Wren & Wraith

by galaxiasgreen

Summary:

"The wren and the wraith don't have anything in common, except one thing... they're both trapped."

Sixth-year Ominis Gaunt has no intention of doing anything more than surviving until he's old enough to escape his family, but when chaotic, naïve Muggle-born Tabitha Fulton-Smyth stumbles into his life with no knowledge of the magical world, Ominis proposes an arrangement: he'll help her to better fit in if she'll pretend to be his friend - and stave the unfortunately growing rumours declaring him the true Heir of Slytherin.

But when gossip becomes fate, Tabitha's explosive magic becomes a source of untold mystery, and ruse becomes startlingly too real, Ominis realises that to get the peace he so desperately craves, he'll have to risk it all: his future, his destiny, and worst of all... his heart.

[Slow burn Ominis x F!MC. Standalone story with no prior reading necessary.]

Notes:

Hello everyone! Wren & Wraith is my silly side project where I take local dumbass Gibby from A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet and give her ancient magic. Expect absolute shenanigans.

No prior reading necessary, this is it's own thing. Mature rating for the language and mild sexual references, with updates once a week, with occasional breaks. Thanks so much for reading, please leave a comment and enjoy <3

Chapter 1: Same Old

In the list of things Ominis Gaunt expected to happen on his first day of sixth year, Muggle violence was not one of them.

"Guess what rumour I heeeeeard?"

It was mid-afternoon by the time he and Sebastian finally got on the road bid for Hogwarts, and Ominis was already frustrated. The morning wasted on Sebastian's arguments with his surly uncle Solomon, they would probably be late to the Sorting Ceremony if Sebastian continued to walk at his leisurely, cavalier, did not give one atom of a shit pace.

"I have no interest in whatever gossip you've managed to siphon out of the local tattlers. Now walk faster."

The fresh air and mild anticipation never failed to give him a shot of hope for the new school term. It was good to be away from Solomon's oppression, and his family's too. At Hogwarts, he was away from that responsibility as could be, and Ominis never took that for granted.

This year was his seventeenth birthday. The year he became a man.

"You'll want to hear this," Sebastian insisted, easily keeping pace with Ominis' longer strides. He was shorter, but much brawnier, with wide shoulders and enough muscle to make him popular with most girls, and some of the boys, in school. "There's a new student starting this year."

Ominis knew what lay at the other side of January: undertaking the true weight of the Gaunt name. Furthering social connections he didn't care to forge, arranging business in fields he held no interest in and juggling marriage proposals that brought neither passion nor levity. It was as he'd been taught since birth, each lesson drilled into him as precisely as a tomb engraving. Luckily, these were skills he could turn to his advantage.

Because Ominis Gaunt had a plan.

"There are hundreds of new students starting this year. That's how schools work."

"She'll be joining as a sixth year, our year, you dunce. And – get this – she had no magic before now. Last week she was more Muggle than a telephone box."

That was intriguing, but Ominis didn't want to give Sebastian the moral victory. "And how did you come about this rumour?"

"You know Mrs Oats, the old lady who I owl-sat for yesterday? She works at the Department of Magical Transport. Apparently had to sort a Thestral-drawn carriage last minute from London."

It was a fairly reliable source, and Sebastian wasn't prone to lying for the sake of it. Still, Ominis had no desire to speculate. He knew exactly where this was going.

The boy slapped him heartily on the shoulder. "It's so perfect I couldn't have made it up if I tried. You know what this means?"

"Another skirt for you to chase?"

"It means," he declared, ignoring him again, "another chance for you to make a new friend."

Typical. A knot in Ominis' stomach tightened. "We're not having this discussion again." As if he didn't suffer it enough from both him and Anne during summer. At least Anne knew when to shut up. Without her as anchor, Sebastian could prattle for hours.

"You can't keep pretending the problem doesn't exist, Ominis," he said coolly. "This is finally your chance to branch out and expand from the social circle you call me, my dormmate Sebastian and my best friend Sebastian."

"I don't have to pretend the problem doesn't exist because the problem doesn't exist."

"We're in sixth year! Almost full-fledged wizards! Come on, Ominis, you can't leave school with me as your only friend."

Oh, but he could. He would— well, maybe not happily, he couldn't give Sebastian too much credit. But contently, certainly. It was too late for any shifts in the status quo now.

And that was for the best. That was what he wanted – what he needed to survive. Keep his head down, blend in, never challenge the way of things. Never cause a ruckus or draw attention to himself unnecessarily, or be late. Ominis sped up, determined to get to the castle on time. He'd spent so long chopping and contorting himself to fit in that he'd weathered down to particles: invisible, unremarkable.

And free.

"You don't even know who this new student is," he said.

"Don't need to," Sebastian trilled, keeping up easily. "I have a gut feeling."

"That's just your stomach."

"Just you wait." Sebastian marched a few steps ahead, dragging his trunk with gusto. "This is our year."

Ominis sincerely hoped not.

 

 

As the first years were shepherded to their Houses, Sebastian shared the illicit rumour with every Slytherin in close proximity at the table. He was good with spinning stories, so it wasn't long before every sixth year was agog with speculation. Nerida claimed to overhear something from Professor Sharp.

"Supposedly there was a rogue dragon spotted flying over the Midlands," she whispered. "Fig and her, they got caught up in an attack. Do you think that's why they're late?"

"Forget late! They might've been hurt!" said Grace, scandalised.

Opposite him came a soft, girlish snort.

"What does it matter? She would've avoided it if she got the Hogwarts Express. Could she not board the train like the rest of us? Her people invented those things, after all."

Ominis' dormmates swore Maya Cavendish was the most beautiful girl they'd ever seen. Flawless bronze skin and thick ringlets of chocolate brown pinned into a chignon, she must've had the appearance of Greek goddess if she was pretty enough to disguise the rot beneath.

"Her people," Sebastian challenged. "You say that like it's a bad thing?"

"I can't imagine many Muggles have faced dragons before."

"Muggle-borns."

"Mmm." Maya sat up straight. "Regardless, you can't disagree it's poor form to be late on the first day."

Ominis couldn't, though her tone implied a lot more than an obedience to the rules.

The Sorting passed without fanfare, Slytherin taking its usual handful of hopeful misfits with squealy voices and barely-developed acne. When dinner appeared, Ominis levitated his usual amuse-bouche of a hen and rosemary filo tart onto his plate.

Then the doors clamoured, drawing his attention sharply left.

"We have one last one!" called a hurried Professor Fig. "Apologies!"

"Ah." On the front steps, Weasley fluttered a hand, calling for silence. "Thank you very much, Professor Fig. Forks down, students, this will only take a moment. Miss Tabitha Fulton-Smyth, if you'd please make your way over?"

A pair of shoes scurried inside.

"Sorry to hold up dinner!" the girl said, high-pitched like a mouse's squeak. "I swear I didn't mean to be—"

Maya murmured under her breath; the girl yelped and stumbled to the floor with a loud clatter. A trill of stifled amusement rippled around her, although it quickly doused as Fig helped her to her feet.

"Best not to run," he said gently.

There was a table between them but even Ominis could detect her face burning. With a more modest spring to her step, she made her way to the dais and sat on the stool, and before long she was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

The interruption was, perhaps, the only thing of note to happen during the feast, along with the usual announcements, new staff, a speech from head boy Lance Weasley, Quidditch trials in the coming weeks and an additional warning to be more wary of goblin presence in the Highlands. No change from the years before, then. It was irrevocably uninspired, normal. Another year at Hogwarts, and things were promising to be the same old.

Just the way he preferred.

As they eventually made their way to the common room, Sebastian knocked Ominis' arm. "Can you smell that, Ominis?"

"The garlic on your breath? Unfortunately."

"Wrong," he said, fluttering his palms outwards. "It's the scent of potential."

 

 

It was Sebastian's fault could've been the name of Ominis' autobiography.

No matter how many times Ominis shook him, prodded him, yelled in his ear, the oaf would not rouse even the slightest. Sebastian's sleep pattern was awry because of the amateur Beast-sitting service that kept him up into the night, and though tempted to leave him so he wouldn't have to suffer any more ridiculous soliloquys about the winds of change, Ominis resorted to using Aguamenti and kicking the boy onto the floor instead. They'd had to skip breakfast to make it to Defence Against the Dark Arts on time, and Ominis snacked discreetly on a chocolate bar beneath the desk as Hecat opened the lesson.

"Sixth year sees you beginning to embrace your abilities as witches and wizards in the entirety. No more hand-holding. No more rigid guidance. From now on you will learn what it means to become an adult in our society. In today's lesson, we will settle everyone into the expectations I have with wandwork—"

A timid knock cut her off, followed by the groan of a door.

"H-Hello?" said Tabitha Fulton-Smyth. "Is this, erm... Defence class?"

"That is it. Welcome inside, Miss Fulton-Smyth. You can have the empty spot next to Master Prewett over there." As Tabitha dumped her bag, Hecat appraised her. "You have excellent timing. Professor Fig tells me you have some duelling experience. Is that true?"

"Er, I'm all right, like," she said. "It's sort of different when it's life and death."

So the dragon attack was true.

"I see," said Hecat. "Then I would like to see what you have learnt in action."

"In action?"

"... In a duel."

"No!" Tabitha blurted. "I mean, erm, no thank you, Miss. Someone else can go first."

Hecat laughed. "I'm afraid I wasn't asking. As I was saying, I want everyone on the same page, and you're a bit of a mystery. Not to worry, I believe you'd make a fine opponent for... Master Gaunt."

Ominis choked on his chocolate bar.

"He must find this all trivial," she continued with an edge to her voice, "since he believes it acceptable to eat during my class."

He quickly shoved the evidence in his pocket, but it was too late. Damn.

"With all due respect, Professor—"

"Request denied, Master Gaunt. Up you get."

As the class made room – and Ominis pinched Sebastian's arm hard – Hecat conjured the duelling platform down the central aisle.

"Master Gaunt, I will limit you to basic cast, the Levitation charm and the Shield charm. Miss Fulton-Smyth, you may use anything you like."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

She batted her cheeks twice. "Okay! I'll do my best!"

Her best would not be enough. Tabitha was as petite to him as a thumb to a forearm. She wore the full Hogwarts regalia, robes, blazer and all, whilst he'd already forgone his uniform down to his waistcoat, and her hair, riotous blonde curls tied poorly back in an amalgamation of ribbons and pins, could easily disrupt her vision. She wore glasses too, fiddling with them as she awkwardly clambered up the platform.

His family's duelling wisdom came back to him in waves. Light on your feet, think fast, be vigilant, understand their weakness. Another list, another easy set of steps to follow. He met her in the middle of the platform, preparing to bow, but Tabitha stuck out her hand instead.

"Nice to meet you, Master Gaunt!"

He had to resist a grimace as she shook like she was trying to extract the last drop of ketchup from the bottle. How could such a tiny, tiny hand be so... clammy?

"My name's Tabitha! Let's have a good fight!"

He surreptitiously wiped down his leg. "Indeed."

After bowing, they made their way to opposite ends. It was time to find out how she'd beaten that dragon.

"Ready?" called Hecat, as Ominis pushed his feet apart. "Begin!"

In what was not a show of sportsmanship but rather an assessment of her technique, he waited to allow Tabitha the first move, prepared to dart aside or arm a shield – but all she did was erratically wave her wand.

"Oh, crumbs, what was it again? Stupidly? Stupid fly?"

What? No, surely she didn't... He inched forwards as she jabbed her wand out.

"STUPID DIE!"

Instead, Ominis cautiously struck three basic casts that pushed her to the edge of the platform, and a fourth that blasted her straight off. Hecat cushioned the fall; the class erupted in confused whispers.

"Again, Miss Fulton-Smyth," said Hecat, as Tabitha stood up, catching her breath. "The spell you're thinking of is Stupefy. Try to fight back this time, hmm?"

"Right, sorry!" she babbled out, climbing back up undeterred. "He's really good!"

This had to be a joke. They'd asked her to join an advanced duelling class – and she couldn't do even the most basic offensive spell? He hadn't even tried! Hecat resumed the duel before he could question it, and to Tabitha's credit, she let out a determined huff and didn't hesitate.

"Stupefy!"

But nothing happened. Ominis flung basic casts towards her again, but this time she had the forethought to avoid them, backing further down the platform.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" She let out a panicked whine. "Why isn't this working?"

"You need the wand movement!" Sebastian the traitor yelled. "Vertical line down!"

"Ohhhhh! Stupefy!"

A sharp pulse whizzed by Ominis' ear. Finally, a challenge. He swerved left to dodge the next and raised his wand as she threw another.

"Protego." The spell ricocheted into the ceiling, rattling the bone dragon. "Levioso."

"EEEEE!" She pinwheeled into the air, shrieking, before three more blows to the chest shunted her off the platform with a hacked-out yelp.

Useless, again. This couldn't be the same girl that fought a dragon, it simply couldn't.

"I don't think she's ready for this class, Professor," he muttered, trying not to let his irritation show. "Perhaps one with the younger years?"

"You let me worry about that, Master Gaunt," said Hecat, ushering the girl back to her feet again. "We'll try once more, Miss Fulton-Smyth. Remember everything you have learnt... and give it your all."

The beating seemed to have knocked Tabitha's confidence. She pawed back up with a silent wince, wand arm quivering with adrenaline. The moment Hecat began the final match, she fired a basic cast – desperate and sloppy, he flicked it away and sliced forwards, weaving between each attack to trim the space between them.

"S-Stupefy!" He batted it away again, relishing the terrified squall she let out. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Each Ominis swatted away like lint. He moved like high tide, undeterred and mighty, as engulfing yet impossible to grasp, and closed the gap in four strides. Tabitha's incantations became incoherent babbles until he pressed the wand tip to her throat.

Beaten, as easily as that.

"Don't take this personally," he said, charged with disdain, "but this is an advanced class, and if you can't keep up, you shouldn't—"

But she cut him off with a scream.

Tossed her wand aside—

And lunged.

He hit the deck with a hollow rattle, winding him as her weight crashed down onto his chest. He was so stunned at the manoeuvre he completely froze when she dug her elbows into his arm joints, screeching some sort of battle cry.

Same old, he'd promised himself – but no one had ever surprised him like this before.

"Wait a moment!" he choked out, struggling to find purchase. "This isn't how we—!"

Then she balled that tiny, tiny hand into a fist.

And sent it flying straight into his crotch.

Chapter 2: Blank Slate

Summary:

Tabitha tries to make amends for humiliating Ominis at the duel.

Notes:

One thing that will differ between this and ACVAS: there's a Tabitha POV! Please enjoy <3

"I'm so so sooooo sorry!" Tabitha peddled for the hundredth time. "You were winning the duel so easily that I just— did it without thinking!"

Ominis would never condone murder, but it was the first time in his life he'd been close.

It wasn't long before her fist colliding with his nether region had been called the end of the duel, to a cheer so loud it could probably be heard in London. Ominis had never been so humiliated in his life. Him, losing to a girl who didn't know what a wand was a week ago! Hecat had seen to healing her bruises and offered an escort to the hospital wing for Ominis, but possessed less than no sympathy for his situation. He'd underestimated her, after all. He wasn't just eating the humble pie – he was getting it stuffed down his throat until he was throwing it back up.

"This has made my day – no, my week," Sebastian had said, after Ominis stumbled off the platform experiencing pain so cosmic he could barely think. "No, in fact, this has made my whole year. I will never forget your face when she punched you in the balls!"

To Tabitha's miniscule credit, she had been extremely apologetic ever since. Extremely annoying too.

"I really am sorry!" she bleated, keeping pace despite Ominis' attempts to out-walk her. "I didn't know it weren't right to hit someone there, honest!"

He whirled on her. "You didn't know it was unacceptable to assault a man in his private area?"

She frantically waved her arms. "I-I mean, I used to play-fight my brothers all the time, and when they got too rowdy I used to give them what's good, and duel is just a fancy word for fight— but I swear I feel really bad! Does it still hurt?"

"Does it still hurt?" he shrilled. "I can't feel them!"

"I think that's just the ice pack, Ominis," Sebastian said cheerfully.

Ominis removed the tea towel. Fine, it was a little numb from the cold. He shunted the damn thing in his bag. "It was a wizard's duel. That means using your wand. That's self-explanatory."

"Hecat said I could do anything!"

"Not that!"

Which wasn't exactly true – Hecat had delightfully imparted her first lesson of sixth year: to be prepared even if your opponent wasn't playing by the rules. Ominis was going to ignore how that was mostly directed at him.

"You all do duels all the time! I'm sure no one will even remember it!" But when that only made Ominis visibly angrier, Tabitha frantically added, "Let me make it up to you! I can do something, can't I? I'm really good at sewing, and I have lots of sweets to give, and—"

"Perfect," said Ominis, drawing himself up. "I know exactly what you can do."

"Name it!"

He sneered.

"Never talk to me again."

His boots moving further and further away punctuated his point with prejudice. Stupid, annoying girl. It wasn't just that she was a Muggle-born, new to the world, and how could he have been beaten by such a spaced-out moron? It was that the news would travel fast, and travel far. It wouldn't be long before his parents found out. His father. And brothers. Marvolo.

So much for keeping a low profile.

A hand snatched his arm at the corner. Sebastian jerked him to a halt.

"You were too harsh, Ominis."

"I was too harsh? She punched me in the groin!"

"Of course she did! Muggles fight with their fists! That's all she knows. You have to ease off."

"I don't have to do anything," he snarled, shrugging off his grip. "She might've just ruined my ability to have children."

"Come off it, it'll have to take more than that. Unless you're telling me your nethers are delicate?"

"How about I punch you and find out if your nethers are delicate?"

"Trust me, they're not." Sebastian held up his hands as Ominis bored his teeth. "I know you got off to a bad start—"

"I want nothing to do with her."

"But you can't waste this crucial chance. That girl is an opportunity."

"She's troublesome."

"She's a blank slate," he corrected. "Tabitha is the only person in the school who has no idea who you or your family are. You might want to take advantage of that before Prewett starts whispering shit nothings in her ear."

