malfoy, that’s half the fun. Besides, who would have the gall to investigate my work?”

Both men laugh loudly, their booming voices grating against my nerves. It’s a haughty laugh rich older men do when they’re proud of their ability to be as slimy as possible.

“I’d have them visit my office on Monday, and guess what I’d tell ‘em?”

“What’s that, Lysander?” Father asks, his voice noticeably jovial.

Mulciber pauses, as if excited to say the punchline. 

“You’re trespassing on government property. Pack your things ‘n get out!”

“Ha, serves them right!” Father proclaims, thumping a hand against something solid. “Better keep their noses away from where it doesn’t belong.”

“Firing folks is half the fun of the job,” Mulciber continues, loudly slurping the last of his dessert. “Most of ‘em deserve it too for delaying my orders to ‘check within our current laws’. Ugh. If I were the Minister, their paychecks would be cut in half, I'll tell ya what.”

“With all that saved money, you could take a lovely holiday to the south of France. We have a villa along the coast, near a delicious seafood restaurant,” Father details.

“Oh? I wouldn't say no to that. I'll need another holiday after all the stress those half-breeds and mudbloods put me through.”

Mulciber adjusts positions as he laughs, the furniture screeching loudly against the hardwood floor of our parlour room. He clears his throat, and Father swiftly calls on one of our house elves, requesting they clear plates and refill our teacups.

Ugh, not more of this awful tea. Perhaps if I add a dash of sugar, that’ll cut through some of the bitterness.

Sip.

Nope.

“So, Gaunt. This boy will be the one taking over your adornment shop?” 

Mulciber's voice is distracted, sounding as though he’s shuffling through a stack of parchment. Father straightens up, awkwardly patting my stiff frock coat before firmly gripping my shoulder.

“That depends on him. If all goes well, in a few years’ time, he may be the one you do business with.”

Sudden laughter from the opposite side of the room presses its weight against my throat, darkening my cheeks and thickening my tongue. Based on the dark chuckle from Father, he didn’t appreciate that response one bit. I shuffle my knees closer to the sofa, subtly stroking familiar serpent carvings embedded in the polished wood.

If only I had my wand right now, then I’d be able to understand their unspoken body language better. All I can glean is the heavily unspoken irritation Father is putting out, likely due to his position being undermined by a lesser Ministry employee.

“Humourous, isn’t it?” Father states, ice dripping from his tongue.

“Ah- ahem,” Mulciber coughs, tripping over a nervous laugh. “My apologies. I was taken by surprise. It was naturally assumed that your eldest son would take over every business while your daughter would retain a seat in the Wizengamot.”  

“Hm, yes. Naturally,” Father emphasizes the word sarcastically.

“The young Mister Marvolo Gaunt and I had discussed a few matters previously regarding special seller’s permits for your shop in Diagon Alley. I even took the liberty of arranging copies of our current agreement for his understanding.”

There’s a silent, tense stillness until Father moves, tossing a bundle of parchment onto my lap. My body curls up to prevent the stack from falling, twitching in startlement. 

“Can he read?” Mulciber bluntly asks.

“Yes, actually,” I cut into their little exchange, not bothering to wait for Father’s instructions to correct the imbecile. 

“Being blind doesn’t prevent cognition, though I cannot say the same for the sighted. Surely you aren’t implying that a Gaunt would receive a subpar education, Mulciber.”

Sliding my fingers across the smooth pages, I rapidly realize that I cannot read this without the aid of my wand. My lovely, helpful aid that rests dormant in the pocket of Father’s double-breasted frock. Worrying the edges nervously, I ensure that I appear to be reading the agreement. 

“I-I didn’t think-”

“-No, you didn’t-” 

“-There you have it. The boy may use a cane, but he’s more than capable of reading a few documents. There isn’t going to be a problem with this arrangement, correct?”

A shiver runs down my spine at Father’s bone-chilling voice akin to a snake wrapping around its victim’s neck. His hand claps onto my shoulder again and he leans in to give the impression of familial closeness.

“O-Of course not, L-Lord Gaunt,” The pathetic man stutters out, clearly having lost his nerve after forgetting whom he spoke to. “I’m very open to a business relationship with…”

“Ominis,” I supply, barely concealed disdain coating my words. 

“Right, yes, of course,” He laughs nervously. “With the young, spirited Ominis.”

Heeled shoes against hardwood click closer and closer until they stop just before me. After a few tense moments, I cautiously lift my hand in the direction of his breathing. Without hesitation, a thick hand encases my own with a firm grip. Shaking twice, I allow my hand to fall back into my lap.

“Nifty how apt you are at finding me,” Mulciber chortles, moving quickly enough to create a breeze. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Once again, this right tosser continues to test the limits of my patience. I force myself to regain my composure through clenched teeth and a squeezing hand on my shoulder.

“Are you incapable of counting? I didn’t realize the Ministry doesn’t screen for competence before hiring.”

Through sputtered gasps, the Ministry head claims to have been checking for a wand, since evidently, that’s the only way he’d believe I could’ve figured out his location. 

Every day, the Ministry seeps farther and farther into a black hole of nepotism and incompetence.  

Father’s steel grip digs deeper into the soft flesh of my shoulder, unspokenly reprimanding my sharp tongue. I wince at the pain but don’t shake it off, given the consequences if I challenge his authority. 

“He’s still a student,” Father says simply. “We should follow the Ministry’s laws. The boy doesn’t need a wand, isn’t that right?”

Of all the sick and twisted acts my father committed, depriving me of my autonomy is at the top of the list. Forcibly attempting to cause distress so I become helpless and reliant on him is a strategy he has employed my whole life. Once I received my wand and no longer needed a cane, he began to see me as someone who could follow in his carefully crafted footsteps. 

Sebastian may have a point. If I don't stand up to him soon, I may never get the chance. But what would that mean for Sebastian if I could no longer use my father's connection to the Headmaster? I can only go so far with the connections I have now, and based on Sebastian’s behavior, there will come a time when I’ll need to pull strings again.

Until he gives up, I’ll need to continue as I am now. No matter how painful it will be. 

Jagged scars along my rib cage sting but my composure remains even.

“Yes, Father,” I respond emotionlessly. 

“Attaboy!” Mulciber exclaims, each word more annoying than the last. “Well trained, I see.”

“He’s certainly learning,” Father replies with a chuckle, finally easing up on my shoulder.

Rolling my shoulder and swallowing down the rising wave of nausea burning my throat, Father and I bid Mulciber farewell. Using my cane as leverage, I rise and make haste preparing the floo powder for his exit, narrowly laying out the pouch before a house elf reaches it. Shaking Mulciber’s hand one final time, we both listen as the Ministry official finally leaves Gaunt Manor. 

Farwell, Mulciber. May you get splinched on your way out.

How is that man able to hold a position as coveted as his? Nepotism aside, he must have had blackmail on the ministry officials overseeing his hiring process.

Fabric whips through the air as Father’s hands softly clap, muffled against the fabric.

I should've had the foresight to bring a handkerchief to rid my hands of Mulciber's contamination, too. Add that to my never-ending list of regrets. 

Father lights up a cigar, filling the parlour with the earthy scent of tobacco. As if noticing the questions burning in my mind, he takes a puff before explaining in his own way.

“Bumbling, he may be, but a necessary headache for the sake of my businesses. Having an in with the Ministry means less waiting, legality screenings, paperwork, and the like. For the sake of your future, you'd do well to play nice with future governors and nobility.”

Father has already planned out the beginnings of my future. Why? 

My family has consistently mentioned the inferiority of my birth and my inability to stomach their devious games of harming those unable to fight back. If my disdain for the dark arts and of harming anyone of a lower status than I is such a problem, why is he bothering to go through with this pointless gesture? If this is his method of forcing my compliance into our family’s legacy, then what’s with this pointless song and dance? In the end, my answer will remain the same.

I am a Gaunt only in name until it no longer benefits the people I care for.

Faint inhales smelling of grass intermingle with the rich scent of leftover lemon posset. Logs crackle from a dwindling fire, cooling the room enough that a light chill lingers over my exposed skin. Forcing down a shudder, my mind diverts attention from the temperature by evaluating the information I’ve been fed today. But one particular thought sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Father, may I ask a question?”

He sighs under his breath, taking a longer drag of his cigar. “Make it snappy.”

“Out of every business you own, why did you choose this one?”

It’s not as though he prefers any particular store, but Knockturn Alley shops have a reputation that precedes it. One that matches my last name, and quite frankly, my given name quite aptly. Out of all business ventures, I’d assume he’d choose one deep in the countryside or another country’s capital. Somewhere far away from the rest of our prestigious family. 

“It is of least consequence to lose,” Father responds promptly. “The location is less than ideal, far back from the busiest sector, and the items are more decorative than of actual substance or significance. That being said, if you prove capable of boosting sales and balancing its checkbook, more shops may be placed under your supervision.”

Plush velvet cushions my back as I sink into the sofa, mind whirring at this new information. 

“You mean...?”

“This is a trial run. Do not prove me correct about the uselessness of your birth.”

Shifting to leave, as though he hasn’t shattered my worldview, I catch a hesitation in his steps before he halts at the doorway.

“Ominis,” Father calls out my name.

Immediately standing straight up, my face smoothes into a neutral expression. I tilt so our eyes meet, knowing he desires the illusion of sight from me. 

“Sunday is your last day at our manor until Yule. After luncheon with Lady Black, I expect you to forge your own path to school. When you return in December, ensure you have that documentation memorized. As well as all of these.”

Hearing his voice shift to the side, I follow the direction of his voice. Though I cannot see his gesture, it likely involves more business management books or parchment. Father’s voice evens out the closer he gets, stopping directly in front of me.

“Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” I mutter absentmindedly.

His voice presses, deeper than before.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

I tense at the silence. After a few moments, he reluctantly grumbles and rummages through his coat. I relax minutely and intently listen to his movements.

“Here,” He says, poking a sharp object into my stomach. “No casting magic in this house until you can recite every single word.”

Wrapping my fingers around familiar grooves, an instant warmth overwhelms my senses. It was like greeting an old friend after a long time apart. Readjusting to its echolocation leads me to my father’s retreading figure. Feeling around for the mountains of parchment left in my care, I deeply sigh at the sheer volume of work.

I’ll take paperwork over unforgivable curses any day. Even if only half of this will fit into my school bag.

~~~~~~

“Good afternoon, Lady Black.”

Greeting our esteemed host, my parents, siblings, and I form the perfect picture of a noble family. I assume, at least. I can only judge based on their rehearsal before we flooed in.

“Good afternoon. It’s quite mild for this time of year, isn’t it?” Her voice resonates pleasantly, tinged with only a sprinkling of fatigue.

“Yes. Perfect weather for afternoon tea,” Mother remarks, softly tittering for no reason.

“Roobios is ideal for the occasion,” Marvolo adds, his words filled with a know-it-all tone.

My lip curls in disgust and I duck my head to hide it.

“We’re ever so delighted to visit again.” Marcia’s sickly sweet voice comments. “Marguerite de Montmorency spread the word that your garden contains rare variegated black dahlias.” 

“Yes, Lord Black and I have obtained some from a renowned botanist in Colombia. You’ll find they pair exquisitely among our cosmos and snapdragons.”

Shifting in place while waiting for the small talk to wrap up, I barely catch myself in time as someone kicks at the bottom of my cane. Catching my feet on the edge of something fluffy startles Marcia, who hisses about not ruining her fur coat. Regaining my balance with a snarl, I grit my teeth at Marvolo’s quiet snickering. Even without using my wand, I can tell he’s content with himself. 

Father clears his throat pointedly and their complaining stops, though the glares directed my way are sharp enough to cut me in two.

At least Mother is doing her best to ignore my existence. Why can’t Marvolo be like her?

“Mimple. Rampis.” 

Upon Lady Black’s call, two small house elves pop into the room and immediately get to work.

“Mimple will take your coats.”

Getting a bearing on my surroundings with my wand, I notice even Marcia gives away her precious demiguise fur coat. I sigh, not wanting to give away my coat and stay any longer than necessary. Reluctantly, I repocket my wand and begin undoing my buttons.

My blazer slides directly off my body and into the arms of Mimple, who's waiting patiently for the moment it leaves my body. Completely forgetting about my cane, focusing more on securing my wand in an easily accessible location, I rush to grab it only to find it in the exact same spot. Admittedly, I can appreciate Mimple’s foresightedness in securing my cane while I disrobe. Though that doesn’t help the rush of adrenaline now coursing through my veins. 

“Most of our guests have settled in the garden. Rampis can guide you all to your seats.” 

Lady Black snaps, shooing off Rampis as he hastily avoids her hands and directs my family out of the receiving room. Gripping the grooves of my brass cane handle, I maneuver behind the rest of the family.

“Mr. Gaunt,” She directs to me, causing my feet to immediately halt in my brother’s footsteps. “Will you accompany me?” 

“Of course, Lady Black.”

I nod, sneakily using my wand to locate and sidle up to her. Looping her arm around my offered one, we set off towards the back end of the home.

Hopefully, there aren’t too many others here today. I’ve spent most of this past week bent over a tower of tomes taller than a hippogriff. The last thing I need is to listen to more pointless prattling by overcompensating wizards. 

“How is your time at Hogwarts faring?” She breezily asks, leading us beyond the doorway into their garden.

Let’s see. My best friend is going through a crisis, while my other best friend is stuck in her sickbed. Our new friend just betrayed my trust and has uncovered the only place in the entire school where I feel completely at ease.

“Quite well, my Lady. I received full marks on my latest potions assignment,” I answer politely. 

“Wonderful news,” She replies as though that was the expected answer. “I assume the Slytherin common room is still filled with children searching for the Giant Squid.”

Curling my lip in a smirk, I reminisce on one of my favorite practical jokes to play on younger Slytherins.

“First years are enraptured with searching for mermaids.”

“Interesting. Back in my time at school, all anyone could ever talk about was Marie Rosier almost getting eaten by the Giant Squid,” She says.

“Oh, how dreadful,” I remark, raising my eyebrows.

“In actuality, one of the professors found her almost drowning and cast a spell to lift her onto the shore. Why they chose to transfigure a wood plank into an oversized tentacle is beyond me, but it certainly kept conversations interesting.”

Genuine laughter overtakes my body, throwing me in for a surprise. I had forgotten how charismatic you need to be as the Lady to House Black. She certainly has rehearsed her role well. 

A cool breeze ruffles my hair, blowing hard enough to form goosebumps along my forearms. Collections of noise grow steadily louder as we pause in a shaded area, confirming my suspicions that we’re currently beneath a tree’s canopy. 

Surely there’s a much grander location to host this luncheon. Mother has repeatedly mentioned how elegant their dark oak gazebo is, hidden behind a sculpture trail of previous accomplished Black predecessors and filled with intractely carved vines and curling patterns. It was one of the few times she chose to describe an environment with enough vivid detail that I could picture her as a narrator to one of my novels.

While I retain scant positive memories of my family, that is one I hold tenderly. If only it were always like that.

Discreet taps at my elbow regain both my attention and suspicion, as Lady Black hums sweetly to herself.

“Oh, look who we have here. Mr. Gaunt, may I introduce you to Miss Lestrange?”

What a coincidence, indeed.

“Of course, my Lady,” I nod, bitterness creeping in at the ending of my positive mood.

“Greetings, Lady Black.” 

A hurried voice whispers, swishing fabric shaking as the figure lowers into a curtsey.

“Greetings, Miss Lestrange. Miss Eloise Lestrange–Mister Ominis Gaunt.”

“Very happy to make your acquaintance, Mister Gaunt.” 

Subtly rotating my wand for any changes in movement, I pick up the tiniest gesture from Lady Black to Miss Lestrange, indicating for her to hold out her hand. Not wishing to make this interaction more awkward than necessary, I extend my arm in an offering. In exchange, I'm greeted by jilted movements rushing to shake hands in time with me.

“Lovely to meet you as well, Miss Lestrange,” I remark pleasantly.

I suspected she had other ambitions for pulling me aside, but it seems a mere introduction was all that entailed. Good. Now, I can focus on finding my seat and getting this meal over with. 

“Now that you two are acquainted, Mr. Gaunt, would you escort Miss Lestrange to her seat? It just so happens that you’re seated next to each other.”

Sneaky bugger. There always has to be a catch. No one can be as simplistic as a Hufflepuff anymore, can they? All it takes is the promise of a cauldron cake for them to spill their guts. 

“I’d be honored,” I grit out forcefully, offering my arm to Miss Lestrange.

“O-Oh, thank you,” She whispers, grabbing on a bit too roughly for my liking. 

“Well, if the two of you will excuse me,” Lady Black sings, sauntering away to a trio of ladies.

Patting at my wand, magic enhances my senses and showcases figures sat at a long table underneath a tall roofed structure. 

Ah, they did choose the gazebo. Perhaps they haven’t lost all of their senses.

Leading us past the sprawling lawn of buzzing bees and fuzzy bushes, I step onto the paved art trail at a relatively swift pace. Listening to snippets of conversations as we pass by, I almost forgot there’s a girl quietly gripping onto my arm. It’s more akin to being haunted by a quiet, ancestral ghost than a raucous Peeves on any day of the week.

“-meet you, Lady Greengrass,” A young man's voice greets.

Greengrass? 

Our pace slows as I listen in, curious about which Greengrass member is in attendance.

“Same to you, Mister Lestrange. Your father has told me a lot about you,” An older woman's voice remarks.

Chatter nearby quiets down, as though this conversation is more intriguing than their own. Hard to blame them though, I feel the same way.

Lestrange, hm? Perhaps I'll ask Miss Lestrange to identify him later.

“Oh?” He questions, sounding bemused. “All good things, I hope.”

“Yes, of course,” She laughs and shakes what sounds like a fan mixed with heavy jewelry. “I'm actually searching for a new assistant and he offered up your name. Are you interested?”

It's silent for a moment as the man thinks. In fact, it seems to suck the air out of the area while drawing everyone in closer.

“I'll be certain to look into it. What position do you hold?”

“I'm the Head of the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes. We could benefit, having someone like you around. If you're interested, send an owl to my office.”

While the conversation peters out after that, it starts a chain reaction for a few wizards to begin discussing Ministry affairs. 

Now that my attention is no longer divided, I realize Miss Lestrange either hasn't spoken this entire time or did so without my acknowledgment.

“Miss Lestrange,” I begin, suddenly finding myself uncomfortable with her prolonged silence. “Do you attend Hogwarts? I don’t believe I remember hearing about you around the school.”

If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s the ability to be a nosy eavesdropper. And her name isn’t one that’s been mentioned.

“Ah, no,” She breathes out.

“Beauxbatons, then?”

“No.”

Scrambling for more guesses, I absentmindedly scratch the back of my neck, almost dropping my blasted cane again. The use it served in my youth has been outgrown now that I’ve upgraded models to my notched cedar beauty. Once I’ve read through every tome, then I‘ll proudly display her again.

Nervously taking my lack of speaking as disapproval, her voice ramps up in both speed and volume.

“It’s not that I don’t go to school at all! Uhm, I just- well, I have a governess and learn everything outside of magic.”

Outside of magic? Oh, I remember her now. 

Eloise Lestrange, the first born of her siblings who happens to be a squib. Whenever a squib or someone with a defect like mine is born, they tend to either be sent to a country estate or hidden away from guests in their main estate. Though, if she’s been abandoned like I suspect, then why is she invited to this? Could she have somehow made friends with Sirius or Phineas Black, prompting an invite?

“Nonetheless, it’s nice to meet you now.” 

My lips quirk up into a gentle smile, hoping to put her at ease. 

“Same to you, Mister Gaunt.” 

Her voice lets out a small giggle, finally easing her grip.

“Ominis,” I tilt my ear closer to hear her response.

“Ominis,” She whispers back, almost reverently. “Then you may call me Eloise.”

“Wonderful. It’d feel foolish if I offered up my name without gaining yours in return,” I joke, taking the final steps towards the shielded table.

Giggling in response, Eloise lightly tugs on my arm, and our roles reverse as she leads us to our designated seats. Easing out her chair with minimal difficulty, I double check to ensure no one has played a trick on my seat before finally sitting down. Septimus Malfoy is supposedly on the guest list and I refuse to allow him the satisfaction of getting one up on me. 

“This is my first time at Black Manor,” Eloise starts, clinking a set of porcelain teacups as she pours herself a cup. 

“Word to the wise,” I suggest, easing my hand over hers about to tilt the teapot. “The house elves get upset if you don’t ask them first.”

As if on cue, Rampis apparates next to Eloise and lightly chides her before using more magic to make cups for both of us. Nodding my appreciation to him, then tilting my head at her in an I-told-you-so manner, I sip the pleasantly scented chamomile tea. 

Mm. Now that’s how you steep tea. 

“Oh, I’m used to doing everything myself,” Eloise remarks in an embarrassed tone. 

“It may take some getting used to. Not to worry, you have an excellent source of information by your side.” 

I lift my teacup to her, offering my support. 

“Then, here’s to you.” 

She clinks her cup against mine before sipping some herself. 

“Earlier I heard mention of another Lestrange in attendance. Do you know of him?” I ask, hoping to not appear too interested in her answer.

“Well,” She hums thoughtfully. “Both of my parents are here, as well as my younger siblings.”

“I see,” I say with disappointment, lifting my cup for another sip.

“Although-”

Porcelain almost breaks under my hands as I speedily set my drink onto the saucer and tilt closer to her mouth.

“-my second cousin should be in attendance too. I've never met him but I heard my parents took him in as a ward about six years ago. He should be around 20 years old now.”

That matches up pretty well to the information I gathered from the earlier conversation. 

Also, given the fact that she never met him confirms my theory that she's likely living in a countryside estate.

“You've never run across each other before?” I ask, unable to help the curiosity.

“Not really. I live with my aunt in Nottingham. This is actually my first time in London. Visiting Diagon Alley was overwhelming, to say the least.”

Her soft spoken nature has become more confident, talking loud enough that my sister subtly elbows my side. 

Curse whoever made this seating chart.

Reluctantly, I'll admit this luncheon is not as bad as I was expecting. Though that's in large part due to the unexpected acquaintanceship from the unlikeliest of places.

Normally, I wouldn’t take such a vested interest in someone I just met, but something has changed this year. Perhaps loneliness has reared its ugly head, and I’m offering unnecessary gestures to a girl Lady Black is purposely trying to have me befriend. 

I wonder how we must appear to the rest of this table, a set of wallflowers scaling a trellis on our own. It must be hard to break into our enclosed world as a squib. I could only imagine what not having magic while surrounded by it must feel like. 

Or maybe, we’re one in the same. I don’t care for vision, but it does naturally dissuade others from interacting with me. However, there is one former squib that spoke to me without concern.

I'll have to ask my...

Well, I suppose Miss Apple- Adelia's no longer my friend anymore.

Blast it. Why did Sebastian have to get me so riled up? I warned him of the dangers of dark magic, yet he keeps pushing for the unattainable. I can't even claim he'll only hurt himself, considering he'll take all of us down with him in the process.

It's not Adelia's fault but she represents the problem at hand. By enabling his curiosity and sharing a lot of information, Salazar only knows how she's obtained all of it, validating his efforts. Why they even assume they can miraculously find a cure is beyond me. It's simply alarming how much his determination is affecting Anne.

~~~~~~

"Seb's tried to visit last week but Uncle kept him outside the whole time. I think he tried to bring a potion he brewed himself." 

She coughs, sounding more tired than usual. 

"They were arguing for hours until Sebastian finally left. I was too weak to tell him goodbye but even if I tried, Uncle would've stopped me."

I wince, gently patting her back as another short coughing fit envelops her frail frame.

"I'm sorry, Anne. I warned him not to try further but he refuses to listen to me."

Letting out a final cough, her head nudges my shoulder and nestles against me.

"I understand, Ominis. Thank you."

"Always," I reply, resting my head atop hers.

~~~~~~

Now that he's turned to wicked solutions, I've become incapable of preventing his fascination with the dark arts. The worst part is that I was the sole person holding Sebastian at bay, now I'm not sure if I have the strength to hold him there anymore. Salazar knows Solomon couldn’t give a damn about his wellbeing.

The one glimmer of hope in Adelia I had is greatly diminishing. Truth be told, I'm not even sure if she's completely against the dark arts, given her unwillingness to discuss the subject. Even Sebastian seems to dance around the topic in her presence. Whether that's a good or bad reaction remains to be seen. But she did ask him, of all people, to sneak her into the Restricted Section. 

That has to mean something.

Trudging through the muddy cobblestone pathway up to the castle, I brush sodden hair back and shield my eyes from the downpour. It was just my luck that a sprinkling of rain turned into heavy clouds of doom the moment my carriage touches down by Hogwarts's entrance. Shifting my coat tighter against my soaking wet body, I slink through the ornate doorways and traverse the slippery staircase until I reach the familiar snake entryway. 

"Purity."

Upon my saying so, the guardian snake hisses and reveals the door, which I happily rush into, hoping to quickly dry myself off.

All I wish for is to take a hot shower, slip on a pair of comfortable pyjamas, and warm my hands by the fireplace. After all the chaotic events this past week, I have certainly earned a handful of chocolate candies, for my troubles. Soon after my shoes make a wet squelching noise on the stone do I realize I'm not alone.

"-did something to her, Sallow, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

A sturdy shoulder checks my side hard, almost shoving my unprepared body onto the marble walls.

"Sorry, Gaunt," The voice hurridly apologizes, helping my wobbling body right itself before rushing past me.

"Ominis, you're back," Sebastian's voice calls out in surprise.

"Sebastian," I begin suspiciously. "What did I miss?"

His whole body seems to deflate, pacing back and forth enough to tear a hole in the rug.

"Earlier today, Adelia and I left to visit Anne. Like always, my Uncle refused to let me gift Anne anything. That caused a fight between us, which left Anne stuck in the middle of it all, and I angrily stormed off. I'm not sure what Adelia spoke with Uncle about but I told her the truth, how Anne got cursed."

He audibly swallows, hands gripping at his head.

"Her face contorted in pain and she fell to the ground, gripping her head. Kept saying 'it hurts' and to 'stop'. Wasn't sure how to help her so Isaac and I, thank Merlin for Cooper, carried her up to the Hospital Wing."

"I rushed to tell her brother but he started making threats, like I had something to do with it," He grumbles.

Millions of thoughts swim by at once, faster than the lake's current through the window. Worry and concern overtake any anger or resentment I had felt towards Sebastian.

I can hold a grudge tomorrow. I need to check on Adelia. Right now.

"Where is she?" 

Sebastian flinches under my strong grip as I hold his body in place.

"Ominis," A sense of worry creeps into his tone. "You should sit down. You don't look well."

"Where is she?"

"Alright, alright," He says, easing my hands down. "I doubt Nurse Blainey let her leave the Hospital Wing. Should still be in the 3rd bed from the right."

Not bothering to listen to his concerned shouts, my feet thud as I run out of the common room, barely whipping my wand out quick enough to avoid hitting a statue.

Foolish girl. What have you gotten yourself into this time?

Chapter 19: A Mutual Concession & A Forgotten Memory

Summary:

Flying to visit Anne in Feldcroft, Adelia gets an up close and personal view of the Sallow family's dynamics. While there's a budding friendship between Adelia and Anne, a new discovery about Sebastian strengthens their bond.

Worried about Adelia's condition, Ominis rushes to the Hospital Wing and clears the air about the Undercroft incident. Both lay out their worries over Sebastian and bond over their loved ones (Yes, that means you, Sebastian).

Waking up the next morning brings bouts of anxiety and mixed news about her medical condition. If Adelia wasn't given a calming draught then this would be a rough morning, indeed.

Notes:

I feel as though Ominis & Adelia haven't had too many direct (one on one) conversations. Well, this should rectify that. One of my favorite things is having them be soft & vulnerable with each other, so this chapter was a treat. Also, get Adelia being flustered over Ominis right in front of him, lol.

Enjoy!

Warning: Includes (as much as possible) historically accurate medical beliefs during the Victorian era & the Harry Potter series's lack of therapy availability

Cascading over the orange and yellow foliage, Adelia admires the view of autumn in Feldcroft. Lifting up higher to avoid flying into tall, rocky formations while observing leaves fall across the secluded hamlet. Locating a rickety lookout point with a freckled teenage boy atop, Adelia smiles at the familiar face. Swerving lower between cottages, Adelia sneaks around to land behind Sebastian on the tower, then tiptoes to his unassuming form. Raising both arms in a gesture that wouldn’t even scare off a puffskein, she jumps at Sebastian’s back, only to be faced with his sturdy grip squeezing her tightly. 

“You made it. Gonna have to do better than that,” Sebastian chuckles.

“Thought I had you that time,” Adelia giggles.

Wavy brown hair blows back by a light breeze, showcasing his amused brown eyes. Letting her go with a smile, he turns back to gaze at the hamlet’s center.

“Enjoying the view?” She questions.

Everything is so much smaller here. I’m used to large villas with sprawling kempt lawns, the next neighbor an apparition spot away. I don’t think anyone even has a house elf.

Adelia joins his observation, gawking the ordinary manner townsfolk go about their business. While this is an average day in Sebastian’s life, Adelia only has novels to compare the market exchange and fashion of dress to. As a family of four enters one of the smaller cottages, Adelia begins to wonder if they’re all larger on the inside.

“Keeping an eye on things. Feldcroft isn't what it used to be. No one has felt safe here after Ranrok’s loyalists took a peculiar interest in that castle over there - Rookwood Castle.”

“Rookwood? As in Victor Rookwood?” 

Alarm bells ring in Adelia’s mind, remembering the partnership struck between Ranrok and Rookwood. 

“The very same,” Sebastian nods, curling his hands into angry fists. “My uncle Solomon is a former auror and refuses to look into it, even after Anne was cursed by one of them. Possibly by a wand, no less.”

“You think Rookwood supplied goblins with wands?”

“At least one of them, though goblins are forbidden from carrying any,” He acknowledges. “That’s why I’m on the hunt for answers. If I’m to cure her, I need to understand what happened to her.”

Gazing over at Rookwood Castle, a bad feeling rises in her chest, wondering if something there is important to catch up to Ranrok’s progress. Adelia asks if they could explore the castle first, even knowing that may be an impolite suggestion to her host.

Anything connected to Rookwood is bad news. This could possibly work in my favor, if there are any plans Ranrok’s loyalists left behind. It feels like every time we’re close to taking him down, he hops 2 steps ahead. But he may not expect an infiltration from me.

His eyebrows furrow. “I’m hoping a surprise visit from me and a new friend from Hogwarts will help lift her spirits. Bring back the Anne I used to know. We could inspect it afterwards?”

She simply nods, turning to hide the crestfallen expression from his viewpoint. Upon shifting in place, she spots Isaac Cooper walking between one cottage to the next, sporting a shy smile. Adelia grins, pleased that her speech to him didn’t fall on deaf ears. That display fills her with a sense of hope, refueling her desire to meet the illustrious Anne Sallow.

We have the rest of the evening to inspect the castle. I can just wait until then. For now, I get to meet the girl I’ve heard so much about. She is the reason I’m visiting in the first place.

“Come on,” He calls out, interruping her thoughts. “I’ll take you to my uncle’s.”

“Lead the way.”

Walking behind Sebastian into a homey cottage, Adelia quietly observes as he sneaks behind his sister, reminiscent of how she would greet her siblings. Though he tried to give her a shrivelfig, their uncle magically displaced it while reprimanding him.

“Shrivelfigs cannot reverse a curse. Nothing can. The sooner you accept that reality, the better.”

Even so, that’s no excuse to act like that towards Seb. He’s just trying to help his sister.

At the sound of pained cries, Adelia watches Anne’s hunched-over body until she heaves out a few screams, silencing the fight between Sebastian and Solomon. Adelia presses herself against the entryway’s wall, wishing she weren’t witnessing this uncomfortable family matter. Sebastian rushes past her angrily, slamming the door behind him. Awkwardly excusing herself, Adelia is quick to follow in his footsteps.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. If you don’t mind, I just need a moment alone.”

His voice was riddled with irritation but he contained it well enough to be polite.

“Take your time,” Adelia calls out, gazing back towards the home.

Poor Sebastian. He didn’t deserve that. I can understand if Solomon doesn’t want to give Anne any false hope but he needs to tell Sebastian that verbally. 

Uneasily knocking on the wooden door, Adelia waits for a few moments before letting herself in. While Solomon had left, Anne sat herself in an oak wood dining chair, peering at the fireplace with a frown. Taking a seat to her left, Anne visibly perks up, though it was difficult to tell through her dark eye circles and sickly pallor.

“I apologize for intruding earlier. Are you alright, Anne?”

“You didn’t. Truly,” She winces, stretching her neck. “And I’m alright. The pain from this curse comes in bouts - and often suddenly. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

Except for whoever cursed her.

“It’s nice to meet you, by the way,” She greets while holding her side. “You must be the new fifth-year Sebastian told me about.”

“I am,” Adelia smiles. “And you’re the famous Anne Sallow. Slytherin Keeper and get-out-of-detention specialist extraordinaire.”

Anne’s brown eyes sparkle at her acknowledgement. While her features are feminine, there’s no doubt that she and Sebastian are twins. With their matching smiles, even a complete stranger could identify them as siblings.

“Did he tell you about that? I used to be quite good, if you don’t mind my saying so. It gets quite dreary around here but discussing Quidditch is still enjoyable.”

Adelia giggles, enjoying the confidence shining through the frail girl. 

“By all means, I’d love to hear about it. Brag as much as you’d like.”

Over the next half hour, Anne recalls the process of trying out for the Quidditch team to becoming their loyal Keeper. Adelia mentions Isaac Cooper to spot a reaction, and Anne didn’t disappoint, with a light flush appearing on her cheeks like a giddy schoolgirl. While sipping a cup of darjeeling tea, Adelia details the first time she met Sebastian, and then Ominis.

“You’ve known Ominis as a young boy?” She asks, surprised. “Sebastian and I met him in our first year. We tag-teamed convincing him to be our friend. What was he like?”

“Not too different than he is now,” Adelia shrugs, averting her curious eyes. “Prone to assumptions and worries over you like a mother hen. But he can be quick to compliment, if you’ve done something worthy of praise to him.”

Anne hesitates for a moment. “Ominis doesn’t make the best first impressions, but he is a good man. Sebastian and I have tried to coach him on it, though he insists on doing what he wishes. Strong-willed snake.”

She and Adelia share a chuckle, though it’s interrupted by a short hiss when Anne laughs a bit too hard. Remembering the gifts she had planned, Adelia reaches into her bag before presenting Anne with two items: an herb sachet and a box from Honeyduke’s.

“I asked for help to choose items for you,” Adelia explains. “This herb sachet tends to help my mother, she’s also taken ill. It contains a combination of basil, oregano, and lavender for peace, protection, and happiness.”

“Thank you,” Anne replies gratefully. “I’ll place it above my bed for safekeeping.”

“Also, Isaac told me how much you love sour candy. I happen to be a sour candy connoisseur myself, so I’ve put together a medley of my favorite sour gummies and chews.”

Anne’s face lit up even more, if that was somehow possible. Carefully placing the items aside, she attempts to hug Adelia in gratitude. Being extra careful not to hit any sore muscles, Adelia accepts the gentle hug. 

“It has been lovely getting to know you, Anne. I’ve truly had a wonderful time and would love to stay in touch, if you wouldn’t mind sending an owl my way.”

“I’d be happy to. Tell me all about Hogwarts, I miss it dearly. Oh, if you can, please let me know how Ominis is faring? Last time he visited, he seemed quite stressed over Sebastian.”

With a barely concealed grimace at that prospect, Adelia struggles to turn down Anne’s puppy-dog eyes. Even when she requests that Adelia help Sebastian understand that her curse cannot be undone. 

Curse the Sallows. They all know how to get what they want. Still, even if I haven’t known him the longest, my experience with curses may help leverage Sebastian’s trust.

Exchanging goodbyes, Adelia begins searching all across the hamlet for a head of messy brown hair. After a short and uncomfortable conversation with Solomon, she’s especially eager to discuss everything with him. Spotting a glimpse of Sebastian walking out of a little shed, she rushes over to check on him.

“Sebastian,” Adelia calls out.

Shutting the unsteady door with a loud creak, Sebastian startles at her presence. His body blocks the doorway, glancing around with shifty eyes.

“Ah, Adelia. You’re back. Let’s talk over there, shall we?”

Gesturing to a collection of training dummies across the hamlet, Sebastian eases an arm over her shoulders to guide her away.

“One moment,” Adelia pauses. “I just need to check something.”

Ducking beneath his arm, she rushes over to the door and pushes it open, ignoring Sebastian’s calls for her not to go in. Busting into the small room, Adelia is immediately overcome with the scent of Sebastian, an earthy aroma with a hint of spice. Between the dilapidated flooring and a missing mattress, concern swells in Adelia’s chest as she stumbles into an area not meant for her eyes. Taking in the myriad of discarded parchment and an unattended brewing station, she wonders if this is where Sebastian truly lives.

“I never meant to show you this.”

Sebastian walks up to her with a sour expression. Lowering himself to the floor, he begins folding a thin blanket to place atop a single pillow, stowing it underneath a short cabinet. Easing herself next to him, Adelia gazes at his despondent expression with pity.

“How long have you been sleeping here?” She asks softly.

“A few years,” He finally admits. “It’s where I sleep when I return from Hogwarts. Used to have a mattress, but some bugs got into it and the whole thing was unsalvageable.” 

His admission shifts the final puzzle piece into place, completing an unhappy picture. This was why his house only held two beds, why he hesitated to enter his own home. Beyond the fights with his uncle, he wasn’t welcome to the same cottage as his twin sister. She looked past the peeling leather of his oxfords and the visible stitching along his robe’s hem to see her friend. 

I thought we were similar but I never realized Sebastian used secondhand robes or shoes. Even though Grandmother Isa’s spending was visibly gaudy, I’ve never considered penny pinching or thrifting vintage clothing. Money has never been a worry of mine until now. I realize now how much I’ve taken my family’s wealth for granted.

Scanning over the bookshelves across the room, her eyes detect several advanced titles like 'Defensive Magical Theory' and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Seventeenth Century'.

"You certainly own a lot of books," She tries to say cheerily, though her tone falls flat.

"They used to belong to my parents," He gestures offhandedly to the alphabetized shelves. "Both were professors, spending nearly every waking moment in the cellar library. These books are the last of my remaining inheritance. We had to sell everything else."

While he says it casually, she can spot how well dusted and cared for the books are, even with visible wear and tear. She wouldn't be shocked if he opened them carefully to prevent creasing their spines.

“I’m sorry, Seb.”

“Don’t pity me, Adelia,” He frowns, leaning against the wall. “I’ve gotten used to my situation. It’s not enviable; I don’t have an estate like you or Ominis, but this is my reality.”

“Why don’t you live with your uncle and sister?”

“We’ve fought more times than I can count. He’s angry. Always has been, since my parents died. After Anne was hurt, he only grew worse. It’s as though he blames me somehow. Always calling me ‘my father’s son.’ As if that’s an insult.”

Eyes blazing in fury, Sebastian matches her gaze with a firm lip.

“I’m the one trying to help her. He’s simply given up,” He grits out.

“I just talked to your sister,” She says slowly, unsure how to complete Anne’s request. “Both she and your uncle seem genuinely convinced that nothing more can be done for her.”

“I refuse to believe that. Anne’s pain is more than physical. It has changed her entirely. I miss my sister. And I’m going to get her back,” He states confidently.

“You’ve only known Sallow for what… two months? Gaunt has known him for five years. Not to mention that his behavior has noticeably worsened without his sister to rein him in.”

“Sebastian cannot take away my pain. Perhaps you can help him to understand that.”

“If you really want to be of help, you’ll make sure Sebastian does what he should do. Not what he wants to do.”

“Sebastian gets himself in enough trouble, he doesn’t need your help. You clearly don’t understand Sebastian well enough to be considered a close friend.”

Observing the confident boy she once thought was completely unshakeable, it occurs to her that perhaps everyone else was right. She doesn’t truly know Sebastian. No one can fully know someone in a few short months. 

However, if this visit has done anything, it’s proven that Adelia wants to learn about Sebastian. Even with these newfound differences, there are too many things that connect them to sever their bond. Namely, trust. 

She trusts him.

No matter how difficult it may be to aid his journey to refocus his duties and responsibilities back onto himself, Adelia is determined. Even if it ends with just the two of them supporting each other, Adelia will ensure Sebastian can stand on his own two feet. 

Because no matter how much he proclaims himself a dashing rogue, his guarded heart is soft and squishy inside. And she’ll do what it takes to secure it from being destroyed.

“Come with me,” He offers Adelia a hand, helping her to her feet. “I need to show you where it happened.”

~~~~~~

Drifting in and out of consciousness like a waking dream, Adelia floats through snippets of conversation between Hogwarts’s healer matron and various students. Though unable to identify how or why she’s there, a few minutes of whimpering rewards her aching mind with much needed relief. After gulping down a nasty potion like it’s the elixir of life, Adelia flops back against her lumpy mattress with a relieved sigh. A quick scan later and the Hufflepuff is left to take in a blissful night alone.

It’s easier to sleep with others nearby but having one night all to myself isn’t so bad. Especially considering my other roommate was about to be a transfigured sheep.

Or was that a real sheep? I don’t think the animal even knew for sure.

A quiet squeaking noise grabs her attention, like someone walked through a mud puddle before entering the room. The sound picked up before quickly dropping off again. Adelia wasn’t sure if someone was pacing or looking for anyone, but since she was feeling okay, it wouldn’t hurt to help them. Reaching for the tall curtain, she gradually peeks over to find a conflicted Slytherin boy in rain-soaked dress robes. 

“Ominis?” She calls out in disbelief.

He jumps, his muttered contemplation giving way to embarrassment before easing his way to her bedside.

“Adelia,” He breathes out.

A dim red dot from his wand illuminates the darkened room, casting shadows against his partially obscured face. Shifting from one foot to the other, Ominis runs a hand through his wet hair. 

Her heart clenches at his dishelved appearance, not appreciating the sudden reminder of his handsomeness. Realizing she’s dressed in a set of borrowed pajamas, Adelia covers herself more thoroughly with a blanket. Retrieving a set of silk gloves from her bag provides more time to fight the embarrassed blush staining her tan cheeks. 

He may not see what I’m wearing but a lady must still be proper. 

“What are you doing here?” She eventually asks, her face tilted towards the foggy windows across the room.

“I heard you were hurt and I… well, I had to know if you were alright.”

Clenching her teeth at the swelling of hurt and confusion battling inside, Adelia takes a deep breath.

“Why would that matter to you, Gaunt? We aren’t friends. Remember?”

Flinching at her chilly response, his muddy oxfords squelch as he reflexively steps back. 

Intending to come across as unfazed by his lack of response, she bites her lip and refuses to break the tension first.

“I apologize.”

Snapping over to assess the truth of his words, Adelia is pleasantly surprised to find sincerity written all over his face.

“It’s difficult. To admit my shortcomings. I spoke from a place of hurt and concern over someone I love. But you didn’t deserve my vitriol.”

Ominis’s face twists into a funny grimace then he fumbles for the stool resting near his leg. After taking a seat, his shoulders slump and he shrinks into himself. 

He looks like a guilty little kid.

“Though, don’t tell Sebastian I said that.”

Even if he won’t tell him, I’m sure Seb already knows.

Adelia lets out a soft chuckle that brightens his face just the faintest bit. 

“You were right, in some regards. I’ve known Sebastian half my life and I’d trust him with all of it. But I’ve been forced to bear witness to his changes in behavior. He’s not the same person now that he once was: lying, obsessing, and even sharing one of my best kept secrets.”

Running a hand down his face reveals dark eye circles and a recurrent expression of pure exhaustion that Adelia had come to associate with Ominis.

“I can’t tell you what was running through his mind, but I do know it wasn’t malicious,” She reassures. “He intended for the Undercroft to be a safe place to practice my spellcasting while I caught up to everyone else. It’s been harder than I imagined, adapting to the grandiosity of Hogwarts.”

Her fingers drum against the scratchy cotton bedsheets to be rid her excess nervous energy.

“As awkward as it is to admit this, I’ve been lonely for a while. Sebastian was the first person to extend the warmth of friendship to me, and as selfish as it was, I clung on. Suppose I should’ve turned down his offer to show me the Undercroft but… I trust him too.”

Her lips twitch, glancing at him for reassurance.

“Is that bad?”

“No,” He admits. “If loneliness was a crime, then I’d be doing time in Azkaban.”

“If you understand me then why did you say I wasn’t friends with Sebastian? With you?”

His expression darkens, shifting to uncover his mouth.

“It hurts, knowing how close both of you have become. After everything that happened last summer with Anne-”

His voice cracks and he winces, gently rubbing at his throat. 

Adelia leans past him to pour a fresh goblet of water, nudging his fingers in a silent offering. He takes it with a grateful smile, leaning back to take a long drink. The bump in his throat bobs as he finishes off the goblet, his tongue darting out to catch the last drops. She blushes, finding herself looking away to provide him an illusion of privacy. 

He’s gotten a bit more... manly since he left. 

Biting down on her thumb, Adelia blinks in realization before shoving her hand down. Her heart beating wildly in her chest. 

Stop. This is inappropriate. Just focus on his words.

The Slytherin politely offers her a newly filled goblet, and Adelia accepts it while he continues speaking.

“We’ve been fighting more than usual and our last one was explosive enough that we haven’t spoken all week. I didn’t receive any letters while I was at my home, which tells me that he’s not going to apologize first. Honestly, the Undercoft is important to me, but he means more. Anne has told me how much distress his research has brought her but I don’t know how to make him stop. He refuses to listen to me.”

Burying his head in his fingers traps the red light against his damp locks, allowing the room to be bathed in moonlight. 

Anne is just like my mother, desperately wishing for my father to return home. All she wants is her loved ones nearby, filling her last moments of life with love, not false hope. How do I get Sebastian to understand this?

The big fight he had with Ominis was in regard to the Scriptorium. Ominis knows where it is but refuses to tell Sebastian. Assuming that place has any answers then perhaps that’s what he needs to find peace. My father was working against a generational blood curse with no hope of undoing its tangled web. Maybe this scriptorium is all Sebastian requires to combat his feelings of helplessness.

Laying her hand atop one of Ominis’s, Adelia gently squeezes to garner his attention. 

“What if you take him to Slytherin’s Scriptorium?”

“No,” He instantly grumbles. “Though I’m not surprised he told you about that.”

“Ominis, listen to me. You can be the one in control here. Taking him to the Scriptorium removes his curiosity about the place and prevents him from bugging you further. If you take preventative measures to remove anything involving a lot of dark magic beforehand, then he won’t find anything too dangerous.”

He considers the thought and straightens up a bit more. While his grip loosens on his scalp, he doesn’t remove Adelia’s gloved fingers laced between his own. 

The Ominis I met earlier this year would never have let me do this. We have made more progress than I realized.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks.

“What about me?”

“Are you not interested in the scriptorium?”

Adelia thinks of her father's study, piles of research littering every spare surface and cabinet. Her mother's dull-eyed smile at the reminder that her husband is in yet another country, stubbornly pursuing a fruitless venture.

“No,” She states firmly. “If either of you need my assistance, then I'll be there. But I have no attachment to dark magic, nor will I ever.”

Ominis's eyes still for a few moments then he slowly nods, as though accepting her answer.

“Good. I'm glad you're taking a firm stance on this. Some people believe it can be a gray area but I've witnessed the twisting of even the most innocent spells. The damage dark ones have, especially when fueled by strong emotion, is too much for any witch or wizard to pursue.”

If only my ancestors felt the same way. It's hard to blame someone for cursing the Greengrass that tortured them but I wish their actions didn't impact us centuries later. 

“I understand, Ominis. Far more than you may realize.”

His eyebrows scrunched in concern, slowly rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand.

“My mum,” She starts, beating him to the punch. “Her maiden name is Greengrass.”

Not wanting to observe his face take on a pitying expression, she briefly explains her mother's situation as clinically as possible. It may not be necessary to him but Adelia doesn't want to leave any room for doubt.

If he's deciding our future friendship based on my honesty, well, I'm not a Hufflepuff for no reason.

Moving past her familial predicament, Adelia details a possible plan for her to join their search as an extra layer of support. That way, if Ominis somehow misses something, she can either distract Sebastian or hide it before he's able to test it.

“There’s just one problem with your plan.”

“I’m sure you can solve it. That is your specialty, after all,” She jokes lightheardly. 

Ominis cracks a smile.

“What I mean is, we can’t prepare ahead of time because I’ve never visited there myself.”

“You haven’t?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Is that really a surprise?” 

“I suppose not,” She mutters back.

He avoids dark magic like his life depends on it. Well, speaking from experience, it usually does. 

“I only know about it because of my favorite aunt.”

“Noctua?”

“You remembered,” He replies, his voice mixed with surprise and another emotion she can’t quite name.

“Of course,” Adelia replies cheerily. “From your descriptions, she sounds so lovely.”

“She was,” He agrees.

Another wistful expression took over, his features smoothing into a blissful smile. The corners of Adelia’s lips turn up as she observes him remember a nostalgic memory. 

“Aunt Noctua and I both disagreed with my family’s use of dark magic. In fact, she learned of the scriptorium and went looking for it to convince them there was more to Salazar Slytherin than worshipping pure-blood status. The entrance is actually hidden in a secret corridor in Hogwarts. She wrote to my father multiple times regarding her efforts to open it and then vanished. No one else ever tried to enter.”

Hm, this is tricky. They don’t know what’s inside or how to open it, so who’s to say it’s even safe to begin with? I just hoped Noctua didn’t encounter a trap inside the scriptorium and couldn’t find a safe way out. It would crush Ominis to come across her accidentally.

“Aunt Noctua went down this path with good intentions and lost her life. I don’t want the same thing to happen again.”

He squeezes her hand hard enough that she lets out a hiss of pain. He startles, letting it go with an apologetic pat. The Hufflepuff flexed her hand before resting it on the edge of her mattress.

“It won’t,” She reassures.

“How do you know that? Did you become a psychic?”

“No, no,” She forcefully chuckles. “No.”

That last one was for you, Merlin. 

Ominis’s head tilts with an amused smirk.

“The more you try to convince me, the less I believe you.”

“Trust me. Latent magic abilities are more than enough for me to handle.”

“So you say,” He chuckles, leaning closer. “I think I’ve had my fair share of exploring those abilities, what with our magic lessons and all.”

He’s not flirting. He’s not flirting. He’s not flirting. He’s not flirting.

“You claim that, Professor Ominis,” Adelia remarks, matching his proximity. “Until you're awoken by a swarm of butterfly journalists.”

“You don’t mean-”

“-that I will surpass your original lesson and create sentient butterflies capable of evolving into taxpaying, information-seeking journalists?”

She pauses, letting her quip harkening back to their old banter sink in.

“Indeed I do.”

Glittering gems of moonstone flicker in and out of existence until he breaks, shattering the tension with his laughter. Adelia is soon to follow, curling arms around her sore gut at her own absurdity. 

It feels so good to laugh. I needed it more than I thought.

“You don't sincerely believe that, right?”

“Of course not,” She giggles. “But it made you laugh, didn't it?”

Rubbing at her aching cheeks with a smile, all breath leaves her lungs at the unexpected proximity with the Slytherin boy. Their shakes of laughter had slid two of her fingers between his while their bodies shifted close enough that each inhale smelled of peppermint and lemongrass.

Maybe I won’t have to imagine my pillow smelling of peppermint. If I laid back and he shifted a bit over me-

I need to stop reading my novel in bed. Strange thoughts are taking over my mind.

While Adelia attempts to shake those thoughts out of her head forcefully, she feels warm fingers trace along the back of her left hand. Slowly peeling off her glove, Ominis gently rubs along her bare hand for the first time before slowly interlacing their hands. Heat bleeds into her cold hands, running a shiver down her spine that causes his eyes to sharpen.

Is this really happening? I’m not dreaming again, right?”

“Are you always this cold?” He asks, his posh voice deeper than normal.

Opening and closing her mouth like a fish, Adelia blushes a deeper red as his free hand trails a burning path along her arm and up to her forehead. He briefly pauses at her flushed cheeks before testing her temperature.

“Your skin is chilled but running hot. Shivers and a light sweat, too.”

You didn’t need to point that out.

Avoiding the knowing tilt of his ears, she subtly wipes her other hand against the baby blue blanket.

“It must be a fever. I won't keep you for much longer then.”

Adelia doesn't speak, not yet wanting to confirm that and let him leave after they finally reconciled. Ominis makes no motion to go, either.

“Adelia, would you allow me to cast a spell on you?” He requests.

You already have.

“Alright,” She agrees.

Pale fingers tap against her forehead while his eyes close, humming a few words.

“Solacium.”

Sensations of warmth and comfort wash over her like the sun after a rainstorm. It feels like being held in her mother's arms, a solace from the outside world. 

Liquid fills her eyes for a moment as she loses herself in his charm. The burning against her eyes drags her back into reality, not wanting to shed tears over his sweet gesture. Struggling to word her appreciation, she collected herself during their comfortable silence.

“Thank you. That was… incredible. How did you learn that?”

His cheeks tinge pink, smiling in an endearing, boyish way.

“I've gotten lucky; only have been sick a handful of times in my life. However, my treatments were always mysteriously delayed. Likely forgotten about if you asked me. Aunt Noctua always arrived when I needed her the most, with a potion and a chocolate frog in hand. No matter how effective Pepper-Up potions are, I've found Solacium to be much more comforting.”

A short sneeze breaks up his recollection as the spell’s warmth settles and cold seeps into every abandoned corner.

“Let’s make a plan to visit the scriptorium when you’re healthy again. In the meantime, rest up and take all of your potions. Then we can tell Sebastian together.”

With all the elegance of a pureblood, Ominis single-handedly unwraps his Slytherin scarf and locates her neck, wrapping it snugly and pulling her closer. Her nose bumps his jaw and she apologizes, moving back until they're face to face. At this range, she can trace every little mole decorating his face, laid out like constellations with no distinct pattern. 

Ominis clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning pink as he fumbles with the scarf. Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from his shimmering eyes reveals his cufflinks caught in its emerald and silver tassels. Mumbling apologies, both work to free his robes from the scarf's trap, awkwardly removing their hands whenever they meet again. 

Once he's free, Ominis searches for her hand, catching it before it's harder to locate. His larger hand envelopes her own, lifting them to the soft pink of his lips.

He hesitated for a few seconds, his breath tickling the skin across her knuckles. Adelia accidentally lets out a slight whine at the sensation. 

She smacked a glove over her lips to cover it but it was too late. Ominis’s eyebrows lift and surprise crosses his face. Then, he slowly bends down to press a featherlight kiss to the back of her hand. 

That's just a general greeting or goodbye gesture. He doesn't mean anything by it.

Right? Right?!

“Until then.”

With one final squeeze, Ominis rises to his feet and exits the room, taking the red light and squishing shoes with him. Licking at her lips, she lowers her hand that had been reaching for him and melts back onto her bed. Giggling girlishly to herself, she observes her bare hand under the dim moonlight.

He kissed me! Well, my hand, but that's still a part of me.

He sought out my touch! My touch!

He may not like-like me but he does like me!

After a few minutes, her shoulders relax while she adjusts a pillow. All movements cease after his scarf flops onto her pillow and her nose lands on top of it. A faint scent of peppermint and lemongrass floods her senses. Closing her eyes brings stronger sensations as her mind replays their conversation over and over again. 

Eventually falling asleep with the whisper of a smile, she can hardly feel the indistinct pulsating of a headache wrapped around her recently uncovered memories. Instead, all she remembers is the pleasant heat of the boy’s scarf around her neck and his hand held in her own.