He scoffed. What good would that do now? It had been six years and he was too integrated to have his reputation overturned in a night. The girls in her dorm would talk, if not the Gryffindors. Gaunt, after all, was synonymous with pure-blood austerity. Discipline, harshness, affluence, pride. All expectations ascribed to him because of his name, his house, his family and legacy.

Eventually he stopped trying to break free of them.

"I have no interest in gaining her acquaintance," he said, a clear sign for Sebastian to back off. "So stop trying to meddle."

"We're splitting up more this year." Sebastian easily kept up. "I have Beasts, you have Transfiguration. What're you going to do when you're alone?"

"I will be alone," Ominis snapped. "And I would rather that than prance around with some idiot girl who doesn't know her place."

It had taken him so long to carve out a little part of this life for himself. Forget the rumours, forget his reputation. He didn't need anyone else, and he certainly didn't need an insipid Muggle-born to throw it all into disarray.

He was happy with his place in the world right now, and there was no room for anyone, let alone Tabitha Fulton-Smyth, in that world at all.

 

 

Wizard people were barmy.

Tabitha was pretty certain of this fact when her magic exploded – literally – into her life a week ago, let alone yesterday, when she nearly died at least eight times. Someone had literally died – George Osric, God rest his soul. If she could give her magic back to the universe, it was very nice and she was very grateful but no thank you, then she would in a heartbeat, even if it meant being dropped off in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside a second before that dragon made everything go tits up. Now she was in a fairy tale castle where she'd just decked a very posh boy in the nuts.

Still, there were worse places to be.

Tabitha meekly followed behind the crowd lumbering towards Charms. Ominis and Sebastian were ahead, noticeable by their considerable height. Ominis was tall enough to lord over the peasant subjects that were his classmates, skin so milk-pale it'd probably never heard of sun. His hair had been a perfectly coiffed side-parting this morning, but thanks to their kerfuffle, a few strands of wheat-gold now lolled over those unusual opalescent eyes. Sebastian told her he was blind – a fact she'd missed while he was royally kicking her arse – but he nonetheless seemed to navigate the world with effortless grace, each stride smooth and proud.

Sebastian was a nice boy, charming and vain enough to be attractive but not arrogant, but Ominis? Good God did handsome not mean pleasant. In fact, Ominis Gaunt was the opposite. Mean. A big meanie. Tabitha didn't know how many times she'd have to say sorry to get his apathy, let alone forgiveness.

It would have to be okay. It was clear he never wanted to see her again (figuratively). Tabitha could avoid him... forever? That seemed doable. She scurried behind the throng of students into the classroom, set out like a choir room in church. As the other students headed to their usual seats, the professor, Ronen, ushered her towards the front.

"Welcome to Charms, Miss Fulton-Smyth! Don't worry, I know you're new, but we'll get you up to speed quick as a charging Hippogriff! Now, we're being seated alphabetically this term, so let's see here... ah yes, you're at the back, next to Ominis Gaunt!"

Ominis' ears must've been burning because he sat bolt upright, face going white then sunburnt red. Tabitha withheld the urge to turn into a pot plant and die.

"Not to worry," said Ronen, misinterpreting her face. "Master Gaunt is excellent at wandwork! I'm sure you two will get along swimmingly!"

Drowningly, more like. She dragged herself to the empty space next to him, not missing the way his fist clenched and relaxed in rapid succession, and took out her textbook.

"So—"

"No," he cut across sharply. "No, I don't want to hear anymore apologies. I don't want to hear another word. Nothing. Just sit there and be quiet and do the work. Do you understand?" When she didn't reply, his eyebrows cut across his eyes. "Are you going to answer me?"

"You said you didn't want to hear another word..."

"Are you really that thick? When I ask you a question you answer!"

Tabitha flinched back. She barely registered the way his eyes widened a fraction before she spun back, staring straight ahead as Ronen began the lesson. Really big meanie. The lump in her throat stung, but she sucked it back down. She would not cry on her first day.

"We'll quickly review the curriculum for the year, so we are all... on the same page! Eh? Ah, stop that groaning, Master Weasley, that was a good one! Let's all turn to page three, titled Sixth Year Charms: What's to Come."

Panic eclipsed the hurt in her belly. She glanced sideways, watching Ominis swipe the pages back. One, two, three, four, five... and she copied. Paying attention to the lecture was a lot harder than it seemed when she had no idea what Ronen was talking about most of the time, let alone trying to commit important details to memory, let alone Ominis sitting next to her, burning a hole in her side. This was the true first test of being at Hogwarts, being a magical witch.

"Now, to wake you all up after the summer," Ronen was saying, "we shall start with a simple review. As you know, our first spell of sixth year is Blue Sparks! However, we cannot hope to master it before we've mastered Red! I'd like you all to remind yourselves how to use Red Sparks. Don't forget, the incantation is Vermillious!"

Of course, Ominis managed to conjure them perfectly without verbalising the spell. The little red sparks burst above his head in a flurry of cutesy fireworks. Tabitha gave her wand a wave; the only red it conjured was the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. As the spells popped in the air, Ominis leant over.

"I... I want to apologise for what I said. It was rude of me."

Surprised he said sorry at all, Tabitha shuffled uncomfortably. "S'okay. I did slug you in the saggers."

"Regardless," he said, eye twitching, "it was an unnecessary attack on your character." He paused, long enough for her to glance back at her book again. "Please allow me to make up for it by..." he pushed through his teeth, "offering my help."

Oh gosh. "That's really nice of you, but no thanks. I'm right as rain."

"Really? Show me the spell, then."

Tabitha frowned, but flicked her wand. Nothing happened.

"I swear I'm copying the book exactly."

"You have to speak the incantation," he said. "Vermillious."

"You didn't have to say it."

"I am good at spells. You are not."

He didn't say it mockingly, more matter-of-fact, which Tabitha didn't know how to take.

"Okay." She waved her wand. "Vermillious."

Nothing.

"Magic is intentions, so you must want to create red sparks. Try again."

"Vermillious!"

Nothing.

He opened his palm. "May I hold your wand?"

"Oh, er, here you go."

"No—" He pushed it back into her hand again. "I mean, may I hold your wand as you use the spell? So I can feel if anything is amiss."

Which was strangely nice of him to offer. Her fist had connected to his boy delicates not more than an hour ago. Had he really turned his cheek so quickly? Had the walk between lessons really made him rethink his life choices?

Maybe she'd misjudged him. Maybe, despite letting his crown jewels briefly meet God, he was actually a nice person.

Flushing, she let him hold her wand as she copied the wand movement exactly. "Vermillious!"

Nothing.

Ominis' face was stony.

"Tabitha?"

"Yes?"

"The reason the spell isn't working," he said, deadpan, "is because your wand is upside-down."

Chapter 3: Nowt Much to Tell

Summary:

Tabitha reluctantly meets Sebastian and Ominis for lunch.

"Oi, new girl."

Tabitha flinched when a Slytherin girl with a Scottish accent matched her steps. She was tall and broad-shouldered and had hair as dark as ink, and Tabitha felt like she was stark bum-naked when her gaze swooped her up and down.

"Heard you punched Gaunt in the balls?"

Tabitha went red. "Y-Yes, but I feel really bad about it—"

"No," said the girl. "Nice work. Shame I didn't get to see it."

"Oh. Thank you?"

The corner of her mouth lifted. "See you around."

She loped ahead into the Great Hall. Tabitha exhaled. Gosh, news travelled fast. It had only been a few hours since The Incident, and already everyone seemed to look at her fists like they were weapons of mass destruction. She tiptoed behind the Slytherin girl into the Great Hall, overwhelmed at the tapestry of sounds and scents. The tables were already full of students and crowded with an extensive menu: fat sandwiches oozing with filling, triple-cooked tats dressed in garlic and rosemary sauce, roasted swede and pea salad and fresh fruit tarts drizzled in sweet glaze. Her stomach shrivelled. After that morning she wasn't hungry. It had only been three hours – how was she supposed to survive a whole year?

Scurrying down the central aisle, she made awkward eye contact with Professor Fig. He smiled and stood, cobalt sleeves pooling by his fingers. Her grandpapa was probably about the same age, but Fig was a different calibre entirely, kind but shrewd, looking every bit the wizened old mentor from the fairy tales her mama used to tell her at bedtime. There was only one thing that set him aside from the stories: his eyes.

Full of unrepentant sadness.

"How was your morning?" he asked once they were in a more private corner to talk. "Professor Hecat told me you made quite an impression in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Tabitha looked away. "Did she tell you how?"

"She did. And a win is a win, no matter how it is earnt. We can work more on your spellcraft. And Charms?"

Tabitha grimaced. "It went real bad, Mister."

"Give yourself time and grace. You're still adjusting."

"Have you, erm, heard anything from my family?"

Sympathy fell over his face. "I haven't. Your magic is still unstable, Tabitha. I know you want to see them, but you must be patient."

Taking her heart to a wood saw would be easier to bear, but she waddled back towards the Hufflepuff table with even less of an appetite than before. It had never been this long since she'd been apart from them, and never so far away – a week and a bit now and a thousand miles, and the distance stung all that more. It was better this way, she knew, but still... the chaos of the Hufflepuff common room before curfew just didn't compare to the chaos of her family at the dinner table.

"Oi, ball basher! Ball basher! Baaaaall baaaaasher! ... TABITHA!"

Tabitha flinched and spun around. Sebastian waved frantically from the Slytherin table. Pummelling the thought down, she made her way over to where him and Ominis were leaning conspiratorially over their silverware, Ominis whispering furiously in his ear. He looked very much like he wanted to use the knife to stab her.

"Sit with us!" Sebastian said grandly, and Tabitha reluctantly slid into the place opposite. "I hear you're with me in Beasts this afternoon?"

"Sounds right," she said. "Is it a hard subject?"

"It's not hard, but it is hard work," he said. "The creatures can be pretty volatile if you're not careful. Have some venison pot pie, it'll keep up your stamina." He spooned a massive slice onto her plate, so Tabitha picked up the fork. Distantly, she noticed a wide berth between the two of them and their housemates. "So, I figured I'd get straight to the point. We're curious. You're a Muggle-born. What's your life like?"

"Er," she felt a bit put on the spot, "nowt much to tell."

"What?"

"Sorry. NOWT MUCH TO—"

"No, no, I heard you. What's nowt?"

"Oh. I mean, nothing much to tell."

"Nothing? I don't believe that." He waved his spoon. "Come ooooon. You were a Muggle a week ago. What was it like when your magic awoke? You must've been doing something interesting."

She stuck her fork in her mouth to stall for an answer. Anything! Just say anything! "Embroiderying!" she blurted, assaulting half the table with flying pie crumbs.

Several landed on Ominis' plate. His lips pinched so far up they could've taken orbit.

"I, erm— sorry." She swallowed an uncomfortably large chunk of venison and tried to sweep them onto the table. "I mean I was doing embroidery. That's when you sew the thread freehand on the fabric. My mama was teaching me. And my papa runs a confectionery in Highgate."

"A confectionery! Hear that, Ominis?" Sebastian nudged him. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Riveting," muttered Ominis.

"You would love Honeydukes. It's our sweet shop. Maybe Ominis can take you?"

"No, that's okay—"

"Nonsense. He'd love to. Wouldn't you, Ominis? Wouldn't you?"

Ominis yelped suddenly, fist clenched around his fork so tightly his knuckles were colourless. Still, he refused to answer.

"In fact," Sebastian kept going with a wide, pasted grin, "Professor Weasley has asked me personally to help you find your footing."

"What?" said Ominis. "When?"

"Ergo, you two need to get along. You'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on. Or at least Tabitha will be seeing a lot of you, Ominis. You won't be seeing very much."

"I will hex you."

"Ergo," Sebastian was triumphant, "there'll be no more whinging about who beat the piss out of who. We're all friends here. Friendly friends, with friendship. Is that all okay with you, nut cruncher?"

Tabitha glanced at Ominis. He looked like he was one second away from choking her with her own mouth crumbs.

"That's okay with me." She winced. "But... y-you're not going to call me those nicknames all the time, are you?"

"Oh, don't worry, I will." Sebastian grinned. "Anything that'll wind up Ominis."

Ominis flicked the crumbs at him instead.

Chapter 4: Hogsmeade

Summary:

Ominis escorts Tabitha to Hogsmeade, only to meet an unexpected foe.

Ominis had been waiting at the school's front gates for thirty-two minutes before he heard a regrettably familiar flurry of boot steps, accompanied by rapid, high-pitched breaths. Tabitha skidded to halt in front of him, panting hard.

"I'm so so sorry I'm late!" she blubbered. "I got lost and then I got into a conversation with a statue. But— where's Sebastian?"

When the little shit had volunteered Ominis to escort her to Hogsmeade to purchase her new things, he'd failed to mention he had no intention of going himself. Worse, when Ominis awoke that morning, Sebastian had up and made himself scarce. So the rat could get up on time unprompted. That whole twaddle about being assigned chaperone from Professor Weasley always smelt of bullshit, and Ominis had been mentally preparing to chew him out for more of the ham-fisted attempts to build a friendship – Tabitha was either too trusting or too stupid to notice him pulling the strings.

It had been a few days now, and he'd seen her in lessons long enough to know it was the latter.

"I doubt Sebastian will be joining us," he said, turning sharply to the long road ahead. "Let's go."

"Should we wait for him?"

"The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return."

"Okay! We'll just have to tell him about all the fun we had!"

Yes. Fun.

The walk was mostly pleasant – it was a mild September day, milder than it should've been for the time of year – and Tabitha gabbled most of the walk down, about the landscape and the castle and what to expect at the village. Occasionally he would let out a grunt to pretend he was listening. He could at least distract himself imagining inventive ways to throw Sebastian into the Great Lake.

"What do you have to buy?" he said, cutting through her thorough but unnecessary description of the shape of the clouds.

"Oh, erm. I have a list. Written down."

"... Okay?"

"And it says, right here," she cleared her throat, "seeds for Herbology, new quills, parchment, Beast feed and a new wand."

It had been a few Charms lessons since her first, and Tabitha had shown precisely zero signs of improvement. Hopefully it was due to her uncooperative wand rather than incompetence, but frankly he wasn't hopeful.

"Sebastian also said I had to get... I think it was a Zonko. What's a Zonko?"

Ominis sighed.

Tabitha let out the typical oohs and aahs when they crossed beneath the village arch, trying to take in everything at the same time and only making herself dizzy. In the mid-autumn, the air was taut but balmy, and trees from firelight gold to burnt orange glowed brightly in the morning sun, which was, he was told, a true visual treat. From the cutesy benches and charming window displays to the jewel-toned fashions and the witches wearing, to her astonishment, trousers, Tabitha proficiently squalled about everything humanly possible.

"I mean, I met – I think Imelda? – wearing trousers and I thought my eyes were going to pop out the sockets, but older women too?"

"Yes," he said – this warranted some pity. "You can wear trousers if you'd like."

She made a noise of excitement he could only liken to a dying hyena.

They hiked to the Magic Neep to collect the seeds first; having found a kinship in their Muggle ancestry, Ominis had to wait ten minutes for her and Timothy Teasdale to stop bloody talking. The parchment and quills were easier to procure, as was the Beast feed, and he left the wand to last to have something to be excited for, if anything about this trip could whet one atom of his interest.

"There's so many wands in here," she whispered when they entered Ollivander's. "How do I know which one to pick?"

"You don't," he said, as Gerbold Ollivander appeared around the back door. "The wand chooses the witch."

"Master Gaunt is correct. Hello, young man, and you, Miss Fulton-Smyth," Gerbold tipped his head in a greeting, "I was told to expect you. Very rare I get to pair a witch to her first wand here. I'd be honoured to help you find yours."

Most of the wands, unsurprisingly, exploded in her face. She had a seriously odd knack for finding herself in the worst situations and the wands seemed to know it, rejecting her in the most outlandish ways. Making her hair static, blinding her with her tie, even one time drenching her in soup, which Gerbold had to scourge from and the floor, despite her well-intentioned offer to 'lick the place clean'. She sped through twenty-eight wands (Ominis was counting) before finding her match, a willow wood with dragon heartstring core.

"May I feel it?" he asked, after they'd left.

She put the wand in his hand. The shaft curvature was odd, with the wood completing a full spiral in the middle, like a strand of magic, before finishing without a handle at the base. Runes were engraved into the surface. Overall it was a strange design, but befitting the strange girl.

"So? Is it bad?"

"No wand is ever inherently bad, Tabitha," he said, exasperated. "It all depends on the witch who wields it."

"Ohhh. Like a bad workman blames his tools! So a bad wizard blames his wand?"

It was so disturbingly astute he considered someone had used Polyjuice to pose as her double, but quickly dismissed the idea. No one would want to pretend to be the village idiot.

"OH. MY. GOSH." She suddenly gripped Ominis' arm. "IS THAT A SWEET SHOP?"

"Merlin— yes, Tabitha," he snatched his arm back, "that's the one Sebastian was telling you about."

"But— it's huge! Do I—?" She scrambled in her pockets. "I have a few bronzes! Is that enough for some sweets? We have to go in!"

As if he wanted to spend more time with her! "It's not on your list, so—"

She grabbed his arm again, and he found himself utterly powerless to stop the tiny girl from pulling him into the shop. The one thing Ominis hated about Honeydukes was the smell – overbearingly saccharine, like someone had shoved two candy canes up his nostrils – but the sound of it came close second: the sounds of her chewing samples with her mouth open or crooning over products she'd never seen or reaching an octave he previously thought impossible by squeeing. The proprietor, Patrick Redding, quickly took a shine to her when she told him about her family-owned confectionery in London. That ended up as another conversation that made Ominis fantasise deeply about doing literally anything else.

"Gosh, they have such a great range! And really, not a bad price too, for being the biggest wizard sweet shop in the country." Tabitha clutched a comically large paper bag of goodies that he had no intention of helping her carry. "But I can't believe they don't have any strawberry laces! It should be a crime!"

"What in Merlin's name is a strawberry—?"