Perhaps this crush thing isn’t so bad. 

~~~~~~

Light shines against the darkness of her eyelids, forcefully rousing Adelia from her slumber. With bleary eyes and a yawning mouth, she blinks around the room to locate the nurse. Pushing the drawn curtain aside reveals a brown-haired woman tending to a young Ravenclaw boy. At the sound of the patterned curtain shifting, the nurse finishes up her conversation and walks to Adelia’s bed with a tray of vials.

“Good morning, dear. How is your head?” Nurse Blainey greets.

Now that she makes mention of it, Adelia feels a pulsating pain radiating from her skull. Curling into a ball, her fingernails firmly press against the sides of her skull, willing the pain to go away. 

“That’s enough of that. Here.”

A firm grip bats Adelia’s arms down and secures a small vial between shaky hands. 

“Drink up, poppet.”

Flicking open the cap, Adelia struggles to view the potion while her vision blurs. Opting to get this over with quickly, she smooshes the vial against her mouth and drinks, though not without slashing a mouthful on the bedsheets and bruising her lips. Slowly blinking while the pain fades from a throbbing to a dull ache, her eyes come into focus on a disapproving nurse perched beside her bed.

“You got most of it down. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Adelia grumbles out, her throat scratchy. “May I have some water?”

“Of course, dear.”

Nurse Blainey pours a tall goblet of water and trades it with Adelia’s empty vial. She greedily drinks every last drop, almost causing a stomachache to relieve her parched tongue. Steadily pouring out more water with a reminder to drink slower, Nurse Blainey whips out her wand to cast a few diagnostic spells. 

“We’ve fixed the dehydration, though you’ll need to eat soon to aid that health potion down. Good thing it’s almost lunchtime,” Nurse Blainey states aloud. “Before I release you, I’ll need to know your side of the story.”

Flitting her gaze away from the silver goblet to the nurse’s attentive stare, Adelia shuffles into a stiffer, upright position. 

“I- uh, don’t remember too much,” She nervously swallows, fingernails chipping away at her pink nail polish. 

That's mostly true. Whatever Sebastian said triggered a memory but I've forgotten most of it by now. Something about the phrase ‘Children should be seen and not heard’ caused that reaction.

It’s silent for a moment as both women refuse to speak. Another student shifting in their rest breaks the silence, the loud creaking of a bed frame breaking the nurse’s observant scan. 

“Last night, I was finishing my last rounds when two students carried you in. A prefect, Isaac Cooper, stated that he and Sebastian Sallow had been showing you around their hometown when a stray goblin attacked you from behind. It seems a few of them are lingering around Feldcroft, so it would be wise to exercise caution when you’re in the area.”

Goblins? No, that can’t be right.

Running her fingernails along the soft skin of her thumb, Adelia counts up to two for each press before switching to the other side. 

One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two.

Sixteen. Four fingers with two presses each. It definitely wasn’t goblins. 

Confidently looking up, Adelia opens her mouth to respond when a thought strikes.

Wait. Didn’t a goblin attack Anne? Did that happen to me, too? No, that can’t be right. I counted to sixteen. Or was it eighteen? Does my thumb count as part of the whole sum? Then what’s the true total? If it’s not a good number, then I unintentionally fought more goblins.

“Miss Rosewater?”

Coming out of a dissociated trace, her head snaps up to Nurse Blainey with wide eyes. Nervously apologizing, she bows her head and awaits a punishment.

Not to jinx anything, but Professor Fig and Mr. Osric have gotten used to my anxious tendencies. Though I used to do my routines far more often after first meeting with Professor Fig, he assured me that it was alright and restated his question. 

Who’s to say Nurse Blainey would be as considerate as him? I doubt she’ll do what Grandmother or my governess does for punishment, the school seems to restrict uses of hexes on children. So, house points it is. 

Merlin’s snazzy robes. I can’t catch a break.

An uncorked vial is unceremoniously shoved into her hands. Nurse Blainey taps the bottom and gestures for her to drink it. Shakily swallowing every last drop, Adelia awaits her next instructions.

“That reminds me. I’ve received a response from a healer at St. Mungo’s myalurgy ward.” 

Nurse Blainey’s expression becomes bemused, unable to explain the letter’s contents unless reading directly from it. 

“Muggles study mental insanity far more than wizards do. Our fields of research involve many more magical maladies and mishaps. From what Healer Pottinger wrote, there are specialty Muggle doctors researching conditions called ‘neurasthenia’ and ‘obsessive neurosis’. Based on your symptoms, you align closer to ‘obsessive neurosis’: a newly theorized mental disorder characterized by obsessive thoughts and/or actions. Treatments include isolation, electric shock, a change in diet, religious guidance, or… bloodletting?”

“Bloodletting?!” Adelia bursts out, horrified at the implications of draining her blood. 

“These are examples, certainly not anything I will use to treat you,” Nurse Blainey scolds, seeming offended that Adelia would believe her capable of that.

I have no idea what to expect. I’m completely in the dark. The more I hear about my condition, the more I wish I could repress it forever. However, history tells me that’ll only make things worse.

The nurse’s face grows horrified before remembering to whom she’s reading the letter. Schooling her expression with pursed lips, she explained the notes where Healer Pottinger built upon their suggestions with a few of his own.

“Several of these suggestions align with Muggle society, so instead, Healer Pottinger suggests counseling with a trusted mentor from the Ministry and daily intakes of a specially diluted calming potion. I have suspected dosage for teenagers but we’ll start you with this much,” She says, holding up a short vial with blue liquid sloshing inside. “Report to me how you feel at the end of each week and we can either provide a different amount or try a new potion.”

“Alright, thank you,” Adelia replies. “Will I get to choose a mentor or will that position be Ministry assigned?”

“If there’s someone you trust, then I’d be more than happy to write them on your behalf. Otherwise, it would be randomly assigned, likely an employee from the myalurgy department.”

Perfect. There’s only one person who’ll be able to help me.

“Please request George Osric for the position,” Adelia politely requests.

Nodding as she scribbles down the name, the nurse folds up the letter and places it inside her apron.

“As for your current condition, your immune system weakened enough for a cold to set in. The Pepper-Up potion you took last night will have prevented it from growing further. However, there is still the issue with your mind.”

“What's wrong with my mind?” Adelia asks, slightly defensively.

I thought we had already decided on a treatment plan. Do I truly have to defend my anxiety to a healthcare worker, of all people? She did use the term ’mental insanity’ to describe my behavior.

“From my diagnostic scans, there seems to be leftover spell residue, which caused mental turmoil, resulting in your body fainting. It's likely an old injury that caused lingering damage, whether that was the intended function of the spell or not.”

Stepping forward with an intent look and raised quill, the nurse’s blue eyes narrow, scanning her for answers.

“Miss Rosewater,” Nurse Blainey says. “Can you recall any previous incidents of spells hitting your head?”

Grandmother Isa’s preferred form of punishment was hexes to my wrists and hands, specifically aiming to harm my ability to play piano. Father’s herb lotion recipes are the only reason my hands have stayed unblemished thus far.

“I don’t believe so,” Adelia replies. “I’ve had typical injuries over the years, like tripping over garden gnomes, but nothing that hurt my head.”

“I see,” She nods, tapping a quill against her parchment.

“Uhm, is that bad?”

“No, it’s exactly what I suspected. My scan indicated it may be a modified memory spell. Typically, these are done in controlled environments by professionals, so this was a very unusual find. Can you recall any instance of someone attempting to harm you?”

Adelia freezes, unsure how to approach that loaded question.

I feel like I should remember my memory being modified. Even if that is the nature of the spell, no one I know would purposefully try to make me forget something.

All of a sudden, the name Marcus Goyle pushes to the forefront of her mind. She remembers discussing the familiarity of his name with Ominis and then-

“AGH!” 

She yells, yanking out strands of hair as her head explodes in pain. A cacophony of voices rings through her mind, ripping through each nerve with sound.

“Hehe. Yeah, let’s play!”

“Can’t handle a few little hexes? You’re weaker than I thought.” 

“What’s going on? Mum? Dad? Why are you hurt?”

“My child, please. Get out of here. Now!”

“Tut-tut. This won’t do. Children should be seen and not heard.”

“You’ve seen too much. We need to fix that. Obliviate.”

Liquid gushes down her throat as someone coaxes a familiar-tasting serum into her mouth, bringing an instant sense of calm. Eerie tranquility washes over Adelia, her emotions muted as the potion works its magic. Roaming her view up the potion administer with a slowed blink reveals shoulders slumped in relief at her stillness.

“You’ve found the affected memories, I take it. Let’s put a pin on this discussion for another time. Perhaps you can attempt to recover this memory in a more controlled environment with your new mentor,” Nurse Blainey suggests.

Adelia nods in agreement, blankly staring at her. Nurse Blainey explains the final round of required vials, though most had already been drunk. After changing back into her weekend clothes, Adelia desperately wishes to bathe before replacing these garments with her school robes. Before exiting through the double doors, she’s halted by the call of her name.

“Miss Rosewater. Don’t push yourself too hard today. If you find yourself unable to participate in classes, then come back for another check-up.”

“Alright,” She agrees. “Thank you.”

Armed with an arsenal of new information, Adelia takes her time wandering back to the Hufflepuff common room. Daydreaming through a lavender bubble bath and struggling to locate her tie, she spots a hint of emerald and green poking out from her discarded clothes pile. Gently sifting through to pull out a peppermint-scented Slytherin scarf, Adelia smiled her first real smile of the day while wrapping it around her neck.

With one last look in the mirror, Adelia rubs the scarf’s tassels between her fingers for good luck and leaves for the Great Hall. Through the sea of muted emotions, her heart beats strong and happily with each musical click of her boots down the empty corridors.

Notes:

With how long Ominis had wet clothes on for, he should be the one with a cold.

*Adelia sneezes*
Ominis: Relatable

Chapter 20: An Emerald Scarf & An Unforgivable

Summary:

After Potions class, Adelia & Ominis fully discuss the Scriptorium with Sebastian. Heading into it, there are many puzzles and unfortunate discoveries found along the way. Especially after an unforgivable curse forces Adelia to remember something she was made to forget.

Adelia & Ominis approach Sebastian.
Adelia: Hey, we saw you from across the bar & we like your style
Sebastian: *laughs*
Ominis: Wait, not like that
Sebastian: *laughs harder*

Notes:

Hoo boy, was this a long chapter. So long that my clipboard didn't wanna copy & paste correctly, lol.
We've now reached the end of Act 1, the school arc. Now is on to Act 2, the high society arc.
Throughout writing this, I have learned a lot about my personal writing style & that I tend to overwrite what I wish to say when it can be done in a simplified way.
I have no guarantees that the next arc will be shorter but I'll definitely try.
Happy Reading!

Cauldrons bubble from one Potions table to the next, combining to sound like a boiling tea kettle. For a moment, Adelia is tempted to drink from her cauldron, though the effects of the Thunderbrew potion would likely take Amit’s eye out. Hunched over a steaming concoction, Adelia barely avoids elbowing Imelda Reyes in the side again.

“Excuse me,” She says politely.

Imelda deftly twirls her hips out of the way, unbreaking her chopping rhythm. With a grunt of disapproval, she continues preparing a bundle of dried herbs. Stirring their potion at a 45-degree angle, Adelia glances over to Amit for the time.

“Two more minutes,” He supplies, recognizing her questioning glance.

Though she didn’t intend to switch potion groups again, Professor Sharp has assumed the notion of ‘group bonding’ by changing partners every few classes. This time, she’s had the luck of pairing with Amit Thakkar and the misfortune of acquiring Imelda Reyes. Amit was as kind as he was studious, and while very verbose, Adelia had enjoyed exchanging brewing tips with him. Imelda Reyes, on the other hand, was far more competitive than she had anticipated. Starting from a harmless flying trial to becoming top of the potions class (second only to Garreth, whose creativity made up for his explosive concoctions), Imelda one-sidedly declared them to be in competition. 

“Reyes, could you hand me the leech juice?” She asks.

When her open hand is met with nothing, Adelia finally glances up from her stirring to see a lifted smirk.

“I can’t read the labels. Surely you know which one it is.”

Uh-huh. She remembers that I collected most of our ingredients, so it’s not hard to locate, right?

Switching out the spoon with Amit, Adelia slides over to the collection of glass jars. Picking up two dark brown containers, she inspects to find one with smooth liquid surrounding striped shells and one with more solid ovals of varying sizes. She feels the weight in her palms, twisting them around to read the labels. 

Leech Juice and Bat Spleens.

Nodding to Imelda, she places the Leech Juice one back on the table and squeezes a dropper full of Bat Spleens into their cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Amit’s voice pitches, scrambling to grab the other jar.

“It’s fine,” Adelia says calmly. “She switched the labels. See?”

Shining Lumos onto the two jars illuminates a sticky line from where the original labels used to be. She pats Amit’s arm while he heaves a sigh of relief.

“That was a fun test,” She directs at Imelda. “Though we should stick to doing that outside of graded assignments.”

“You just got lucky, Rosewater,” Imelda huffs out. “I would’ve known they were switched before I had to use the ingredient.”

Adelia merely smiles, enjoying how it seems to make Reyes’s scowl grow deeper. Behind their station, Professor Sharp limps over to inspect how Samantha Dale and Ominis are faring.

“Drop your shrivelfig lower. Any higher and you’ll burn a hole through your robes,” Professor Sharp instructs.

“How am I meant to concentrate on potions when Professor Sharp is so intimidating?” Samantha mutters to Ominis.

“Focus on the ticking of the chronograph,” Ominis suggests. “Each tick represents one more step away from our table.”

They exchanged huffed laughter. His comment helped as Samantha refocused on their ingredients.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time flies by as everyone ladles their final concoctions into vials and hands them off to Professor Sharp before cleaning up their stations. Adelia steps back purposefully, tapping her nails on Ominis’s workstation in a specific code. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Scratch.

He nods subtly, tapping his wand to signal his agreement.

Tap. Tap.

Filing in line behind the last students, Adelia waits for Samantha Dale to exit with their boxed elixirs before grabbing Sebastian’s sleeve and pulling him to the nearest potion station. 

A few students catch her movement, gossiping among themselves while leaving.

“See? I told you they were courting,” Samantha whispers excitedly.

“The Slytherin scarf didn’t give that away? Lass has worn that t’every Potions class this week,” Imelda states.

Samantha pouts, adjusting her grip on the box before walking quicker. Imelda rolls her eyes, but reluctantly picks up her pace.

“Woah! If you wanted my attention, you’ve certainly earned it,” Sebastian says teasingly.

Ominis seems unimpressed, raising his wand to whap the top of his head. Adelia snorts before covering it up with a cough, leaning around him to catch Professor Sharp’s distracted shuffling of parchment.

“Ominis and I have a proposal for you,” Adelia starts.

She glances up, waiting for Ominis’s supportive nod before continuing.

“Do you, now?” Sebastian says playfully, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips. “Ominis, you sly fox. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He sputters, alarm crossing his face at Sebastian’s teasing.

“Wha- that’s not what’s happening. Pull your head out of your cauldron.”

Adelia looks on in confusion but shrugs it off as an inside joke.

“I’ve spoken to Ominis about your request,” She lowers her voice to deter Professor Sharp from listening in. “About the Scriptorium.”

Sebastian’s face drops in shock, eyes darting between both of them in disbelief. Then slowly, hope begins to expand across his features, like a swelling balloon hesitant to overinflate itself.

“And?” He asks softly.

“It is the end of the week. Adelia is fully healed from your little excursion, and we have no more classes today. It would be wise to eat dinner before rushing into anything-”

“Ominis,” Sebastian begs. “Please tell me your decision.”

Pausing for longer than socially acceptable, Ominis’s lips purse before reluctantly opening again.

“Follow me.”

Pointing a red dot into the hallway, Sebastian and Adelia scamper behind Ominis as he leads them beyond the classroom to a long stretch of walls. Polished sandstone carvings mimic cathedral windows, perfectly concealing the disguised entrance to Salazar Sytherin’s scriptorium. 

“Here it is. These braziers grant access to the scriptorium.”

Upon casting Revelio, tall braziers on opposite hallways light up with magical energy, causing Adelia to wonder if it was because they were able to be lit with magic or if they required a trickier spell to unlock the door’s puzzle. She explores close by, listening to her companions speak while testing out the few spells she knows.

“Now, you’ll share?” Sebastian questions. “You wouldn’t tell me when I practically begged.”

“It wasn’t you who told me what I needed to hear.”

“Should I have Polyjuiced myself into her first, then?”

Opting to ignore him, Ominis speaks louder to involve the wandering Hufflepuff.

“Opening the entrance has something to do with threes-” 

“Well, three heads are better than one.”

“It’s - two heads are better than one,” Ominis corrects.

“And by that logic, three is better than two. Simple maths, Ominis.”

“You're a regular arithmancer, Seb,” Adelia responds over her shoulder.

Deciding to test the obvious spell first, Adelia pulls out her wand to cast the fire spell.

“Incendio.” 

That definitely worked, but it feels too simple. Shouldn’t a Slytherin plan something cunning to deter others?

“Ominis?” She calls out.

“Yes?” He responds, turning to give her his full attention.

“Could you come here, please?”

“If you’d like me to,” He replies, already moving to stand by her side.

“If you’d like me to,” Sebastian mimics with a teasing smile, strolling over to the other braziers.

Backing into the wall beside her form, Ominis casts Revelio himself, upon her request. By now, the brazier’s fire has gone out, leaving only a thin trail of smoke behind as evidence it was ever lit.

“Something feels odd,” She comments. “We could just light the three braziers with Incendio or possibly Confringo, but if it were that easy, then how has this place stayed hidden for so long? Surely, innocent children have explored this area and accidentally opened the room. It’s too easy not to.”

Humming in thought, Ominis twirls the end of his wand between his fingers.

“Theoretically, there could be a form of ancient magic at play.”

Automatically straightening her back, Adelia watches Ominis with a careful gaze, though he continues to express his thoughts without notice.

“Take the Undercroft, for instance. After providing the password enough times, only a somatic component is required to open the cabinet. Since this room is so close to the Slytherin common room, perhaps Salazar Slytherin built his scriptorium in an area that would encourage future Slytherins to find it. Though if no one else has, knowledge of its location may be the necessary final component.”

Adelia considers his theory, but another thought tugs at the back of her mind.

“Your theory makes sense, but don’t you think it’s too simple? Salazar Slytherin seems the type to encourage a challenge, wanting students to work for the privilege of finding his secret study.”

“Oftentimes the right solution is the easy one,” He counters. “If we’re constantly encouraged to look beyond the box, then the most difficult riddle may rely on the tape holding it together.”

Involuntarily sucking in a breath, Adelia is taken aback by his nonchalant penchant for good advice. 

That’s Ominis for you.

"Or maybe I'm wrong and he wanted students to wander to their deaths," He continues.

"Wow. You're a total ray of sunshine, aren't you?" She comments sarcastically.

"As opposed to being a beam of moonlight?" He smirks slightly. "That's more up your alley."

"Mhm. Whatever you say, sunlight."

Sebastian rounds the corner, rushing up with yells to ‘get back’ while verbalizing the fire spell. Jumping out of the line of fire, Adelia hears an odd shifting noise like a heavy object sliding across a floor. Glancing back at the Scriptorium wall, Adelia is surprised to see it now open. 

“I figured it out,” Sebastian says smugly. “Can you believe it only took a first-year spell? Granted, there was an element of time involved. Hope whatever is in there is stronger than that puzzle was.”

Adelia congratulates Sebastian’s efforts with a smile, allowing him to take a victory lap before they enter the room. Once Sebastian is far enough away, Adelia starts after him, only to be stopped by Ominis’s voice.

“I hope I, we, don’t regret this.”

“It’ll be fine,” Adelia reassures.

Sneakily reaching for the arm hanging despondently by his side, she gently squeezes his hand. 

“We have each other.”

Ominis‘s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t speak. The light squeeze of her hand before pulling away is the only assurance that he heard her. 

Walking back to Sebastian, Adelia gestures to the open doorway. 

“Ready?”

“More than,” He grins.

Both turning to Ominis, they tilt their heads in sync.

“As I’ll ever be,” He finally says.

Sebastian leads the pack, walking through first. Glancing over her shoulder, Adelia is soon to head in next. Running his fingers along the sandstone walls, Ominis grips it to feel the roughness against his skin.

And as the last of their trio heads inside, the door slides back into place, locking them all inside.

~~~~~~

Stumbling down a spiral staircase, Adelia trips over a tall floor vase, releasing a cloud of dark dust. Coughing and fanning away the flying debris, she ushers the boys deeper inside while brushing porcelain shards away with her boots. Unintentionally, it was reminiscent of Adelia’s first casting of magic. Only this time, she was sure the broken vase was far older and delicate than hers. 

“Lumos.”

Lighting up the dim room, Sebastian indicates an intricately carved, dark door. While Ominis checks it out, Sebastian investigates the broken pieces of a wall sculpture, prodding at them with his wand. As Sebastian walks past a recessed arched wall shelf, the edges of a parchment flutter up, demanding Adelia’s attention. Skimming this person’s note until seeing the signed name, Adelia lets out a gasp.

This was exactly what I was worried about. I wish I could just hide this from him, but he has to know she was in this exact same spot, not so long ago.

“I found a journal entry,” She shares. “Signed by Noctua Gaunt.”

While Sebastian and Ominis squabble over sharing details of his aunt’s involvement with this scriptorium, Adelia rereads a particularly troubling line.

“Ominis - the journal mentions many challenges ahead.”

“That’s why I said this could be dangerous,” He responds, exasperated. “Aunt Noctua kept my father informed until she vanished.”

She carefully folds the parchment, creasing it more than necessary to provide time for her nausea to pass. Slipping it into her bag, she eyes Sebastian’s progress. With an extra wand casting ‘Reparo’, both spellcasters rebuild the relief together. 

“The rubble formed a relief of a person facing a snake,” Sebastian describes aloud.

“That must be the voice I hear,” Ominis tentatively replies. “It’s ancient… sinister.”

Gazing at his pacing form with confusion, she decides to step closer. Adelia clears away spiderwebs tangling his robes, observing his shifted focus towards the wall sculpture.

“You hear a voice?” She asks lightly.

“It started when you repaired that relief. I hear a whisper saying, ‘Speak to me’.”

Carefully focusing on the room around her, Adelia listens for the voice distressing Ominis.

Silence.

Only the soft breathing from her nose registers in her ears.

On the contrary, while Adelia is losing focus, Sebastian hones in on Ominis.

“I’m a Parselmouth,” He reluctantly admits. “I can hear and speak to snakes. Nearly all known Parselmouths are descended from Salazar Slytherin.”

It all makes sense now. Even if someone were able to bypass the entry puzzle, only someone related to him could find his study.

“No wonder I couldn’t hear anything,” Adelia snorts, relieved that her hearing wasn’t betraying her. “I’d like to be able to talk to snakes, too.”

“You shouldn’t,” He frowns. “You and I both know the association of Parseltongue with Dark wizards.”

“Correlation doesn't equal causation, Ominis. Besides, learning languages is one of the few things I excel at. If I get the chance to properly chat with at least one animal, then maybe I'll actually pass Beasts class this year.” 

“Work on it with Poppy enough and you will,” Sebastian chimes in, a bit impatient. “But before that, we should work on leaving this room.”

“I haven’t spoken Parseltongue in ages, but I’d wager if I speak it now, the door will open,” He states before turning back to Adelia.

“I’m hoping you’re having second thoughts.”

As creepy as the chill in this room is, and with how foreboding the journal entry was written, I should be. If anything, the fact that I’m not is proof that Nurse Blainey’s potions are a success.

“Not as many as I expected. Let’s see where this takes us.”

Ominis sighs, visibly deflating at her answer. She wishes to reach for him, wanting to hold him close in comfort, but she cannot. He isn’t hers to mindlessly hold.

“It’s ironic,” He huffs. “When I left home, I vowed to leave the Dark Arts behind. And yet, here I am. Stand back.”

Adelia hesitates before moving backwards, unwilling to take her eyes off him. Sebastian takes his place by her side, and they watch as he mentally prepares himself.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” He mutters quietly.

Gathering up his courage, Ominis releases a stream of hisses and huffed breaths to the snake relic. Ancient magic hums, harmonizing with his voice in a way that overwhelms her body with sensations of warmth and life. A shiver runs down her spine at the noises, causing Sebastian to glance at her oddly when her body jolts in place. She avoids eye contact, focusing on suppressing her instincts until his voice coaxes twin snakes to slide along the door and begin unlocking it.

“It worked.” 

Her voice comes out weird, so she clears her throat to continue. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed!”

“Between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out,” Sebastian replies from the open doorway. 

“Between the two of us?” Ominis questions, puzzled.

“I- Never mind,” He stops himself, opting to speed walk into the new area.

Adelia follows him with wide eyes, thankful that Sebastian kept his mouth shut. It’s not that she’s trying to keep her ancient magic a secret from Ominis; she just doesn’t want him to treat her differently. It’s not lying. Nope.

Upon realizing their next task would be better solved by splitting up to find gates with symbols and snake-guarded locks, Adelia immediately pivots towards the opposite direction from Sebastian. 

Hopefully, we can cover more ground this way. 

The deeper inside they go, the colder the air becomes. She wraps Ominis’s scarf tighter around her neck, then warms her hands by a brazier.

Starting to get a lay of the land, she traces a stone-carved bookcase before overhearing the pattering sound of footsteps occasionally crushing debris underfoot.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Ominis says, sidling up to her.

“The more, the merrier,” Adelia shrugs, picking up another journal entry for the growing stack.

“You claimed to speak languages well earlier. If you don’t mind my asking, which ones do you excel at?”

“I'm at a fluent level with Latin, though it relies heavily on reading and writing. I can speak conversationally in Tagalog, and a few words of French,” She lists off.

“Tagalog,” He says. “That’s the language of the Philippines, correct?”

“That’s right,” She smiles, remembering her previous visit. “It’s the home of my ancestral name, Rosewater.”

Ominis hums in thought, running his fingers along the symbols carved on one of the silver gates.

“So, do you speak Taglog at home?” Ominis asks, leading them towards a snake lock.

“Tagalog,” She corrects, amused.

“Normally I'd practice Tagalog with my father, but my uh- vocabulary is a bit rusty,” Adelia calls back, activating the timer. “What about you? Do you speak Parseltongue at home?”

“Not at all,” He responds instantly. “Only my older brother and I possess the ability, and a prolonged conversation with him is enough to drive me insane. He may speak it all he wishes, but I am no Dark wizard.”

“Hm, still. It's a shame that such a lovely sound is being gatekept by a wicked mentality.” 

“Lovely?” His face twists. “You believe the sound of hissing is at all capable of the title ‘lovely’?”

She nods up at him with a shy smile, forgetting to fully twist the top notch beneath her fingers.

“Perhaps it’s just when the sound is produced by your lips.”

Secretly deriving joy from his gaping mouth and red earlobes, she missed when the snake atop rears its head up, snapping out to bite her neck.

“AGH.”

Reeling back with blood dripping down her neck, Ominis is by her side in seconds, casting a diagnostic spell. He immediately apologizes, to which Adelia waves him off, fumbling for her handkerchief. It’s one thing if she bleeds on her own clothes; it's another if she bleeds onto his scarf.

“It’s my fault for distracting you. Here, let me grab you a Wiggenweld. Do you still keep them in your robes?” 

Subtly sliding closer, Adelia confirms his question. Pointing his wand at her, Ominis reaches out a hand to slide along her hip. Ancient magic thrums at his touch, emitting bright waves throughout the dark corridor. Her heartbeat picks up, loudly enough that she hopes he can't hear it.

Quietly apologizing again, he gently trails to her robe pocket, successfully handing off a fresh potion. Quickly downing the green vial, she straightens up and wipes off the remaining blood with her handkerchief. 

“Is this my scarf?” 

Adelia glances down, realizing the tassels of his scarf are brushing against his palm. They hadn’t discussed whether or not she could keep his scarf. Adelia thanked the lucky stars Sebastian had the good sense to shut his mouth about her wearing it around the school, choosing to make funny faces at her instead. 

“...It’s cold.”

He blinks, appearing as though fighting a smile before nodding in agreement.

“So it is.”

He lets go, looking more relaxed than he had been the whole day. After suggesting they continue on, that demeanor drops back into a grimace.

Finishing off the puzzle, with no distractions this time, they both search for the third member of their trio. By the time Sebastian has opened the final gate, her magic has dimmed, receding into her body. They regroup outside of the next room, with Sebastian opposite Ominis.

“I spotted something ahead,” Sebastian says wearily. “Looks troubling.”

“This whole place is troubling,” Ominis counters. “But, for my aunt’s sake, we cannot stop now.”

Adelia steps between them, her wand lowering to her side. The next room is lined with torches, each pair lighting up with each click of her boots. Cobwebs cover snake head reliefs, snaking across the debris-covered floor to the raised ceiling. As her eyes wander down, goosebumps cover her arms at the eerie puddles of water, mold sure to follow it. The gate slamming shut behind them is the final scratch of her signed death warrant.

“The gate!” Sebastian exclaims. “I think we’re locked in. Again.”

“Then Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us,” Ominis spits out.

Even her ancient magic is restless, filling Adelia with the urge to back far, far away. Away from the creepily lit door concealed behind a singed Unforgiveable curse, burnt into the ground like a brand. Even as her right foot edges back, Sebastian is quick to stroll past her. Where she’s hesitant, his determination only grows.

“There’s another note here,” Seb points out.

The moment his fingers touch the edges of the page, the echo of a scream rings in her head. As he reads the note aloud, she closes her eyes, hoping the skeleton of Noctua Gaunt will leave her memory. Nausea coats her stomach, her mouth tasting of acid.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“This is where she died,” Ominis sounds out in disbelief. “This is where we’ll die. I shouldn’t have listen to either of you.”

The calming potion Adelia took after breakfast is rapidly wearing off, especially now that her magic is focused on attending to the Wiggenweld potion.

Adelia whimpers pathetically at the finality of his tone, knees weakening as the reality of their situation sinks in. Her body lowers against the dirty stone walls, wrapping a cobweb around herself like a shawl. Even with her ears covered, she can detect the repetitive pacing of Ominis and mad ramblings of Sebastian planning their next move. 

We’re not going to die. I’m with two very capable wizards. The worst thing to do right now is panic. Breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Merlin’s mercy, I can’t die. Not until I take down Ranrok and Rookwood.

“Ominis,” Sebastian finally calls out, drawing both Adelia and Ominis’s attention to him. “I’m truly sorry about your aunt. But, I know what to do. It’s going to be difficult.”

Slowly dusting herself off, Adelia clears her watery eyes and asks for his plan. And just like a scene from her worst nightmare, the only way to escape is by casting the torture curse onto someone.

“Ominis has the most experience with this. He should cast it,” Sebastian says innocently, like that doesn’t shatter Adelia’s mind.

“You seem to be in Ominis’s favor. Will you ask him about this?”

I don’t want to. I didn’t want to know that. We never should have come down here in the first place.

Numbly nodding her assent, she approaches his pacing figure, her heart beating like a mockingbird. Words cannot describe the guilt she feels over convince him to do this. 

I truly believed this was a good idea. How foolish.

“Ominis, I hadn’t imagined we’d end up trapped like this.”

Ominis immediately directs the blame to Salazar Slytherin before stating his refusal to partake in the curse in any way. Even though it was something he was forced to cast as a child, he refuses to cast it now, even considering himself to be as guilty as the worst of his family.

She gapes, at a loss for words.

“You were just a kid,” She tries to say.

“Unforgivable curses won’t work unless you really mean them. I had to want to cause pain. And for that, I shall never forgive myself. That spell’s the reason I have no family left. You and Sebastian will need to sort out another solution. If you cast Crucio, you will regret it forever.”

At a loss for how to proceed, Adelia walks back to Sebastian to repeat his words. 

“What do we do now? Ominis isn’t going to cast the curse again.”

“Ridiculous,” Sebastian bites out. “As if dying in here is a better option that casted a damned spell.”

Not matter how morally wrong it is, Adelia understands Sebastian’s point. It was either do this or they all end up dying,

“It’s up to us,” He states. “I can teach you Crucio or I can cast it on you.”

Whipping her head up in disbelief, she closes the gap between them. 

“Wait. You didn’t say you knew how to cast Crucio.”

Wasn’t this the whole point of our conversation in Hogsmeade? Where I told him about how disastrous the effects of dark magic are, directly causing the curse of my bloodline?

“Becuase I’m not sure I do,” He corrects. “Ominis knows that, yet he’s left us no choice. I don’t yearn to follow in Noctua Gaunt’s footsteps.”

Adelia winces, flickering her gaze to the skeleton lying just beyond Sebastian’s feet. Adelia knows that she won’t cast the spell. She refuses to. Even if she could mean it, that would never be an option. 

“How are you so sure you’re able to cast it?” She asks, her mind unable to commit to such a heinous task.

His gaze steels, eyes glazing over as he dips into an unfavored memory.

“It’s simple, really. If I were to cast the spell, then it wouldn’t be on you. I wouldn’t hurt you. It would be on my sister’s attacker,” He replies, full of seriousness.

So, perhaps similar to a boggart. Picturing what the creature will turn into with your words, imagining me as someone awful, snatching my form as a disguise.

That’s a relief. I was worried he must’ve had unspoken resentment towards me, if it was possible for him to cast a torture curse.

Tinges of a memory burns the back of her mind and she automatically swallows, reaching underneath her robes to pull out a small sachet. Reaching Ominis once again, she places a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from walking into her.

“I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” Her voice shakes. “But keep an eye on this for me.”

Untying the bundle from around her neck, her arms encircle his shoulders, securing the chord around his neck. Furrowing his brows, Ominis fiddles with the sachet, inhaling the scent of lemongrass and citrus.

“Why are you giving this to me?” He asks, befuddled.

“It’s lemongrass, right?”

His confusion grows.

Refusing to gaze at Noctua’s skeleton again, she gently wraps her hand around his, securing it around the herb sachet.

“The oil Noctua rubbed on your forehead to help you sleep. This has no oil,” She taps the bundle with her thumb. “But the leaves are fresh. Just focus on the scent.”

Slowly dropping her grip, she takes in his lost expression for a few moment before biting her lip and forcing her legs to shuffle to Sebastian’s side. Relaying her agreement for him to cast it onto her, she moves back, mentally preparing herself. With one last glance at Ominis, she raises a hand to cast Silencio, hoping to protect him from whatever comes next. Sebastian nods his approval to her choice, nervously playing with his wand while she takes a few deep breaths.

“Ready?” He asks, scanning her form for any signs of backing down.

If I don’t agree now, then I’ll never be able to.

“Ready.”

Backing himself up, Adelia watches as Sebastian places his mind back to the night Anne was attacked, building upon those feelings of hatred and resentment. When he glares up at her, she knows he’s no longer seeing her, rather picturing the faceless attacker who ruined his sister’s life. 

Gritting his teeth, Sebastian raises his wand in a grand swoop, directed right to her chest.

“Crucio!”

From the moment a sickening red beam leaves Sebastian’s wand, bolts of electricity zap all throughout her body. For the first few seconds of fighting against this foreign sensation, all she could feel is an intensifying pressure on her magical core. 

A blinding white pain ripples down her back, seizing onto her most sensitive nerves, then crushes. 

Flashes of red light covers her vision while her body collapses to the ground, seizing over shards of broken sculptures. An ear piercing shriek rings in her ears before she realizes it's coming from her throat. But she's unable to do anything, except writhe in agony.

Blessedly, the pain stops right as the edges of her vision take on spots. The last thing she comprehends is the door melting into a puddle and warmth of another’s arms, allowing her to relax before giving into the darkness.

~~~~~~

“Bishop to G4.”

Spinning the board around, I command the black bishop into position. Planning my next move, I nod to the white knight.

“Knight to F6. Checkmate!”

Grinning victoriously, I cheerily wave my hands around, whooping loudly in Mother’s room. Upon realizing how much noise I was making, I still, listening for the tell-tale clicking of heels on hardwood. 

That’s odd. I can’t remember the last time Grandmother came upstairs.

Dusting off spare lint from my white dress, I absentmindedly take note of my appearance in her bedroom mirror. I pinch my puffy cheeks with a frown, worried I’ve taken more lumpia than necessary. After all, I need to look my best for my first year at Hogwarts!

Taking in my slightly fuzzy hair, I giddily cast Crinus Muto. Feeling the buzz of magic leaving my fingertips is a magical experience, watching closely as each baby hair smooths itself out. Turning back to my mother’s sleeping form, I press a quick kiss to her forehead, smoothing her curls out.

“I’ll be right back, Mum. Don’t fret, you’re winning our games, 3-0,” I whisper, not wishing for the wrinkle between her eyebrows to appear.

Peeking into the hallway, even the portraits are quiet tonight. Normally, Wisteria is running up and down the halls, an exhausted but playful Calyx hot on her heels. Humming to myself down the bright floral hallways, alternating steps between the sliver of blue carpet and deep hardwood, I suddenly remember Ria getting a playmate for tonight. A little boy with a mop of brown hair and a yellow striped sweater ending just past his fingertips. 

I shouldn’t worry about her. He seemed eager to play skittles and besides, everyone gets along with Ria. Unless she’s consumed too much sugar, that is. 

Eyeing a few scattered dolls and a sculpture resting at the edge of a table, I hastily walk to the edge of the stairwell, searching for the little tykes. Scattered trails of shoeprints line the carpeted staircase. As soon as I place a hand on the rose-carved bannister, a cacophony of voices suddenly becomes noticeable.

“Before that woman was killed, she was in possession of something important. You knew what was, didn’t you?” A man’s voice slithers out.

“I told you, we had nothing to do with that!” 

A woman cries out in pain after the muttered casting of a hex.

“Release us. This is barbaric,” Another man demands, his tone filled with rage.

“Can’t handle a few little hexes? You’re weaker than I thought.” 

Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I dare to lean the tiniest bit forward, to view the commotion. And when I do, my heart stops at the sight. 

Two grown wizards kneeling on the floor, bound by misty black ropes of magic. A man and a woman with similar expression of anger and resentment glare at their hatted assailants, one bearing a top hat and the other, a bowler. Tucked in a velvet chair, innocently drinking from a teacup, is Grandmother Isa, unbothered by all of the cursing and frantic movements. 

I sink to the floor, my legs too shaky to support themselves. Unfortunately, that gives a clearer view behind the wooden tree-carved spindles. 

“Being difficult, are we? All it takes is a few answers and you’re free to go,” Top Hat struts about, waving his wand at them tauntingly.

“Like we’d believe that. You’d torture us whether we answered or not,” The woman replies, spitting at his feet.

Top Hat stops in his tracks. Slowly squatting to her eye level, he grips her chin. Hard. The man beside her shouts to let her go, but Bowler silences him with his wand and a swift kick.

“Now, now. I can be a man of my word. You listened to an invitation and took your child to this house,” He gestures towards Grandmother Isa. “To her house. That deserves a reward. I’ll tell you what. My partner and I will ease up on you, if you tell us who she sent the key to.”

He releases her chin. She shifts her jaw, likely attempting to ease the soreness.

“That’s it?” She asks, exchanging a suspicious glance with the man beside her. “No tricks?”

“Only treats,” He replies, resting his chin on a fist. “I’ll be a good boy. I promise.”

The two kneeling seem to exchange a mental conversation, gazing at each other as if to convey their thoughts. I lean forward to try to understand, pressing my forehead uncomfortably against the detailed leaf carvings. 

They come to some sort of understanding, straightening up with conviction.

“George Osric,” The man says. “He’s the head of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. I brought up his mail directly, but his personal mail kept getting mixed up with official Ministry business. He got a letter from her at first, then another one with a package.”

“Very good,” Top Hat praises. “What was in the package?”

“I don’t know,” He replies. “It was inside a sealed box, no bigger than a quill.”

Top Hat tsks, causing Bowler to grumble in solidarity. He stands up, shifting his focus to the extravagant woman sipping at the last of her tea. 

“What do you think, Lady Greengrass? Should I let them go?”

Clinking her porcelain teacup onto its saucer, Isa rises with a flourish. She prances over to the bound couple, wrinkling her nose and throwing up a bejeweled hand in dismissal. 

“Surely they know more than this. The Goyle bloodline is so tainted, even Helga Hufflepuff herself should turn up her nose. Spare no hex, just find Osric’s location.”

The couple looks stunned, betrayal filling their breakout attempts. Bowler’s mouth splits with a nasty grin, starting to throw stinging hex after hex.

My eyebrows furrow with concern for them, unable to turn away from their futile attempts. My knee slides through small muddy shoeprints, eerily matching Ria's favorite pair of trainers. Rubbing at it builds a collection of dirt under my pale pink fingernails. Shakily placing a muddy hand on the railing, I attempt to support myself.

“We’ll go after this Osric fellow next,” Top Hat explains to Grandmother. “One way or another, we’re getting into that vault.”

“And when you do,” A thin eyebrow raises. “You’ll take another look at my daughter’s curse. This time, backed with a magical boon.”

“As the lady commands,” He tips his hat.

“Get back down!” Bowler roars at the woman, who had somehow managed to free herself. 

Her attempt at freeing her husband was valiant, if not short-sighted, at the reminder of two other enemies armed with wands. It took all of five seconds for her to free herself and scramble away from Bowler, only to immediately be hit with the full force of an Unforgivable.

“Avada Kedavra!” 

Tears flow freely from my eyes, watching in horror as the life drains out of this brave woman. Her body crumples helplessly, landing against the strewn coffee table with a sickening crack. It’s not the first time I’ve witnessed death, but it is my first time watching it be violently ripped from the soul of a lively and ferocious woman. 

A sudden crash breaks my dissociated thoughts, unable to stop gaping in horror as a small boy, too, too small for all of this, is dragged into the room by his wrist. Grandmother drops him in front of Top Hat, then huffily wipes her hands on a silk cloth. The boy stares openly at the damage, ignoring the hatted men behind him, and crawls over to his parents.

“What’s going on? Mum? Dad? Why are you hurt?”

“My child, please,” The man begs, displaying fear for the first time. “Get out of here. Now!”

A low chuckle emanates from Top Hat, twirling his wand again in a twisted excitement.

“Tut-tut. This won’t do. Children should be seen and not heard.”

Ending his sentence with a flicker of wand movements, the boy is suddenly gasping for air, clutching at his sides in pain. More shouting ensues from everyone, but I find it difficult to focus, the scene blurring around me as I become dizzy. Struggling to turn my gaze away, feeling the familiar onset of panic, I gather myself as much as possible and rush towards the hallway. However, I was quickly stopped by a familiar noise coming up the staircase.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

“Adelia~. What do we have here?” Grandmother’s voice rings out, sounding far too smug after everything. 

“G-Grandmother,” I stutter out.

Immediately bowing my head, I remain frozen in place, unable to turn around and risk losing the fleeting glimpse of carpeted escape.

“Face me, girl.”

Knees weak, I turn, too slowly for her taste. Heavily adorned hands forcefully turn my shoulders around fast, too fast. I can feel the mud staining my pure dress, dirtying my fingernails. Nausea builds in my sternum, and I can feel my face pale, yet I remain fixated on the edge of the blue daisy carpet. My one act of defiance is the only thing that retains my sanity, at the moment.

“Where’s Wisteria?” I ask, voice as loud as a whisper.

“Calyx is attending to her,” She replies flippantly, flicking a fan out. “Marcus Goyle went off on his own. A classic example of why children shouldn’t spy on their elders. Something you should have learned years ago.”

Bracing myself for a stinging hex, I scrunch my eyes shut and lift a hand.

“No. Clearly, my lessons are no longer working for you,” She sighs, slapping my hand down.

“You need something stronger. But what shall I do?” She begins circling me, fanning herself faster. “What will make you learn your place? Learn how to keep yourself presentable?”

She still doesn’t know that I gained magic yet. Is this the moment she finds out? I wanted it to be a big burst of magic in front of my parents or an esteemed noble singing my praises to her. Not like this.

“Honestly, Adelia. You take up enough space as it is. You eat up all of our food, Merlin knows this is the third dress I’ve had to buy you this summer. You outgrow them far too quickly.”

I still while her hands grab at my cotton dress, dark fingernails snagging the stitches while pulling it against my stomach and tugging at the awkward hem. 

I’ve shot up in height this summer, which is why Yavvy and Norby fixed more food with each meal. I’m taller than Grandmother when she’s not in her impossibly high heels, and am a few fingers' length away from Calyx. Being taller than other girls my age is a recent issue Grandmother has about me, finding yet another flaw to pick at until it's raw and bloody.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” I state, mind far away.

She slaps my chin up, knocking my vision up to lock eyes with hers. A smirk tugs at her lips at my discomfort, strengthening her resolve.

“Filthy squib. You’re lucky I’m not in charge of your status within this household. If I had sole custody, you would be on the other side of the country with a snap of my fingers. Understood?”

I nod. She doesn’t like that.

“You never listen,” She taps her foot, analyzing me. “I promised no unforgivables, but that leaves room for much more creative punishments. Especially after you purposefully stuck your nose in adult business.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I repeat, tears burning behind my eyelids. “Please.”

My heart rate picks up, and I struggle to breathe, unable to look away from her viper-like grin. 

I know this is what she wants. The fear, the self-doubt, the begging. Nothing makes her happier than getting power trips over my helplessness to stop her.

Gazing over the staircase balcony, she gives a cursory glance at the situation with a huffed sigh of disappointment. 

“Not that it matters now. You’ve seen too much. We need to fix that.”

Fanning herself with one hand and pointing a wand between my eyes with the other, Grandmother takes her sweet time, waiting until my anxiety has peaked before flicking her wrist.

“Obliviate.”

~~~~~~

“...think she’s dead?” A frantic voice asks.

“...idiotic… her pulse is steady.” Another responds.

Fluttering her eyelids, awareness crept into Adelia’s body, snapping her out of an awful memory. What once was repressed broke through with perfect clarity, liberating her mind from the remnants of an improperly cast Obliviate spell. Struggling to get her bearings, the voices fall silent as she shifts against someone’s chest. Squinting to the side, she’s greeted with the guilty yet relieved face of a squatting Sebastian Sallow.

“Adelia?” He asks hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Blankly staring at him, it takes all of her willpower not to shake him, yelling and demanding that he take back the curse, to erase the memory completely. But alas, that wouldn’t be right. Slowly reaching for his hand, she interlaces their fingers together. They collectively let out a shaky sigh.

“Worried about me, Sallow?” She quietly jokes, a small smile poking at her lips.

His body sags at that, dropping her hand to wrap his arms around her in a hug. It’s an awkward experience, given that her upper body is supported by Ominis’s, but it’s sweet, nonetheless.

“I thought I accidentally killed you,” He whispers. 

“I wanted to see the Scriptorium so badly, but the moment you lost consciousness, I could only feel regret.”

Ominis gasps behind her back, and she leans deeper into his warmth, nudging him with her shoulder. Getting the hint, he reluctantly raises his arms to wrap around Sebastian’s back, encasing them all in a three-way hug.

“I trusted you,” Adelia remarks, bumping her forehead against his. “Now you see why I was so worried about you using dark magic. It can be seductive and all-consuming, only releasing its hold once everything you love has been completely destroyed.”

Sebastian stills, seeming to process her words thoughtfully. The haunted expression on his face dissipates after a while. 

“I’m sorry,” He finally says. 

The words sound clunky from his mouth, as though he’s unused to saying it. 

“But it was for Anne. I’d do anything to protect her.”

“I know,” She responds gently. “I forgive you.”

He drops his head against her shoulder, hiding his face to pull himself together. Adelia basks in the strong hug, each press of their arms keeping the curse’s remaining shivers from wracking her body.

“Sebastian,” Ominis speaks up, voice rumbling against her spine. 

“Do you understand why I intended to never cast that spell again? I never wanted to in the first place, but my own family attempting to strongarm me into it is unthinkable.”

“Your parents are awful,” Sebastian agrees.

“Not them, you half-wit,” Ominis shakes his head.

His voice softens for a moment. “My real family.”

Sebastian pulls out of the hug and messes up Ominis’s hair with a genuine smile. Ominis protests back, berating him for touching his clean hair with dirty hands, but the mellow glint of his eyes speaks louder than his words. Adelia faintly chuckles between them, still unable to support her weight but gaining strength with each passing moment. 

“Sebastian,” Adelia’s voice cuts through the lighter atmosphere. “When you hit me with Crucio, I remembered something crucial.”

“What is it?”

She shifts uncomfortably. Ominis offers up her second Wiggenweld potion that he apparently attempted to feed her earlier. She accepts it gratefully.

“A memory from the past summer, not long after I discovered I had magic. It was heavy, to say the least. Ominis, do you remember talking about Marcus Goyle?”

“Yes,” He frowns. 

“So do I. I watched one of his parents get killed while he was hit with a curse.”

“You could see thestrals,” Sebastian chimes in. “Was it because of that?”

“Partially. But more importantly, I overheard what he was cursed with.”

Sebastian’s face darkens.

“You don’t mean…”

“Children should be seen and never heard,” She nods solemnly. “But it wasn’t cast by a goblin. It was cast by Victor Rookwood.”

Shock cannot begin to describe the flow of emotions running through Sebastian’s mind. Even Ominis is struggling to comprehend her words, asking for clarification of details. She retells the forgotten memory in its entirety until the cold air is filled with an empty silence.

“All of this time, I was convinced it was a goblin that hurt Anne. When it was Rookwood,” Sebastian spits out, venom flowing through every word.

He paces the room, throwing rubble at impractical objects and decorations.

“It all makes sense now,” Adelia says. “Rookwood figured out Miriam Fig sent the key to the vault in Gringotts to Mister Osric, that’s what he was looking for. When Professor Fig, Mister Osric, and I arrived with the key, they knew to target me next.”

“Surely Rookwood wouldn't curse you. You have what he and Ranrok want.”

“And what is that?” Ominis cuts in.

Adelia stills, meeting eyes with Sebastian. They silently communicate with each other over whether to tell him or not. 

“I may not see you, but Adelia, I can certainly feel you,” Ominis remarks, tilting down to reply in her ear. 

Adelia shudders again, this time it wasn’t aftershocks. She gathers enough strength to swivel her head around, wishing to tell him directly. Sebastian heads to the far corner, still pacing and processing. 

“When I got my magic for the first time, it wasn’t just regular magic I uncovered.”

Her core releases the familiar chill of ancient magic swirling around their conjoined bodies.

“Rookwood and Ranrok have been hunting me down for the same reason I’ve been sneaking out of the castle at night. I’ve been undergoing secret training to gain the trust of a council, with former spellcasters like me.”

“Like you?”

She swallows nervously.

“I can see traces of ancient magic. Not only that, but I can wield it.”

Her icy blue magic dances around Ominis, bouncing off his shock in a rhythmic wave. His jaw drops in disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. The hand supporting her back loosens.

“Truly?” He breathes out.

I want to repay his displays of magic. This power has only been used to harm, but if magic can be modified through emotions, then it’ll be safe.

My instinct is to protect him. So maybe, just this one, I can give in to my desires.

“May I show you?” She asks bashfully.

He nods. 

Ever so gently, Adelia plucks at her feelings like a piano, controlling the waves of magic to wrap around him like a warm blanket. Finally, her magic touches him gently, sending a wave of endorphins through her nerves. She inhales at the sensation. His body sags against the wall, slowly blinking like a sleepy cat. She grins at his relaxation as though she’s now the one supporting him. 

Pulling back lightly, Adelia sucks her magic back in through her fingertips, filling up with cold energy again. Ominis gives her his full attention, his face changing into an expression she has never seen before.

“Adel-”

A loud smash of debris against stone shatters his train of thought. A still steaming Sebastian stomps over to them, having regained enough composure to speak.

“Rookwood needs to be taken down. He’s after you?” Sebastian points to Adelia, now sitting up with Ominis’s help. “We’ll find him and make him reverse the curse.”

“You want three underage, inexperienced wizards to not only locate a highly unlikable and wanted Dark wizard but force him to give us information?” Ominis lists off, incredulously. “For Salazar’s sake, Sebastian. Listen to yourself.”

That only serves to irritate Sebastian, who begins striding closer. Adelia forces her hands to lift, panting quietly as they stop speaking.

“Okay,” She grits out, relaxing her muscles before her nerves seize again. “We’re all tired, and frustrated, and angry about something. Right now, all I want to do is curl up in my warm bed after taking a bubble bath. However, that isn’t going to happen until we’re all ready to leave.”

She glances between them, then up at Sebastian, expectantly. He stiffens, running a hand through his waves.

“I don’t know. Okay?! I just-”

Running his fingers along his freckled cheeks, Sebastian sinks to the floor next to them.

“My whole world has just turned upside down,” He admits. “This puts all of my research into question, and now I’m wondering if I even needed to access the Scriptorium in the first place.”

Ominis’s grip tightens on the back of her robes.

“Alright, Sebastian. Here’s what we’re going to do. Since you’ve forced my hand to open this place up, we’re all going to explore the next room. Carefully. Now that we know the truth, you don’t need to explore dark magic anymore.”

“What if Anne needs it?” Sebastian insists. “It could be Plan B, after confronting Rookwood.”

“Sebastian,” Adelia cuts in, drawing attention to her injuries. “Think about what we said. One way or another, I’m going to face Rookwood again.”

She can feel the rising protest in Ominis, but she persists, making her stance known.

“I will. Both he and Ranrok. If it means I’m going to learn how to reverse Anne’s curse first, then so be it. I will ensure that Anne will be alright and he is no longer a threat.”

Both boys are quiet after her declaration, which she takes as a good sign. Stretching her arms and legs has become much easier, which means Adelia could make the trek back to her common room.

“Alright, Rosewater,” Sebastian tries to joke. “That was more threatening than Madam Pince assigning detention.”

“Or Professor Sharp,” Ominis adds, turning away when he feels her burning glare.

“Very funny,” She finally says. “Now, let’s leave this creepy place.”

Once she’s able to move without seizing, both boys help her to her feet. Ominis adjusts her weight against his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. Together, they all pass through the melted doorway, into the Scriptorium’s final room.

~~~~~~

End of Act 1

Chapter 21: A Sweet Sixteen

Summary:

On Adelia's sixteenth birthday, she is showered with love and appreciation for her efforts this school year. Even in the Undercroft, Ominis and Adelia share a deeper connection through a Filipino fable.
George Osric offers Adelia a carriage to take home. Seeing as they have a lot to discuss, it'll be a long ride.

Notes:

Hello!
This feels like one of the shortest chapters I've done but it covers our girl's birthday! I did a bit of research into Filipino fables that she could've been told as a child & found a few choices, so I'll include a link to the website I found it from.
https://www.esplanade.com/offstage/arts/bakunawa-and-the-seven-moons#:~:text=Once%20upon%20a%20time%2C%20in,beauty%20because%20of%20these%20moons.

Hope you enjoy!

Incessant pecking at her fingers startles Adelia awake. She immediately covers her hand and shifts away from the beady-eyed owl staring her down. One disgruntled hoot later, he lands on the opposite side of her bed, sharp claws digging into her pale yellow duvet.

"Hooot," He hoots.

"And also with you."

Her gravely voice pushes out a response, dry tongue dissatisfied with the lack of moisture. Sighing reluctantly, Adelia throws off her quilt and cracks open her eyes, glaring at the sassy barred owl. The mottled brown and white bird took it upon himself to blink innocently with his dark brown eyes, casually grooming his wing. She clicks her tongue, reaching around him to pour a glass of water.

"Good morning to you too, Hoot."

Hoot had been a replacement for the owl lost when a dragon attacked her carriage. During a Beasts lesson, he flew too close to their class and became startled by a particularly crafty niffler, making an emergency crash landing in her hair. It took twenty minutes and three witches to extract him, but they truly bonded. Or he enjoyed the owl treats she hand-fed him. Either way, he's in charge of all her mail and apparently, her alarm clock. 

"Hooot," He proclaims again, pecking at her hand.

"Hey!"

Her hand shoots out, barely saving the cup from shattering. Unconcerned with her thumping heart, he nudges a claw at her.

"What's this?" She asks him, untying a small bundle of letters from his leg.

Rifling through each one, Adelia is shocked to remember today is her birthday. Each card is from her relatives, and even one from her Mother, wishing her a blessed day. A touched smile lifts the edges of her lips. She gently folds each card back into their envelopes and wraps them tightly, securing them beneath the extra coats in her trunk.

Glancing around the empty room, Adelia realizes she's the last one to rise.

"I better not be late for class today. I have a quiz in Transfiguration and double Defense class in the afternoon," She says to Hoot.

He simply hoots back at her, then continues preening his feathers. 

Yeah, that's about as much attention she expected from him.

Twisting her hair into two braided buns and securing her bookbag on her shoulders, Adelia smiles at her reflection. Whistling to her owl, she chucks a treat at his post.

"Be good."

Adelia swears he huffs at her as she closes the door. Shuffling down the stairs two at a time, she's halted by soft music from the common room.

"Happy Birthday!"

A den of Hufflepuffs cheers when she lands on the final step, guiding her eyes to a crooked banner reading 'Happy Birthday Adelia!'. Most of the students gathered around are under or upperclassmen she had assisted before, each one grinning or patting her back. Aromas of sweet fruit wafts from the center of their semi-circle and she steps closer to take a peek. Poppy, flanked on either side by Lenora and Adelaide, holds a round cake iced with bright, colorful flowers.

"Thank you all," Adelia says, touched by their kindness. "This is all so sweet."

"Wait 'til you taste the icing," Adelaide responds. "Nonsuch claims it's his best work yet."

Already excited, she allows Lenora the honor of leading the group in a rousing chorus of a birthday melody, followed by Poppy lighting the cake's candles. Arthur dims the honey-colored lamp lights, causing the candles to cast elongated shadows on everyone's black and yellow robes.

"Go ahead," Poppy nods gently. "Make a wish."

Adelia closes her eyes and clasps her hands under her chin.

Please let me survive this school year, happy and healthy as can be. 

She blows out the candles, smiling gratefully at a slice of raspberry creme cake, her favorite.

Skipping out on breakfast doesn't make a difference, since no matter which hallway she passed by that morning, various students wished her happy birthday. It puts into perspective how much of the school her help has affected since arriving a few months ago. By lunchtime, each of her cousins presents her with a birthday card, and Calyx, with a gift.

"Maligayang kaarawan nene," He grins, ruffling her hair.

"Not the hair," She pouts, playfully flicking away his hands.

As she reads through his gifted sheet music, Jiho taps on her shoulder. Facing him sends a stream of confetti into the air, raining down onto the neighboring table’s Yorkshire pudding. Spitting out a few colorful strips of paper, she thanks him while tossing a handful into his unsuspecting face. Narrowly avoiding the removal of house points, Adelia proudly stands on a mound of confetti with a happy face while Alison Prewitt mildly scolds Calyx and Jiho.

Even her teachers went easier on her. Professor Hecat allowed her to choose Sebastian as her dueling partner. Their fight was reminiscent of her first Defense class, though now she is stronger. The third time she knocks him off the platform, he declares her the dueling champion of the day. She wears that title proudly all day.

By the time the sun dips over the horizon and twinkling lights pop into the sky, Adelia sneaks into the Undercroft. Sebastian and Ominis greet her with birthday cards and snacks from the kitchens, smelling of lumpia and pumpkin juice. They play a few rounds of exploding snap, then retire by the fireplace to exchange gossip and stories until talking becomes a chore. As Sebastian flops onto his belly by the well-lit fireplace, Adelia settles into the sofa behind him, armed with a knitted blanket and a stack of cards.

Today has been one of the best days of my life. Half a year ago, I could never imagine anyone caring for me as much as my housemates and friends have. Hogwarts is truly magical.

As Sebastian snores away by the roaring fireplace, Adelia snuggles a pillow to her chest, turning to engage Ominis in conversation. His tie is loosened from its usual knot, matching his relaxed expression as his legs lazily stretch beside Sebastian’s pillow. Even his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing sprawling constellations of moles.

“So,” Ominis begins, stretching out his arms. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“The best,” Adelia grins. “I can't remember the last time I had such a fun birthday.”

Except for my 7th birthday. That was the day Mother and Father took Calyx, my cousins, and me to a magical playground. We got to climb tall models of mountains and fly through a sparkling crystal cave. I'll never forget the wind in my hair and the soreness of my cheeks from smiling so wide.

“Well, it's not quite over yet.”

“What do you mean?”

Reaching into his pocket, Ominis pulls out a half-hazardly wrapped object. A stone cave decorates the wrapping paper, with a repeated pattern of a honey badger snapping up a flower between its teeth and rushing back into its home. His wand accidentally prods a corner, creating a small tear. He winces but offers it to her.

“Happy Birthday, Moonlight.”

She huffs out a laugh at his jest, remembering their nickname banter before entering the Scriptorium. Gently prying the gift from his fingers, she cups it delicately with both hands.

“Is this for me? Sebastian said you two don't exchange gifts.”

“We don't, but he's asleep right now, so who’ll tell him?” He shrugs with a smirk. 

The last time I tried to surprise Sebastian with extra fwooper feathers for his potions, he wouldn't relent until he taught me a new spell in exchange. So, I'm not shocked he doesn't like getting gifts.

Ripping away the small bits of paper, she observes a sunflower slightly curved around a shimmering opalescent butterfly. Upon noticing her gaze, the little butterfly proudly displays its colorful wings, each flap creating a whimsical tune. Listening carefully to its song, she realizes it's playing Moonlight Sonata.

Our song.

“Oh, Ominis. This is beautiful,” She gasps, unable to tear her gaze away from the delicate melody.

His relief is evident. “I’m glad. I took a gamble wandering into an antique shop in London. It took a few tries to reset the song, but my family’s library has an extensive set of records, so it didn’t take long to switch it to Moonlight Sonata.”

Throwing her arms around his neck, he stiffens for a few moments before slowly hugging her back. 

“You must really like it,” He laughs breathily against her neck.

She pulls back enough to stay in his arms while speaking near his ear.

“I’m serious, Ominis. This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

Under the light of dancing flames, I feel more comfortable with Ominis than anywhere else in the world. He has allowed me to hug him so please let him forgive my impropriety a bit more.

Her lips hover over his cheek before gently pressing down a kiss.

“Thank you, Sunlight,” She whispers.

Sliding out of his grasp, she examines the music box for a couple more minutes, then sets it into her bag. After setting the music box into a safe spot, Adelia snuggles the heart-shaped pillow again.

What will birthdays be like next year? Maybe I’ll even be betrothed by that time. Would my fiancé gift me something as precious as a music box?

Contemplating the upcoming Yule season, Adelia remembers that Ominis will be participating, too. He’ll likely be even more involved in the pureblood social season than her.

“Are you prepared to debut?” She asks quietly.

“No,” He replies immediately. “You?”

“No.”

She squishes her cheek against the pillow. He breaks the quiet first, this time.

“Who’s going to escort you to the first ball?” 

“Calyx, my older brother,” She answers, unsure if he remembers his name. 

He nods as though expecting that answer.

“How about you?”

“Marcia, my older sister,” He utters sourly.

“That’ll be eye-catching,” She comments. “You two will be the best-dressed wizard and witch duo.”

“If things go my sister’s way, we’ll be the only ones catching everyone’s eyes.”

“That may make finding a dance partner difficult. They'll probably be intimidated by Babbling Banter’s Best Dressed Witch of September.”

Ominis gazes over her right shoulder with a look of exasperation. She toes the carpet with her lacy socks.

“Or maybe not. It’s not like I’ve read the article myself, my roommate – Lenora Everleigh – she’s the one with the subscription.”

“It’ll be like any other year,” He ignores her babbling. “Except this year, I’ll be required to make an effort to request dances and fetch pumpkin fizz for noble ladies.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It was easier when we were younger,” He sighs, delicately tracing the ends of his wand. “Children cared less about how you looked as long as you could play with them. Now that we’re old enough to select marriage partners, there are far fewer open-minded witches that exist than wizards like Septimus Malfoy.”

There is always the inevitable rejection at events like this, especially right before I stopped receiving the invitations. 

I’d be content to hide away in a corner for its entirety. Though Calyx would understand, Uncle Luc wouldn’t allow that. He would somehow find me and try to keep me entertained the whole time.  

“True,” She agrees. “However, if you ever find yourself lacking a dance partner, I can save a slot in my dance card for you.”

His lips quirk into a real smile, and he ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” He mutters. “The same goes for you. Though my dance skills are quite rusty.”

“We can oil them up at Malfoy Manor,” She jokes, chuckling at his amused expression.

“So, what about you?” He asks, tipping his wand towards her curiously.

“What about me?” She asks back, poking the tip of his wand with her own.

A buzz of magic flits between their wands, and she examines hers closer, intrigued by the reaction.

“Do you think you’ll find your future marriage partner at the ball?”

She tears her gaze away, caught off guard by his question.

“I-I don’t know. You?”

His lips purse, tilting his head at an angle too far to be comfortable.

“I don’t know,” He concurs.

Snoring mixed with a crackling fireplace are the only noises bouncing off the stone walls of the Undercroft as Ominis and Adelia ponder their thoughts, both expressions seeming troubled.

"Can I tell you something?" She finally asks.

"Always,” He nods firmly.

"I'm scared. I've never, this is all-"

"Odd?" He supplies quietly.

He understands.

"Yeah.” She huffs out a strangled laugh. “Odd."

A moment of silence passes before she speaks again.

"Did you ever wonder about it as a kid? Believe the fables of old; that no matter where you are in the world, there's someone out there for you."

It feels like an eternity before he answers.

"No. In my family, the concept of soulmates or love doesn't exist. Your ability to build power and triumph above all others is how your worth is proven."

"I'm not sure if soulmates exist, but if love is what you want, then you will find it one day, Ominis,” She assures him.

"You're kind, Adelia. And far more optimistic than you may realize. But let's be honest. I'm blind. No matter the achievements or accolades I build, whether it be off the Gaunt legacy or with my own two hands, that will always be the first thing anyone associates with me."

"I didn't," She states simply.

“No?” His voice fades to a whisper.

“Not even close.”

He straightens up, still confused but growing hopeful.

“Would you like to know my thoughts?” She teases.

I want to hear him admit it, to tell me my opinion of him matters.

His eyebrow raises. “If you are expecting me to beg, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” 

She laughs, waving off the assertion.

“Alright, fine. The very first time we met, I tripped over your cane. Though I had never met a blind person before, so I thought it was a giant stick at first. You told me to get off after I landed directly on top of you.”

“I remember,” He winces, rubbing at a phantom pain on his thigh.

“Even though your face was all scrunched up and red, and you assumed I was someone else-”

“Are you getting to the point soon?” He grumbles.

“Despite all that,” She drags on pointedly. “The moment our eyes met, I thought you were an angel.”

“But… why?”

Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip, struggling to piece together a description he’ll understand. 

“Similar to the fables about soulmates, my father told me a story about a god named Bathala, who created seven moons to light up the sky every day and night. One day, Bakunawa, a sea dragon who lived among darkness, became mesmerized by the brilliant light, wishing to capture it for himself. With the moons he swallowed daily melting in his gut, he longed for one that would remain whole. So, he kept eating until there was only one moon left and began devouring it in earnest.

However, the villagers who had watched the dragon chew away at their precious moons and cause earthquakes responded by banging pots and pans together, hoping the loud noises would scare him away. And like magic, he spit out the rest of the moon and escaped to his sea cave, lying in wait for a later opportunity. Bathala had been observing this and decided to plant tall bamboo trees to deter his jaw.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the villagers and Bathala, the moon shines brilliantly each and every night.”

At some point during her storytelling, Ominis had relaxed against the back of the plush sofa, closing his eyes to listen peacefully. Once it came to an end, a small smile twitched on his face, and he softly clapped his hands.

“So, does that make me the god or the dragon?”

“Neither,” She snorts. “That’s the context for the next part of the story. As Bathala enriched the moon with care and magic, new life was born from carved-out sections of the moon. These angels became guardians for the villagers, their shining moonstone eyes scanning the sea each night, waiting for the return of Bakunawa.”

“You see me as a guardian angel?” He tries.

“Why do you think I called you ‘Mister Angel’?” She giggles.

His ear tips are flushed with a deep red hue, appearing too stunned to come up with a response.

“Your eyes are the color of moonstone,” She explains her child self’s thought process. “An iridescent blue sheen. To the guardian angels, their source of power is their eyes. And even though I didn’t know it at the time, I think that’s still true.”

He coughs, starting to regain his composure. “Because I cannot get tripped up by unspoken body language, therefore I have no problems telling the truth?”

“Because therein lies your strength. You are more attuned to the world around you than the rest of us are. Without sight, you rely on pure instinct. It’s any wonder how you’re so talented at magic.”

“I didn’t realize you thought that about me,” He says quietly.

His forehead is scrunched in thought. Without second-guessing her actions, Adelia reaches over and smooths away his wrinkles. 

“If I thought that within a moment of meeting you, someone else would notice without needing to speak.”

You're worthy of love, Ominis. The deepest, purest form of love. I only hope there's a girl smart and lucky enough to notice.

He catches her hand before she completely retracts it.

“Thank you,” He breathes out, full of sincerity.

He presses a gentle kiss to her hand. It tingles as she pulls away, and she has to swallow before speaking again. She echoes his earlier sentiment.

“Always.”