A seismic crash blundered right through Ominis' question. Wand aloft, he immediately spun to face the danger: an enormous troll that had crashed through the Owl Post Office. The creature was about three times his height and build, with more muscles than sense, and a saggy, waxy type of skin bloated with pustules and blackheads. The roar it let out made the ground quake.

"WHAT ON HEAVEN AND EARTH IS THAT?" Tabitha shrieked, scrambling behind him.

"Come on." He tugged her back towards the high street. "Someone else will handle it."

"You're awfully calm when it's rampaging through the square!" she said, scurrying behind him as something crashed, sending a pulse of dust that disturbed the air. "Shouldn't we be worried?"

"No."

"It just clobbered the statue of Mr Hogsmeade Man!"

One of the Aurors – he recognised the nasally voice of Ruth Singer – corralled a group of volunteers to lure it away. With a myriad of spells and yelling, the creature stomped after them towards the bridge leading north.

"This is just a normal day in Hogsmeade, Tabitha," he said, impatient now that she kept digging her heels to watch. "Trolls are famously stupid. I'd wager all my Galleons the useless creature didn't even notice us—"

The explosion was so sudden he didn't have time to brace. Soaring six feet backwards, Ominis landed on the top of his back, sending a clang that made his ears ring. Merlin's beard. He winced as he got his bearings. Miraculously he still had grip on his wand, which was blaring alarm signals at falling debris, rubble and, most important of all, the humongous second troll that was lumbering above him. Its rank breath blew the hair from his face.

"MY SWEETS!" Tabitha bellowed, somewhere left. "I dropped my bag— Ominis, look out!"

Club club club! He lunged backwards just as the weapon smashed into the ground, cratering a hole in the cobblestones. The shards rained down, catching the sides of his face and clothes, as he stuck out his wand to find Tabitha amidst the chaos. The spark of her life force blared by the ruins of the Owl Post Office, and he sprinted towards her before the troll pulled back again, snarling.

"Let's go!" He seized her arm, but she was wooden. "We have to go!"

"But my sweets! I need to get them!"

"Forget your damn—!"

The troll charged. Ominis yanked her out of the way, and they fell together, knocking heads. Hers was like a rock, and no doubt as dense too. There was another terrible crunch of bricks flying and uprooted earth and—

"NOOOOO! MY SWEETS!"

He tried to take her arm again, pull her away, but she wouldn't go. Something shifted around her – he could sense it, like the way incoming rain had a potent sour tang.

"Tabitha—"

With one smooth motion, she freed her arm and drew her new wand.

"Now you've made it personal!"

And despite not knowing a single damn spell, Tabitha Fulton-Smyth ran straight for the troll.

"Stop— attacking— people— and destroying things!" she screamed, battering it with a rapid fire of basic casts until it staggered into the demolished tree. "Especially my— sweet stash! Do you— know how much— money I spent— on those?"

She was going to get herself killed. Idiot girl. Ominis let out a swift, rough curse and sprinted forwards. Just as it gathered enough momentum to smash its club down, he skidded to her side and thrust his wand upwards, conjuring a shield above. The impact felt like a hammer to his spine. It staggered from the recoil, and Ominis aimed at its feet.

"Incarcerous!"

The ropes tangled with its legs, sending it stumbling into Honeydukes and shattering the windows. Patrons ran screaming as Tabitha hurled her basic casts, whittling its stamina with a determined scream. It grabbed a cart and chucked it towards them, which Ominis snagged and tossed aside, before drawing a z shape.

"Confringo!"

It exploded outwards, causing the troll to roll to its back and let out a sad moan. Ominis might've felt sorry for it if it hadn't tried to kill them.

Tabitha reeled her wand back, like she meant to throw it. "That's for destroying the square!" Basic cast. "That's for hurting Ominis!" Basic cast. "And this" – she swung – "is for MY SWEETS!"

The spell contracted, then burst on impact, sending both Ominis and Tabitha off their feet. The troll roared and then cut sharply off, and as Ominis braced himself on his elbows, panting hard, a sharp, metallic scent filled the air, like a strike of lightning or the flash-bang of a cauldron. He breathed something in that tasted like embers.

What the hell was that?

A hand grabbed his arm. He whipped around – Tabitha was shaking him. "Oh golly, are you all right? Ohhhh nooooo, you have about thirty-eight cuts—!"

"I'm fine." He sat up as Tabitha fell back onto her bum, sighing. "You— that spell?"

"What spell?"

"The one that just vanished the troll?" Only not even then, because he could still smell the stench of it, its ashes. "How did you do that?"

"I— don't know what you mean! I just hit it!" She got to her feet, then offered to help him up – which he promptly ignored. "That was cutting it a bit close!"

"Don't change the subject. It's not normal for them to just explode like that. Even adults have trouble fighting against trolls."

She puffed up. "You didn't have trouble! You ain't an adult!"

"I'm fully trained."

"I beat you!"

"For the last time that doesn't— argh, stop being deliberately obtuse! What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Suddenly she was defensive. "I-I don't know what to tell you—!"

"Children!"

Auror Ruth Singer stumbled over to them. Ominis knew of her – all the Gaunts did, and loath as he was to share a similar opinion with his family, this woman was about as useful at her job as a pot of sugar was for building a house.

"What happened? What—?"

"There was a second one! Another thingy!" blurted Tabitha. "It sat on my sweets so Ominis and I fought it off! It had some odd glowing armour, like it was on fire – but not actually on fire!"

As she word-vomited the story to Ruth Singer, it became clear she was combing out the important detail of exploding the troll herself. Something about it made her uneasy. Ominis decided to table the discussion; let her keep it secret – for now.

He would get the truth eventually.

"Ominis?" said Ruth. He could feel her gaze on him. "Ominis Gaunt?"

Her tone rankled him. "Yep!" said Tabitha.

"Well," she said, a lot less enthusiastic, "I understand why you were able to hold your own now. And you're both unharmed? How incredible!"

It came as no surprise that Ominis wasn't injured, but for Tabitha to come out with all her limbs still attached was nothing short of a miracle.

"You've done good work today, well done. And you, young lady... you have the makings of an Auror!"

"Great!" piped Tabitha. "... What's an Auror?"

Once the square was repaired, the blockages freed and the townsfolk grateful, Ominis and Tabitha retrieved the rest of their things – ironically, everything but the sweets – and headed towards the Hogsmeade gate. Tabitha was limping ever so slightly, but just to be petty, he decided not to reveal he could heal it.

"I can't believe it destroyed my sweet stash. All my pocket money... wasted! You'd think Mr Redding would give me some for free, since we saved his shop! I mean, I know the troll landed in it, but..."

Ominis hummed. "I suppose I've learnt one thing from today."

"What's that?"

"I should count myself lucky," he said, "that a punch to my groin was the least I got."

Chapter 5: Crossed Wands

Summary:

Sebastian helps Tabitha and Ominis with an explosive homework assignment.

Ominis Gaunt was staring at her again.

Well, 'stare'. It wasn't exactly in the deep, brooding eye contact that made her suddenly feel very nude sort of way. Ominis never directly looked at Tabitha, for obvious reasons. But the intensity of his aura was so powerful whenever he was close by that she knew there were cogs turning in that perfectly coiffed head of his.

Fudge cakes. He really wanted to know how the troll blew up.

It was making Tabitha restless in their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons that next week. Under no circumstance could anyone find out about ancient magic. Fig had told her, emphatically, very strongly, shaking her by the shoulders I'm begging you to please listen to this, that the shenanigans with Ranrok and the freaky magic door and the pendant in the bird bath were strictly secret. Not only was it dangerous, but it had the potential to get people hurt. George Osric lost his life for it – who else would she be willing to risk?

It was eating her up, keeping her odd magic a secret. It was obviously eating up Ominis, too. Just not for the same reasons.

"We'll be focusing on wards next week," Hecat called, as she let everyone pack away their things, "and I want to see tip-top wandwork. Master Sallow, Master Gaunt, Miss Fulton-Smyth?" Tabitha stopped frantically shoving her things away and glanced upwards. "A word, please."

Oh crumbs.

"I have to run." Her seatmate Leander gave her a small smile. "Doesn't sound like you're in trouble, so don't worry about it. She probably just wants to ask how you're settling in."

"What should I say?"

"That I'm helping you, obviously. See you later?"

Tabitha waved goodbye as the rest of the class wandered out for the lunch hour. Neither Sebastian nor Ominis seemed too bothered about the summons, although Tabitha felt Ominis' keen intrigue like a needle up her bum.

"If this is about blowing up your desk the day before the summer holidays, Professor," Sebastian said, batting his eyelids, "I swear Ominis repaired it exactly the way it was."

"No, no, this isn't— you blew up my desk?"

"Shit— er, I mean—"

"Please pardon his language," Ominis said quickly, nudging his friend, "and I promise we didn't intend—"

Hecat raised a hand. "I'll take a point for the language and nothing more, if you'd be willing to offer some extra duelling help, Master Sallow? I believe your guidance could be beneficial."

It was like the snake had offered him the forbidden fruit for the way Sebastian's face lit up with manic glee.

"It would be my absolute pleasure, Professor." Sebastian roped an arm around Tabitha's shoulder. "I'm happy to escort Tabitha through her journey—"

"For both her and Master Gaunt," Hecat said.

Ominis went predatorily still.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can benefit from Master Sallow's expertise as well," Hecat said coolly. "You lost to Miss Fulton-Smyth last week."

His brow descended straight to Hell. Tabitha panicked. Cheese and crackers, why does she have to rub it in?

"No, no, Sebastian can teach me on his own! You know me, I'd probably, er, accidentally blast Ominis' face off! And he needs his face. Plus he was really good when we fought the troll in Hogsmeade so I don't think—"

Ominis' eyebrows lifted – and she realised her mistake.

She'd never seen a frown turn upside-down with such blatant ulterior motive.

"I apologise, Professor. You're right, of course." Ominis smiled pleasantly, sinisterly. "I'm sure Tabitha has many things to teach me about her duelling technique."

If Sebastian was a little suspicious at the sudden change of heart, he didn't voice it. "In that case," he said, "I'll do my utmost to marshal my completely helpless friends in the glorious art of the duel!"

"Excellent," said Hecat. "I hope to hear about it from Master Brattleby."

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up. "What? Professor...?"

"I'm eager to see what you learn, both of you," she said, giving them both a nod. "That will be your homework for the next week. I want to see some marked improvement."

Outside the classroom Tabitha was so nervous she felt sweat between her eyeballs. Duelling! She couldn't do that! What if she fell flat on her face and everyone laughed? What if she really did blast Ominis' face off? So many things could go wrong, and worse, Sebastian and Ominis were anticipating it. Sebastian was practically salivating with excitement.

"We can duel privately," Ominis was mumbling grumpily, arms crossed. "I see no need to involve that lot in our training. We would fare much better without—"

Sebastian slapped him on the back. "Oh, but it's your homework, Ominis. So you have to."

"Have to do what?" asked Tabitha, confused. "Why d'you look like the lame horse you accidentally bet on just won first at the races?"

"Professor Hecat is full of surprises." Sebastian let out a magnanimous laugh and ushered her forwards. "Come on. They'll have already started. You too, Grunt. Let's go!"

They crossed the building and entered a Clock Tower teeming with students. Something was occurring in the middle of the throng, and after a round of cheers, Tabitha didn't need to guess what.

"That's Mouse out and Collins into the next round! House wins the odds!" There was a chorus of groans as a boy laughed loudly. "Told you not to underestimate her! Cough up, Cavendish!"

A second later, Maya Cavendish shouldered her way out of the crowd, steaming more than train coals. She shot the three of them, especially Tabitha, a contemptuous look before exiting out the bridge.

"Welcome to Crossed Wands, Hogwarts' unofficial duelling club," said Sebastian grandly. "Come on, let's get front row seats for a few matches."

Tabitha winced – hard. Professional violence. Like she didn't get enough of that already!

"So you just... duel?"

"It's not just duelling, Tabs. It's about putting into practice everything we've been taught against a variety of opponents to prepare us for the outside world. Theory's only getting you so far. It's the real life experience that counts."

I already have that! she wanted to yell, screwing up her tongue into a tight knot. Did dragon attacks not count? Goblins? Literal statues? A lot of people paid respects to Sebastian with nods and polite, reverential greetings. Ominis, meanwhile, got a cold shoulder and a wide berth – not that he cared when he looked like he'd bitten a giant gone-off lemon.

"We could've taught her perfectly fine on her own," he muttered.

"Oh, cheer up, Grunt," said Sebastian. "Doesn't it bring back fond memories?"

"Only the ones where you lost," said Ominis, before leaving them to sulk.

Tabitha watched him brood broodingly in the corner. "Why isn't Ominis part of the club?" she asked Sebastian. "He's really good."

Sebastian snorted. "He graduated from the club, Tabitha. Stupid bastard is too good. Not as good as me, of course, but close second. Consider it a miracle you beat him in that duel." He raised his hands. "Not to say that you're bad. Still think you're a genius for gonging the gonads. Nor the club members, either. Ominis had... a different education, when it came to winning."

"What sort?"

"Call it solo lessons." A brief grimace flicked across his lips before it was gone. "I could've graduated ten times over by now too, but I enjoy it. Plus it's good being king of the hill, and gives the firsties someone to look up to."

The next duel was almost over when they got to the front. To Tabitha's surprise, Leander Prewett was battling alone – he shot some sort of orange hex that sent his opponent sprawling. When the poor boy couldn't get up, the referee, Lucan Brattleby, thrust out a hand.

"Ten seconds, and you're out! The Double Lion Leander Prewett wins!"

Leander pumped the air. "Yeah!" He soaked every bit of praise from the crowd. Except when he spun around to bask in the glory, his eyes met Sebastian's, and it was like draining a spot of pus.

"Oh. Sallow."

"Nice day for a bit of light sparring?" Sebastian called.

"Are you alone, or did you bring your dog too?"

"Now that," Sebastian yanked Tabitha forwards, "is a terrible thing to call my newest charge."

Leander's tune changed immediately. "Tabitha! What're you doing here?"

"Just watching!" she chirruped. "That last match was good!"

His cheeks glowed. "Thanks. Watch me win the next one, too?"

As Leander went head-to-head against some bloke named Sirius Black, Tabitha leant to Sebastian. "I really don't get why Leander hates you."

"Me? Oh no, I actually don't mind the chap, he's fun to piss off. He just hates me by proxy because he loathes Ominis. Those two've butted heads since first year. Leander takes things personally, and Ominis – well, you know what he's like. They got off on the wrong foot and it's been bad ever since. Add in a sprinkle of family rivalries and you have yourself a battle royale every time they so much as breathe in each other's direction."

"Family rivalries?"

"Yeah, the Prewetts are pure-blood too – except not, you know, crazy blood purity pure-blood. They'll hug all the Muggles every day. The Gaunts hate that."

Tabitha tried to assimilate this new information into her head. There were pure-bloods, and then there were pure-blood pure-bloods. Was this why Ominis was so mean all the time? Because she had Muggle heritage?

"And I hate to admit it," Sebastian said wistfully, "Prewett's not a bad duellist either. Not the best though, let's not inflate his ego too much."

She grinned. "Like yours, then?"

"Excuse me, my massive ego matches my massive—"

"Leander wins again! It's a streak!" Lucan screamed, inciting a round of cheers so loud Tabitha's brain rattled. If the students here did duels for fun, how the heck was she meant to compete? Aside from vaporising someone into atoms she was nowhere near the same level of skill – and she couldn't punch them all in the balls.

"Ominis," she said, finding him alone by the wall, leering despite not being able to leer, "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not?" he drawled. "It's not as if you don't need the practice, and Sebastian will help you."

"But— neither of us like being here! So we could just leave and let him—"

"I don't like it here, true," Ominis agreed nonchalantly. "However, if you were to, accidentally of course, blow Leander into smithereens, perhaps the ends justify the means."

She squeaked. "I don't want to blow Leander into smithereens!"

"And I might be able to assist you," he become a quiet murmur, "if you tell me how you defeated that troll."

Gahhhh! No no no! But she was saved having to reply with another floundering excuse when Lucan took to the main floor.

"Our next pair of challengers may be our most unique yet!" he announced, rousing the onlookers. "On the one hand, he's the King of the Clock Tower, the Master of the Duelling Arts, the Legend of Crossed Wands himself... Sebastian Sallow! Does anyone dare try to rip away his accolades?" He paused dramatically. "Today... you might have your chance. At his side is a total novice, coming to Hogwarts for the first time! Some may whisper the Dragon Destroyer, others may revere the Testicular Torsion Terror... but soon all will fear her true name, Tabitha Fulton-Smyth! Who dares to take a challenger with such illustrious support? Cowards need not apply!"

As Sebastian ushered her onto the floor, Tabitha really hoped the answer would be precisely zero (especially from the boys), but to her horror two Gryffindors stepped up, brandishing their wands.

"We'll take them!"

"A well-balanced team fights back! It's the Rapid Striking Puma Hector Jenkins and the Mancunian Muscle Eric Northcutt! Odds ten to four on the Gryffindors! Get your bets in! Let's go!"

"Oh, so sorry! How silly of me to forget!" Sebastian hooked the crowd like a thread on a nail. "There's one more person joining us. Our lovely assistant!"

He gestured grandly to Ominis. Ominis' brow wrinkled.

"... He better not be pointing at me."

"An old foe arises from the ashes!" Lucan declared. "Battle enthusiasts of Crossed Wands, we have an upset! And this rare third opponent is certainly no Muggle-born holding his first wand. It's the fearsome and feared, the efficiently ruthless master duellist, son of Slytherin, Ominis Gaunt! Will anyone attempt to balance the side?"

"No!" Ominis started. "I am not—"

"I will!"

Leander shouldered his way to the front. There was a towel around his neck, and a glass bottle of water jammed between his teeth. He downed it in one go.

"Sorry, Tabs, nothing personal. Someone has to knock Gaunt down a peg."

That seemed to flick some switch in Ominis' head; he widened his stance, scoffing. "Oh, spare me, Prewett. She wants to learn how to win, not embarrass herself."