~~~~~~

“I have my luggage, calming potion, and wand. Am I forgetting anything?” Adelia lists aloud.

“Hooot.”

“Ah, that’s right. I have a bird now.”

Rummaging through her trunk, Adelia pulls out a wrought iron bird cage, courtesy of Professor Howin. Entering a cracked doorway to the Hufflepuffs' sunroom, housing overrun plants that no longer fit inside the main floor, she searches for her disgruntled bird. Hoot appears very unimpressed with the open cage door, scooting further away on the hanging rope. 

“Look,” Adelia tempts him with a few owl pellets. “It comes with treats. Don’t you wanna take a fun ride in this, little guy?”

“Hoot.” He turns up his beak at the mere suggestion.

She sighs, glaring up at the creature.

“Alright, buddy. Don’t forget I can call in reinforcements. It’s either fly into this cage now, or I get Poppy.”

Within five seconds, Hoot is nestled in the silver cage. His wide brown eyes blink angelically, pecking at the door until it shuts itself. Adelia tilts her head, amused at his odd phobia of her cheerful, animal-loving roommate.

Poppy did most of the heavy lifting when retracting his claws from my scalp, so that may be why he avoids her. This is likely the only time an animal will prefer me, so I’ll take this as a quiet victory.

“C’mon, Hooty. She’s a sweet girl when you get to know her,” Adelia talks her up to the reluctant bird.

“Hooot,” He hoots, shaking his head.

“Fair enough,” She shrugs.

Hefting his cage into her left hand, they exit the Hufflepuff common room, exchanging holiday farewells with anyone who stops them. Exiting the entrance hall and stomping through the snow-covered Viaduct courtyard, the duo avoids hordes of students hugging and exchanging last-minute gifts to locate the black carriages. They are eerily similar to the last one she took. Suppressing a shiver, she weaves between trunks and cages to find the safest-looking carriage.

“Miss Rosewater, over here!” A voice calls out.

Sporting a pair of golden oval spectacles and a nifty pocketwatch, George Osric is parked in front of a brightly lit carriage a little way away from the lot. He indicates for her to come closer, and she acquiesces, hoisting Hoot up higher. 

“Good morning, sir,” She nods.

“Good morning, Miss Rosewater,” He greets, cheeks growing rosy from the strong breeze. “It is lovely running into you again.”

“Indeed,” she agrees. “Are you here to meet Professor Fig?”

“No, my dear. I’m here for you.”

“Me?”

“I received a letter from Madame Blainey. It seems we have a lot to discuss,” His eyes twinkle knowingly.

Opening the thick door behind him, George gestures to the empty carriage. Warmth drifts out into the winter air and she shivers again, huddling beneath her dark, fur-trimmed overcoat. Hoot flaps his wings a bit, tempting Adelia to set her things down, but she hesitates on the first step.

Her grey eyes scan the crowd. “What about my brother? We planned on traveling back together.”

Mister Osric’s eyes soften. “I fear the information we’ll discuss is of a more delicate magical nature. It may be best to travel separately.”

Calyx tends to be a worrier. I hope he doesn’t rip apart the Hogwarts Express, trying to locate me.

“I understand.” 

Arranging her luggage into the back of the carriage, Adelia hugs Hoot’s cage to her chest and sits on the dark leather seats. Hopping across from her, George closes the door and calls for the driver to take off. Brushing off spare flurries from his coat, Mister Osric smiles at Adelia, pulling out a damp card from his inner pocket.

“Here you are. A little birdy alerted me that it was your birthday yesterday. Happy Belated Birthday, Miss Rosewater,” He says sincerely.

Taking the card with a genuine smile, she thanks him. Her heart feels warmer already. 

“Before we dive into any business, there is something I must know,” He rubs his gloves together with a sturdy clap. “How have your classes been treating you?”

Settling into the sleek seat, Adelia beams brightly and eagerly spills her guts. After describing her mundane class activities, she ensures the carriage driver isn’t listening to them and shares her recently recovered memory. George is understandably concerned, especially for her well-being and home life. Especially when she mentions regularly meeting with a goblin, someone the owner of the Three Broomsticks knows.

“Lodgok won’t harm me,” She hurried to say after witnessing his troubled expression. “We have a mutual pact and both want to stop Ranrok.”

“Well, alright,” He relents. “Humans and goblins have a rich and storied history, so while I will warn you to be careful, I trust you understand what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, Mister Osric,” She smiles gratefully. “Hopefully, we can figure out what Ranrok is planning together. But, if I’m being honest, I still think he’s trying to locate another ancient magic repository like the one beneath Rookwood’s castle. There are a few hotspots around Hogwarts’s neighboring villages, but none large enough to warrant a slew of goblins to fight over.”

“It’s a sound theory,” He hums, cleaning off his glasses with a handkerchief. “If Ministry workers were able to spot ancient magic, then we could’ve dispatched aurors to guard the repository from him.”

“Too many wizards would tip him off,” She rebukes. “Ideally, I could absorb the magic myself or figure out a way to redistribute it into the environment.”

George perks up and slides his glasses on, looking at the teen curiously.

“Have you been able to do that already? I’ve researched a few cases of ancient magic casters able to control their environment, whether physically or intangibly, through a surge of emotions. You mentioned before that emotions can affect your spellcasting, correct?”

“Yes,” She admits. “It feels different than casting regular spells, likely because the way I gather and channel my magic is fueled through my emotions. I’ve built a larger capacity for using my ancient magic before becoming lethargic, by duelling and collecting more from those hotspots.”

The carriage swerves slightly, and she grips the seat, ignoring the loud squawk of Hoot, to anxiously search outside the windows. Light blankets of snow cover the bare forest trees, sprinkling each formation of crumbling castles and frozen lakes with a flurry of snowflakes. Adelia pulls the emerald and silver scarf tighter against her neck, longing for a fireplace to warm her feet and a pale cheek to press her lips upon. 

George knocks lightly at the divider between them and the driver, asking for an update on their arrival time. Meanwhile, Adelia collects herself, reaching through the thin bars to run a few fingers along Hoot’s brown and white streaked feathers. He reluctantly allows her to do so, sharply eyeing her silver fox fur gloves with each stroke.

“Not to worry, Miss Rosewater,” George calls out, sealing the divider again. “It was a sudden pack of hippogriffs that threw us off course. We’re still set to arrive in a few hours. Now, what were you saying?”

“Uh,” She thinks for a moment. “We should make a plan for what to do next. I’ll be home for the winter holidays, so all mail will need to be sent to my villa in London. It’ll be tricky to sneak away to Scotland on a whim, so we should make a plan ahead of time.”

“I’ll get in contact with this ‘Lodgok’ individual through Sirona. Perhaps I can convince him to give any additional information that will help,” He suggests. 

“I’ll write you and Professor Fig if I ever run into Rookwood,” She murmurs, shifting Hoot’s cage beside her. 

“Do not try to engage with him alone,” Mister Osric warns, looking incredibly serious. “He has proven to be a very dangerous individual and is currently wanted by the Ministry. Relocate to a crowded area and contact us the moment you can.”

“Done,” She agrees.

It was difficult escaping Ranrok, Rookwood, and Harlow the first time. I don’t want to make it a repeat.

“Onto lighter topics,” He smiles, changing the subject. “Has meditating helped balance your emotions?”

Flying over rugged mountains to rolling fields of sparkling white, Adelia engages her mentor in theoretical discussions of ancient magic and the influence of emotions on spellcasting. Even when they land upon the snow-touched lawn of the Rosewater villa, Mister Osric’s company is far brighter than the dark cloud of her Grandmother looming out of the carriage’s windows. Packing the light powder into a collection of snowballs is Ria, her curly hair almost completely covered in a layer of pure white snow. 

Hoot notes their arrival with a short hoot, and Adelia grins cheerfully, ready to charge into her home.

Notes:

Tagalog translations:
Maligayang kaarawan nene - Happy Birthday, little one

I've included commissioned art in this chapter by giselsann-opencommissions on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 22: Contemplation

Summary:

Ominis's sleeping troubles keep him awake the morning after Adelia's birthday slumber party. Sebastian wakes up and decides to chip away at Ominis's world view, to uncover his feelings for the third member of their party.
Before he boards the train, Ominis is stopped by a grateful Calyx Rosewater, who (hasn't) forgotten to thank him.

Notes:

Hello!
This is a bit shorter than intended but the next two chapters have a specific plan in mind, so it worked out this way. I'm also trying to incorporate more Ominis-centered chapters, gotta love his sass.
Here's the first steps setting up a future path, all thanks to our favorite dorky yet charming Slytherin.
Enjoy!

Flickering sparks of light move steadily in the firebox, each flame tall and pointed in motion. Mesmerizing in appearance, I keep a relaxed grasp on my wand, blinking in time to the disappearance of still flames. Short puffs of air blow against my exposed arms and I shift away from Adelia's pillow, not wanting to wake the birthday girl. 

A flimsy hit to my legs triggers a kick, accidentally startling Sebastian into the waking world. Groaning in complaint while noisily rubbing his shoulder, he unsteadily sits up, inadvertently blocking my view of the fireplace.

“What time is it?” He grumbles, eyelids barely cracked open.

“Almost sunrise,” I reply. “You’ve been snoring for hours.”

“Have not,” He protests.

Detecting a pillow seconds before it can smack my face, I swat it away like an annoying fly.

“Your botched attempts at throwing cannot rewrite history, Sebastian. I’m surprised Adelia has slept through it.”

“Adelia?”

Sounding a lot more awake, Sebastian scurries over to the sofa and almost sits on the Hufflepuff’s legs. Blowing a strong gust of wind to knock him off balance, I lean over to check if the noise woke her up. Soft breaths brush against my fingers, and I adjust her makeshift blanket, ensuring my robes cover her properly. 

“She’s still in the Undercroft?” He hisses from the floor, not even bothering to stand up. “Merlin’s sake, what about the prefects? Her roommates?”

“Look who’s the worrier now,” I lift an eyebrow. “One afternoon in the Scriptorium and you’re out to steal my role.”

“Ominis, isn’t this a problem? We never worried about Anne, but Adelia is normally very concerned about her reputation. What would the school say if they find out she slept with two guys overnight?”

My lips purse. “Are you planning to phrase it like that?”

“No,” He remarks, sounding flustered. “I never plan for these things. I’m better at lying on the spot.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday. She can claim to have gotten up early to watch the sunrise,” I suggest. 

He hums. “Better than the usual backup plan of invisibility spells and leftover dungbombs from third year.”

“Do those even still work?” I ask skeptically.

“No better time to find out.”

My wand detects him scooting over to Adelia's end of the sofa, reaching over to examine something.

"Interesting that she's wearing a Slytherin robe. Where could she have gotten that from?" He asks teasingly.

"Who knows?" I refuse to admit it. "I didn't see anything."

"Deny all you want, Ominis," He chortles. "Pretty soon she'll be dressed head-to-toe in your clothing."

A dark, possessive part of me shudders in delight at the thought of her scent mixing with mine, replicating the feeling of our bodies pressed close together. Like the last time she pulled me into an alcove, but I will be the one holding her tightly, tracing her features with my fingers until she's memorized. I picture her building up a collection of my robes, like my scarf she enjoys so much, preventing future suitors from approaching her.

Not long after I receive those feelings, I repress that instinct, shoving it deep down and locking it away with all other nonsensical impulses. The fire suddenly feels too hot, and I shift, uncomfortable.

"That's ridiculous," I scoff, crossing my arms defensively.

"Is it?" He counters under his breath.

"What?" 

I shoot him a look.

"You're right," He agrees, knocking his feet against my shoes. "As her fiancé, she should be wearing mine."

"Not that ridiculous rumor again." 

I rub at the headache growing at my temples.

"Ridiculous?" He mocks, slapping a hand on the rug. "That's my fianceé you're talking about. We've been deeply in love since the moment her ancient magic went haywire and knocked both of us into the Black Lake. The story they'll tell at our wedding involves us shivering on the docks together, in soaked robes with a lost wand."

"And who will tell that story? The Giant Squid?"

"Close."

"One of the forest's centaurs?"

"Almost," He replies cheekily. "You."

"Me?" I deadpan.

"Yep. You'll be my best man. Unless, of course..."

My eyebrows furrow as I detect the shit-eating grin on his face.

"Unless?" I warily ask.

"Someone else was the groom. Someone with no sense of sight and a penchant for scowling. Someone who's about to stick his elbow in a candle, hey!"

Wretched away from the oak side table, his rough hands tucked my elbow against my side. Clicking his tongue at the almost disastrous incident, he blows out the candle. 

"Saved by the wick," He mutters, flopping back onto the rug.

“It was your idea to place a candle there,” I shift the blame onto him. 

“Not at all,” He snorts. “It was hers.”

“I can believe that,” I murmur.

In such a short amount of time, Adelia Rosewater managed to worm her way into every little aspect of my life, from sharing my best friends to my biggest place of comfort. Even odder than that, I willingly (eventually) allowed it to happen. And though I miss Anne's brightness, Adelia filled a soft spot between the three of us, which I never realized was missing.

She’s really something special.

Sebastian chuffs, his voice calmer than before.

“Tell me the truth. How do you truly feel about her?”

The answer doesn’t come as easily as Sebastian wants. In truth, I don’t fully understand my feelings myself. I care for her, though not in the same way I do Anne and Sebastian. It’s more of an understated care: reaching for each other in quiet spaces and checking the other’s condition through light touches or squeezes. 

After she kissed my cheek, the rest of our conversation had an undercurrent of something that I can’t quite name. Something I haven’t felt with another person. It’s different, but in a good way.

“I’m not sure,” I finally admit, scrunching my brows. “I haven’t had the time or desire to think about it.”

Sebastian seems to accept that answer.

“If I may,” He leans forward. “You hate the thought of us courting to the point your face twists up like a turnip jack-o’-lantern. As soon as the bells toll the end of arithmancy class, you rush to secure seats in the Great Hall for the three of us. You looked like a displeased cat the entire lunch period whenever she was late or sat with her cousins. Not to mention the time you shook me until I told you her location in the Hospital Wing.”

“Your point being?” I cross my arms.

“I won’t tell you how you feel,” He says slowly. “However, if I were late to the Great Hall, you’d say ‘The early snake catches the mouse’. Maybe it’s time you consider that you don’t think of her as a friend, but rather something else.”

If Adelia isn’t a friend, then what is she to me? Admittedly, I have pictured our interactions taking a more romantic turn in my mind a few times, but I’ve always woken up and brushed those thoughts aside. She’s sweet and kind, far too much to be ripped to shreds by the likes of the Gaunts. 

Anyone unlucky enough to be trapped with me cannot escape them once we’re all legally bound together and I do not wish that upon anyone. Similar to my lack of freedom, romance is the one luxury I cannot afford. 

Sensing my inner turmoil, Sebastian shifts the topic to his Yuletide plans.

“I’ve decided not to go back to Feldcroft for winter break,” He announces. “I will still visit Anne on Yule, but something is bugging me about Marcus Goyle, and I need to access the library’s newspaper archive.”

“Don’t overwork yourself. Anne misses you,” I remind him.

“I won’t. If anything, researching similar cases of children likely receiving Rookwood’s curse may help us understand more. I could try reaching out to those families and ask if they’ve found a solution.”

Sebastian isn’t known for his subtlety, but he can be sensitive when it counts. Hopefully, any family he finds will understand that. This is a better solution than poring over dark tomes, though, so I suppose it’s a step in the right direction.

“Good luck. If I can sneak away, I’ll visit you all in Feldcroft on Yule.”

“That’d be great,” He replies, then loudly yawns.

“I should get packing,” I sigh. “Before the train takes off without me.”

~~~~~~

Honks from the imposing Hogwarts Express spill into the snowy air, puffing out billowing clouds of smoke. Snow crunches underfoot as I scurry across the train station, not wishing to miss my boarding time.

While I would typically be allowed to board before the other students, a crowd has circled around two young girls, shouting angrily about seeing thestrals. Unfortunately, they’ve chosen to argue directly in front of the boarding doors. 

While I attempt to push through the crowd, a firm hand clamps on my shoulder and abruptly yanks my body through. 

Stumbling to right myself, I angrily fix my robes and glare in the direction of the person who yanked me. 

“Don’t lay your hands on me,” I spat angrily.

“Sorry, Gaunt. I needed to talk, and it looked like you needed a hand,” The somewhat familiar voice apologized. 

“I'd appreciate a warning or, I don’t know, asking me first.”

“I’ll do that next time,” He promptly promises. “Have you seen Adelia? We weren’t going to ride in the same cabin, but I haven’t seen her since yesterday. I would ask Sallow, but he’s not here, so I figured you’d know her location.”

Ah, this must be Calyx Rosewater. 

“I haven’t,” I straighten, choosing not to mention I was with her overnight.

“Blast it,” He utters, beginning to sound a bit panicked. “She better not be running late.”

“I’m sure everything is under control. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

As I brush past him, Calyx grabs my arm to stop me. I deadpan, blowing his arm off with a flick of my wand.

“Typically, this is the part where I board the train.”

“I know,” He sounds annoyed, shuffling in place.

“I just wanted to thank you. Adelia told me you visited her after I left the Hospital Wing when she was hurt. Nurse Blainey barred me from seeing her since it was ‘after hours’, so I don’t know how you got in, but she said you were great company. So, thank you for comforting her. I appreciate it.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder and I hesitate, thinking better of shoving him off again. 

“She would do the same for me,” I say simply.

Nodding goodbye, I shift away from his touch and board the train, not bothering to prolong the conversation further. As I locate a small, empty carriage near the front of the train, I place my luggage in the seat across from me and lock the door.

In less than 9 hours, I’ll be back in Gaunt Manor, enjoying a cold bowl of pea and ham soup.

Though I've only wade through a quarter of the tomes and scrolls Father left me, tomorrow morning is likely to start with a quiz before taking away my wand. Some of the information is genuinely interesting, like which promotion tactics or products sell best in the shop. Even though trudging through the ledgers to find that information is like wading through a thick, muddy bog. 

Resting my head against the window, a faint chugging rumbles in my ear of the departing train. 

I miss Hogwarts already.

Chapter 23: Ceremony

Summary:

Ominis undergoes the protection ritual ceremony, the second of two ceremonies intended to protect magical children from the growing magic within their bodies. As much as he despises pleasing his family, this is the one pureblood event Ominis doesn't protest.
Whike taking a break from the crowds, Ominis overhears a hushed conversation between his mother and older sister, leaving him with a heavy secret he isn't sure what to do with.

Notes:

Hello!
I'm currently sick with a cold so that gives me more time to write. When my head doesn't hurt, that is.
When thinking of closed off ceremonies that date back generations, this is a concept I had for a while. It makes sense to me that purebloods would gatekeep a traditional event from outsiders (i.e everyone else), especially when it's as useful as it is.
I may edit this later to add to the lore but this is what I have for now.
Happy Reading!

Confident Ominis 🤝 Sassy Ominis

Fate always seems to lead me back to the gardens of Malfoy Manor. 

Every year ends with the protection ritual, yet it could never prepare me for the sheer volume of guests wandering around its manicured paths. An irritated possessiveness floods my senses at the thought of so many people strolling through an area that once represented safety in its shadows. Allowing the bitter feeling to recede like the tide, I instead focus on the reason I'm here in the first place.

The famous protection ritual ceremony. Marvolo and Marcia had theirs years earlier so I have a general idea of what to do. 

Magic within our bodies is constantly growing and evolving, but the largest amount of growth occurs during childhood, especially after birth and before adulthood, which is why these two times are chosen for this old magic ritual. When a magical child is born, the first spell is cast to aid their soul in acclimating to a highly stimulated magical environment. This helps stabilize the newborn's inner magic as it grows and strengthens their immune system. 

A witch or wizard who is sixteen years of age will receive a protection charm, renewing the original one cast directly after birth. As the final year before a spellcaster enters adulthood and the marriage mart, they're bestowed a charm to stabilize their magic while it goes through the final round of magical puberty.

At the beginning of Yule, when the full moon is at its highest in the sky, the eldest Malfoy witch or wizard acts as a Ceremonial Official, giving a short speech before leading a chant. A blood relative of the child will guide them, stepping into the designated area set up with runes to cast the spell onto them.

While I have doubts about the quality of spellcasting Mother would bequeath me, we will be surrounded by every pureblood family with children my age. The only thing Mother cares for more than pride is her reputation. 

Though I do question why Marcia volunteered to join us. Especially when she's determined to complain about everything, from the outdated decorations to a scratched window pane to the hideous servers. Ignoring her harsh tone, I could glean enough detail from the rest of her description to piece together the garden's appearance.

Finding our designated spot with the best vantage of the ceremonial arches (according to Marcia), we step onto the outlined runes. Once everyone is within the artificial circle stretching the length of their lawn, a strong barrier is put into place by the other members of the Malfoy family. Within the next few minutes, everyone is settled into place, signaling the Ceremonial Official, Alberton Malfoy, to begin his speech.

I clutch the sturdy wooden handle of my cane, willing this ceremony to be as quick and painless as possible. As much as I despise participating in pureblood events, this is the most useful one to stick around for. I wish Sebastian and Anne could be here, too. It wouldn't do much for Anne, but it may calm her magical core for a moment. 

Alberton Malfoy drones on, his rumbling voice difficult to parse over the whispered commentary of my family, even with his voice amplification spell. Taking a few deep breaths, I attempt to center myself.

If I try hard enough, I can pick up a distant whiff of lemongrass from my left side. Faint sentences float to the top of my mind; quiet praises and kind gestures from my favorite person. I can place myself against a tree in my memory, kneeling beside a patch of wildflowers to gently pet a soft kitten. As I mildly sway in place, I'm almost unable to catch the Ceremonial Official's invitation to observe the night sky. 

Silence falls over the crowd in the final few minutes before midnight. Even I crane my head to the sky, feeling the hot air around me from many bodies huddling nearby. The second the full moon reaches the sky's apex, Alberton Malfoy begins the ritual ceremony.

“Imperare sibi maximum imperium est,” He begins the chant, hands rising to cast over the crowd. 

“Libera a malo.”

Charged energy sparks through the barrier, connecting every edge of the circle together. From the edge of the flower arch to the line of oak trees, magic freely floats through the space in a warm exchange of light and life. Concentrated runes activate underfoot, the oddly shaped lines immobilizing my movements as crawling vines of arcana secure themselves around my entire body.

The cacophony of chanting roars in my ears, dizzying every sense with an electrifying glow. Mother's chants are thunderous, accentuated by sharp jabs of her wand along my arms, shoulders, and between my forehead.

"Libera a malo!"

With their final booming note, a dizzying burning digs into my veins before retreating to a startling chill. The tendrils of arcana slip away in time with the magical barrier, releasing everyone from its hold with a collective hum of completion.

"Congratulations, young ones. May you all be protected in the following year," He states kindly, releasing everyone from the runes.

Right as the spell lifts, Mother backs away with a huff. Other families begin mingling, either sending off their children to meet their friends or crowding around Lady Malfoy to thank her for hosting. 

"Finally," Marcia sighs, tapping her nails against her wand. "I don't remember it being this long when it was my ceremony."

"It wasn't," Mother agrees. "It's all thanks to Alberton Malfoy. I'm surprised he's even able to recite the origins."

"Of course he remembers his childhood," Marcia quips.

They both snicker. I shift uncomfortably, unsure if I'm able to leave them. Their laughter abruptly cuts off, changing to sweet greetings as Lady Malfoy makes her way over to us.

"Lucretia!" Mother coos, exchanging a few warm words with her.

"What a lovely ceremony. You outdo yourself with each passing year."

"Why, thank you, Malvina," A pleased voice answered. "May I say, your daughter gets more beautiful every time I see her. Its a shame she cannot marry my Septimus."

Bristling at his name, I grit my teeth, not wanting to cause a scene. I can tell Mother and Marcia are equally bothered by her remark, but for a different reason entirely.

"...I agree," Mother eventually says. "A shame, indeed."

"Yes, yes," Lady Malfoy chuckles and continues. "What a lovely hat, Miss Gaunt. I must acquire one for my collection."

"Thank you, Lady Malfoy," Marcia says. "Though I'm no match for your keen sense of fashion."

More pretentious laughter ensues and I turn away, listening to the passing conversations for anyone familiar.

"It's true!" Garreth Weasley’s voice proclaims nearby.

"With two more drops of leech juice, it extends the potion's longevity for two whole hours. As long as you add extra standard ingredients and stir for another minute, then you're golden."

"I don't know," Samantha Dale remarks. "Last time you modified our potion, I spent three days in the hospital wing with feathers growing out of my neck."

"But when we redid it, then it went perfectly!"

"You're lucky Professor Sharp allows you to redo potions," Leander Prewitt complains. "If I were to blow up a cauldron, he'd give me a week's worth of detention cleaning the Potions classroom."

"Oh, I did get detention," Garreth says. "But Professor Sharp taught me about different uses for each ingredient during detention, so it's like a big tutoring session."

"That's hardly detention, more like an apprenticeship."

"That's the goal, after N.E.W.T.S. Either working in an apothecary or opening my own, if no one is hiring."

"Wow," Samantha says, surprised. "I've been too busy studying for the O.W.L.S. to start planning my future career. Always figured I'd have a desk job in the Ministry, like my parents."

I start to walk over to join their conversation when a sharp set of nails digs into my arm, yanking me back to my original place.

"Ominis, why don't you introduce yourself to our host?" Mother threatens behind a wide smile.

"My apologies," I mutter, lifting a hand for a shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Malfoy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mister Gaunt," She says amusedly. "Last I remember, you were up to my knees. Now look how tall you are!"

I am 16, not 6. Based on her voice, I eclipse her by a few fingers. It sounds like this is the first time she noticed me in years, which is both surprising and mildly irritating, considering how many times I was made to visit this manor.

"Ominis is set to take over the Spiny Serpent," Mother brags. "Maurice set up a test run for him this summer, to help run the shop."

He did? Father only told me he expected the information to be memorized, not that I would do anything with it.

"Really?"

Lady Malfoy leans closer, suddenly becoming intrigued.

"It's true," Mother brags. "With his grades and penchant for spellcasting, it's only a matter of time before he inherits the shop."

Marcia makes a low, disgruntled noise next to me. I blink a few times, befuddled beyond belief at this interaction.

Am I dreaming right now? Surely not. If Mother's here, then that would be a nightmare. Never in my wildest dreams have I imagined her voice complimenting me.

To my recollection, Mother has never once praised me. What have I done to cause her to brag to Lady Malfoy of all people?

"Do you mind if I borrow him?" Lady Malfoy asks. "There are a few people he should meet."

"Not at all! We'll make our rounds as well," Mother sends us off without any hesitation.

"Mother!" Marcia complains, her voice traveling over the noise.

"Quiet," Mother hisses.

As Lady Malfoy whisks me away to meet a couple of older men that I recall do business with my Father, I can't help but wish I had the foresight to escape earlier. Between polite conversation about school and my studies, I feel a deep-seated ache of discontentment building in my chest.

Maybe this was Mother's punishment after all.

~~~~~~

I politely retract Lady Malfoy's arm from mine and excuse myself. The volume of chatter and laughter has started to overwhelm my ears, so I search for one of the promised retiring rooms. I have a vague recollection of a room near the gardens I hid in as a child, so I blindly navigate to it.

Walking slowly so as to not whap someone with the end of my cane, I stick to the right side of the hallway, feeling for a door handle. 

Seconds after entering the room, a small house elf begins speaking.

"Do you require your coat, mister?" A squeaky voice asks.

"Not yet," I responded. "Would you mind giving me a moment of privacy?"

"Yes, mister," She agrees, snapping her fingers.

Without the house elf, the unfamilar coat room feels a lot emptier. Faint noises from the party spill into the corridor until I quietly shut the door. I flop onto a fainting couch, hoping to rest my eyes for a moment. 