"Erm!" Tabitha pointed towards the wall. "How about I just sit on the side and you lot fight?"

"Oh, no," Sebastian grabbed her by the collar, "you need to learn. And Ominis will help."

"I will do no such thing," growled Ominis. "I am not duelling them. You can do it."

"Why?" said Leander. "Scared, Gaunt?"

"As if I would be scared of someone so beneath me in skill."

Boy stupidity was truly universal no matter wizard or Muggle. A grin flitted briefly over Sebastian's face, and then it fell away, replaced with wide, shocked eyes as Leander's jaw clenched.

"That's funny," he said, voice low. "Since you lost to a punch in the balls."

"I'm happy to admit it was a stroke of innovation... something you sorely lack."

"D'you think maybe we should all calm down a bit?" said Tabitha, whose suggestion was promptly drowned out by testosterone.

"Prove it, then," Leander snarled. "Why don't we see if all those private tutors paid off... Heir of Slytherin?"

The gasps rattled out. Ominis' fists clenched so tightly they shuddered with barely-restrained hatred.

"If you welcome a beating, fine. I'm thrilled to oblige."

"We'll see who gets beaten. Hector, Eric, let's go!"

"That's not fair!" Hector whined. "They've got Sallow and Gaunt!"

"Yes," said Sebastian, "but we also have a Fulton-Smyth, which balances us out nicely."

Tabitha opened, then closed her mouth. "That's fair."

"Constance, get up here too." Leander stared meaningfully at Tabitha. "You sure you don't want to join our team?"

Sebastian dragged her to the corner before she had a chance to reply. Honestly, it was probably for the best. She knew she had absolutely no hope of contributing any meaningful damage. Right now, ego was all that mattered.

"So," Sebastian clapped his hands together, "here's our game plan—"

"Prewett is dead meat," Ominis snarled. "Tabitha, just stay out of the way."

"Now, Ominis," tutted Sebastian, "that's not very conducive of her learning—"

"You don't get a say." His growl was barely audible. "You ran your mouth off and now we're at a disadvantage!"

"Now, now, that's a rude thing to call Tabitha."

"I meant our numbers, you ingrate! Four against three – and one of us can duel about as well as a Puffskein can play chess!"

"Now that is a rude thing to call Tabitha."

"I know you egged him on deliberately!" Ominis snapped. "Private tutors. That toe-ragged Gobstone."

"Don't blame me. Egging him on, insulting him, that was all you, Ominis. Not my fault you feel like you have something to prove." Sebastian radiated typical boyish vanity. "Don't panic, Tabitha. The King of Crossed Wands, the Heir of Slytherin – said ironically, relax, Ominis – and the Testicular Torsion Terror, on one magnificent team? We're going to fuck. Them. Up."

Ominis reeled back suddenly. "Will you mind your language!"

"My deepest apologies, I forgot we were in the presence of a lady. And Tabitha, too."

Ominis growled.

"What's wrong with what you said?" asked Tabitha. "What does fuck mean?"

Ominis frantically waved his hands. "Do not repeat that foul—"

"Fuck," Sebastian said airily, "might just be the most versatile curse word in the English language."

"Sebastian—"

"Oh nice!" Tabitha chirruped. "I love learning new curse words! Fuck!"

Ominis facepalmed.

They took their positions at the courtyard's wrought iron grate at their backs, and the curious audience their wall. Beyond the back of Sebastian and Ominis' heads, Leander was cutting a sharp figure directing Hector, Eric and Constance Dagworth to flanking positions. Tabitha frowned. With all three of them duelling prodigies, it was a wonder they didn't put aside their stupid egos to actually be friends. They'd make a formidable trio on their own.

"Competitors ready?" said Lucan. "Bow! And... begin!"

Sebastian and Ominis were in perfect sync, shooting a simultaneous "Confringo!" to break the opponent line. Hector and Constance both dodged, Eric took the brunt of Sebastian's curse, toppling backwards into the crowd with half his robe singed off, and Leander blocked it with a sharp crack of his wand. He sped forwards into the smoke, aiming his wand directly at Ominis.

"Levioso!"

Ominis parried it away. "Pathetic!"

They traded blows, so focused on each other Sebastian was forced to hold up the rear against three. Not that Sebastian seemed to mind – his entire face had changed, his easy-going persona displaced to one of intense concentration. Parry, block, counter, jab. He worked mechanically, but smoothly, each movement so innate he had already floored the three of them in ten seconds. The crowd cheered.

Hector and Constance scrambled to their feet. "Keep him busy!" yelled Constance. "I'll go for the weak one!"

It took 0.2 seconds for Tabitha to realise oh wait, that's me when Constance vaulted over Sebastian's next curse with a well-timed Ascendio and landed, with a roll, at her side.

"OH GOSH OH GOSH OH GOSH!" Tabitha fumbled with her wand. "Erm! S-Stupe—"

"Depulso!"

One time, when Tabitha was eight, she'd got into a fight when Eleanor Kitt pulled her pigtails for a laugh. Instead of taking the bullying, she remembered the wisdom taught to her by her older brother Connor. If someone punches you, you have to punch them back three times as hard, so they don't do it again. Naturally, Tabitha wound her arm back and fist-mashed Eleanor's stomach so hard she tickled her lunch.

The impact kind of felt like that.

She didn't remember landing in the throng of students, but after a second they shoved her back into the fray. Her stomach sang with pain, her vision went dizzy. Three Constances were coming directly for her, wands alight, and all Tabitha could think about was not vomiting onto the flagstones. And maybe sending an apology to Eleanor when she got the chance.

Squinting to focus, she pointed her wand at Constance. "Stupefy!"

Constance batted the spell away and muttered something – Tabitha fell face-first to the floor. Blood spurted out her nose. No no no! Just as she got to her elbows, Constance's boot slammed against her shoulder, pinning her down. She shrieked.

"Yield!" demanded Constance.

She couldn't give up this easily. "Erm— er—"

"Flipendo!"

Constance went flying – Tabitha looked left, to where Ominis had sent Leander to his arse and blasted the girl in the same breath. Wand upright, he skidded to her side and offered a hand.

"Up you get. Quickly now!"

There was blood dribbling down his nose, and a bruise blossoming purple on his jaw. That neat hair was mussed, strands like claws shadowing his eyes. Oh nooooo, he's attractive! she thought, watching the line of concentration soften with each heave of his breath. Especially when he's mauling his enemies!

She took his hand and, surprised at his muscle strength, got to her feet with one flex. Nooooo! Her traitorous eyes drifted down his arm – the sleeve was sweaty but oh Lord did it reveal what lay beneath. He has really nice arms too!

"T-Thank you," she said, trying to look anywhere else. "She banged me up a bit."

"Just stay back and let us handle this."

It was true, he was a master duellist. Sebastian was too, handling two opponents at once – revelling in it, booming with laughter as he chucked Eric into the ground and set Hector's robe on fire. He parried two blows simultaneously, ricocheting them back at their feet.

"Is that all you've got?"

Nooooo! thought Tabitha. He's handsome too!

Leander helped Constance up. Ominis and Sebastian were beaten up, bruised and bloody, but Leander and his friends were tired – sagging with fatigue and sweat dripping off their foreheads. Constance snarled and yanked away from Leander's grip.

"I can take her."

"Yeah?" said Eric. "Then why is she still standing?"

"I say we all go for her," said Hector.

Leander looked a modicum guilty, but he thumbed the blood from his mouth. "Fine," he said, and his eyes tightened. "But Gaunt is mine."

NOOOOO! Tabitha thought. WHY IS EVERYONE HOT?

"Protect her," said Sebastian, spitting blood on the ground and grinning. "I've got this."

Leander's hex didn't hit – Ominis intercepted with a Shield charm that Sebastian used as cover to close the space. It was quite beautiful, in a twisted way, how he leapt forwards with the ferocity of a starved wolf. He didn't even verbalise the spell that sent Hector careening into Constance like a ragdoll. Both of them knocked over, Eric battered him with hex after hex but Sebastian countered in perfect synchronisation, flicking them away like silly little shuttlecocks. Magic exploded around him, and yet he devoured it. Skidding to his knees, he tucked his wand underarm to send a curse that made Eric scarper forwards and smack his face into the ground, and his groan of defeat made Sebastian grin manically.

"No!" Leander yelled.

Ominis seized the moment, shearing the gap to throw a set of ropes at Hector's feet. The boy tripped and fell again, slapping his hand to the ground to proclaim mercy. By that time Sebastian had flattened Constance with a classic Levioso-Descendo combo.

All three of them were out in a matter of seconds. But Leander was living up to his reputation as a good duellist – maybe whatever the heck the Double Lion meant. He parried each spell Ominis, then Sebastian, flung his way.

"Three against one?" he laughed. "Barely a challenge!"

"You're fucked, Prewett!" Sebastian said frenziedly.

"Yeah, you're fucked, Prewett!" Tabitha yelled, waving her wand erratically. "You're getting fucked by us so hard right now!"

Ominis sent another hex into the wall. "That is not how you use that word!"

It was impressive how Leander managed to stay upright, all the pummelling he was getting from Ominis alone would've made Tabitha topple at least two months ago. She thought about the spell Ominis had used on Hector – yeah, he'd done that against the troll, hadn't he? At least that one didn't look like it had explosive results.

Maybe... she could help? She had to get better, after all, and she couldn't do that if she didn't try something new. They were so far ahead anyway, what better time than now?

She drew the spell.

"Incarcerous!"

The ropes shot out fully formed – which she was very pleased about – but her poor aim and the sheer recoil meant they accidentally whipped the backs of Ominis' legs, tripping him forwards.

"What the—!" he shrieked as they snagged around his legs. "Tabitha!"

Horror washed over Tabitha's excitement. "Oh no no no, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—!"

"Just get them off!"

"I-I don't know how!" She flailed her wand. "Uncarcerous! Uncarcerous!"

"Emancipare!"

"Emaniciparry! Emaciniparry!"

"What the hell is going on?" Between countering Leander's spells, Sebastian glanced between Tabitha and Ominis. His face dropped. "What the fuck did you two do?"

"Language, Sebastian!"

"Oh give it a bloody rest, Ominis!" he shot back. "You should practice your duelling technique more instead of spending your time spread out on your—!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Sebastian's wand went flying. "Oh shit—"

"Levioso!" Leander lifted Sebastian into the air. "Depulso!"

Tabitha heard him sigh as he sailed to the other side of the room. Leander turned to Ominis next, still struggling, and kicked his wand away – then turned menacingly to her. Realising she was the last one standing, she frantically stuck her wand at him and said the first spell that came to mind.

"LUMOS!"

And he exploded into smithereens!

... Just joking, her wand lit up like a Christmas tree.

Leander smirked and disarmed her, then directed his wand at her throat. She immediately raised her hands.

"Erm... truce?"

Lucan leapt into the duelling arena, immediately grabbing Leander's arm. "Unbelievable! Despite the three-to-one advantage, and against two of the best duellists in the school, the Double Lion Leander Prewett has risen victorious!"

As the crowd cheered the miraculous win, and Leander got mobbed by half of Crossed Wands celebrating the epic underdog clencher, Ominis, still bound in the ropes and unable to move, craned his neck to the ceiling and let out a murderous sigh.

"Oh for fuck's sake..."

Chapter 6: Reputation

Summary:

The Hufflepuff girls tell Tabitha about the Gaunt family history.

Notes:

We're back! Thanks for your patience. Also behold this meme I made to go with the chapter 😂 Enjoy!

Tabitha was putting on her jim-jams behind the screen when Charlotte Morrison waltzed into the dorm.

"I just heard a peculiar rumour!" she announced. "Apparently Garreth Weasley has been trying to make Amortentia to sell to the fifth-year boys."

Tabitha poked her head around as Adelaide Oakes and Lenora Everleigh sat up from their beds.

"Really?" said Adelaide, frowning. "Are they ordering them?"

"In droves!" Charlotte tossed herself onto her bed, dressed down in a nightgown and a silk wrap for her hair. "He's making quite the Galleon, I hear."

"But do they work?" snorted Lenora, lying on her bed thumbing a book. "It wouldn't surprise me if it was some sort of fake. All he'd need to do is recreate the mother-of-pearl sheen and make it smell nice."

Tabitha finished dressing for bed by tugging out her ribbons, letting her hair tumble down her back.

"What's Amoratent-thingy?" she asked, stepping out from behind the screen and shoving her uniform into her wardrobe. She'd never had her own before – she always had to share with her younger brother.

"You should hang those up," remarked Lenora.

Adelaide gave her a look of exasperation. "Amortentia," she corrected Tabitha. "The most powerful love potion in the world."

"Oh, wow! That sounds fun!"

"Not fun," Lenora said nasally. "It's dangerous."

"Or it would be," said Charlotte, "if Garreth was actually capable of brewing it. It's notoriously difficult to make."

"Oh, Lenora," Adelaide giggled, "you should try one on Sebastian Sallow!"

Charlotte howled out a laugh as Lenora went beet-red. "I would not!"

"What if they're cheap?"

"I still wouldn't!" She tossed her hair. "I wouldn't need to trick him. Our love will blossom naturally."

"You don't even talk to him!"

"I don't need to! Eventually he'll notice me and realise we were meant to be. I'd steer him towards the light."

It was Tabitha's turn to guffaw. "Asking Sebastian to behave is like asking a sailor not to swear!"

But no one else joined in – and suddenly all the eyes in the dorm were watching her with piercing alacrity. She might as well have announced she routinely picked her nose.

"How did you do it then, hmm?" Charlotte sat forwards, bracing her chin on the back of her hand. "You and him seem to be close, and you've known him less than two weeks."

Tabitha plonked down on her bed. She hadn't really given her rapid friendship with Sebastian much thought. "Is that strange?"

"A little," said Adelaide. "Sebastian's a bit of a wildcard. He's friendly with almost everyone, but never friends. He's... a little flighty. Only truly hung around with two people."

"And Anne shouldn't even count," said Charlotte.

"Anne?" Tabitha scrounged the list of students in the year, but couldn't remember anyone with that name. "Who's that?"

"His twin sister?"

"He's a twin?"

"He didn't tell you? She got sick during the summer holidays last year. Hasn't been seen since."

But he hadn't said a word! Oh gosh, how embarrassing. What if he was all torn up and worried while Tabitha had been whinging about something stupid, like an itchy armpit?

"It's a shame. I liked him and Anne. They were fun." Charlotte sneered. "Not like Gaunt."

The revulsion in her voice was enough to make Tabitha sit ramrod straight. Lenora echoed it with a roll of her eyes.

"Is it bad I wish whatever sickness got Anne got him instead?"

"Lenora!" cried Adelaide.

"What? It would've done us all a favour. Sorry, Tabitha, I know he's your Charms partner, but he's despicable. I'd keep an eye out if I were you."

Tabitha squirmed. Because she was spending an inordinate amount of time with Sebastian, she was spending an inordinate amount of time with Ominis, too. And yes, he was mean. And uptight. And rude. And stuck-up. And nasty. And arrogant. And prying. And pompous...

What was her point again? Oh, yes: he was not a very nice person, but wishing ill on him?

"What did he do?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

The three girls exchanged glances.

"You know he's descended from Salazar Slytherin?" said Adelaide.

Something-Slytherin... that's what Leander and Lucan called him during the duel at Crossed Wands, didn't they? She'd thought it was just a joke to poke fun at his house – not that they were literally related.

"So his great-times-thirty-grandpapa founded Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but it's not what his family is most infamous for," Charlotte said, fluffing her pillows. "The Gaunts are some of the most powerful wielders of Dark Magic."

Adelaide hugged her legs. "They want to remove the ban on the three Unforgivable Curses. They've been campaigning for it for years."

"What... what are those?"

"The spells to hurt, control and kill," Lenora said, grinding her teeth. "And his family wants to bring them back into lawful usage. My brothers work at the Ministry and they've been constantly fighting against their proposed policy changes." She was so incensed she chucked her book onto her bedside table. "If the world was their way half of us would be dead or enslaved."

It was a struggle to reconcile this in her head. Yes, all right, Ominis left a lot to be desired, but was he some cackling villain hell-bent on world domination? No! If anything, Ominis would find it too much of a hassle. I simply do not care enough to bother, she could easily imagine him saying, specifically to her.

The door clambered open, cutting the thought in half like a botched magician show. Evangeline trundled inside, already dressed in pyjama bottoms, a silk shirt and nightcap, with her sheet music slotted between her arm.

"Evie!" said Lenora at once. "Opinions on Ominis Gaunt?"

Evangeline deposited her parchment with a perfunctory "Ew."

"You see, Tabitha? His reputation speaks for itself." Lenora flicked her hair back. "How you can stand to be around him more than necessary is beyond me. He has the ego of his pretentious family."

But even ignoring his frosty veneer, he kept his head down and did his work and never tried to attract attention of any kind. Otherwise he'd live for troll battles and student duels, like Sebastian.

And his family, supporting those curses... was it true they were that evil?

"The Gaunts can't do anything now, not while we're all in school and under the protection of the Ministry," said Adelaide, misinterpreting her wide eyes as fear. "But they are bad news. I'd stay clear of Ominis Gaunt at all costs."

"And I'd tell Sebastian to stay clear of him, too," said Lenora smarmily. "But who knows? Ominis probably has blackmail on him or something. Wouldn't surprise me if he's threatening him with one of those curses."

"We shouldn't make up such things," said Adelaide hurriedly.

But Charlotte raised her chin and Evangeline grimaced, and it was pretty clear what they both thought. As it rolled over to the ten o'clock curfew, Poppy Sweeting, the last Hufflepuff girl in their year, tiptoed inside already washed and dressed for bed. The interruption of their quietest dormmate was a conversation killer; Adelaide gave Tabitha a genial smile, but spoke nothing else on the subject as books and parchment were squirrelled away and lamps were snuffed.

"Night, girls," said Charlotte.

"Night!" chimed Lenora.