Wisps of a daydream poke at my mind, flowing like a gentle breeze through a spring garden. I think of the ceremony, and what it means now that I'm almost an adult. My concepts of the future are murky. Planning for the future seems impossible, especially considering how hopeless the present is. Between Anne's illness and my family’s renewed interest in me, I don't have much to look forward to.

Remembering the conversation shared with Adelia about a future marriage, my thoughts shift to her, wondering if she's somewhere within the crowd. Imagining how close she must be makes my heart jump, an unconscious smile spreading as I ponder ways to find her without my wand.

She's too recognizable. If I were willing to parse through the hordes of guests, I'm confident I could find her before she finds me.

A slamming door snaps my mind back to reality, immediately sitting up while ignoring the rush of dizziness. No one speaks and I frown, confused. Utilizing my cane, I step closer to the door until two sets of heels grab my attention. Holding my breath, I slink over to a doorway I hadn’t noticed was there. Tripping over the leg of a coat rack, I slam a hand into the wall, stilling as the voices pause then cautiously continue. Slowly shutting the door until it's merely cracked open, I turn my ear to listen in.

"This will be it, you know," Mother lectures, aggressively rearranging Marcia's dress. "Your last chance to secure a suitor."

I figured it was them. Mother's magic doesn't do anything quietly. Our door hinges have to be changed every so often by the house elves due to her carelessness.

"That's unnecessary, Mother. Milton will ask for my hand again. I'm certain of that."

"Just like Septimus Malfoy?" She huffs, throwing down the skirt with a final smack.

"That was different, Mother."

Marcia stomps a heel. "He's the one who didn't want to settle down. I merely implied that if he was going to sleep with every witch that meets his eyes, then I would do the same to every dashing wizard that happens to be his Ministry superior."

"So, suggesting to your future husband that you're a sullied slag is better than securing him under your thumb?" Mother chides.

Her heels click angrily as she paces back and forth, almost extending Muffliato beyond their corner of the manor. I press my ear closer to the door, adjusting into a more comfortable position to listen.

"Mother, please. You know it doesn't matter who I get into bed with as long as it secures a husband," Marcia whines.

Mother tsks, barely containing a strangled grasp. She comes to a stop, tapping a shoe incessantly.

"And what of your tea bundles?" She finally questions.

Marcia seems to hesitate to answer. "...I tested them with Milton."

"And?"

There's a prolonged silence filled only with the sound of tapping feet. I lean closer but they're likely locked in a nonverbal exchange of sorts.

"All I expect from you is one, simple thing, Marcia. You can't even do that much. I have half a mind to refocus my efforts on your older brother, or Merlin forbid, your younger brother," She spits out.

The words ‘younger brother’ sounds foul spilling from her lips, stronger than any insult, the embarrassment and disdain extremely obvious. My jaw clenches at her words, curling my fist tighter against my cane.

"Ew, do not compare me to him," Marcia remarks, sounding insulted by the comparison.

The feeling's mutual, dear sister.

"Unlike you, we have a girl lined up for him. See how simple it is when you listen to your parents?"

My eyebrows furrow with concern at the thought they've already negotiated a bride without my knowledge. I grit my teeth, biting my tongue in anger.

"Mother," She whines. "I've been drinking the tea and trying the experimental potion trial. Nothing has worked."

"Try harder," Mother says angrily.

"I can't just wish to stop being infertile!" 

Marica shouts, shattering an object with the rapid firing of her wand. I quickly cover my mouth to hide a gasp, eyes bulging at the news.

Marcia's infertile?!

No wonder Marvolo has been given more and more of their inheritance while Marcia is searching for a husband after two failed engagements. They're hoping to find someone gullible and likely to cheat among the freshly debuted boys, so they can cover up her infertility with the adoption of an affair baby. 

It's a devious plan, one that would immediately expel her from the good graces of pureblood society if anyone found out. It's underhand and manipulative, just like her. If they can pull it off, she'll be set up with a low dowry and leveraged marriage contract. 

"Then either stop giving yourself away or ensure someone else will stumble upon you two," Mother snaps, thoroughly done with the conversation. 

"Fine," Marica huffs, fabric rustling as she makes some sort of gesture. "By the end of next year, I'll secure a partner. Milton Burke or otherwise."

"You're a grown woman," Mother warns. "If we weren't at an important ceremony, you'd be hit with every hex under the sun until you sober up and remember your position."

There's a clicking sound as she unlocking another door, likely the one they used to enter the room. I backed away from the cracked door I was pressed against, hurrying back to the resting room I intended to find originally. As I rush away, I catch the faint warning she leaves with my sister.

"If you don't marry someone before Ominis does, then you will no longer be a Gaunt."

Seconds after I stumble onto a thin chaise, Mother walks through the doorway after me. I feel her eyes scanning my disheveled appearance, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"Come, Ominis," She calls out, not bothering to wait for me. "We're going home."

Releasing a heavy sigh, I heave myself off the velvet couch with a thump of my cane. As I scan my surroundings with its tip, it hits a solid object right outside of the resting room.

"Don't keep Mother waiting," Marcia responds, kicking away the bottom of the cane.

While I would normally scowl and leave immediately, something in me shifts at the defeated tinge to her voice. Even when I'll always be regarded as the lowest of my family, at this point in time, I'm no longer at the bottom rung. Confidence swells in my chest and I tilt my head innocently in her direction with a barely concealed smirk.

"Of course, sister. We wouldn't want that," I say, unable to help replying.

Walking away with my head held high, I ignore the confused scoff of my sister with a quiet chuckle.

For the first time in a long time, I have the upper hand. And it feels good.

Notes:

Latin translations:

Imperare sibi maximum imperium est- to control/rule oneself is the ultimate form of power
libera a malo- deliver from harm

Chapter 24: A Winter's Ball: Part 1

Summary:

Adelia gets ready for the ball with her mother and sister, sharing her worries over her future. Her mother brushes it away, even sharing family history Adelia never knew. With determination, she sends a challenge to the wizard she intends to court.
Ominis is tired of the Gaunt family, barely tolerating their newfound interest in him. He can't even choose who do dance with, as the choice was decided for him long ago. At least with Eloise nearby, the night may not be so bad.

Notes:

This is the first part of the debutante ball, which I'm excited to finally write. I've had a few options for where this path will branch to and how much character will rely on each other, so the resolution will be fun.
Enjoy!

Here's a few thoughts on the characters:
The burden of responsibility is a theme I was interested in portraying, especially as Ominis & Adelia have quite different experiences with it. Ominis was made to grow up too fast, as was Adelia, but he was presented with pain and prejudice as though it's normal. Adelia had to learn self-sufficiency in order to ensure her younger sister was well taken care of.

For both of them, the consequences manifest in different ways. Ominis is left with an incredibly small support system and a strong distaste for anyone doing things he disapproved of. Adelia dislikes change and disappointing people, a strong sense of insecurity rooted deep in her veins.

Miss Rosewater,

My meeting with Lodgok was a success. In an effort to win his trust, I'm tasked with completing a mission. By the time you receive this letter, I will be inside a cave, hopefully retrieving an artifact. Once I gain his information, I'll call on you and Professor Fig to discuss it.

Stay safe and have a lovely debut.

Remember, steady breaths aid in a steady mind.

Regards,

George Osric

Head of the Department of Mysteries

------

Burning the letter with a flick of her wand, Adelia's heart flutters with a bit of hope. 

Mr. Osric may get the answer we need to stop Ranrok. However, I don't know how he expects me to focus on this ball while he does all the work.

"Lia~," A soft voice calls her name.

"Coming, Mother."

Hoot squawks at her retreating figure, and Adelia chuckles, pausing long enough to toss him an owl pellet from the bowl in her father's office. 

"Thank you for your quick delivery, Hoot," She says, placing a hand over her heart.

He hoots.

Snorting at the bird's antics, she shoos him through the open window before trotting off to her mother's bedroom. Passing their family portrait with a nod, each voice calls out their own version of a compliment as she rushes by. 

Quietly knocking at the rose-patterned mahogany door, Adelia slowly lets herself in to face the awaiting gazes of her mother and little sister, Ria.

"So?" She asks shyly, nervously rotating her ring. "What do you think?"

Both ladies evaluate the young witch from head to toe, their curls bouncing in sync while attempting to get the best view of her. Ria flips upside down, lying flat on the edge of the brass bedstead to get a better view of the dark heels peeking out of the full cotton skirt. 

"Do a spin!" Ria commands, watching in awe as the skirt flares out in a wide circle.

Adelia giggles at Ria's repetitive begging, complying with dramatic twirls of her bell-sleeved black dress until dizzy. Rows of delicate lace embroidery are sewn along the skirt, sleeves, and off-the-shoulder neckline, ending with a small, satin bow dipping between the valley of her chest. A pair of short, black lace gloves hang limply by her side, dangling tantalizingly at the floor.

Her dark waves were still undone, a small tangle working its way in the messier her hair became. Still, she maintains a carefree smile, her tan cheeks becoming rosier and accentuating her youthful glow.

"Beautiful, Lia," Narra proclaims.

Becoming emotional at the sight of her oldest daughter debuting, old enough to begin searching for a suitor, Narra can hardly hold back her tears.

"Don't cry, Nay," Adelia pouts, crossing her arms.

"You're growing up," She shakes her head. "I remember the day I gave birth to you, holding your tiny body in my arms. Now, look at you."

Gesturing to the young lady standing before her, Adelia smiles gently and moves to stand at her bedside.

"You're a woman," She grins through the tears. "I wish your father were here to see you. I'm sure he would demand to speak to every person you dance with."

Narra thinks for a moment, a bittersweet smile landing on her face with a short huff. 

"Perhaps it's better this way, hm?"

Adelia's face drops at the mention of her father. Toeing the sheepskin rug's border with her new shoes, she winces slightly at their narrow fit. They were quite pretty, intricate silver beadwork strewn along the inky toe box.

"As long as you're here, Nay. That's all I need."

Narra's expression turns sad, but she simply nods, mutual understanding flowing between their unspoken glance. Ria, on the other hand, doesn't understand.

"Is Papa gonna come back soon?" She asks, her voice too cheerful and loud. "I started an art collection for him, like Yavvy said I should, but he's not here to see them."

The older duo stays silent, exchanging a long look that only serves to confuse and irritate Ria. She twitches, balling her little fingers in two fists.

"I hate it when you do that! Tell me where Papa is," She demands.

"Ria," Adelia sighs, kneeling at the edge of the bed and wrapping her hands around each small fist.

"What?"

Adelia frowns, giving her a chastising click of her tongue. "We don't demand. If you are asking something, say please and thank you."

Ria's frustration grows, sprouting like an overgrown weed.

"But you never tell me anything. How come you and Cal get to know stuff, but I can't?" She whines, kicking up her legs.

Adelia moves to the side, pursing her lips in preparation for another lesson. 

"Little flower, come here," Narra interrupts, a cough buried between her words.

Ria leaps up and dives into their mother's open arms, squeezing tighter at the small, pained noise behind her curls. Narra simply eases her into the pillows, whispering words of comfort to her youngest. 

Adelia remains kneeling for a few minutes, listening to her mother's tired reassurances until she can't take it anymore. Dusting off the specks of dust on her skirt, she observes her mother's dark eyebags and weak muscles that she hides behind fluffy blankets and kind words, too kind to discipline her sister as she or Calyx would.

At times like this, I feel more like Ria's mother than Nanay.

Eyes widening at her own thoughts, Adelia smacks her hand with a light thwack. Guilt permeates every layer of her being.

No, I shouldn't think like that. Mother can't help her circumstances any more than I can. Grandmother should've stepped up to act like a parent. That's not our fault.

Even as she makes these consolations, she can't help but feel guilty, the weight of responsibility for her thoughts and Ria's actions dwelling heavily in her chest.

I didn't teach her etiquette well enough.

"Lia, I can hear your thoughts from over here."

Shaking out of her shame spiral, she realizes Narra had been keeping an eye on her, too. Silently opening her right arm, Adelia crawls up the bed and cuddles into her mother's side. Ria wrestles her for the prime comfort spot, but Adelia knocks her arm away fast enough to secure it. Narra's fingers wind into her inky tresses, slowly detangling each errant strand.

"Your father would be so proud of you," Narra says, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "Just as I am."

Choosing not to further dwell on the subject, Adelia nods with a quiet thanks. 

"Mum?"

"Yes, bebe?"

"Will you braid my hair?" Adelia requests, hoping her hands are still enough to do it again.

"Of course, Lia."

Sunset paints the horizon in a brilliant array of red and orange streaks as the sun descends behind a collection of thin, white clouds. Adjusting the sash windows to stream dim sunlight at an ideal angle, Adelia closes her eyes while her mother braids. 

Occasionally, Ria chimes in with a few suggestions and a freshly picked bouquet of pink spray roses, dividing the small flowers into a few sections of her buns.

Next, she sits still for the brushes of glam concoctions across her eyes, lips, and cheeks. Mother squints her eyes in concentration, rubbing her chin while asking Ria questions as though she's a beauty consultant. Naturally, Ria takes her job very seriously, discussing which colours would go best with her skin tone.

Once the final brush is swept across her cheek, Adelia strides to the ornate mirror in the corner of the room and braces for the completed look.

Wow. I look... pretty.

Gaping at the girl in the mirror, Adelia is filled with the odd sensation of both knowing and not knowing her own reflection. It's as though she took a faulty potion that should've formed spikes, but instead, smoothed out blotches of skin that caused insecurity.

For the first time in her memory, Adelia liked who she saw reflected in her.

"Mahal kita, Mum," She says in awe, twisting around to beam at her.

"Mahal din kita," Narra chuckles back, a smaller grin matching her own.

As if on cue, another figure appears in the doorway. With slicked-back hair and form-fitting emerald dress robes, Calyx appears the epitome of a pureblood heir. He observes the scene with a small smirk before his view lands on Adelia, straightening up with a proud glint in his eyes.

"You actually look alright for once, sis," Calyx states.

Adelia rolls her eyes while Ria jumps from the bed to hug his legs.

"Yup! She's gonna be the prettiest witch in the whole place," Ria says confidently.

"Thanks, Ria," Adelia says, ruffling Ria's hair until she giggles.

"Grandmother sent me to take you down, " Calyx explains, holding out his arm for her to latch onto. "Once they announce our presence and give a few words, then the ball will officially begin."

“I'll meet you at the staircase,” Adelia dismisses him with a polite smile.

Calyx lowers his arm after a few minutes, glancing between Adelia and their mother with understanding. Hoisting Wisteria onto his back, he carries her out while pretending to be a broomstick for her to fly onto.

Shifting her attention to her mother, Adelia contains a frown at Narra's exhausted appearance. As though reading her mind, Narra's lips quirk into a placating smile. 

“Nervous?”

“A little,” Adelia concedes, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “This will be the first time I look for a marriage partner.”

“I see,” Narra nods knowingly. “It may not happen tonight.”

“Or ever.”

“Lia,” Narra starts. “You are a smart, kind, and beautiful girl. Any witch or wizard would be lucky to share a future with you, but you may not find them tonight. What's important is that you have fun.”

That's not what Grandmother would say.

“But don't you want me to marry someone?” She swallows dryly. “So you can witness the wedding?”

A mix of emotions settles onto Narra's face, a heartbreaking blend of sadness, guilt, and acceptance.

“There's nothing I'd love more than to witness you exchanging vows with the person you love, when you find someone,” She says gently. “Whether it be someone you already know or someone you've yet to find.”

Adelia's thoughts drift to a pair of moonstone eyes lit heart-stoppingly bright by firelight. A flush rises to her cheeks, too dark to be covered by the glamor concoctions.

"Maybe whomever is currently on your mind," She remarks slyly.

"Mother!" 

Adelia looks scandalized while Narra coughs out a few hoarse laughs. Pouring a fresh glass of water with shaky hands, Narra takes a long sip. Adelia observes closely, ready to assist her if need be.

She continues her previous thoughts. “I don't want you to rush into anything that your heart isn't completely set on. Your father and I got lucky that we fell in love before school was over. Most of our peers were arranged into marriages by their parents, and while some turned out happy, not all were a successful match. Your grandmother got lucky as well, though her mother wasn't too keen on the match.”

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, that catches Adelia's attention. While fights were common between the two, Adelia knew her grandparents’ marriage to be a tentatively positive one, with each one making concessions for the other's happiness. 

However, while her great-grandfather, Alon Camantigue, was greatly described in tales of her family's past, given that he was the first of their family to immigrate from the Philippines, little was spared for her great-grandmother. It was so sparse, in fact, Adelia didn't believe she existed until she stumbled upon her tilted portrait in a moderately dusty hallway of the villa. Elizabeth Black's ghost-like pale features sneering down at her was enough to spook away Adelia's interest.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Hm?” 

Her mother seems confused before becoming alarmed and quickly backtracking.

“No, forget I said anything,” Narra says, raising her hands as though the words would somehow wipe from her memory. “That was thoughtless of me. What's important is that you understand your father, and I wish for your happiness above all else, even if it means you never marry.”

“Ever?!” Adelia asks incredulously. “What about my family duty? My responsibilities?”

Narra's concern for Adelia's sudden outburst is palpable. “You are too young to be concerned about that. Besides, your brother is the main heir to the Rosewater legacy. He must secure a mutually beneficial match. You , on the other hand, should focus on your studies.”

Even as her mother claims she has more time, Adelia recognizes the deep sadness in her eyes, the same glumness present whenever the conversation drifts to Atlas's whereabouts or her blood curse. In her heart, Adelia knows that unless she were soon to wed, Narra would never live long enough to experience the ceremonies of any of her children.

I thought concealing my feelings was the best way to preserve my friendship with Ominis. If he doesn't feel the same way – or, Merlin forbid, Ranrok ever found out – he would be targeted too.

Perhaps I was too naive to believe we could continue the way things are. Now is either the time to pursue or forgo him.

At least I have the illusion of time on my side to find someone. But... what about Calyx?

She remembers his so-called disdain for a certain redhead Ravenclaw, their banter covering something deeper, something softer. 

She clenches her lace gloves, warily slipping them onto her fingers.

I can't do anything for him. Whatever he chooses to do is ultimately his decision.

"Yes, Mother."

But I can afford to be selfish.

Slipping through the door, Adelia surreptitiously rushes across the hall to her father’s study. The piles of tomes and half-completed potions are still strewn about, now covered in a thin layer of owl pellets that a certain bird is gulping down. Adelia clears her throat, an unimpressed stare levied at the greedy bird. Unsurprisingly, Hoot had snuck back inside to steal treats and, without shame, continues to do so. With a short huff of amusement, Adelia crosses the messy floor to scribble a note with a torn scrap of parchment.

“Prepare to be secretive about this one, Hootie,” She says, sparing a glance at the semi-swallowed pellet dangling from his beak. “Though, judging on these empty bags, you’ve already stolen enough bribes."

------

Sunlight,

Try to find me before I find you. 

The prize? 

A secret.

-A.A.R

------

"Deliver this to Ominis Gaunt, ” She whispers, leaning through the open window to point at the hoards of apparating guests on their front lawn.

He hoots, flapping widely before swooping into the darkening sky. 

After tonight, Ominis will know I fancy him.

Taking a few deep breaths, Adelia composes herself and leaves to find Calyx. They traverse the ostentatiously decorated hallways and half-hazardly placed ornaments to glide down the staircase towards the east wing's ballroom. Few words are shared between the two; instead, they are focused on locating the ballroom’s twin set of flower-patterned doors. 

"Ready?" Calyx asks, running his fingers through his gelled hair.

I’d sooner face a dragon again than walk through these doors.

"If I say no, will you let me go back to my room?" She asks, shifting from one heel to the other.

"Nuh-uh."

"Then, I guess so,” She relents.

With a squeeze to her hand, they push open the mahogany doors to an awaiting crowd of witches and wizards.