Tabitha tucked herself into the blankets and folded her glasses on the side table, head whirring. There were other moments, too, that spoke of a secret kindness stowed away in Ominis' chest. He was constantly helping her in Charms. He came to her aid at the duel. He fought at her side, defended her when the troll attacked Hogsmeade. Okay, he was always grumpy and frowning and annoyed, but the other day she saw him petting a cat – and really, was there any crossover between people cultivating an appetite for mass destruction and people who liked to give kitten scritches?

The way Charlotte and Lenora and Evangeline spoke of him, though... they wouldn't lie. They had no reason to, and it wasn't like that reputation came from nowhere. He was the meanest person Tabitha knew, and she had noticed how unpopular he was... but did that mean he wanted to kill everyone? She laid in bed, staring at the blurry blank ceiling as Lenora began to snore. Something about Ominis Gaunt simply didn't add up.

What on earth had he done to earn such a terrible reputation?

Chapter 7: Prejudice

Summary:

Ominis confronts Tabitha about her deepest, darkest secret.

Notes:

A pivotal chapter, this one 👀 Enjoy! <3

It had been two weeks since, and Ominis had yet to find a good opportunity to bring up the vanishing troll.

For all her idiocy and clumsiness, there was one thing Tabitha Fulton-Smyth was good at: evasion. As in, physically running away, avoiding him like he was infected with dragonpox. She dodged him in the hallways, skirted him at meals, pivoted and marched the other direction anywhere else it was acceptable to do so. Lessons were no place for such a dangerous conversation and she never stopped to idle without Sebastian close by, and, so far, he'd never seen her replicate her miraculous spellcraft on any of her Crossed Wands opponents, or even the dummy.

It was eating away at him, the not knowing, the truth being so close yet skittish as a drunk doxy. The way she acted suggested it was no one-off miracle, and no ditzy Muggle-born could do that a week into possessing magic.

Ominis had to keep reminding himself there was no rush for this information. The silver lining to Sebastian's annoying forced friendship opportunity was plenty of time spent with her, and they had months until the end of the winter term. Loath as he was to find kinship with his ancestor, Ominis was nothing if not a patient predator, waiting as the serpent did for the perfect time to strike.

He would find out who she was – what she was – no matter how long it took.

He was prowling in Sebastian's shadow on his way to Central Hall, mulling internally over his options. There was some consolation to be had about the troll attack, at least. It was still the talk of the school, that the new girl had not only fought a dragon, but a troll too, blasting her popularity – or rather novelty – into the stratosphere. Given the dissonance between her classroom performance and external confrontations it was no wonder she was the centre of the zeitgeist. She'd gained newfound respect, everyone wanted their piece... and that royally pissed Sebastian off.

"Still can't believe you fought that troll without me," he was grumbling, hands stuck in pockets, frown pouty and pronounced. "The one day I don't go to Hogsmeade and I miss all the fun!"

Ominis delighted in the schadenfreude that warmed his very cold heart. "It was quite the battle. Did I mention we used our entire arsenal of offensive spells? No? Allow me to reiterate it. Shield charms, Confringo... Tabitha got into the spirit with her rigorous basic casting. Almost died a few times, too."

"That's so unfair," Sebastian groaned. "I want to almost die in a fight!"

"Serves you right for foisting childminding duties onto me."

Of course, it didn't escape Ominis' notice that even though he'd fought the troll with her... no one approached him about it. No one asked him to repeat the story ad nauseam. Every time Tabitha mentioned him when he happened to be close by, he could feel the glares and guarded looks tossed his way.

Unsurprising, really, but no matter. He couldn't possess both scorn and glory, and the latter meant being in the minds of the wrong people.

He split with Sebastian outside Central Hall as he made his way to Herbology, another subject he regrettably shared with Tabitha. Why, he had no idea – not only was she poor at the subject, but she entirely lacked a green thumb. In fact he might've suspected she lacked any thumbs for all the pots she'd smashed. Luckily this time she was sitting on the end of the row directly opposite, rather than next to him. Adelaide at least had the Hufflepuff patience to help.

"It's very important to be able to recognise the physical differences between Bouncing Bulbs and regular flower bulbs," Garlick spoke to the class, "otherwise you may risk seeding one rather than the other. We wouldn't want to have another Bouncing Bulb Bombardment like the one in Madrid, 1769!" She hummed a little. "Let's see... would you care to read the page to us, Miss Fulton-Smyth?"

Tabitha startled – clearly half-asleep or daydreaming – and laughed nervously. "Erm, no thanks, Professor!"

The class rumbled with chuckles. Ominis' brow pinched.

Garlick laughed along good-naturedly. "You do look like a wilting rose over there! Reading aloud will help you wake up, won't it?"

She hesitated, a second long enough to feel the pause like oil on skin before she awkwardly scraped her stool back and stood, textbook in hand.

"So, this page. About the Bouncing Bulb Bomb-thingy. Yes. It... it says..."

Suddenly she started coughing. Raucous, loud coughing. Her hand slapped the desk.

"Is she choking?" blurted Samantha Dale.

"Am— all right—" She spluttered between great gulps of air. "Embarrassing—"

"Trust you to choke on air," Ominis called out, standing. "Ma'am, I'll take her outside and get her some water."

Once the door shut between them and the classroom, Ominis crossed his arms, feeling rather like a father disciplining a child.

"You can drop the act now. I know you're pretending."

"What? No I wasn't— I mean... cough?" She let out a low whine. "How'd you know?"

"I can hear the difference, Tabitha. You're coughing with your mouth, not your chest. Why didn't you want to read aloud?"

"I just didn't," she said, with an edge he'd never heard before.

"No one will mock you if you pronounce the words wrong."

"They will," she said back. "And— I don't want to look stupid."

You always look stupid. Merlin, he almost said. The temptation was so great.

"Let's go back in."

"No! I mean, no." She wrung her hands. "Can we just sit out here for another minute?"

He indulged her, but the situation was strange enough for him to ruminate on it. Why so cagey? What did she stand to gain from it? There was something off that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He continued to ponder when they returned to the class, having left behind reading out loud for experimenting with soil textures, which Tabitha dutifully potted.

"Evie, Arthur and I are blitzing our essays after classes today," said Adelaide, when they packed away their things at the end of the lesson. "You don't have a session with Fig, do you? You should come join us! It's supposed to help when you're revising as a group."

"Oh, erm." Tabitha squirmed. "N-No thank you."

"Oh." Adelaide seemed a little put-out. "Well, all right."

"I-I mean, it's real nice of you to offer! I'm, erm, doing other stuff! Important stuff! Stuff that's really important!"

"It's all right, you don't have to explain to me."

Tabitha left not long after that, and Ominis rolled his lips. Two days ago Sebastian asked if she wanted to join them for the same reason, to Ominis' chagrin, and Tabitha declined, to Ominis' delight. Yet this was another opportunity she chose to reject for no reason he could discern. It wasn't like she didn't need it. Her last essay for Ronen was his first T of the term.

"While I always support the enthusiasm, you need to learn how to format a professional essay. This reads like a stream of consciousness. Tighten your arguments. Professor Fig can help you with that, hmm?"

"Yes, Mister," Tabitha had said glumly.

Ominis had assumed it was because she was stupid. Which was probably still true, but...

Perhaps there was more to it.

Ominis smiled. And if there was more to it...

There was more for him to use against her.

 

 

Ominis became her silent shadow for the new few days. Tabitha followed a terribly predictable routine – oversleep, rush shovelling breakfast down, attempt to attend morning lessons, get lost, actually attend morning classes, shovel lunch down, do the afternoon's lessons, fall asleep in at least one of them, then return to the dorm after shovelling dinner down. Yet despite her extroversion Tabitha continued to reject social activities left and right. Sometimes she stayed with Fig in his office, and it wasn't farfetched to assume they were doing catch up.

At least, that was what Ominis suspected, until one evening, on her normal walk towards the Magical Theory classroom, she bumped into Maya Cavendish entirely by accident, spilling two sets of books on the ground.

"Oh! No, no, I'm so—"

"Would you watch where you're going?" Maya snapped, recoiling backwards like Tabitha was a deadly fungus. "Honestly, what are those spectacles even doing if you can't see?"

"S-Sorry." Tabitha scooped every book up. "H-Here."

Maya accepted the books. Then, "Are you reading these?"

"What?"

"The Wary Fairy? Goodnight Broom? Tales from Muggleswick Wood?" She shoved them into Tabitha's hands. "I can't imagine having to read baby books at your age."

She flounced off, laughing with Violet McDowell and Priscilla Wakefield, before Tabitha could defend herself. Without a sound, she scurried in the other direction. Ominis might've understood why she needed those for Fig's lessons as an insight into books read to wizard children growing up, but it seemed odd she was required to bring them herself. Was that really worth skipping social opportunities? Ones where she could learn from experience rather than theory?

It got the point where his intel had reached a plateau. It was time to gather it together, and get the truth.

He found Tabitha fiddling with her parchment in the empty History of Magic classroom that next day, murmuring and rifling through her bag. She didn't take that subject, so why she was here was a mystery on its own (lost, definitely).

"Hello, Tabitha."

Tabitha yelped and spun around. "Gosh, Ominis! You didn't half give me a fright!"

The corner of his mouth tipped up. Good. Catching her off-guard would leave her prone to mistakes.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Sorting my bag, is all." She shifted between the balls of her feet, snapped her bag closed and made to skirt around him for the door. "Nice to see you, but I have to get to, erm, my next lesson—"

"DADA is five minutes from here and the lunch hour doesn't conclude for another fifteen. I wanted to talk to you."

She swallowed loudly. "I ain't saying nothing about the troll, so if that's what you want..."

Instead he shut the door, sealing them both within.

"I may be blind," he murmured, "but I am observant."

"That's, erm... real good for you."

He stepped closer – she stepped back.

"My wand can sense the world around me in different ways, so I notice things other people miss. You have been avoiding participating in lessons since you started, and you refuse to join your housemates in group study sessions. This is the third time you were asked this week."

"Wha—? Have you been eavesdropping?"

"I've been observing."

She stomped her foot. "Nosy nelly! What I do ain't none of your beeswax!"

Despite herself, she pressed her back to the wall when Ominis dared another step closer.

"I've yet to come up with a convincing theory as to the reasons for your peculiar behaviour," he continued in a lower, yet equally undeterred manner. "I doubt you are play-acting your incompetence when you were able to vanquish a troll—"

"Excuse you!"

"— but your reluctance to partake in lessons and social activities makes me believe you are hiding some sort of shameful secret that would affect your capability to try, or at least your wanting to. So." He leant down to her height, face stone, warmed by the curl of her breath on his face. "Explain it to me. Or I will tell Sebastian about what you did to the troll."

"H-He—" He heard her swallow. "He won't believe you."

"He'll have no reason not to," he said, crooking a smile. "And once he sets his mind to uncovering secrets, he will plough through anything and anyone to get his way."

It was the only card in his deck worth playing... and it seemed to have landed true.

"You don't mean that— you really won't tell him, will you?"

"I'm not being given any substantial reason not to. So what is it? Is your magic uncontrollable? Is Fig doing your homework for you? For what purpose are you reading wizard children's books?"

"Please," she said, in a whispered tone of desperation. "Please, you mustn't say anything!"

"Why not?"

"Because— you just can't!"

He shrugged and backed away. "Seems I'm feeling less generous today than I thought... unless, of course, you can wrack that miniscule atom you call a brain and—"

"I can't read!"

It was the first time he heard her raise her voice, and it jarred him so badly he flinched.

"I can't read, okay?" Then her voice yielded to hurt, twanging like an uncomfortable key change in a dirge. "And I can't write good neither. I've been using that Quick-Quotes Quill to do all my homework while Fig's been trying to help me get better, but I'm really slow, and none of the teachers know because I told him not to say nothing, but if you found out something's fishy soon everyone will, and then you'll all laugh at the stupid girl who can barely spell her own stupid name."

It suddenly all made sense. Her skittishness in lessons, poor essay grades, refusal to join group homework sessions, the baby books – she wasn't rejecting her peers because of some inherent snobbery, but fear of ridicule. It didn't explain how she was able to explode a troll, but if it was true that she couldn't read, it only made the feat more impressive.

"You... didn't learn at home or Muggle school?" It almost surprised him how sombre he sounded.

"I know the letters, but I'm just slow. Too slow to keep up with everyone else. I left church school at ten to work." She sniffled and looked away. "So there you go. That's my big shameful secret. Do you feel good now? Feel all high and... and horsey? You're right, I am just an idiot with no brain..."

She slid down until she was sitting on the floor, letting a fat tear squeeze free of her eyes – and suddenly a whole lot of them were revolting down her cheeks. A terrible pang sprouted right through the stony centre of his chest. She kept wiping and wiping but they wouldn't stop, a horrible sewage leak on her face.

Ominis stood back.

"Wait here."

He was brisk on the way to and from his common room. What was he thinking, to suspect she had some ulterior motive? Tabitha wore her damn heart on her sleeve – he'd known her for only a few weeks and already understood this as keenly as the skin on his flesh.

Besides that, she was too stupid—

No. That was unfair. She was... too kind, to think of a deception so great. And Ominis, an eternal cynic, was too mistrusting. That he had caused her great distress for his own arbitrary gain too...

Maybe he was more like his family than he believed.

With that ugly thought making him feel even worse, he returned to find Tabitha hugging her knees, sniffling. She'd waited, as asked – he didn't deserve her devotion like that – and he sat next to her gingerly, keeping a safe distance, and reached into his robe pocket.

"A book," she said, once he handed it to her. "I told you—"

"You cannot read, I know," he said quietly. "I don't believe you."

"What?"

"We'll start with the title. All sentences begin with, what?"

She looked down at the symbols, not saying anything for a long moment, and it was the first time she was this quiet, too. It didn't suit her. He didn't... like it.

"I... I don't know."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You do." He tapped the book firmly. "What do all sentences begin with?"

"A... A capital letter?"

"Good. Bearing that in mind, what shape is this one making?"

"It— it looks like half a ball attached to a stick."

"So what letter is that?"

"... Is it... P?"

"Correct. Now, the next."

One by one, she spelt the word. A capital P to start, followed by an r, i, d and e. She got a brief huff of amusement out of him when she said her favourite letter was i because the dot was called a tittle, and that was, in her words, very silly.

"With all these letters," he asked, "what does it spell?" When she hesitated, he said, "The first letter makes what sound?"

"Puh."

"And the second?"

"Ruh." She fidgeted. "So it's pruh?"

"Good."

"And the i makes it prih. So... prid-ee? Prid-eh?"

"If I told you in this instance the i makes a sound exactly like the name of the letter..."

"Pry-dee? Pruh..." She hesitated. "Pride?"

"Correct."

"Oh," she said softly, tracing the way it was shaped. "The word does look very prideful."

It took time – one minute felt like thirty, with the many times she needed gentle direction and amendment, each letter more challenging than the last, but Ominis tried to be patient and never raised his voice.

The last word was trickiest. He made her break it down into sections per syllable – which he had to explain – to make it easier to understand. Preh-joo-diss.

"Prejudice?" she said timidly. "What's that?"

"It's the quality of judging something, or someone, too hastily," he explained. "Often with the implication that the judger already holds a negative opinion."

"Like you with me?"

"Perhaps you with me," he mused. "So the full title is?"

"Pride and... Prejudice?"

"So you can read."

She let out an annoyed huff. "This don't count. It took me five minutes to read three words."

"It doesn't matter how long it takes. Only that you can. And you can read, Tabitha. You simply need practice."

"Practice?" Her voice warbled. "How am I supposed to get through without being able to read? It's a school, Ominis, I can't keep pretending to choke every time! Someone will catch me out eventually, and I— I'm already struggling to remember all these rules you have here, let alone all the spells and homework I have to do! There's just— so much to take in— and I— I can't—"

More tears. He'd never dealt with a crying person before, let alone a crying girl. Such weak emotions were forbidden in his home and Sebastian was too easy-going to ever break down. It would've been easier to scurry away, but Ominis pulled off his robe and offered it.

"To wipe your face."

"S-Sorry," she mumbled. "I know it's annoying to cry—"

"It's not that," he said, with a little smile. "You'll ruin my book."

With a snort, Tabitha swapped the robe and book and hastily wiped her cheeks.

"Why?" she croaked out. "Why are you helping me?"

He nursed the little sprout of guilt in his chest.

"People have treated me the same way because I'm blind," he murmured. "I wish I could have been afforded some grace. It would be hypocritical if I did not offer that to you."

"But... you're one of the smartest people I know."

And everyone is afraid of you now. She didn't say it – but he felt the impact nonetheless.

"I worked hard to be where I am," he said. "I worked hard to be taken seriously."

Too seriously, but it was too late to change. It was too late to make a positive influence, or unburden himself from his inevitable future. Better to accept it now and be done, no matter how hard Sebastian tried to alter fate.

Tabitha sniffled again, and Ominis tuned to her. The sounds, fidgety, loud, overbearing sometimes, but constant and familiar, like a clock's tick. The smell of her, sweet, somewhat pleasant... and her presence, magnanimous without being obnoxious, unashamed of the world she'd come from but thirsty to learn more... to fit in...

All this time she'd skipped opportunities. Perhaps... it was time to make an offer of his own.

A plan formulated in his mind.

"I can help you."

Tabitha lifted her head. "With what?" she asked. "Reading?"

"And other things. Spellwork, culture, history. I was raised in the magical world. My family helped found the very school we're standing in. No one knows it better than me."

She blinked the last late-coming tears out until they'd dried streaks down her face.

"So you mean, like... proper help?"

"Yes."

"Help help?"

"That is what proper help means, I assume."

She hesitated for a moment. "You want something in return."

He was surprised she realised so quickly. "My intentions are not... altruistic, no."

"And you ain't doing this out the kindness of your heart, neither?"

He screwed up his face with a long, exasperated sigh and said, "Sebastian is insistent I befriend you. He wants me to expand my social circle."

"Circle?" She laughed like a braying donkey. "You have a social circle?"

"No matter how hard to believe, I do."

"It's more like a see-saw."

"Yes, very funny."

"And even then you'd probably throw Seb into prison the first chance you got!"

"I only want," he pressed, "to keep him off my back. If you pretend to be my friend, then Sebastian leaves me alone."

She blurted another guffaw. "But Ominis... no one's going to believe you and I are actually friends. I punched you in the balls! Not only did I damage your very fragile masculine pride, but I also utterly, completely humiliated you! Practically in front of the entire year!"

"Thank you, Tabitha."

"I'm just saying! You hate me!"

"I don't hate you," he said tersely. "I hate everyone. Don't fool yourself into thinking you're special."

"Well that just proves my point."

"I can tone it down," he insisted, excavating some vestige of patience from deep, deep within himself. "I can be friendlier. I can engage with your favourite things, and I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to learn whatever your... interests entail."

"You wouldn't just have to learn my interests. You have to take interest in my interests. D'you think you can do that, too?"

"Are you a friend-making expert, now?"

"I'm a sight more than you! I have loads of friends back home!" She gurgled through another wet hiccough. "Had..."

Ominis wordlessly offered his robe. She blew her nose in his sleeve. Resisting the urge to set the whole thing on fire, he flicked his wand once, vanishing the evidence in what he hoped was a show of solidarity.

"All I need is one," he said. "It doesn't have to be complicated. Just someone who will occasionally keep me company, that's all. In return I will do my best to help you learn to read and accustom to life at Hogwarts. So..."

He offered his palm to shake – the Muggle custom.

"Do we have an accord?"

If he had to sacrifice an hour or two of his day to evade Sebastian's pestering, it was worth the effort to help. He may not have liked her, may have found her annoying and chaotic and odd, but this way he could take the reins of their relationship on his terms. His to control, his to guide. If Tabitha did learn to better fit in, after all, she would settle with her own friends, gifting Ominis with what he truly wanted in the end: peace.

She looked down at Ominis' slender hand with another beat of hesitancy, and Ominis found himself willing her to accept. One small bargain to save a year of pain, for both of them. There was no better option.

And if he found out more about the troll on the way... so be it.

"Okay," she eventually mumbled. "I'll shake your hand, but ... I don't have one, just so you know."

"... What?"

"Is that a wizard thing? Play an instrument to make a deal?"

"What do you— no, that's an accordion, Tabitha." It almost, almost, made him retract his hand. "I mean to say, do you accept the terms of our agreement?"

And really, how hard could it be to pretend to be Tabitha's friend?

She clapped her palm to his and shook.

"Okay, Ominis!" she said, beaming. "We have an accordion!"

Chapter 8: The Ruse

Summary:

Ominis and Tabitha's fake friendship is tested when Sebastian suggests Tabitha try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

For all intents and purposes, Tabitha Fulton-Smyth was Ominis' friend.

It looped in his head as he awoke the next morning, feeling strangely refreshed and ready to tackle the day. He bathed in silence, ran oils through his hair and sauntered to the Great Hall as sunrise blearily sent its nascent rays through the castle windows. Today would be the first time he enacted the ruse.

It couldn't be difficult to pretend to like Tabitha. She certainly was... a girl. And she certainly was... present. And there were parts about her he did like. Her ability to distract everyone and invigorate an otherwise dull day was second-to-none, and when she was off giggling with Sebastian in some corner she was doing Ominis something worth accolade, which was leaving him alone.

There was, however, a massive obstacle to fooling everyone that Ominis would have to keep track of.

Sebastian himself.

Because loath as he was to admit, Sebastian was incredibly, annoyingly perceptive, and the minute he smelt a rat, he'd find the nest. It was imperative they began their act gently, easing into a friendship rather than dunking face-first.

It became quickly apparent that Tabitha, however, had not come to this conclusion.

Ominis scraped the remains of the potted ham onto his last piece of wholemeal sourdough, soaked with the runny yolk of a par-boiled egg, and had been lifting the delicious meal to his mouth before the buttocks slammed into the seat next to him so suddenly that he flinched, dropping the breakfast onto his lap. Meat side down.

"Good morning, best friend!" Tabitha trilled.

Merlin forbid, he have one peaceful morning in this godforsaken castle.

Grinding his jaw, he peeled the bread off and placed it gingerly on his plate. Breeches, ruined. He suspected it looked like he shit himself out the wrong hole.

"We have a free period before Transfiguration today! Hurrah!" she babbled, unsuspecting of the murderous thoughts raging in his head. "Then I have Beasts in the afternoon and you have... what do you have? It might be good to know. As your new best friend."

"You're not supposed to sit here," he said, not without the bite of annoyance that was impossible to rein in. "This is the Slytherin table."

"So?"

"Hufflepuffs sit at the Hufflepuff table."

"Hufflepuff Puffleschmuff. I can't sit next to my best friend over there, can I?"

If a meteor crashed into the Great Hall right then, he would've welcomed it. Perhaps he had been naïve yesterday, making that offer to her. Was this what it was going to be like for the foreseeable future? It was lucky it was now fairly late, and the sensible students had already left for lessons – partly for her sake, and her total unawareness of the ruckus a Muggle-born at the Slytherin table would've caused, but also to preserve his cold and menacing reputation that otherwise would've have plummeted down the lavatory in one go.

"Let's make one thing abundantly clear, Tabitha," he muttered, taking his wand to vanish the stains. "I am not in need of a best friend. I require a friend. That's all."

He already had a best friend, and on most days that title hung by the thinnest of threads.

Tabitha shoved away the used plate in front of her and loaded a fresh bowl with several wet slaps of honeyed porridge. "Don't you think best friend would be better, though? That's the whole point of Sebastian trying to meddle."

"Sebastian isn't here right now," he snapped. "And it would be implausible for us to call each other best friends when we haven't even known each other for a month."

"Excuse you! My best friend Gertrude and I met at church and we instantly became best friends."

"And how old were you?"

"... Six. But it still counts!"

She'd shovelled half the porridge into her mouth when Ominis detected a set of important boot steps, striding their way. He nudged Tabitha, who let out a peep of confusion.

"Sebastian. And for Merlin's sake act natural."

"Aye aye 'ir!" she said, unnaturally.

Sebastian slowed a good distance away, a sure sign he'd noticed the two of them together. Ominis inwardly begged the Muggle deities that Tabitha would behave herself. Was that too much to ask? Or had he so thoroughly pissed someone off in a previous life that he'd face consequences like these for the rest of his miserable existence?

Tabitha blurted, "He'o, Se'as'ian!"

Sebastian was hesitant to reply immediately – bewilderment, suspicion, all quickly hidden beneath a guise of amusement. "'Morning, testy treader. Got enough porridge with that honey?"

She gulped it down loudly. "Sorry. D'you have a good sleep?"

"I dreamt I was lying on a bed of Galleons. I almost didn't want to wake up." He slid into the bench opposite – Ominis noticed something clenched in his grasp. "You're at the Slytherin table. Feeling brave today, I see."

Ominis leapt in with a response before she inevitably put her foot in her mouth. "I invited her, actually."

Sebastian's eyes seared into him.

"Mmm. And how did that Polyjuice taste with your tea? Is that you, Weasley?"

"Very funny."

"It's true, he did invite me!" Tabitha piped. "Because me and him are best—" Ominis kicked her. "Er, be... bedraggled! That is to say, erm... my tie was wrong and Ominis helped me redo it."

Merlin— what the fuck was that? A Horklump could've made up something better! But it was too late to back out now. This was it, the fake friendship he'd have to shill for the next few months. Possibly the rest of the year.

"Professor Weasley deplores substandard uniform code, so I figured it would save us wasting time in lessons later today," he added coolly, arranging his cutlery on his plate to signal he was finished. "Tabitha decided to sit and eat here after that. To my chagrin."

Her cheeks puffed up, as they usually did when she was mad. "I could've left you all on your tod, you know!"

The solitude would have been preferable. Ominis controlled himself. Really, his restraint deserved some sort of medal.

If Sebastian had any questions or criticisms, he didn't voice them. Instead he cleared himself space at the table, not to eat, although he did take an entire bunch of grapes to suck off the stems, but to slap the parchment down onto the table.

"As luck would have it, I actually wanted to talk to you, Tabs. To show you this."

She went rigid besides him – Ominis didn't understand why, at first. Then he remembered: she couldn't read it, not at the speed expected. He was about to jump in with some excuse, when—

"Is, er," she mumbled, "is that Imelda Reyes?"

"Ah, you've met her?" said Sebastian.

"Only a few times."

"She's the Slytherin team captain in Quidditch. You know what that is, right? The game we play on our brooms?" He gave Ominis a moment to draw his wand over the parchment, and sense vaguely that most of the poster was taken up by a picture of who he could only assume was Imelda. "She's the face of the house championship this year."

Thank goodness, there was nothing for Tabitha to read. She sat forwards, tilting her head. Some of her hair brushed Ominis' arm.

"I think Fig told me a bit about it. You have to throw balls in hoops, and stuff? Everyone competes for their house?"

"Spot on. I had an epiphany this morning when I saw this poster. The trials to join the team were last week, but," his eyes sparkled, "I think you should try out for the Hufflepuff team."

Ominis almost choked on his toast, which was quite impressive seeing as it was already thoroughly nestled in his stomach.

"Tabitha, on a Quidditch team?" he snorted. "She can barely ride a broom!"

"Not true!" said Tabitha. "Kogawa says I'm getting better. I only fell off three times in my last private lesson. And the bruise on my bum is no bigger than the size of a dinner plate!"

"I reckon they'd let you try out, at least, given how new you are." Sebastian loudly slurped a grape off the stem and chewed with his mouth open. "This'll be the perfect chance to burn off some of your... wild energy. And, bonus, you get to punch everyone in the balls."

"Quidditch balls are not the same as male genitalia!" Ominis snapped. "This is an insane idea!"

"Well?" A smile festered on Sebastian's face. "What do you think?"

Tabitha leant forwards. It might've only been about a month, yes, but he was already familiar with her quirks: the way her face scrunched up in thought, her head tipped sideways, and a low hum echoed from the depths of her throat. For all her faults, and... less educated decisions, she would surely see this as a folly, with her workload and additional revision sessions with Fig and—

"Sounds fun!"

"What?" Ominis blurted, spinning to face her. "You don't even know how to play!"

"I do! Ball. Hoop."

"There is far more to the rules—"

"Brilliant choice, Tabs." Sebastian snatched the parchment and hurriedly rolled it up. "Hufflepuff practice is this afternoon. We'll go after Beasts. Want to join us, Grunt?"

"There's no possible chance they'll let you try-out!" Ominis protested, as Sebastian sucked up a final grape, dumped the stem onto his plate and stood. "For one thing, the team has already been established. The second thing, the captain is Kai Buckling."

"Who's that?" asked Tabitha.

"Buck the Fuck," Sebastian said wistfully. "We go way back."

"Buck the what?"

"He loathes Sebastian," Ominis said, feeling his temple throb in irritation. "An increasingly common opinion these days. He won't let you do this."

Sebastian smiled. "Oh, he will. Trust me."

He made his way out, but not before Ominis yelled back, "I don't!"

 

 

On the way down to the pitch that evening, Ominis trailed in Tabitha and Sebastian's shadows as the two chatted merrily away. All this was beyond suspicious, and there was no way in hell Sebastian didn't have a plan in mind that gave him some sort of advantage. He didn't just go suggesting the clumsiest idiot to the house Quidditch team for no reason. What was it? Game sabotage? An easy in to Hufflepuff's tactics? Life was a game of chess to him, moves before moves before moves to see a desired endgame, and it wasn't always immediately obvious to Ominis what that was.

"Look there, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team!"

High above their heads, the Hufflepuffs were whizzing around on their brooms, passing Quaffles and critiquing manoeuvres. Ominis lowered his wand arm; it was already bitter cold, but the way the mood shifted once the three of them were spotted was something else.

One split off to land nearby. Kai Buckling was, supposedly, a handsome sixth-year who'd earnt his Quidditch colours from broom-flying practice before he could walk. Broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with unique parentage of his white, Muggle father and Asian witch mother, he commanded an unusual level of respect on the Quidditch pitch from all his peers. For a Hufflepuff, that was. He was meant to be a nice fellow when he wasn't scolding lazy technique or yelling about pass statistics post-match.

Kai drew his wand and approached them like an incoming storm.

"Get the fuck off my Quidditch pitch, Sallow!"

"Well," muttered Ominis, "that bodes well."

"Language, Buck, please!" Sebastian called, ushering a suddenly nervous Tabitha forwards. "You don't want to leave a bad impression for your newest member, do you?"

"What?" Kai turned to Tabitha, grimacing. "What the fuck is this?"

"I'm actually a who," she said, completely oblivious. "I'm—"

"I know who you are, Testicular Torsion Terror," he snapped. "I mean, what the fuck are you doing on my pitch? Try-outs have come and gone."

"Professor Weasley asked me to keep an eye on her for a few weeks," said Sebastian, "and it would've been remiss of me not to mention Quidditch as the perfect outlet for channelling one's stress. And, correct me if I'm wrong, you don't have a single suitable Keeper ready to take this most difficult burden."

"You little shit," Kai snarled. "You think I need your hand-outs?"

"I think you'd be smart to let Tabitha try for a place. Defeating Ominis, a troll and a dragon..." He whistled. "Not an easy feat. Makes passing the Quaffle look like passing the parcel."

Kai's nostrils flared. "Listen here—"

"Silber doesn't want to be a Keeper," Sebastian barrelled over him, "and no one else is keen to step up. Yes, Tabitha's new, and yes, she'll need instruction, but that also means you have free reign to train her however you like. No one will know what to expect. Her reputation will confuse your opponents, and isn't a bit of spontaneity what your boring team desperately needs?"

Kai's fists trembled at his side. In the pause, Ominis focused on Tabitha; it occurred to him that she had no idea the gravity with which they were taking the sport. To her, it was a bit of light fun. He couldn't really begrudge her it. At the end of the day, that's what Quidditch was meant to be, even if troglodytes like Kai and Sebastian turned it into the competitive extreme.

"Fine." Kai jerked his head at her. "Get on a broom. I want to see how you fly."

Tabitha looked at Sebastian meaningfully; he gave a nod of encouragement. More surprising, she glanced at Ominis next.

"D'you think I should?"

What does it matter to me? was his initial response. Then, of course, he remembered she was keeping her side of the bargain, acting as a friend would: seeking his approval, his support, his pride. Ominis straightened himself.

"Go for it, and do your best."

She skipped ahead to meet the other Hufflepuffs in the field centre. Kai lingered.

"Don't think I'm thick. I know you're not doing this because you're being nice."

"You'll let us stay and watch, won't you?" Sebastian asked, as if he'd never spoken. "I'm sure Professor Weasley would love updates on her progress."

Kai scoffed. "Only until I assess her. Then you get the fuck out of here. Both of you."

With that, he took to his broom and drifted back to his teammates.

As the team tested her Quidditch prowess, Sebastian gave a continuous running commentary of Tabitha's antics. Without the usual egregious enthusiasm but still technical enough to make sense, Ominis tried to picture Tabitha in the air, dipping and swerving and hitting balls (Quidditch balls) to and from her teammates. He'd never cared much about Quidditch and previously skipped the games Sebastian and Anne weren't playing in, but this was the first time he tried to take a vested interest in the play-by-play. For the ruse's sake, mostly, but it was somewhat satisfying to hear when Kai got accidentally smacked in the face by the back of Tabitha's broom.

"So." Ominis cut across.

"So?" Sebastian said, oh-so-innocently.

"Tabitha is clearly no professional, but I do find it odd you would recommend her for a rival team, especially Buckling's. He's right, you're not doing this to be nice, and I know Professor Weasley never asked you to introduce her to Quidditch. What do you get out of it?"

"Who says I get anything out of it?"

"I do, because I know you. You're a puppeteer, Sebastian. Always pulling the strings for your own benefit."

Sebastian placed a hand to his chest. "You wound me. I only want to help Tabitha get the most out of her limited time here."

"Do you ever choke on your own bullshit?"

"Language!" Sebastian crowed. "And you're always telling me off. For shame."

"The truth, for goodness sake." He turned to him, ignoring the sound of Tabitha clocking the Beater in the thigh with his own bat. "What's your end goal?"

Sebastian let out a sigh. "Believe it or not, Ominis, but I'm not always trying to plot and scheme. I don't have an end goal. I mean it. I'm just trying to be a good person, introduce Tabitha to more of our world."

Ominis didn't believe him, but it didn't look like Sebastian was going to, ironically, play ball. Fine, he wouldn't ask. The truth would reveal itself soon anyway; Sebastian had too big an ego for it not to. He leant against the railing instead, letting the wind flutter through his hair.

"Whatever agenda you have, you shouldn't use her for it. It's wrong."

But Sebastian chuckled beneath his breath.

"Why, Ominis," he said, "it almost sounds like you care."

 

 

"I'm a reserve Keeper! I'm a reserve Keeper!"

Tabitha was giddy on the walk back to the castle; she kept skipping ahead, stopping to wait, then skipping ahead again, even though neither Sebastian nor Ominis made any move to keep up. Kai explained when they landed after thirty minutes that Tabitha was simply not good enough to make the actual team – but, as fourth-year Leah Silber had been roped into Quidditch against her will, third-year Grace McMorey would take prime position and Tabitha would be benched as the secret wild card. He also, grudgingly, respected the irony of a girl infamous for punching balls recruited to punch balls. It was a morale boost the team needed.

"I hope Kai chooses you to play against Slytherin. I want to play against you."

Ominis scoffed. "You want to thrash her, you mean?"

"Excuse you, Kai thinks I have real potential," Tabitha said hotly. "I've never been on a team before. Girls don't really play sports in the Muggle world."

"They're missing out," said Sebastian smoothly. "Can you imagine Imelda doing anything else? Or Banshee, the Gryffindor Captain?"

"I know! Leah and Grace were really good!" she chirruped. "I have to do a few training sessions every week, but I'm excited!"