"Honored guests, may I present to you, Lord Calyx and Lady Adelia Rosewater.”

~~~~~~

“Shoulders back. Straighten up.”

I comply, following Mother’s demands. It’s exhausting to maintain perfect posture, but if I don’t follow every endless command tonight, then my wand will be revoked. Only this time, I’ll be left without my cane to assist me. 

Every noble family will be trailing ours like sharks, sniffing a hint of blood to attack, allowing themselves to reign supreme among the other purebloods. Especially my father’s business partners or Marvolo’s supporters, scanning my every action for a hint of fault.

I refuse to look weak in front of them. So, I comply.

Stiffly walking beside Marcia, we silently follow our parents’ slow and elegant movements. Naturally, we were made to practice a graceful saunter for at least an hour this morning, ensuring our steps matched and my oxfords won’t catch on the hem of Marcia’s dress. 

Does this new set of dress robes slide smoothly over my skin? Yes.

Will gaining my wand back over the holidays be akin to setting a limb back into place? Also, yes.

Does this mean I'm comfortable at all? Absolutely not.

Sebastian's research has led to an inquiry into knowledge from my family's extensive library. Through my warnings regarding the Gaunts’ new habit of heavily monitoring my activities, I warned him not to visit. 

All for the best, as he was considering rushing to Hogsmeade to sweet talk Sirona into letting him use her floo powder.

Marvolo strode into the library unannounced once and interrupted one of my research sessions. He decided to immediately report it to our father, who expressed pride over my ‘newfound interest in our family's legacy.’ Side effects include: discussions of blood superiority and a forced suitor of their choosing.

On the upside, this means as long as I stick to the guise of interest in the dark arts, I'll have unmonitored access to the Gaunt archives. Considering how often the house elves have been delivering warm sandwiches to my secluded reading nook, I won't have to worry about cold or tainted meals anymore.

New freedoms aside, it won't be long before I'm forced into another ‘muggle hunting’ trip. That will be the breaking point. 

Chatter flows in waves around us, dipping off the closer we are to the entrance. Thanks to my wand, I'm able to perceive the general structure of the Rosewater Manor. Like most noble homes, rows upon rows of flowers line the exterior, decorated upon window boxes and around trees, even in a smaller glass building behind the main one. Droplets of water splash onto the back of my wand as we step around a fountain, its continuous cycle flowing melodically. 

However, unlike most gardens I've visited, there's an ever-present scent of flowers no matter where you turn. In a variety of scents as well, as though someone cared enough to ensure every sense was activated while strolling around their carefully crafted landscaping. This family certainly lives up to the Rosewater name.

Right as we pass under an arched trellis walkway, something heavy lands on my right shoulder. Immediately flicking the offending object off, I rush to Marcia's left side, in case it decides to attack again. Better her than me. 

“Hoot.”

Focusing my wand more carefully on what I thought was a large creature or spiky greenery, turns out to be an indignant owl. Marcia unties the letter attached to its leg, shooing it away in a manner not unlike mine a moment prior. Wincing at my error, I turn to face forward, ignoring the disgruntled caws of the bird. Marcia unfolds the note quickly and begins reading.

“Who's the letter for?” Mother asks, wasting no time to be nosy.

After a few moments, she hesitates but eventually responds, shoving the note inside her dress pocket.

“It's from a secret admirer of mine,” She announces.

“Oh?” 

Mother is skeptical, seeming to weigh the likelihood of that before choosing not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“You'll just have to meet this mystery fellow later on. Perhaps when Ominis is dancing with a young lady,” Mother plans out. 

“Aren't I his chaperone?”

“You are, dear. As long as you keep an eye on him, then you'd do well to meet someone too,” Mother insists, voice dropping as we step into line for the ballroom entrance. 

“Ensure his dance card is secured. With all of the debutantes selected to dance with Ominis, it's imperative there's enough space for all their names.”

“All?” I burst out, unable to help myself. “How many people did you request?”

“We had to call in a few favors,” Father grunts, puffs of smoke blowing out of his lips. 

Heart pounding, I steel my nerves, knowing we're only a few families away from sealing my fate. 

“That… doesn't seem necessary-”

“Be grateful,” Father's tone turns cold, cigar clutched tightly in his thick hands. “I could've sent you hunting with Marvolo. Better yet, you'd make an excellent bait. Cursed boys make easy prey.”

My jaw clenches, fingernails digging into my palm hard enough to dribble dots of blood onto the fully bloomed roses. I refuse to dignify his taunts with a response.

I can tell we've made it to the entrance when the air shifts, the haughty behavior of my parents toned down as they speak to the porter. Though non-elf event employees are hired based on their looks, something else about this person is keeping them intrigued. They're either a relative of a business partner or an unaccounted for pureblood, perfect for Marcia to swoop in and steal away.

“Welcome to Rosewater Manor. May I ask which names you would like announced tonight?” A man's voice responds, deep enough to draw Marcia closer like a serpent spying on a slow mouse.

“Ominis Gaunt,” She replies, stepping forward quickly enough to ruffle my overcoat. “Though you may call out my name any time.”

I stifle a laugh at Marcia's blatant attempts at flirting, even more so when the man nonchalantly scribbles on a pad of parchment and waves us through the doorway.

“Enjoy your evening,” He responds in monotone, shifting away to greet the Fawleys. “Welcome to Rosewater Manor.”

"Excuse me!" Her voice shrills. "How dare you dismiss me, do you know who my father is?"

The man slowly turns, tapping at his clipboard. "Yes, ma'am. We spoke about ten seconds ago. If you go inside now, you could catch up to him."

"Ma'am?!"

I brush past her with choked laughter and move straight to the dance card table, unwilling to waste more time. Noticing my wand prodding the table, an attendant pushes a stack of dance cards towards me.

“They should make the beginning announcements soon,” Mother declares, swiping a champagne glass from the first round of servers sent out. “Merlin, I don't know what Lucretia was thinking. Allowing that Filipino woman to host our noble English events. Seriously, why aren't the Blacks hosting again?”

My stomach flips at her remark, uncomfortably adjusting the ribbon on my dance card to hang off my wrist. 

“It was a show of good faith, dear,” Father comments, opting to continue smoking indoors. “You know the connections that woman made in the past two years. Putting up with her means ensuring he won't mess with our trade routes, delivery owls, or carriages. The real question is, how do they tolerate each other in the first place?”

“Especially her,” Mother continues. “Think about it. They must have some abnormal non-human ancestry somewhere down the line. That's always the case with immigrants to this country, isn't it? She's too insufferable not to somehow charm him into listening to her. Or has something he wants.”

My neck flares hotly, and I have to will my lungs to take deep breaths to avoid speaking. I know the second I open my mouth to defend her, Father's cigar is not the only thing getting burned. 

It's not as though these prejudiced comments were the first time my parents spoke of descendants from other countries as beneath them. Half the time, they believe Irish, Welsh, and Scottish spellcasters are magically weaker than the most inexperienced of English ones. It's always been a source of shame for me, but this time, I feel pure anger. 

They don't know the Rosewaters. Would never give them a chance, even if Merlin himself floated into the ballroom and demanded it. But after becoming close friends with her granddaughter, even with the discomfort Adelia displays when she's mentioned, I know she doesn't deserve Mother's twisted insults.

Screw the punishments. I don't care if what I say will complicate this deal for Sebastian or if they attempt to corner me into using Unforgivables again. I refuse to let them denigrate Adelia's reputation any further. 

“It is customary to greet our hosts upon arrival. When Adelia Rosewater makes her rounds, I will ask her for the first dance,” I cut in, not allowing their mouths to spew out any more garbage.

Silence falls over their bickering forms, each parent shifting their emotions to my ramrod straight form. Knowing I've grown tall enough to look down upon them, I sneer intimidatingly. 

“You will do no such thing,” Mother snaps and tosses her glass to her right, knowing a house elf would appear to catch it before apparating away again. “You need to dance with a nice English girl.”

“Adelia is English,” I responded, refusing to back down. “Her ancestry is both Filipino and English, but she's been raised here her whole life. She's as bloody English as I am.”

“Adelia, is it?” Marcia asks mockingly, finally having returned from her failed attempt at securing another partner. “Is that why you're defending her? Is she your little paramour?”

“Never,” Mother hisses, gripping strongly onto my wrist. “No son of mine will have impure relations before a betrothal.”

“I'm not! Let go of me!”

Ignoring my command, she knocks my wand away and leans closer, securing my collar in her pointy nails. The tip of her wand is prodded into my neck, menacing jolts of electricity zapping intermittently.

“Listen closely. Your first dance will be with Eloise Lestrange. Once the music begins, you will sign each other's dance card and perform a waltz. Next on the list should be either Priscilla Wakefield or Grace Pinch-Smedley,” She says. “After one dance, find another witch to dance with. And remember, we will all see who you choose.”

Shooting a zap directly into my neck sends a full-bodied shiver down my spine, reactivating the residual pain along my ribs. The raised skin snags against my cotton shirt, stealing away my breath and resolve. Promises of pain shatter my willpower, and I force a tiny nod, pressing my lips together to cease their quivering.

Once I'm free from her grasp, it's clear Father cast a few nonverbal spells to deter other attendees from viewing their spat. Picking up my wand, the sound waves no longer block my vision in understanding the room's interior. While I take control of my breaths, I note the continued flower theme from hanging rows of violet-scented garland to rose-scented table centerpieces to several bundles of petals suspended from the ceiling.

Miserably scanning the crowd, I stop on a moving cloud of springy coils, barely secured in a loose updo. A small smile tugs at my lips, and I push through the crowd until I land at her feet.

“Hi, Eloise,” I begin.

“Hello, Ominis,” She says, barely loud enough to hear, yet full of surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I reply after a few moments, unsure how to continue.

“Likewise.”

Eloise giggles, stepping closer to speak comfortably. “Are you okay? You’re a bit shaky.”

I swallow, forcing a neutral expression. “Just the nerves, that’s all.”

She shifts a step closer, brushing an arm against mine. Her natural quietness lends a sense of solidarity. Somehow, I feel the faintest bit calmer now.  

“Is your aunt here?” I ask suddenly, remembering who she said she lived with. 

“I believe Lady Burke pulled her away for a moment. You're welcome to greet her when she returns.”

While I'd prefer to ask Lady Lestrange if I can request a dance from her niece, this situation is more comfortable when I can ask her directly. Or it's a testament to how disarming Eloise's natural charm can be.

“Actually, I wa-”

Just as I open my mouth, a booming voice grabs the room's attention.

“Honored guests, may I present to you, Lord Calyx and Lady Adelia Rosewater.”

Notes:

Tagalog translations:

Nay/Nanay- Mum, Mother
Bebe- baby
Mahal kita- I love you
Mahal din kita- I love you too

Chapter 25: A Winter's Ball: Part 2

Summary:

At the ball, Adelia accidentally runs into a waiter, spilling liquid onto both their outfits. While getting cleaned up, they speak about their lives, and Adelia's feelings toward her future become muddled.
On the dance floor, in the arms of a stranger, Adelia acts on an impulse.

Notes:

This chapter has been a bit difficult to write, as I saw several different ways it could go. Now that I've finished it, the next chapter should either come out at the same time or right after.

Hope you enjoy reading & discovering the newest character. I liked creating him, so let's see if he comes across as I intended.

Enjoy!

“Fei or Badeau?”

“Badeau,” Jiho comments, sipping his champagne. “She’s witty, talented on a broom- and let’s face it- her chest is one breath away from breaking out of that corset.”

Gross. Why am I always stuck with two teenage boys? Granted, Sebastian tones it down around me while Ominis rarely indulges Sebastian’s ‘observations’. 

Skirt-chasers, the lot of 'em.

Calyx hums, following Jiho’s gesturing to the voluptuous Frenchwoman decked in a lace frock that hugs her torso like a second skin. While the boys ogle the unsuspecting woman, Adelia grimaces from their shadows, empathizing with the poor witch’s ill-fitting dress. Matilde Badeau is the lesser-known sister of Millie Badeau, the inventor of a popular perfume that took the upper crust of London by storm. Based on the way the girl keeps simultaneously tugging the dress up and down, Adelia could only assume it was a hand-me-down from her sister.

If I find her in the powder room later, I’ll offer to redo her corset lacing. At the very least, Yavvy or Norby could do it while I lengthen her dress’s hem.

“Right,” Calyx nods. “But check out Fei’s dancing skills. I overheard Septimus Malfoy claiming her flexibility is impressive.”

In the middle of the dance floor, Huixing Fei leads her partner in a waltz, unlike any other couple where the man is typically leading. However, both partners are happily accepting this arrangement, moving fluidly across the floor like water rushing from a stream. Adelia is mesmerized watching it, though her heart clenches at the thought that she possesses but an ounce of the elegance Huixing does. 

“You’re all about flexibility, huh?” Jiho questions with a teasing smirk on his face. “Then why do you pine after the most uptight bird in the year?”

“She’s not uptight, just… irritatingly inflexible.”

Calyx glances away while sipping his wine. Jiho’s smirk only grows more amused at his display.  

"Too bad you never tested her flexibility. Looks like Malfoy will beat you to it," He says off-handedly.

"What?"

Frantically snapping his head behind him, Calyx immediately seeks out the woman in question. Only to see she's chastising her brother, Leander, instead. Once he realizes he got tricked, Calyx's hand clenches hard around his glass. Jiho's carefree laugh is easygoing enough to lessen his anger, settling on rolling his eyes instead.

"Alright, laugh it up. Next time you fancy someone, I'll be the one having a laugh and pranking your dates."

“Hm, unlikely. Only MacMillan has a bird that drops by. Thought I saw you sneak out of the dorms a few times, but I never caught you.”

“I left to get butterbeer from Sirona,” Calyx’s voice drops, suddenly glancing around warily at passersby. “And that’s all I’ll say on the record.”

“Getting in free butterbeers without me? I’m hurt,” Jiho smacks his chest with an exaggerated sad face. “I thought we were brothers.”

“When you pay off your tab, then maybe we’ll revisit that thought.”

Word of paying off his tab gets Adelia’s attention, and she glances over in confusion. Of all the times Jiho has been known to wile away hours inside the Three Broomsticks, Calyx has never once encouraged him to put his galleons where they’re owed. 

Is he trying to take on more responsibility? I noticed he’s been in detention a lot less lately, hasn’t even been snapping about Father when his name came up. 

She smiles, lifting the champagne glass she has been nursing for well over two hours for another sip.

If that’s the case, then he's truly becoming an adult. I’m proud of him.

“Adelia! Zere you are, ma fée!” A slightly slurred French accent calls to the dark haired witch.

Oh no. The more he’s drunk, the more incoherent French noises he mumbles.

An unbidden smile pulls at Adelia’s lips as she awaits one of the man's typical ostentatious greetings. Squeezing Adelia’s shoulders while kissing both cheeks is her tipsy Uncle Luc, smelling of expensive cologne and red wine. Despite the lingering scent of alcohol on his breath, Adelia can’t help but feel a sense of relief at his familiar, rosy-cheeked face.

“Bonsoir, Uncle Luc. Having a good evening?”

“Oui, darling. But why are you in zee curtains, not dancing? Zee night is young and so are you!"

“Soon, Uncle. I’m just… taking it all in.”

Adelia huffs out a laugh, glancing behind her at a large window showcasing the dark blue sky, the endless stars making up for its hidden moon. Casting her gaze towards the garden, she wistfully takes in the empty garden. For a moment, she allows herself to imagine escaping for a midnight walk with someone who wholeheartedly desires her.

Shifting her gaze back, she glances around him for any sign of her cousin. “Are you escorting Carina tonight?” 

“Yes, but I ‘ave lost her. She was whisked away by a young woman, near the musicians.” 

Luc takes a wide step to look for her but stops when another drink tray appears under his nose. 

“I ‘ave drank all of zee wine your cha’ming attendants left for me. Too many trays left alone, zhat is either a mistake or a gift. Ze more, zhe merrier for me!”

“That’s lovely, Uncle Luc. Have you greeted Cal yet?”

Ignoring the frantic hand gestures, Adelia gives Calyx a sickly sweet smile while directing her slightly swaying uncle to his side. More wet kisses are planted on both Calyx’s cheeks, and she struggles to contain her laughter at the death glare he directs over Luc’s shoulder. Jiho, sensing that he’s next, slinks away from them to join Adelia. Calyx's only hope now is for Carina to appear soon and prevent her father from talking his ear off. 

“So,” Jiho starts, dark eyes shimmering under the candlelight. “How are you enjoying your debut? Is it everything you imagined?”

The witch huffs out a sigh, downing the rest of her flute in one go. Jiho winces, smoothly swapping the loosely held glass for a fresh one while eyeing her movements.

“That bad?” 

Blinking back tears, she shrugs, burying her face in the glass. Furrowing his brow, Jiho wraps an arm around her shoulder, giving her a side hug. While brief, the warmth and concern radiating off the older boy are enough to loosen the lump in her throat. 

“It’s just… I had this idea of how this whole night was going to go, you know? I’d show up, wearing a pretty dress, finally able to join the crowd of people and be accepted as one of them. But now that I’m here, my feet have started to hurt from these heels, the only people I’ve worked up the courage to talk to have been you and Cal, and…”

As her words drifted off, Jiho quietly watched as her eyes locked onto a pair dancing elegantly across the floor. As soon as the music stops, the blonde man bows and lifts his wand, searching for a young woman waiting patiently at a nearby table. They exchange a few words and small smiles. The moment the music starts again, the man sighs and finds a new woman. They write on each other's dance cards, then find an open space as the violins begin again. 

“And?” Jiho prompts.

“Maybe I misread things,” She says quietly, fidgeting with her ring. “But I thought that someone would be interested enough to request a dance with me.”

“Are you sure he even saw you?” Jiho asks, a frown growing as he glances between her and the boy. “Perhaps if you flaunt your pretty dress near him, that would certainly pique his interest.” 

Adelia lightly laughs, shaking her head.

“He’s blind, Jiho.”

“I’ll bet.”

At her questioning glance, he elaborates.

“You’re like a little sister to me, so I need you to hear this,” He says, taking on a rare moment of seriousness. “Any guy would be lucky to dance with you, Lia. If he can’t see that- fuck, if he can’t understand that? Then he’s not worth it. And I’ll prove it to you.”

His eyes suddenly brightened, tossing aside her nearly full glass of champagne and encouraging her forward. However, Jiho didn’t account for his raw strength from years of Quidditch combined with Adelia’s weary ankles from her heels. Instead of moving her towards the dance floor, he sent her into a full-body slam against an unsuspecting stranger. 

She lands heavily on top of a warm mass, a set of strong arms wrapped around her in an embrace that sends her heart into a tailspin. For the first time that evening, her shoulders relaxed at the sensation, a flickering fireplace in a snowy landscape. However, as the cold liquid drenches patches of her back and legs, that feeling quickly switches to dread. 

Opening her eyes to meet a pair of dazed, deep brown ones, Adelia is struck with the realization that she’s atop the most handsome man she’s ever seen in her life. Likely one of the attendants, if his lack of an overcoat and uniform is an appropriate measure to judge by. Not that she has taken a second glance at any of the employees hired for this event, though by the typical standard for the job, he must be attractive at the least. 

And he is.

“Excuse me, do you mind getting up?” The man’s deep voice requests. “My hand is starting to lose circulation.”

“Oh!”

Standing up in a rush, the witch realizes her knee was pressing his hand directly onto the floor. Thankfully, none of the glasses nearby was shattered. Based on the way the ancient magic is swirling at her fingertips, Adelia would hazard a guess that, for once, her nerves prevented the worst possible outcome. 

“I’m so sorry,” She squeaks, offering him a hand.

His gaze flickers to the fading blue glow leaking from her fingertips. An unreadable expression crosses his face before he visibly relaxes.

“That’s alright, my lady. Accidents happen.”

Politely accepting her offer, the man hauls himself up before taking out a wand to collect all of the errant glasses rolling into shoes and under tables. The man, no, the wizard doesn’t appear perturbed by this mishap, rather ignoring the dark red stain on his shirt and vest while performing his duty with an unflappable, almost cold determination. 

“Are you okay? Your hand.”

Jumping at Jiho’s sudden reappearance, she hardly reacts when he gently cradles one of her wrists in his hand. The bloody scrapes take her by surprise, having not noticed her injury when bracing against the floor. With a practiced casting of a healing spell, her wound is cleaned and closed up. There’s a small pale scar left behind, and he winces, not possessing the full skill to remove the blemish.

Just her luck. Her gloves are too short to cover the imperfection. Feeling the rising tide of anxiety swelling in her gut, Adelia flexes her fingers four times on each hand. 

Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open.

Don’t panic, we’re still in public. Just pretend everything’s fine. Maybe Jiho can distract anyone willing to gossip about this accident.

“Jiho?”

“Already on it,” He winks.

Dropping her shoulders in relief, the witch turns to assess the remaining damage. Thankfully, by preventing the glass from shattering, she managed to mitigate most of the sound from their fall. Adelia whips out her wand to clean away the spilled liquids while Jiho slips away to charm the guests that witnessed it, somehow getting them to laugh about an unrelated topic. Once the man is finished, he turns to her with a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I apologize for getting in your way,” He says monotonously, a few of his words tinged with a vaguely Eastern European accent. “However, I must go back to the kitchen-”

He pauses as he takes in her disheveled appearance, still dripping a combination of alcohol onto the hardwood floors. No, more than that, once his eyes properly trace her face, he looks in disbelief. His laser focus is enough to make her cheeks flush, matching the stain on his shirt.

“Adelia Rosewater?”

“Yes?” She responds, confused. 

Do we know each other? He looks vaguely familiar, but there’s no way I could forget someone as attractive as him.

"Scheiße,” He mutters angrily, running a hand through his cropped hair. “Follow me.”

He begins walking around the perimeter of the ballroom before abruptly stopping and turning back to her lingering figure. 

“Please, my lady,” He adds as an afterthought.

Pushing down an amused laugh, Adelia nods. As they slip through the fringes of the room, she feels the hair on her neck stand, as though someone is watching her leave. Surveying the room, her eyes land on a red dot that trails her movement. Even though he wasn’t nearby when the crash happened, Ominis managed to find her in the throngs of debutantes.

For a moment, everyone else disappears until it's just the two of them, observing each other from opposite corners of the ballroom.

There. He finally found me.

A small grin tugs on her lips, and she takes a step forward, only to halt when another debutante pulls his focus away. Uncomfortably shifting on her feet, Adelia waits for his attention to turn back to her. Except, when she reaches to sign his dance card, he accepts without another thought. They disappear into the crowd of dancers.

“Miss Rosewater?”

A burning sensation pricks at the corners of her eyes. Lip quivering, she musters up a shaky breath that contains the tears, and she puts on her pueblood mask. Feeling disjointed, she nods with a tight smile, mindlessly continuing her task.

The witch easily follows him through the illusioned servant entrance at the back of the ballroom, only having difficulties when ducking through the doorway to the kitchens, as its height was intended for house elves.

Her mind finally processes that he's leading her away from the crowds. "Where are you taking me?" 

Though she slows to speak, the man continues walking at a brisk pace, forcing her to step quicker to catch up. The attendant gestures to her dress with noticeable stains along its skirt, unable to be hidden by the dark fabric. 

"Spells can't fix everything, my lady. We have emergency potions to lessen the damage," He says.

Holding out a hand, Adelia stops him. 

"But why would you go this far for me?"

Did he see how hurt I was earlier? He didn't have to take me away to help me collect myself. That's far beyond the scope of his job, no matter how kind of a gesture.

He slowly faces her, his polite smile slipping into a neutral, almost bored, expression.

"I was given explicit instructions to ensure this party goes off without a hitch, especially with regards to Adelia Rosewater's debut. Forgive me, but I would like to collect my full paycheck tonight."

Ouch. Never mind.

"I see," She nods. "Thank you."

Passing into the secluded storage room, the attendant rifles through a cleaning cabinet holding medical supplies in case of an emergency. Adelia gingerly folds her dress, sitting on a stack of potatoes.  

"Miss Rosewater-"

"Adelia."

"Hm?" He hums, distractedly.

The attendant pauses over a red vial, holding it up for a sniff test, then placing it onto his rapidly accumulating pile. 

"Please, call me Adelia. We've arguably become well acquainted by now. Proximity-wise, at least,” She jests, hoping the humor infused in her voice comes across.

"I politely decline."

Blinking rapidly, she unfolds her ankles, back ramrod straight. The exposed skin of her legs brushes against the rough burlap sacks.

"Why not?"

Frowning in displeasure, the man carries his secured goods over to the potato sacks and spreads them in a way that only makes sense to him.

"As long as I wear this uniform, I am your humble servant. I must insist on calling you Miss Rosewater," He says, not bothering to glance at her.

Fine. Two can play at that game.

"I'll accept that, so long as I may know your name."

"Henry," He responds immediately.

"Is the family name one I must earn? I fear I'm at quite the disadvantage."

A flash of a smirk is all she sees as he kneels, wetting a clean rag with a thin blue jug. The fresh scent of cleaning solution wafts from her dress as he wipes at the easiest to reach stains on her skirt. Luckily, the wine is barely visible on the dark fabric. If anything, the scent was more obvious. Unless each spot is fixed, she’ll walk around smelling of the sticky tables at the Three Broomsticks after a Hogsmeade weekend trip.

Henry breaks his silence. "If we're bartering, then we must agree upon the terms."

"Hm, alright. What do you have in mind?"

"If you tell me the reason for your tears, then I'll say which family I currently reside with,” He suggests, scrubbing harder at a particularly tough stain.

"Is it not your own family?"

His features are too aristocratic to be a muggleborn; silky, albeit short, brown hair with chiseled features and a dismissive attitude. He bears no wedding band. He’s old enough to be betrothed, but it’s very inappropriate for an unwed couple to live together. Able to cast magic but lives with a family other than his own? I’m intrigued.

"Ah, ah. My lips are sealed. Do we have a deal?"

Lifting from the ground, he offers his hand. Considering the tradeoff as harmless, she shakes his hand.

"Deal."

Quirking his lips into the first real smile she’s seen, Adelia is taken aback by how handsome he is. 

He must make expensive tips.

Gesturing for her to stand, the witch complies, smoothing down the back of her dress while Henry grabs a new rag. He had made quick work with the front, the intricate lace appearing as perfect as the day it was delivered. Awkwardly resting in a half-squat, he resumes cleaning the back of her dress.

"So, was it a boy who made you cry?"

Her head whips down to him but he simply shifts with her, unbothered.

"How did you know?” She eventually asks. “I could've been upset over the decor or taste of the champagne."

"Timing, my lady. When you stopped on our way here, I saw how you reacted to someone in the crowd. Naturally, I could assume the rest.”

Huffing out a pitiful laugh, Adelia wraps her arms around herself.

“He's my… classmate. Someone I've struggled to get along with but we eventually formed a strong bond. It's my fault for wanting more. I should've just accepted our friendship for what it was. Now I'm hopelessly pining for a man who chose to dance with every other girl here besides me. The worst part is… I can't blame him for not being interested in me. I just wish he told me before I humiliated myself.”

Henry listens silently, fingers working efficiently to get out every little imperfection. She can't tell if it's to avoid giving his opinion or if he wants to fix her clothes that badly.

“Take it from a guy who was once sixteen, we're all idiots at that age. Half of us wouldn't know a girl fancied us unless she literally spelled it out,” He says. “Tell him.”

Did I write in a way that was too convoluted? At the very least, I asked him to seek me out. Ominis is great at solving puzzles, he could easily figure that one out.

She shakes her head. “I asked him to meet me tonight. What you saw earlier was confirmation he saw me yet didn't want to talk to me.”

“As I said before, you're only sixteen. Even when you become a little older, like me, you'll understand there's plenty of other fish in the sea. Pureblood fish in an artificially stimulated environment, what joy.”

Smiling lightly at his sarcasm, Adelia can understand what point he was making.

“You're right. Suppose it's childish to cry over a boy.”

He hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing. The cleaning solution has seeped through the fabric of her dress enough to cause a shiver. It makes her feel worse.

“Hard to say, my lady. I've found that meaningful relationships are always worth the heartache.”

“Have you had your heart broken many times?”

“Quite the opposite,” He replies. “But I meant any type of relationship, not just a romantic one.”

With a face like that, I'm hardly surprised.

“Did you leave someone behind when you came to England?” She can't help herself from wondering aloud.

He lightly laughs, standing to fling the dirty rags into an empty container. Turning to the pile, he searches for another vial.

“I believe our deal was for a different question,” He teases. “However, it seems you need a distraction and this job pays pretty well, so I'll spare few details.”

Rifling through until he pulls out a square vial containing a shimmering purple potion, he nods triumphantly. With a final clean cloth, Henry spills a generous amount of potion onto it and gently grasps her wrist, holding it against her closed scar. 

A gasp curls in the back of her throat and she swallows it down. Based on the knowing look he sends, it wasn't quiet enough. 

“I'm from England, originally. Derbyshire, to be precise. Attended Durmstrang since I was 11, that's where the accent comes from. We spoke German, primarily. Made genuine friendships and loved my time there. Still trying to go back.”

His dark brown eyes dull, appearing just like they did after Adelia ran into him earlier.

“That's why I've got this job,” He gestures to his stained uniform. “Saving up enough to move to Germany, so I have enough money to get my own place and find a job without visa complications or imposing on my friends.”

That sounds exactly like something Sebastian would say. I wonder if he'd take up a serving job. Merlin knows he possesses enough charm for it.

“Why did you come back to England?” She asks, head tilting in confusion. “Couldn't you have just stayed there?”

He chuckles dryly, lifting the cloth to see the progress before pulling away. Examining her tan skin reveals no indication her skin was ever marred. 

As she goes to thank Henry, she's stopped by the amusing sight of him pouring heaps of potions onto a rag, sparing not a single drop for the stains on his uniform. It's as though he has no qualms about rationing ingredients when it comes to someone else's property. She holds back a snort at the reminder of her own behavior towards random chests she has found within caves and around Hogwarts.

“Well, I have to renew my travel visa back in my home country. Unfortunately, there have been some… complications due to my parents, so I've been staying with the Lestranges for the past few years. Serving can only provide so much income, but this has been a steady job, and the tips are nothing to sniff at.”

Having never traveled outside of England, even to visit her ancestors in the Phillipines, Henry's intention to live outside of the country is both confusing and intriguing.

“If tonight has been any indication, it shouldn't take much longer,” She says, indicating towards her dress. “You, good sir, deserve a raise.”

“Could I get that in writing?”

Laughter rumbles from her chest, the feeling providing her with comfort after the sheer chill of a night bundled with nerves. Long after the sensation fades, a small smile remains etched onto her lips.

“So, that's your dream?”

“Yeah,” He agrees, his stoic demeanor relaxing. “What's yours?”

Lips parted to speak, Adelia licks her lips as they start to dry out. She realizes that her life has been planned out for her this entire time, and dreaming isn't something that was ever a possibility.

Obviously, becoming a witch meant that she could study magic and find a wizard husband, but that's all it really meant. Everything involving ancient magic means following the lead of Professor Fig, George Osric, and the Keepers.

Nothing she has done or looks forward to is of her own volition. 

What does she dream of?

“I-I don't know. I don't think I have one,” She admits. 

“None?” His eyebrow quirks up. “What about something small? A dream you can achieve tonight.”

Truly pondering his question, her mind drifts to the one thing she has wanted all night. A simple dance, with a man who thinks she's pretty. 

“A dance,” She declares. “With a handsome man that's interested in me.”

“That's your dream?” He repeats her earlier question.

She nods shyly.

Finally free of the scent of wine and champagne, Henry stands before her in his sparkling clean shirt with a small, quirky smile, holding out his elbow. Slowly wrapping her arm around him with her restored outfit and injuries, he escorts her right to the entry hall then gestures inside.

“No better time to achieve that dream, Miss Rosewater.”

~~~~~~

Moping around isn't going to change her feelings, she knows that. However, Adelia’s talk with the attendant made her realize something. 

She doesn't have to wait around for a man to ask her. If this year has taught her anything, nothing will be accomplished if she doesn't seek it out for herself.

Slipping into the upbeat groups is easy, tamping down the anxiety that had begun seizing her fingertips in an uncomfortably familiar rhythm. 

Her body feels loose and carefree, the weight of the witch's stress flying away under the warm candlelight of the dancefloor. Adelia's current partner spins her arm once more, and she twirls away, arms loose as they spin around another pair of dancers. 

Henry was right. This is surprisingly fun.

Why did I even wait for Ominis to ask me in the first place? From the start, all I had to do was join the group dances.

The only thing that could make this better is making that grumpy man loosen up to the music.

Tapping the floor in a matching rhythm to the lively beat, she almost feels as though she could fly. Swirls of colors dance across her vision, filling her heart with sentimental joy at this shared experience.

A strong set of hands suddenly grabs her waist, lifting her body in time with the other witches. An unbidden giggle explodes out of her chest in delight, and she smiles on the descent, seeking out the new partner. His hand pulls her waist against his firm chest, the other hand firmly securing their fingers together. 

The girl's heart, already pumping at an accelerated rate, skips a beat. A quiet gasp leaves her mouth as they pause between the slowing bodies, twirling around our still ones. Though her lacy gloves rests against his starched white, high-collared shirt, she can feel a quicker rhythm beneath the hard press of her fingers. 

The man tilts his head towards hers, an accomplished smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. As the music fades, the only sound she can hear is their combined breaths. 

“Henry,” Adelia breathes out, staring up in shock. “You’re actually here.”

Internally cringing at her words, she can only hope he takes her earnest delight positively. True to her wishes, he takes her comment in stride.

“In the flesh. I aim to please, my lady. Feel free to reflect that delight in your tip.”

Henry smirks, showcasing a small dimple on his right cheek. Adelia gets the sudden urge to caress his cheek, investigating the dimple with a gentle press of her thumb. 

“Thank you,” She hesitantly smiles, a shy twitch of her pink lips.

He speaks gently, cracking a sincere smile. “Of course.”

Someone coughs pointedly, and Adelia jumps, glancing around at the rapidly shifting dancefloor. While she was enraptured in his hold, everyone around them had transitioned to a polka dance, fluttering around the frozen pair like a ribbon in the wind. Adelia steps away with a strong blush, not noticing Henry’s hands slowly falling away. 

Politely curtseying to her partner, she pushes through the crowd to the fringes of the dancefloor until a strong hand grabs her wrist. 

“Wait!”

A strong grip on her wrist narrowly tugs her away from a twirling pair, pulling her back to him. Gasping at their sudden closeness, Adelia stares at him, bemused. Slightly teetering on her heels, she hovers nervously, unsure where to position her limbs. Henry, taking note of her nerves, opts to shift into a starting pose. He asks for her hand, to which she gently places it in his palm.

“You wished to dance, right?” He asks while properly adjusting their arms. “Why stop now?”

“Are you sure?” She asks nervously, eyes shifting to the other couples. “You’ve already helped me once. I couldn’t ask you to do so again.”

“Then don’t ask,” He responds firmly.

With a firm grasp, he twirls her body around, spinning directly into his awaiting arms. 

“Allow me the honor, this time.”

Slowly turning her around to face him, Henry raises his eyebrows, looking expectantly. A genuine smile breaks her face, staving off all of her nerves. Squeezing his hand, Adelia tips her head in a show of sincerity.

Breaking her expectations, the attendant adjusts into a strong, if not slightly too stiff, series of moves. It only piques her interest in him further.

That's a bit unfair, isn't it? A beautiful face and fluid dance moves? He's almost too good to be true.

“Does Durmstrang specialize in the art of the dance?” She can't help herself in asking.

“None of those classes were offered to me,” He jokes, matching her tone. “But, you'd be surprised how similar dancing is to fighting.”

Now that he mentions it, the stiffness in his upper body makes sense. Even the hand holding hers is held with a grip she uses when fighting off goblins and dugbogs.

“I understand now. Since we're dueling, which creature do you imagine me as? Puffskein? Mooncalf?”

At his hearty laugh, Adelia matches with a chuckle of her own. He thinks for a moment, flashing an award-winning smile at a pair of wealthy ladies not-so-subtly eyeing him. The division of attention hurts less than she thought it would, especially when she receives his answer.

“Hippogriff, perhaps? Tall and noble from the outside containing their inner soft side. Though that's only privy to those who gain their trust.”

A stray wish rises to the surface of her mind. It's very impulsive, but the atmosphere of the night raises her confidence enough to mention it.

“And would you?”

She continues upon noticing his confusion. 

“Be interested in gaining that trust?”

Looking surprised, Henry silently leads her through the rotating crowd for a few more steps until they separate into small circles. Loud cheers ring through the ballroom as the music swells. Unlike her prior dance with Calyx, Adelia is finding herself growing more comfortable within the crowd. 

As they find each other again, Henry pulls her in far closer than the other couples have been. Stepping into his space, she’s suddenly overcome with the intoxicating aroma of citrus and spice, the type of scent she would immediately buy from an apothecary or novelty stand.

Smelling his tidy uniform, Adelia forgets where she is until his tie skims her bare shoulder, jolting her back to the present.

That’s embarrassing. Please don't notice that.

…He does smell very nice, though. I wonder what lotions he uses.

“If that is what you wish, my lady, then I am your humble servant,” Henry says before pulling back, flashing a charming smile her way.

My lady, again? Coming from him, the words are almost too sweet.

Matching his grin with a brighter one of hers, Adelia’s heart unwittingly skips a beat. It’s an odd sensation, one she had only felt before when Ominis got too close or let down his guard enough to compliment her genuinely. Suffice it to say, she likes this feeling.

With a few final words, they glide into the new group rotation with an elegant ease, blending seamlessly into the swaying gowns and clacking heels.

They continue dancing through the night, blissfully unaware of the blinking red light following their every footstep.

Notes:

French translation:
ma fée - my fairy
Bonsoir - good evening
Oui - yes

German translation:
Scheiße - shit

Chapter 26: A Winter's Ball: Part 3

Summary:

Adelia seeks out her favorite hidden spot in the gardens, only for Ominis to find her there. Tensions rise as jealousy grows between them, until neither can take it anymore.

Notes:

Hello!

This chapter is one I had written out ahead of the previous one, but kept editing becuase I wasn't sure where to draw the line at. In the Harry Potter universe, they become adults on their 17th birthdays, yet still attend Hogwarts for that final year.
That led me to decide that engagements can only become official after either both members of the couple turn 17 or they graduate from school. It also decided how far the romance would go between the main couple, at this point in time.
Hope you all have as much fun reading this as I had typing.

Enjoy!

The Rosewater Garden is protected from the harshest of winter's frosty touch, hosting several protection and preservation spells that retain the beauty while kicking out the snowfall. Several bushes and trees have decorative snowcaps to maintain the illusion of the cold season without killing any of the carefully maintained flora. 

Beyond the main pathways leading to a hedge maze, boasting a stone fountain within its depths, a humble greenhouse is planted off to the left. To the right, a gazebo allows a spectacular view into most of the garden while hidden in plain view. Unless someone was intentionally seeking it out, then it's difficult to stumble across it on their first visit.

So when a tall, blonde Slytherin emerges from the rose bushes, Adelia jumps in fright. Not that he's an unwelcome presence but she finds herself searching over his shoulder for another person.

"Oh, Ominis! Are you here by yourself?"

Adelia's eyes scan for a certain willowy girl, somehow not glued to his side anymore. Neither she nor Marcia Gaunt is lurking around as far as her eyes can tell over the tops of the rose bushes. 

A light wind blows a thin layer of snow off the tall hedge maze, unable to mar its perfectly green foliage. With the lifted vantage point, Adelia was sure she could see right into the house from the little gazebo she had taken refuge in.

"I am,” He reaches the final step, trailing snow with each press of his oxfords. “And, unless my wand somehow broke in the last minute, you also came alone."

She breathes in. The nearby climbing branches of wisteria cut through the lemongrass wafting from his direction. She forces down a blush as he nears, offering a spot near where her arms hang off the railing.

"Yes, I... needed a breath of fresh air."

"As did I."

Observing the darkened night sky, Adelia recalls the Filipino fable she shared with Ominis regarding his eyes. Glancing between his face and the millions of glittering stars, she isn’t sure which one captivates her more.

"It's a beautiful night," She comments, smiling as the stars almost wink at her.

"Sure looks like it."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "It's a new moon. The sky is clear and overflowing with shining stars. There are worse ways to end the night."

Clearing his throat, Ominis shifts his torso towards her. A blinking red light shines against her arm, and she waves her hand in front of it, wondering if he’d let her create shapes within its shadows.

"Speaking of which, I'm surprised you didn't run off with the bloke you've been dancing with all night."

Shaking out of her thoughts, Adelia raises an eyebrow at his change in subject.

"Were you spying on us?" She accuses.

"Yes, because my eyesight recovered solely to watch your rendezvous with a wizard," He states sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

How dare he? After ignoring my letter and avoiding me all night, he dares to be snarky about it. Is this all one big joke to him?

"Don't act like it's improper for me to dance with a partner who actually asked to share my company."

"It wasn't improper, the first time,” He says, flicking his wand off-handedly. “By the third, you had every gossiping witch sharing elaborate details of how he swept you off your feet, and you couldn't take your eyes off each other."

Her heart beats faster.

"Jealous?" 

"I have no envy for a wizard that no other witch wished to break in her heels with."

Say the one who never left the dance floor.

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

"I am very wealthy. It comes with my name,” He remarks pompously.

"Hypocrite is an odd middle name, but it suits you," She snarks right back.

That strikes a nerve in him. His nostrils flare, and his ears turn so red that she’s sure fire would soon burst out of the tips. She barely conceals a cackle at the thought of him transfigured into a blast-ended skrewt.

"And what do you mean by that?" 

"Like I didn't watch you switch partners more than healers with a Dragon Pox patient," She remarks, crossing her arms.

Twitching as his wand picks up her movements, the corners of his lips quirk into a dastardly smirk. He confidently leans against a gazebo pillar, absent-mindedly ruffling his hair. A few strands fall onto his forehead, catching Adelia’s attention.

Now he’s just trying to distract me.

Devious git.

"Now who sounds jealous?" He smirks, appearing thoroughly amused. “If you wanted a turn, all you had to do was request one.”

Now you notice? Figured it would take you disruptive fireworks and a boatload of charms to see me. Metaphorically, of course.

And the point of my note was to sound cool and mysterious, so that he would ask me. I didn’t intend to be the one to approach first; he should know that.

"You wish,” She lies through her teeth. “I thought you cared enough to get to know someone before sharing a moment of intimacy."

"I'd hardly describe any of my encounters tonight as intimate. Those dances were arranged by my mother earlier this week. It wasn't a personal choice."

"It never is," She scoffs.

Unlike his eyesight, the Slytherin’s hearing is still top-notch.

"Are you implying I wanted to be paraded around like a prized Hippogriff?" He asks, amazed by her audacity.

"If the leather oxfords fit," She replies, matching his attitude.

"You know as well as I do what familial expectations mean.”

His jaw clenches, face tilting towards the sky as though it's the one speaking to him.

"I do,” She nods, growing angrier. “Which is why, after everything we went through together with Sebastian, you'd throw that away for what? A shiny family crest and a bought bride?"

"Better that than publicly throwing yourself at a man to force a marriage,” He spits out, refusing to turn towards her.

"Seriously, Ominis?" She huffs, stomping towards the stairs. "I'm not the one projecting here, am I?"

He is so infuriating! All I did was dance with someone. Why is that a bad thing? It's not like he cares enough about me to ask. Especially after he ignored my letter.

Besides, he was the one who spent the whole night in other witches’ arms. Why does he care who I dance with?

Adelia stops at that thought, planting her heels firmly on the ground. 

Wait, why does he care so much? He's never been that overprotective before.

Turning to face Ominis, she finds his body still searching the night sky for answers he'll never see, a breeze rustling his neat blonde hair. He looked picturesque, too put together for someone so concerned for her well-being not thirty seconds ago. 

Did I misinterpret this again? Does he secretly like me back? Ugh. This is too confusing.

If he does, then maybe he was too shy to ask? That doesn’t sound like him, but from my experience, crushes can make you act completely differently.

If I made the first move, would he accept it?

Taking a deep breath, she runs a hand along the railing until it bumps into his, gaining his startled attention.

"What does it mean to you?" She asks, eyes desperately searching his face for answers. "That I danced with a boy."

Even in the dim light, Adelia witnesses his back stiffen. It’s silent for a moment.

“Why would you ask me that?” 

His eyes squinted a bit, looking over her left shoulder in confusion.

“I want to know the answer,” She insists.

"Again, I will ask you, why? What weight would my opinion hold?" He deflects.

Slipping off her gloves, subtly wiping the nervous sweat onto her dress, Adelia lays a hand on top of his. Automatically, his hand flips around to lace them together. The intermittent red light of his wand picking up something that distracts him enough to cause his eyes to widen.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"More than you realize."

“Adelia?”

Rapidly blinking, Ominis slips away from the railing, slinking backwards as though he’s a bunny outmaneuvering a fox. While surprise heavily coats his features, Adelia recognizes a familiar glint in his eyes. The same one that grows steadily in their most intimate moments, a spark he cannot hide, no matter how much he wants to.

Tonight, Adelia has made a promise to herself. One that will not be broken, especially if there’s a possibility he feels the same. With each hesitant step backward, she takes a slightly more determined step forward.

"Tell me to stop," She quietly demands, stepping closer. "Tell me to walk away, to sneak through the garden and into the crowds."

“Adelia,” He breathes out, voice pitched higher than normal.

“Tell me to resume dancing like nothing has changed between us. Tell me to stop touching you."

His back hits a pillar, and he lifts his wand in alarm, fingers grazing her sides as he searches for an exit. Her shaking fingers gently trace his clenched jaw. Ominis inhales quickly, features drifting from anger to confusion to something lost.

"You sho-shouldn't do this," He falters.

He grabs her hand. She stills but refuses to retract it from his face. 

With a final gulp, Adelia takes the last remaining step closer. "Tell me you don't feel this attraction, too. The way it eats me up inside. A blazing inferno that consumes everything until you're all that remains."

Her thumb traces his jaw absentmindedly. She leans into his hand, voice on the verge of a whisper.

“Ominis, please.”

Her final beg awakens something in him. His hand secures hers tightly, reaching with his other to slide around her back. With a strength she was unaware he possessed, Ominis pulls her body flush to his.

Slowly moving closer to give him time to pull away, Adelia lifts onto her toes, face hovering over his. His eyes are half-lidded, fluttering shut the moment her breath fans across his lips. 

An experimental press of her lips against his knocks her nose awkwardly into his. Readjusting her head sideways, she gradually finds his lips once more. It's a bit awkward at first, with inexperience shining through their movements, but they begin to grow more comfortable with each passing moment.

His pale lips are slightly rough, a sign of the winter solstice, but warm enough to send a tingling sensation down her spine.

Lifting a hand to the back of his head, Adelia gently runs her fingers through his soft, golden strands. This causes a reaction, his arms wrapping around her more firmly. Hesitantly rubbing small circles into her spine, he seeks out approval (that she readily gives) before gently tracing the full length of her back.

“You feel beautiful,” He mumbles, testing the soft fabric against his fingers.

“T-Thank you. You feel beautiful, too. Look! Look beautiful, I mean.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of him. His moonstone eyes glimmer as his pale cheeks darken pink, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He searches for her hand, placing it directly over his heart.

“You have permission to feel me, too.”

Adelia inhales, gazing up at him with wide eyes. No one else exists at this moment, just the two of them.

Dancing along the cool fabric of his silken collar, Adelia finds his pulse point. The rapid beats match her own, their hearts practically bursting out in matching songs. Lit up by this revelation, she secures his collar and eagerly pulls him back in for another soft brush of his mouth.

By the third kiss, Ominis has grown confident, his lips pressing incessantly against her own. A healthy flush travels steadily down from her cheekbones to her neck. The wizard wastes little time following the trail agonizingly slow, each gentle touch creating more butterflies in her stomach.

"Ominis," She gasps.

Has he done this before? This was my first kiss, but he's either dated someone in the past or is a swift learner.

She squeezes his dress robes, sliding her nails underneath to clutch onto his grey button-down. Their bodies are squashed against the pillar, and she shivers, an unfamiliar exhilarating sensation filling her as all her senses dial in on Ominis. He swallows her gasp with a groan of his own, angling her chin up to a new angle.

"Adelia," He responds against her lips.

It should be illegal, the way he says my name, especially in that voice.

Twinkling stars illuminated the pair, with a few rustles from the nearby rose bushes barely audible over the shifting of fabric and quiet, yet desperate, presses of lips against one another. 

She doesn’t even recognize herself; how vulnerable she becomes, as readily she encourages his ministrations. If Rookwood himself were to appear, she doesn’t think she has the willpower to break away from Ominis’s oh-so-warm and secure embrace.

A wet swipe of something slides across her bottom lip, and she gasps, opening her mouth a bit wider. Ominis takes advantage of that movement, licking at the pillowy texture before slipping it into her mouth. Unsure of what to do next, Adelia shyly opts to follow his lead. He hums in delight at her docile gesture.

Scratching his fingernails on the hair at the bottom of her neck, Adelia feels a pleasurable burning in her torso, sending tingles across her skin. The sensation draws out an instinctual, breathy noise she has never made before. 

His whole body stiffens in response. He pulls away, head falling to land on her shoulder. The pleasant buzz in her head almost prevents his words from being processed.

"We can't do this. If anyone were to find us... your reputation, it would be driven through the mud. You would be publicly pressured to marry me."

"I'm willing to take that risk," She comments immediately through kiss-swollen lips.

I have never felt as much desire for another person as I have with him holding me. Who knew we would end up snogging in the dark behind my home?

Not that I'm complaining, of course. Except that we stopped. Why did that happen again? Would he let me kiss him again? I'm not above begging.

Her face flushes deeper as his nose brushes against her neck, shaking his head. They both took a moment to catch their breath while Ominis formulated a response.

"Think about what that would mean. You'd be forever tied to my family, to the Gaunts. That means being surrounded by the very ideals you hate and people who would never truly accept you. Is that what you want?"

Adelia thinks for a long moment, forcing her addled brain to formulate a genuine answer.

"Ominis," She calls for his attention, lifting his head to hold his cheeks softly.

"No matter where I end up, I know that England's pureblood society will never accept anyone like us. I made peace with that a long time ago, before I even had magic. 

"Life without magic is... isolating. All my life, I've tried to live up to everyone else's expectations of myself, to prove I'm more than a spellcaster. The moment that dragon attacked my carriage, I've been holding onto a far greater responsibility than I ever thought possible. It did make me feel important, but now, I just wish everything involving ancient magic, Ranrok, and his crew would be over."

Licking her lips, she glances up at Ominis, who's listening intently. His right ear is directed towards her, though his expression is difficult to read.

"What I want is someone who understands me as a person, who can love me for who I am beyond my magic."

She chuckles self-deprecatingly. "I suppose it may be too much to ask, given that anyone accepting that would be willing to hand themselves over to Ranrok and Rookwood."

His brow furrows.

"'For better or for worse, till death do us part,' as they say.”

All of her thoughts come to a crashing halt.

“Adelia, I... I have something I need to tell you. I should've mentioned it sooner, but I got caught up in the whole- well…”

His finger prods his darkened lips, ears reddening as he feels their sensitivity.

Heartbeat quickening, Adelia's cheeks heat with his words. Meanwhile, Ominis’s eyebrows scrunch further, temples heavy with worry lines.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” She smiles at him. “I trust you.”

Clenching his jaw, Ominis turns away, appearing even further conflicted.

“I don't deserve that trust.”

“You do,” She reassures. “I'd like to think we've become closer since September. Especially now that you know I fancy you. I have for a while, actually.”

Seeking out a grin to match her own, Adelia is confused by his inability to focus on her. He suddenly tenses his shoulders, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Adelia… I'm sorry,” He bursts out, guilt written all over his face.

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks.

“The life you want, I could never provide for you. Like I said before, my future has been decided for me.”

That fully grabs her attention, dragging her mind from the post-kiss haze it was residing in.

What?

When he said that earlier, I thought he just meant the dance pairs were predetermined. Ominis is one of the most determined people I know. How could someone else decide what's right for him?

And why would he let them?

“Ominis?” She asks, now slightly fearful of what he's hiding.

"I am engaged."

"...You what?”

He blinks, looking shocked. Almost as though he didn't expect the words flowing out of him. 

“I… Earlier this evening, my parents informed me that they negotiated a match between Miss Eloise Lestrange and me. It hasn’t been officially announced yet; it can't be until we both turn 17. I tried to reject it, but I still need my family's connections right now. I cannot afford to sever them.”

Dropping her hands as though he's burned her, Adelia rapidly steps back, almost tripping in her haste. 

Thousands of thoughts trample through her mind at once, dizzying her with every breath. A whirlwind crashed through her carefully planned night, destroying every sweet hope or dream involving her relationship with Ominis. 

It hurts.

“Adelia, please-”

“No. Stay there.”

Ominis motions as though to reach for her, but she stops him, mindless tears streaming down her face as she processes his words. 

Ancient magic activates like a trap, swirling around their bodies in a storm of ice. Each inhale coats her throat with a cold cut of an ice shard, while exhaling releases a cloud of vapor. Tendrils of ice prick underneath her arms, rising pressure threatening to burst out of her solid skin.

“Is this ancient magic?” He asks tentatively, feeling the temperature lower by several degrees.

She ignores him. Fury builds the more her mind whirs, upset that he let her kiss him while knowing he has a fianceé waiting for his return.

“You accused me of attempting to trick someone into marrying me. You let me pour my heart out to you-”

“-I acted irrationally, I wasn't thinking straight-”

“-You held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.”

Their breaths quickened. Both remain on either side of the gazebo, but the air between them is rippling with tension. More tears fall down Adelia's cheeks, streaking the beauty concoctions like a splattered mud puddle.

“I kissed you, Ominis,” She chokes out. 

He winces, appearing more distressed than she's ever seen him. A shiver runs through him, but he refuses to button up his robes, simply gripping his wand tighter instead.

“I'm sorry.”

Her lips tremble, and she covers her mouth to conceal a hurt whimper. Even through the warmth charms placed on the gardens, her bare arms begin to form goosebumps. Shaking in place now, a chill runs up her spine, revitalizing the numbness that had frozen her legs in place.

Steadying herself, Adelia rushes out of the gazebo and through the garden, stopping short of actually entering the doors. She rushes away from her favorite spot, now tainted with this memory. As much as that thought pains her, the fact that Ominis never calls out after her hurts a thousand times worse.

I don't want to go back. I can't face anyone right now, especially with how awful I must look.

Shaking her head, she makes a break for the gate instead, exiting around the side of the house. Hugging herself tightly, Adelia fights off shivers as the full brunt of the snowy air hits her body. Snowflakes fall onto her eyelashes and cloud her vision. 

Great. Not even the weather is on my side.

Sneezing the faintest bit, Adelia digs into her pockets for her handkerchief and blows her nose. Catching her reflection on a window pane, her stomach twists at her mother's ruined work, no longer looking remotely composed. Spikes of ice run along her arms and face, altering her appearance to be closer to a mystifying ice nymph.

Steady breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out.

With each controlled breath, the ancient magic recedes until she's left feeling cold and numb, staring blankly at her marred body.

Beautiful? Yet another thing Ominis lied about.

She scoffs, searching for her wand to at least fix her hair, if not wipe away the remnants of the beauty concoctions.

I'm acting childish. Rejection was always an option; I should've known better than to get my hopes up. I should clean myself up and just go back inside like a good host. 

Let's just hope no one witnessed that embarrassment. If not for the sake of my sanity, then for his poor fianceé.

Just as she convinces herself of that, a cawing noise catches her attention. Well, right after a fur-trimmed cloak is dropped directly onto her head.

“Hoot?” She sniffs, spying his speckled wings from a third-story window.

“Squawk.”

He lands smack dab on her fur-covered shoulder, bunting his head onto her cheek.

“Thanks, buddy.”

What do I do now? Go inside or stay out here for a while longer. I don't have any resolve left to be a host. Walking might clear my head.

As Hoot’s weight settles onto her left side, Adelia remembers the letter she received from George Osric. 

Glancing up at the inky sky, Adelia counts back the hours, realizing he may still be searching for the artifact. Something that dangerous could require extra help, perhaps from an experienced adventurer like herself.

“Hoot? If I were to give you a letter, could you find Mister Osric’s location?”

Tapping his talons in affirmation, Adelia desperately searches through her coat pockets for a scrap of paper. Catching her dance card on the fox fur, Adelia slides the ribbon off and hands it to Hoot.

“Will this work?”

Inspecting with his beady eyes, Hoot gazes at it for a prolonged moment, then pecks at it in approval. Tightening the card around his ankle, Adelia encourages him to fly high enough to follow.

A small smile flickers on her face, eager to escape to find her mentor, wanting to flee away from Ominis and the judging crowds of pureblood that await her inside.

“Alright, then. Hoot? Find George Osric.”

~~~~~~

Shite.

No other word accurately sums up how much I messed up tonight. From my inability to request a dance to hanging around Eloise all night. Though her companionship was welcome and it made Adelia jealous, so at least that part was positive.

Heaving out a long sigh, my head thumps against the column behind me. The same column Adelia had pressed me into not five minutes ago.

Why did I kiss her? An overwhelming sensation overtook me and I couldn't stop seeking out her intoxicating lips. I've never felt a pair as soft as hers. I only have my own as reference though, so my experience is lacking.

Surely that didn't deter her? It didn't seem like a problem. She was the one who kissed me first.

Which begs the question, why? We've never established feelings for one another yet there's an underlying tension that grew taut until she finally kissed me.

Running a finger along my bottom lip, there's a noticeable puffiness and sensitivity that brings back the feeling of her warm and pliant mouth against mine over and over again.

Then I went and messed it up.

What does this mean for our friendship? Will she still want to see me after what I did?

I should've told her about the engagement sooner but I couldn't get the words out. Who knows what more could've happened if I hadn't stopped things?

Merlin forbid anyone found us.

"Oh, brother~"

A cold chill runs up my spine at the sudden emergence of that familiar, saccharine tone entering from the side opposite where Adelia left. Sweat accumulates at my temples, but I can't bring myself to wipe it away.

"We need to talk."

Chapter 27: A True Name

Summary:

Fresh out of the ball, Adelia seeks out her mentor in the Forbidden Forest. Unfortunately for her, the cold is taking an effect much quicker than she can handle.
Ominis has a conversation with Marcia and they strike a deal.

Notes:

Hello!

I had a few concepts in mind for where the story was going to go next but the transition period may be a bit awkward, as we wrap the party and Ominis faces a surprising reveal.
Low key missed George Osric, the funky mentor that never was.

Enjoy!

Touching onto solid ground, Adelia hastily shuts the carriage door behind her and rushes to the coachman. Hoot swirls overhead, perching on a branch at the edge of the forest but refusing to go in. The carriage driver, an older Frenchman and long time family friend, waggles a finger at her.

“Be careful, Miss Rosewater. ‘Ze forest is no place for a young lady.”

“I will, Monsieur Bernard. Thank you for the ride, and please tell Uncle Luc to get home safely,” She smiles, waving as he drives off.

Allowing her smile to slip like a pad of butter on a hot skillet, the witch marches towards her owl. Hoot, no longer opting to be patient, flaps his wings and disappears into the trees. Lifting the edges of her skirt, while slightly wincing at the dirt and twigs collecting at the hem, Adelia follows the grey blur flying through the night sky. 

Traversing over sprawling tree roots and uneven snow piles worsens her chill. Tightening the fur-trimmed cloak around her body, she forces her rapidly numbing toes to pick up the pace. Once they reach a man-made path, her heels find solid ground, and she no longer needs to drag her bare legs through loose, cold snow. Sneezing a few more times, Adelia makes good use of her embroidered handkerchief. Thankfully, however, she can breathe a bit easier.

Up ahead, the path is cut off by a wooden fence. The sharp wood creates a barrier around a collection of tents, easily spotted by the flickering orange light of a nearby campfire. Hoot suddenly makes a warning squawk, rising higher to avoid being spotted. Hearing shouting and the heavy crack of a club drives her attention towards the singular source of light. Sneaking behind a dark canvas tent, Adelia observes the horrific sight of Mr. Osric attempting to fight multiple Ashwinders that have begun circling him, completely unaware of the looming troll about to bash his head in.

“Confringo!”

Utilizing the element of surprise, Adelia whips out her wand to cast off a fire spell at the troll, blinding him enough to stumble backwards. That distraction provided enough time for George to glance backwards, realizing his blind spot almost crushed his skull. Gazing thankfully at the witch, he deflects an oncoming spell back at his opponent. His fierce glare rivals the burning flames, the trickling of blood from a cut on his forehead adding to his intimidation. 

The two work in tandem, George shielding incoming spells while Adelia hits them with fire, knocking each out with a hardy smack of ancient magic. Once the final Ashwinder is whacked in the face with a barrel, Adelia finally allows herself to relax, sitting upon a stool beside a campfire. Mr. Osric wipes at his brow, then double-takes at the sight of blood. 

“Here,” Adelia riles through her pockets, thrusting a Wiggenweld potion in his direction. “Looks like you need this.”

Politely thanking her, the Ministry official downs the green vial until his wounds close and the paleness recedes from his features. Like magic, the rosiness of his cheeks returns in the chill of the winter’s night. Plopping in a stool across from her stretched-out form, he greets her with a smile. 

“Well, don’t you look wonderful this evening, Miss Rosewater. While I appreciate your help tonight, I do wonder why you aren’t dancing the night away with your friends.”

She snorts. “It’s been a rough night, but thank you for the compliment. Runaway debutante chic is all the rage nowadays.”

I must look like a mess. A dilapidated part of the forest come to life.

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, the fogginess of his glasses growing as he catches his breath. “How did you manage to find me so deep in the forest? I tracked down the artifact here after it went missing from the cave.”

As Adelia opens her mouth to answer, Hoot swoops down to land on her lap, loudly hooting at her mentor. His mouth shifts into a circle, making a quiet noise of understanding. 

“That answers one of my questions,” He comments. 

Softly laughing, Adelia avoids his gaze, choosing instead to warm her toes. The numbness hasn’t receded, and she frowns, attempting to shift around her owl to get a better view of her foot’s slight discoloration. Another breeze blows through the forest, dimming the fire long enough for another shiver to run through her body. Sneezing with more force, Hoot digs his claws into her thigh in shock. 

“Oh, dear,” He says, rising to get a closer look at her. “You should’ve bundled up if you were going to accompany me on this mission. You’re going to freeze if we stay here much longer.”

“I took a carriage here,” She tries to defend herself, barely getting the words out before sneezing again. “It was my U-Uncle- achoo- Luc’s carriage. I couldn’t stay at that ball for a-another minute.”

She can’t look at his concerned face without crying. Instead, she hugs Hoot to her chest, ignoring his low, disgruntled hoots. A warm hand rubs her back and she leans into it, subconsiously. Another hand feels her forehead, and she closes her eyes at the blissful warmth. Her mentor clicks his tongue, pulling her onto her feet.

“This won’t do. Come along, Miss Rosewater,” He says, directing her to a half-open tent she hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s going on?”

“We need to find the artifact,” He explains, casting Revelio on nearby chests. “Do you have enough strength to help me?”

“Mhm,” She nods, half-heartedly flicking her wrist.

Working in tandem, the duo locates the helmet quickly, along with a bundle of galleons and a stack of other loot. Piling the items into his bag, George inspects her with a furrowed brow. Inspecting her with a diagnostic spell, his frown grows deeper.

“Your body temperature is becoming far lower than is safe. We need to hurry back,” He says, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Hold onto me for a moment, dear. We’re going to apparate back to Lodgok.”

Lacking the energy to argue, much less move fast, Adelia wraps her arm around his and leans heavily against his side. Apparition may be quick, but she has never adjusted to the tight squeeze of her insides as they transport to a new location. Stomach churning, she focuses all her attention on not throwing up while Mr. Osric speaks to Lodgok. Throwing a concerned glance her way, the goblin hesitates before leaving. George slowly approaches, examining her with his hands on his hips. 

“I apologize, Miss Rosewater,” He says, grimacing, “if any part of my letter was seen as an emergency. Had I known you wished to accompany me sooner, I would’ve had the appropriate clothing packed.”

She chuckles, the sound barely coming out as her teeth chatter. “I-It’s my fault. I left q-quickly without stopping to change f-first.”

“Well, we should get you back home-”

“No!”

He blinks in confusion.

“...No?” 

She wishes to explain, but the chill of the wind on her face and neck has gotten unbearable. Not to mention her numb feet, which have started to include her lower legs in their lack of feeling.

George shakes his head, eyeing the light flurry of snowflakes blowing through the sky. 

“You need to get inside. Are you alright with visiting my townhouse?” He asks, raising his arm again. “You can write a note to your parents to explain what happened. I’d be more than happy to open my Floo to them.”

Adelia just nods, barely listening anymore. Gripping his arm tightly, she shuts her eyes, longing for the warmth of a fireplace.

~~~~~~

Cold porcelain presses against my shoulder blades but I cannot move away from the pillar. Marcia circles my still body like a hawk, checking for any sign of weakness before swooping down to catch her prey.

“So, this is where you snuck off to,” She hums, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I may not have paid you much attention growing up but I didn't see you as a skirt-chaser.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

She laughs. “That's true. Especially the company you keep. Whatever happened to that little half-blood? Stephen? No… Sean?”

I keep my mouth shut, clenching my jaw at her repeated guesses. Huffing out a laugh, I hear her heels pause in front of me.

“No matter. It's clearly more than a friendship this time.”

Letting out a sigh, I refuse the urge to smack my head into the pillar to end this conversation sooner. Everything that happened tonight has been too much to process at once. Sleep is not likely to come, so I'd rather process my thoughts sooner than later.

“Why do you care?” I finally ask.

“Just thought you kept odd company, that's all.”

“Because her ancestors aren't from England?”

“Do I look like our parents?” She huffs, likely rolling her eyes. 

Anne used to roll her eyes in exasperation. Sebastian always called her out whenever she did. However odd the description, it's concerning to think about. Though, the concept of rolling one's eyes will freeze them in place sounds like an old witches’ tale. 

“I assume we both look like them. Being family and all.”

She clicks her tongue. “You're not funny.”

“And you're not a good conversationalist, yet we're both still here.”

“That girl,” She marches forward, ignoring my slight. “Ranrok is interested in her? The goblin amassing power?”

A flash of heat electrified my nerves before a wave of sheer ice freezes me in place. Assuming we were alone, Adelia and I discussed her predicament aloud. Her ancient magic predicament.

Shite.

Taking my lack of an answer as admittance, she keeps speaking. “Rookwood, too? Odd they're both after her. Though maybe he's attempting to use her for something.”

“Use her?” 

The words come through hollow, nausea swelling in my throat.

“Mhm,” She agrees. “Why else would a pureblood as handsome as him show so much interest in a freshly debuted girl like her?”

We're not talking about Rookwood anymore.

Mind racing towards an answer, I can't help the question from jumbling out of my mouth.

“Who?”

“...you really don't know?”

She laughs, a low disbelieving noise that escalates to a full bellied sound.

“Unbelievable. Here you were yesterday, acting all high and mighty, without realizing the girl you were snogging is-”

She cuts herself off, barely restraining her tongue from spilling a secret she desperately wants to taunt him with. 

“What?” I demand, the words a low hiss on my tongue, more of a demand than a question. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“Should I?” She ponders smugly, practically skipping around the gazebo. “What's in it for me? I mean, it's not like you have anything valuable to offer in exchange.”

Panic races through me, burning hot like fire. Whatever secret she's holding back may be putting Adelia in danger. No matter what the situation is between us, I don't want her to get herself hurt. Not if I can stop it.

There's only one thing I can offer Marcia in exchange. Sorry, Eloise.

“My engagement,” I finally say. “I'll do everything in my power to prevent marrying before you do, if you tell me.”

That gets her attention. While Marcia tends to speak her thoughts aloud, being more style than substance, she maintains the sharp streak of cunning that runs through all Gaunts’ blood.

“And why would you do that?”

“You know what happens to a Gaunt that's no longer of use,” I say, simply.

Boiling rage steams off her, but reason hasn't left her quite yet. She and I both know the stakes if she doesn't marry before me. Pureblood society doesn't look fondly upon disowned women, and with a name like ours, no corner of the continent will go without knowing her sullied reputation.

It's silent for a long moment. Laughter and cheers from inside flows through the garden, cutting out the awkwardness that had permeated the gazebo since Adelia left.

“Fine, brother. I accept your terms.”

Shaking hands, we both pull away directly after and wipe off the other's germs.

“Earlier, I was dancing with Augustus Oakwood when I picked up a tasty lick of gossip. Adelia Rosewater spent a portion of the evening dancing with a waiter, of all people. Not like anyone else was lining up but it was a bold move.”

“Is that it?” I raise an eyebrow.

She lets out a noise of understanding. 

“Ah, right. The blindness. Did she not mention the name of the waiter before you snuck away to steal her innocence?” She asks casually.

“I didn't steal anything,” I say hastily, cheeks turning pink. “Why would I ask her that anyway?”

Puffing out a breath, she continues. “The waiter was Henry Lestrange.”

Lestrange? One of Eloise's relatives? I could see how that'd be awkward, given we both showed intimacy towards the Lestrange family earlier in the evening before kissing later that night. But again, there's something I'm missing. A nagging thought that there's a detail that'll tie everything together into a neat bow.

Normally I'd have at least two running theories but right now, I'm lucky to process anything beyond a certain apple-scented witch.

“Henry Lestrange,” She spits out again, clearly not having got the reaction she wanted. 

“I heard you the first time,” I reply dismissively.

“And that doesn't bother you? Some paramour you are.”

“We're not…” 

I stop short, unable to label the relationship Adelia and I share.

“Come on, Ominis. Surely even you have read society papers,” She shifts in disapproval.

“Just make your point.”

“Henry Lestrange,” She clears her throat pointedly. “is a ward of House Lestrange. Not a member. Could you hazard a guess as to why a twenty year old man would remain a ward of a distant relative?”

“I could list several,” I rub my temples. “Wasn't this supposed to be a summary?”

“Let me put it this way,” She says. “If Rookwood is seeking to harm Miss Rosewater, then why did she spend all evening cozying up to his son?”

“His… what?”

An almost pitying sigh is released and Marcia strides forward, emphasizing her words.

“Henry Lestrange is the only son of the infamous Victor Rookwood. Therefore, his actual name is…?”

“Henry Rookwood,” I breathe out in disbelief.

Salazar’s bloody pants. 

Millions of thoughts swarm through my head: concern for her safety, anger at my non-detailed questioning of him, and worry over the possibility of her meeting Rookwood at this very moment.

“Right. That's it for my end of the deal. As for you, I may require further assistance later on. Ensure your engagement doesn't escalate further, otherwise,” She pauses, heels clicking towards the staircase. “I may let slip what happened between you and Ms. Rosewater.”

“You wouldn't,” I reply immediately, venom coating every word.

“You understand very well what I'm capable of,” She responds, just as venomous. “The secrets of a ruined woman will mean twice as much if she no longer has a reason to keep them hidden.”

Biting my tongue, I shake my head, not willing to dignify her with a response.

“And wipe that lipstick off your mouth,” She calls over her shoulder before disappearing into the hedges.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I fish out my handkerchief, roughly wiping at my mouth. Without a way of verifying whether it's still there or not, I scramble for the decorative snow to coat the lower half of my face.

If only Sebastian could see me now, looking like a rosy-cheeked, wizened wizard with ruffled clothes and messy hair. Who am I kidding? He'd laugh before congratulating me on my first kiss.

“Two years behind me,” He would tease. “You need to up your game, Gaunt.”

At least the days of hearing him brag in excruciating detail about his week-long snogging tryst with some Ravenclaw from Crossed Wands, Constance Dagworth, paid off when it counted. Not that I'd tell him that. I would feel his smugness radiating from Scotland.

Burying my face in my hands, I exhale a deep breath. Things just become so much more dangerous. Only this time, I fear Adelia will refuse to let me help her.

Adelia, wherever you are, please be safe.