Ominis was still mulling on what Sebastian had said earlier. It almost sounds like you care. It was exactly what he wanted Sebastian to believe. The fake friendship, the ruse meant to fool the world, working as perfectly as it should. Sebastian wasn't the only one with hidden agendas, after all.

But still...

"You'll come to my games, won't you, Ominis?" Tabitha interrupted his train of thought. "I know you won't be seeing me play, but..."

Ominis snorted. "I imagine Sebastian will set fire to my robes if I don't."

"You do know me." Sebastian slapped Ominis' shoulder. "Sight or no, you'll have a jolly good time."

"Right!" said Tabitha. "Especially because you're my best— er." She cleared her throat. "Because you don't want to be alone in the balls-getting-punched department."

Sebastian belly-ached with laughter. Ominis just tsked, but made no further comment. Things were strange, wrong. A joke at his expense hadn't irritated him as much as it should have, and what he said earlier, about not wanting Tabitha to get used in some unwitting scheme because it was wrong... Ominis was still turning it over his head. He hadn't said that as part of the ruse. That had just come from him.

He had to be careful. The conversation had fooled Sebastian, it was true, but the last person he wanted to fool as well... was himself.

Chapter 9: Fig's Questions

Summary:

Tabitha catches up with Professor Fig.

"I thought today, instead of work, we could talk about how you're getting on."

It was the first question Fig asked when Tabitha sat down that evening for one of their remedial sessions. She'd barely put bum to armchair before she'd grabbed one of Fig's, heh, fig rolls, and stuffed it in her mouth. He'd laid a platter of other nibbles, mostly savoury, frittered oysters, almond and pumpkin seed loaf, toasted rye with gentlemen's relish and devilled eggs, but Tabitha always snacked from the sweeter bites. T'was simply in her nature.

"O'ay!" she said; at his raised brow, she shut her mouth, swallowing the sugary paste until it left a nice aftertaste in her mouth. "Sorry. Okay!"

Anything to give her brain a break. Despite the enormungous elephant in the room of how'd the troll go poof, Ominis continued to push her whenever she was stuck. It had only really been a few days into their arrangement, but by God was he allergic to taking it easy. At least Fig conditioned her with food.

He gave one nod. "Reading aside, do you have any favourite subjects so far?"

Tabitha pondered this a moment. "Not really. Everything seems so interesting!"

"Any you would change, if given the chance?"

"Hmm... Transfiguration's really difficult. I think you need a bit of experience before being any good." Something she thoroughly lacked. "Why'd you ask? Should I change it?"

"I know you chose your subjects based on the amount of written work required," he said, "but I think it's more important to choose things based on what you enjoy."

Then she'd drop Transfiguration like a hot crossed bun. Why would she go out the way to change beetle to button when she could just... get a button? Alas, she didn't have anything lined up to replace it, and she imagined getting more use out of it than ancient runes, ugh.

He wrote this down anyway. "Favourite teachers?"

"You, sir!"

Fig snorted. "I mean, of all the subjects you're learning. Any you find best conducive to your education?"

She swallowed another bite of the fig roll. "Oh. Professor Ronen's really nice! And Hecat, although she's strict too. She scares me a little, but I respect her. Oh, gosh, I can't forget Professor Garlick! She told me I could ask for her help anytime. She's a Muggle-born Hufflepuff too!"

"That she is."

"And Professor Weasley is really nice. Professor Howin too, although one time she scolded me because I accidentally let a Puffskein stick its tongue up my nose."

"You just named everyone," he laughed. "That's good, great even. And what about friends? Have you made many?"

"Lots! Adelaide is my dormmate, she's really nice. And Evangeline and Arthur too, Arthur's mama was a Muggle, so he says he gets what it's like to feel like you're going batty. Also Leander from Gryffindor makes me laugh."

Fig sipped his tea. "I see you with Masters Sallow and Gaunt, as well."

"Oh! Yes. Sebastian's really funny."

"Good, good. It's nice to see Master Gaunt getting out and about too," Fig added. "He's in my Magical Theory class. I'm afraid he prefers to work alone."

Of course he does. "Well, he's getting out and about, all right! We're best friends!"

"Wonderful!" He scribbled this down, smiling with every word. "I heard you joined the Quidditch team as well?"

"Yes I did! I'm a Keeper. On reserve!"

"That's really excellent to hear, really excellent. Quidditch is a fantastic pastime. You're enjoying yourself, then? Learning a lot?"

It was a complicated question. While everything was really fun, most days at least, some of the stuff she was learning still sounded so fictional she couldn't bring herself to commit it as fact. Unicorns were real. People flew on brooms for sport. Teenage boys had wand duels – and that wasn't a euphemism. For all the strange, wonderful, magical things she'd seen, she was still accustoming to all the small ways in which the wizarding world was different. Every day was a lesson in rewriting what she knew of reality.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "The other students sometimes say and do things I don't understand. Will it get... easier?"

"You, more than most, have an uphill battle," said Fig. "You're experiencing a huge cultural transition whilst tackling a potential civil war and magic no one has ever wielded before between... to put it mildly, an emotionally turbulent ordeal. It will get easier, but it will take time."

Gosh, she really didn't want to think about her emotionally turbulent ordeal. The fig roll turned to stone in her stomach, weighing her down.

"Any update?"

"None. I promised I would tell you if there was." He pushed the platter closer. "Have another snack, go on."

She did, but the fig roll didn't taste as nice as before.

The professor made some notes in his little diary as she chewed.

"Why all the questions and note-taking, sir?" she asked, hoping to move the conversation on lest she burst into tears. "Do you have to file it somewhere?"

He thumped his book shut with a grimace. "I'm afraid it's less fun. The Ministry have been asking for updates."

"What? Why?"

"As far as they're concerned, Tabitha, you're an anomaly, and one they'd like to control. Have you never questioned why you've been put in sixth year classes instead of any other year?"

Tabitha scratched her head. "I thought it was so I could be with people my own age?"

"That's only half the reason. The other half is proof of efficacy, to demonstrate that late-blooming magic is still something this school can handle. I suspect they'll want to see your progress at the end of the year. And not just for you, but me, too. I was the one who argued to bring you to Hogwarts after... what happened, and I'm afraid some of the education board have since questioned my capacity to teach."

The fig roll went from stone to fire. "That's so mean! How can they even think that? You're a great teacher!"

"That's kind, but extenuating circumstances have made it difficult for me to apply myself." He went quiet, faced the window as the perpetual sadness cast a shadow over his eyes. "Miriam..."

Oh, gosh, Tabitha! She wanted to bang her head against the desk. How could she forget Miriam?

"In their eyes," he continued, "my bringing you here was a way to avoid my grief."

"Well, it ain't true!" Tabitha burst out. "I mean, maybe it could be, a little, but I know you're helping me for real, because you're a nice person, and you're way too wise not to deal with your feelings properly. I'm really proud to call you my teacher, and I'll bet ten shillings your wife is really proud of you right now too."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"She is." Briefly, he glanced at the platter. "She loved savoury foods. Fish, bread, relish, the works. Quite the opposite to you..." He cleared his throat. "I like the smell. It reminds me of her."

Tabitha sat forwards. Then, without a word, she took a slice of the almond and pumpkin seed loaf, spread some butter and gentlemen's relish on it, and offered it to him. He accepted it onto his plate, but only nibbled the corner. The smell was good, but maybe the taste was too much.

"We met at Hogwarts too, over fifty years ago. Passionate, kind, but so clever. She encouraged my pursuits as I encouraged hers. She was my forever person." He sipped his tea again, put the cup down gently. "Who knows? Maybe you'll find your forever person here, too."

Tabitha had never thought about it. She'd always assumed she'd get married to someone with a boring job. A wizard, however...

The first face that popped into her head was Ominis. Then she almost physically recoiled, because helping her now and having a pleasant face didn't mean he wasn't very capable of being a big meanie!

"There's a lot riding on you, Tabitha," Fig said, drawing her back again. "I hope you won't find the pressure of it too much."

"Not a winkle, Professor. I'll help you prove you're a great teacher. I'll learn so hard I'll— I'll beat you at learning someday!"

"Hah! I'd love to see it. This old brain could do with a spot of exercise." He nodded at the platter again. "Now, I can't possibly finish all this on my own. I can assure you, everything is delicious."

She took a devilled egg and chomped it all in one go, pleased to find it was.

Chapter 10: Beasts

Summary:

Tabitha decides to make more friends in her Beasts class.

Notes:

Hello! Just wanted to say thank you for reading so far <3 Enjoy this one!

It was the moment when Sebastian let out an explosive sneeze that shot a bogey straight onto Tabitha's boot that she realised she needed to make more actual friends.

"Sorry about that," he said through a long snort and wriggled nose as they dumped their stuff on their desk in Beasts. "You did do the homework, right?"

She grimaced and scraped her shoe along the grass. A fake friend was nice, and at least she had Ominis as a safety net to fall back onto, but her ultimate goal to fit in wasn't going to come handed on a silver platter wrapped in pretty pink polka dot ribbon. Tabitha had to reach for it, stand on her tiptoes and fling her arms up, like the last chocolate on the top shelf. And that first step meant mingling with some new people.

"I have!" she said. "I'm really proud of my essay."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"I think this might be my first non-T of the term!" Especially since this was the first time Ominis looked over the essay and told her, no, it was not acceptable to say Kneazles shouldn't be more strictly regulated just because they were really really really cute!

Sebastian grinned. "About time."

It wasn't like he was a terrible choice. He smuggled her chocolates, eagerly yammered explanations when she didn't understand something and wasn't obnoxiously boy about smelling like a pig's armpit or scratching his bum. He didn't know about the exploding troll, either, and the number of times Ominis haunted her about it, it really was a miracle only Jesus could pull off that he hadn't heard a whiff of the conspiracy yet. He loved hearing about how cool it was when they fought the troll (and trust me, she'd repeated that story at least thirty-eight times now). He was certainly the nicer of the pair.

But something was off. Tabitha couldn't put her finger on it. She always felt like she had to be on guard around him, but for what, she didn't know.

Then again, animals loved Seb. And animals were usually a good judge of character.

"We have been sitting too much in our past few lessons." Howin opened Beasts with a march in her step, silencing the class as she ushered them to the pens on the left. "It is time to put into practice what you have learnt, especially as we prepare for our first project of the year." She gestured. "Take a look."

Tabitha's heart plunged so far she could've propulsion-farted it out.

Dodos. Fig had told her about these creatures before starting school, pointing out pictures in his encyclopaedias. Short, fat birds with enormous beaks and wide, taloned feet. They'd gone extinct – or so Muggles thought. Here they were very much alive, forty or so bobbing their heads and meandering in erratic directions. Led by Howin, the class surrounded one of the pens as she climbed inside and took one of them by the feet.

"You all know the feature best known to Diricawls."

It squawked once, twice, and when it realised she wasn't putting it down, it vanished from her hand and reappeared three feet behind, pecking the ground.

"Don't worry, the fences have been charmed to prevent them escaping. These wild Diricawls were recently captured by locals and have been brought here for processing. They're not native to the Scottish Highlands, but because of poaching and their, so to speak, flighty nature, they've been able travel far and quite freely. It's imperative they're secured properly, as we don't want to risk a breach in the Statute of Secrecy. Anyone know how this is done?"

Poppy Sweeting shot her hand up. Howin's expression was kind but exasperated, so her eyes passed over to Andrew.

"Master Larson?"

"There's a bewitchment put on their ankles that prevents them from appearing outside a certain range."

"Correct," said Howin, "and that'll be our job today. A fairly rudimentary, if not tedious, incantation on their ankles will prevent them from reappearing outside a particular area of our choosing. First, however," she smiled evilly, "you have to catch them. Pair up."

Sebastian immediately roped an arm around Tabitha's shoulders—

"No, no," said Howin, gesturing at him with a scowl. "I think you will work on the task alone, Master Sallow."

"What?" he blurted. "Why me?"

"Was it not you who announced that you were be henceforth known as 'Master of all beasts, if you know what I mean', last term?"

"That was past me! Current me is much more mature!"

"We have an odd number, anyway." Howin nodded at Poppy. "Miss Sweeting, do you have a partner?"

Tabitha looked around; everyone else had already paired off.

"No, professor," Poppy mumbled.

"Then with Miss Fulton-Smyth."

You couldn't have paired two more different people. At least Tabitha shared that chaotic streak with Sebastian – Poppy, though physically similar in her squat stature and baby-faced cheeks, looked like she'd rather sew her mouth shut and turn into a melon. Her stillness was eerie too. Tabitha couldn't stop fidgeting. They'd never talked in the dorms; Poppy usually left early and returned late, and went to bed without more than a few words of goodnight.

"You and your partner must work together to catch the Diricawls and place them in this wooden cage," called Howin, as the other students headed to their pens. "No magic. If you can't do it the old-fashioned way then you shouldn't do it at all. Five points each to the pair that finishes fastest."

Bum. Tabitha had been coasting on her I'm a Muggle-born, totally new, what even is a cat? level of ignorance and Howin seemed to give her a pass, but she couldn't feign ignorance in chicken-herding the Muggle way. If anything, she probably had the most experience.

She turned to Poppy and put on her best smile. "Don't think we've met proper! I'm Tabitha."

"I know," said Poppy. "I heard what you did to Ominis in the Defence Against the Dark Arts duel. And the dragon. And the troll..."

Thirty-nine. "That's me! Nice to meet you!"

She stuck out her hand. Poppy looked at it like she'd offered to pluck out her nose hairs, and without a word turned to climb into the Diricawl pen. Just punch me in the boob, Tabitha thought. It would be less painful than this. Sticking her hand in her robe and hoping no one ever remembered this embarrassing social rejection, she followed Poppy's gaze as she climbed into the pen. There were eight of the little gremlins in total, not very many but enough to make Tabitha fear for her sanity, life, and bowel movements. Their massive eyes wigged her out.

"So, erm, you seem to be good at this subject," she said, shuffling over to Poppy's side. "What's the plan?"

Poppy sent a quick, wary glance at her, before saying, "You mustn't approach aggressively. With a much kinder hand, they'll come to you."

She took some feed and juggled it in palm. The Diricawls, piqued by the noise, jerked their heads erratically but in her direction.

"Well, erm... what if you don't want it to come to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Birds... scare me."

Poppy frowned like this was completely unfathomable. "Why? They're harmless."

"A pigeon pooed on my head when I was eight, okay? And George and James thought it was sooooo funny, and then half the church were calling me Twobatha Faeces-Stool for weeks!"

Sebastian would've killed himself laughing. Poppy was stone-faced.

"I'll show you how it's done."

She crouched to the ground, making a chit chit noise with her teeth. The closest Diricawl bobbed its head and pattered closer. When she offered her hand out, glimmering with delicious seed, the Diricawl narrowed the gap until its long and very freakish neck could stick out far enough to have a nibble.

"See?" she said softly. "Let it come to you."

"Are you an animal whisperer?" asked Tabitha, awed. "It's like it knows you!"

Poppy froze. "I... came down this morning to feed them."

Well! That's just cheating! Once the bird finished, Poppy slid her hand around its leg and took it over to the cage, and not for a second did it think to vanish away. Seven left.

Tabitha grabbed a glob of seed and knelt down. The closest Dodo-cawl looked her directly in the eye, and it was like staring into the plane of worldly oblivion. YOU DARE ATTEMPT TO FEED ME, MORTAL? said its eyes. Herp derp, said its face.

"I don't think it likes me..."

Poppy clasped her hands together and kept a good distance away. "Be patient. Make gentle noises."

"Erm... chrk chrk?"

The Diricawl recoiled.

"Please," she said, making her best puppy eyes. "Eat the feed."

It danced closer, and closer still, and when it was finally close enough that she could smell it – less pleasant than a London sewer – it dipped down to peck the feed.

Like a drill stabbing a peach.

Tabitha shrieked and fell back. The Diricawl squawked and disappeared – setting off a chain reaction of Diricawls flapping, shrilling, and popping left and right and all over the place. It was pandemonium. Panicked, Tabitha scrambled back, then winced. Her palm had a nice, fat hole in it now. And it was bleeding. How lovely!

"No, no!" Poppy called, trying to ease them all. "It's all right, calm down!"

"Get them under control, girls!" Howin called.

"Fine!" Tabitha shot to her feet and rolled up her sleeves. "We're doing it the hard way!"

"The hard way?" Poppy squeaked. "What—?"

Tabitha lunged, snatching the first Diricawl that crossed her path. It didn't have time to vanish before she'd rugby-dunked it inside the cage. Six. She ran in wide circles, causing the creatures to squawk and reappear away from her, and closer to the cage. Using this to her advantage, Poppy coaxed them gently into her arms, and one-by-one they hopped up and let her carry them in, chirping merrily. Five, four, three, two, one.

Poppy scooped the last Diricawl up before it vanished away, reappearing at Tabitha's left. She swung around as it scurried to the pen corner, making a sound like blergh and going cross-eyed. Tabitha widened her stance.

"You're mine."

She charged. The Diricawl stared at her, completely nonchalant. She leapt, arms out wide—

It vanished.

Tabitha had a split second to ponder on the mistakes of her decision before she crashed headfirst into the ground. Dirt became thoroughly acquainted with her face. Her nose erupted in pain. Was that bird poo she tasted?

Poppy gasped behind her. "Tabitha! Oh, goodness—"

Tabitha groaned as she sat up. The little gremlin had reappeared at Poppy's side – she evidently decided the bird was worth more than Tabitha's face as she quickly scooped it up and popped it into the cage.

"Are you all right?"

"Just a scratch!" Tabitha piped, glasses shattered, tooth wonky, blood gushing out of her nose. "Did we win?"

She half-turned to see Sebastian leaning against the fence, resisting the urge to laugh.

"I got them all five minutes ago. Five points to Slytherin. Keep up, jewel crusher."

Professor Howin, at his side, was less amused.

"In what world would jumping at the creature increase your chances to grab it?" she scolded, after plucking Tabitha off the ground and fixing her face with multiple restorative charms. "They can disappear on whim! You should be thankful Miss Sweeting is more on the ball than you are!"

"Or more on the bird."

"I will have those five points revoked, Master Sallow."

Sebastian shut up.

At the end of the lesson, Poppy nervously shuffled up to her as the class packed their belongings away. She really was a natural at the whole beast thing, which was sort of annoying, sort of awesome.

"You're definitely all right? That was quite the tumble..."

Now sporting an enormous bruise over the bridge of her nose, Tabitha tried not to smile too hard – any facial movement made her face seize up like a prune.

"I'll be all right. Honestly, my brother once clocked me so hard I saw the Sahara Desert, so really a tumble's nothing to lose your wig for. Thanks for your help today!"

Poppy nodded. "It's fine."

"It's more than fine! It was amazing! You're really good with animals!"

Poppy flinched. "Keep it down! You might spook them!"

"Oh." Tabitha grimaced – which hurt. "Sorry. Sometimes I'm a bit loud."

"I've heard you snore, Tabitha. You really can't get louder." She glanced between the ground and her, then blurted, "I'll, erm, see you later? In the common room?"

She scurried away before Tabitha could reply, but Tabitha didn't mind too much. She waved at Poppy's retreating back with a warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest, the sort of joy that came with the blossoming of potential.

After all that, maybe she'd just made that friend.

A hand roped around her shoulders, jerking her left. "Ack!" she yelped, as Sebastian laughed.

"So what are we going to tell Ominis about that bruise, hmm?"

Tabitha thought about it. Well, all right. Sebastian wasn't so bad as a friend either.

"Crocodiles."

"Crocodiles?"

"In a bandit attack."

Sebastian laughed. "Crocodiles in a bandit attack it is."

Chapter 11: The Airy Slytherin

Summary:

Ominis and Tabitha learn more about each other for the ruse, until Tabitha asks about a certain nickname...

The next free moment when she wasn't with Fig, Ominis invited Tabitha upstairs in the library, instructing her to bring parchment and quills. Unsurprisingly she was late, and set her things down with a clatter.

"Sorry!" she blurted, then winced. "Sorry," she whispered. "Why did we meet in the library?"

"Sebastian never comes up here." At least, not this section. Far too unrestricted for him.

Tabitha nodded, sitting next to him. "So what are we going to do? Prepare for Charms?"

"I'm going to make a list," he said. "You're going to write it."

She seemed to wilt. "I've already expended all my brain power today."

"Colour me surprised."

"Technically you can't colour anything."

He snorted. Definitely spending too much time with his best friend. "We might have fooled Sebastian for now, but it won't be long before he'll become suspicious if there isn't progression to our relationship. As such, I've determined we must learn more of each other. I've begun to make a list about you."

"... What?"

"On elements of your being that I should be acquainted with." Ominis made himself comfortable in the chair. "I've already filled out the fields I know. Your full name is Tabitha Jane Fulton-Smyth. Your birthday is the twenty-third of July, star sign either Cancer or Leo, depending on sources. You have an unhealthy obsession with sweets—"

"Oi!"

"— and an unnatural lack of co-ordination, making you terrifying in any vicinity that requires you to be on two feet—"

"You can't make a list, Ominis," Tabitha cut across. "Best friends don't copy this by rote! What if someone discovers the paper? What are they going to think when they see you reciting my past?"

"That I'm thorough."

"That you're being creepy! It don't work like that."

"Then I'll memorise it."

"You have to know all this stuff for a reason! For example," she sat up with an audible grin, "you find my perfectly healthy adoration of sweets to be endearing to my character, and you can relate to how the physical world is not made for someone so, erm, horizontally challenged."

"I'm blind, not clumsy," he groused. "This is besides the point. If you write the list for yourself, then at least it will simply look like you're trying to practice your handwriting. So." He tapped the paper. "Your name. Write it."

It was then he realised she was holding the quill entirely the wrong way. Feather clenched in hand as if made of dust, and prone to scattering.

"Don't tell me you write like that with Fig?"

She frowned. "Holding the quill properly is annoying. Why's it so big? Are wizards trying to compensate for something? The feather keeps going up my nose!"

He made a mental note to find her smaller quills.

"It's not a hammer," he said gently. "Tuck it between the crook of your thumb and forefinger."

"Like this?"

"... Tabitha, I literally cannot see when you say like this." He sighed, crooked his own fingers in beckon. "Allow me."

The last time he'd made contact with this hand, it had been balled into a fist, flying at velocity to a place it shouldn't. An involuntary shudder ran down him. As with the duel, she was clammy, but warm, and it was with an undeserved sense of ease he slid the nib down her palm. Nice skin, he observed. Her hand really was so very small, too. His own could swallow it.

"Your middle finger should be pressing just above the nib, for control." He corrected their positions gently. "The ring finger should be on the underside to stabilise your form. And it's no wonder the feather goes in your nose, stop leaning down so much."

She sat up – and at once he scented her soap, so saccharine his nose wrinkled on instinct, but it was also very... her.

"You read with your wand," she mumbled sulkily. "Why can't you just teach me the spell for that?"

He pulled away, giving himself space. What an odd scent. He'd never smelt anything like it before. And why was he thinking about her damn skin?

"Firstly because it's not a spell, it's innate. This is something I learnt to do on my own the moment I received my wand." His Aunt Noctua had insisted he understand some of the blind Muggle language called braille but had otherwise left it – so it was only through persistent practice and a smidge of tenacity that his wand had adapted to his needs, forming the letters in his mind when he dragged it across a page. Visual reading was no doubt less tedious, but this was a useful substitute. "And secondly," his brow lowered, "because using magic is lazy. I have no choice, but you do. You must learn to sight-read. Now, your name."

Tabitha let out a low whine and put quill to parchment. When she was done, she slid the page beneath his wand.

"I suppose it could be worse," he said, "Taditha Folton Smjth."

"Crumbs," she mumbled. "I knew I needed a hyphen..."

He made her rewrite it again and again until it was correct. Her birthday, to his surprise, was fairly straight forward, because miraculously she managed to remember how to write 23, but only because the three, according to her, looked like a sideways bum.

"Favourite colour?"

"Candy floss pink! No, wait, sunflower yellow is good. Or pastel blue..."

"Excellent. Write all three." He tapped the parchment. "Don't forgo the qualifiers."

Tabitha was less indecisive after that.

"Favourite animal?"

"Horses! My grandparents own a horse farm in Wales. Do you ride?"

"Pardon?"

"Horses? Do you ride them? Do wizards?"

"No," he said. "Immediate family?"

She went a little quiet.

"The family you have strongest relations to, I mean," he said, withholding his exasperation.

"Oh, right, yes, erm. My parents, and my three brothers."

"Their names. Write them."

She did this in concentrated, and blissful, silence. Eventually he read them beneath his wand. Algernon, Carys, Connor, Ellian, Tam, assuming she spelt them correctly. Her mother, father, two older and one younger brothers.

"That must be a busy house," he remarked, remembering she lived in a confectionery in London. The capital city wasn't known to have enormous living quarters like the countryside did, not if you weren't horrendously wealthy.

"My older brothers moved out. They both work with a lumbering distribution firm, Connor does logistics, Ellian does finance."

"Thrilling."

"It's really boring, actually. Fall asleep anytime they try to explain it to me."

He didn't have the heart to point out the sarcasm, not when he noticed the disparity between them. The two brothers had clearly been taught to read. Had they given up on Tabitha so easily? Because she struggled with her letters?

"Anyway, enough about me!" she said brightly. "I need to learn about you, too!"

"We're focusing on you today."

"No we're not. Friendship isn't one-sided."

"Is this just an excuse to stop practicing your letters?"

"... Nooooo."

"Tabitha."

"Just a small break, promise!" She grinned. "Okay. What's your full name?"

"Ominis Apocophys Gaunt." He spelt it, knowing whatever mental image of the words she conjured in her head would end up gibberish otherwise.

"Birthday?"

"The ninth of January."

"Favourite colour?"

"Bright chartreuse."

"Really? ... Oh, sorry, forget I asked. Favourite animal?"

"I don't have one."

"Snake it is. Do you have any cute nicknames I could call you to show affection? Like Omi. Or Mini. Nissy?"

"If you dare to utter a single one of those you won't be able to speak for a week."

"I could give you a nickname. How about chuckaboo?"

"No."

"Cobber?"

"No."

"Pet?"

"Absolutely not."

She cocked her head, hair falling briefly over his hand. "Didn't Leander call you something at the duel? Gosh, what was it... something... airy? The airy Slytherin?"

Whatever amusement Ominis had managed to salvage from the conversation died immediately.

"Never," he said between clenched teeth, "call me that again."

Damn Prewett. He'd used it at the duel like a dagger, flung it so precisely it not only touched a nerve, it set his entire body aflame. Everyone else had reacted with gasps dipped in a glaze of fear, and the last thing Ominis needed was for those insipid rumours to percolate again.

"Why?" Tabitha sat back, suddenly afraid. "What does it mean?"

No. It was too early into the ruse; this conversation was not due yet. Ominis refused to let it.

He stood abruptly.

"We're done for today."

"What? But—" He snatched his robe and bag and took off. "Ominis— wait!"

But Ominis did not.

 

 

"I really, really, really need you to tell me something."

"I can tell," said Poppy, squirming. "Your grip on my arm is like a Kneazle's bite."

Tabitha let go. She'd accosted her dormmate in the Hufflepuff common room not long after Ominis abandoned their session together.

"Sorry," she said to Poppy, and wrung her hands to busy them. "Just... I had a wizard question."

"I'm sorry, Tabitha," she said with a frown, "but you really can't feed the Draught of Living Death to all the Diricawls—"

"No, not that! I actually wanted to know..." Tabitha glanced left. Right. "What does the Airy Slytherin mean?"

She had to know. Had to know why he hated it so much.

"Airy... Slytherin?" Poppy's face went blank. "I... don't know what that is..."

"You don't? It's, erm... Ominis was called it at Crossed Wands, and I figured, since the other Hufflepuff girls had really strong opinions about him..."

Her brow lifted. "Do you mean the Heir of Slytherin?"

Oh. That did make more sense. Being Slytherin's descendant and all.

"Oh, Tabitha," murmured Poppy. "Did Ominis bring it up?"

Nope, I brought it up and now he hates me! "Why? What's it mean?"

Poppy rolled her lips, like she was deciding whether it was worth sharing or not.

"The Heir of Slytherin is from an old school myth. Salazar Slytherin built a secret lair called the Chamber of Secrets in hope that one day, his descendant would return to Hogwarts to open it and unleash some sort of monster within."

"... Okay, so, where is it?"

She smiled good-naturedly. "It's in the name! No one knows how to find it or open it! Only one thing is certain: only the Heir can control the monster. It's said it has the ability to..." she was barely audible, "to purge all the Muggle-borns from the school."

Tabitha's heart plummeted. "Muggle-borns... like me?"

Poppy nodded gravely.

Ohhhhh. That wasn't exactly a happy sack of potatoes, was it?

"Ominis isn't the only Gaunt to attend," she continued. "His parents came here too, but the rumour is there's a prophecy confirming he's the true Heir."

But... Ominis was her friend. Fake friend, right, but if she got purged she couldn't exactly fulfil her end of the bargain, and why would he go to the trouble of helping her read if she was destined to turn into monster chow anyway?

"Where'd you hear this rumour?" she asked.

"I overheard people whispering about it last year," Poppy said. "But everyone knows it now..."

What the heck happened last year that kicked all this off? Tabitha scratched her chin. Poppy lowered her voice.

"There's also a rumour... Maya Cavendish heard the prophecy foretold."

"That... Slytherin girl?"

"Mmm."

Tabitha had only interacted with her a few times, and each was horrible. Maya looked at her the way Tabitha looked at a tin of mouldy anchovies.

"D'you think I could ask her?"

Poppy winced deeply. "She's not, erm... exactly friendly to Muggle-borns either."

"Why? Do people not like Muggle-borns, or something?"

"Oh, Tabitha." Poppy gave her an exasperated frown. "You still have so much to learn."

 

 

Without seeing any need to delay, Tabitha made her way to the Slytherin common room, waited for the door to appear... and knocked.

She wrung her hands, too nervous to stay still but not nervous enough to pace. The door was strange; it only appeared when someone was close. If she had the password, she would've been able to go inside, but every time she asked a passing Slytherin, they looked at her like she had one head.

(Earlier in Beasts she learnt hydras were real, and they had multiple heads, so really, having one head was also An Event now.)

And since she was trying not to alert either Ominis or Sebastian of her investigation into the Heir of Slytherin title, it seemed best to just ask a source in the speculation: Maya herself. Another sixth-year Slytherin with more product in her hair than Tabitha had sweets, she was unfathomably beautiful, flushed a pretty bronze and chocolate curls with enough thickness to give her volume without being unruly, and always had her nails buffed to perfection. The only subject they shared was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and she duelled like her opponents were annoying foot bunions.

When no one responded after a few minutes, Tabitha knocked again. The Slytherin common room door was stone, so she considered basic casting for a better vibration before it cracked open, and a first-year poked her head out. Minus the spectacles, she looked a little like a mini Tabitha, with pale skin, two curly blonde pigtails, and big, watery blue eyes. So cute!

"What the fuck do you want?" the girl squeaked.

Tabitha's polite smile fell. "Oh. Erm. Is Maya Cavendish in?"

"What the fuck do you want her for?"

"Please can you go ask? It won't take a moment."

Sneering, the girl shut the door. Tabitha was almost certain she'd been played by a squealy eleven-year-old girl before the door croaked open again, and Maya stepped out, scowling.

"Am I a house-elf you think you can summon at will, Muggle-born?"

"N-No," Tabitha said nervously. "Just— I'm Tabitha Fulton-Smyth—"

"I know who you are," she snapped. "I was there at your damn duel, and even if I wasn't, no one will shut up about that stupid troll."

"Well that's not really my fault, so..." At Maya's narrowed eyes, Tabitha quickly said, "Anyway! I erm, wanted to ask, I heard you know something about the Heir of Slytherin."

She might as well have publically accused her of licking the men's lavatories after Hogwarts' Mexican dinner night.

"You should mind your own damn business," Maya snarled.

"I'm sorry! I'll be out your hair in a jiffy—"

"What?"

"— but I was talking about it with Ominis and I wanted to know about this prophecy—"

"Why don't you ask him then?" She stepped back, behind the safety of the door. "Don't ever talk to me again, Mudblood."

She shut the door with a resounding thunder, and Tabitha thought, really, that went quite well. Gibberish aside – what the heck was a Mudblood? – she hadn't been blasted, hexed, or had her head shoved in the john. It didn't give her any answers, of course, except that for some reason Maya was precious with her secrets, but at least she was alive to think about it.

She was about to leave when the door cracked open, and the first-year girl poked her head out again. She sneered.

"What are you still doing here? Fuck off."

Good grief, this girl's language could give Buck the Fuck a run for his shillings!

"Do you know anything about it?" she asked instead. "The Heir of Slytherin prophecy?"

The girl tilted her head back and forth. "Might do."

"Great!"

"I'll need a Sickle to loosen my tongue."

Tabitha scowled and fished for a silver coin in her robe. The girl bit it between her teeth before depositing it in her pocket.

"Okay?" said Tabitha.

"Yeah, it's good." Then she said, "Don't know anything. Bye!" And shut the door again, leaving Tabitha about as rich in information as she was in her pockets.

 

 

Ominis had called for another session not long after their last, sending an owl with the letter, written in simple cursive for her to decipher, after he'd sat on his bed in his dorm reflecting upon his behaviour.

Overdramatic. Ridiculous. What had he been thinking, to punish her for her curiosity? Tabitha didn't know anything about the Heir of Slytherin; with the title flung around like that by Leander, of course she would be want to know its meaning and context.

It was temperate enough that day that Ominis agreed to meet in the Quad Courtyard. Bundled in a cloak and scarf, he was producing a book from his bag when Tabitha's fleet-footed boots pattered up to him in a flurry. Good, she'd read the note okay, even if she was a little late. Like a cake with sugar, tardiness seemed permanently baked into her being.

"Hello, Ominis," she said warily, plonking herself down on the stone bench next to him. "What's that you have?"

They hadn't spoken since she'd mentioned the Heir of Slytherin, and part of his body felt stiff, as if once more overwhelmed by her blissful naiveté.

"Hogwarts: A History," he said. "First year textbook."

"Ooooo!" Surprisingly she sounded enthused. "Are you going to read it to me?"

"It's not a bedtime story, Tabitha," he said tersely. "It's our history. My history."

The emphasis was lost on her. She crossed her legs on the bench and leant forwards. "But history is interesting!" she chirruped. "It teaches us about mistakes made and what we can do to avoid them, like a bedtime story always has a moral."

The observation was... oddly profound? Ominis pressed his hands over the leather binding. Hundreds of years of Slytherins and Gaunts and they'd never learnt from their mistakes – mostly because they never perceived them as such. If he was to be the first to break away from his family's bloody past, then he would need to distance himself from superstition, and old nonsense like the supposed Chamber of Secrets.

Truthfully, he'd come to the stark realisation that he couldn't avoid telling her about the Heir of Slytherin. That was why he'd found this book, shoved deep amongst his collection from first year. Eventually someone would use the title again, and her curiosity would flare up, and it would be the same charade repeating, her asking questions he didn't like, him feeling too suffocated to talk. Even worse, she could talk to Sebastian, and god forbid he send her on some futile quest to find the Chamber herself. To combat this, he'd decided to tell her on his terms. Just as he'd steered the ruse to a direction of his choosing, he would steer her perception of him, too, a ship guided by his beacon alone.

"I thought I would tell you a little about Salazar Slytherin."

"Father Slytherin himself?"

"Yes." He took a cool breath to steady himself and flicked open to a page he'd previously marked. Though he couldn't see the image, he felt Salazar Slytherin nonetheless. Upstanding, proud, evil. "He was an incredibly intelligent, but cruel man. He prized wizards of strong acumen, wit and cunning, and sought to segregate the wizarding population by those with strictly wizard blood. None," he said with emphasis, "with Muggle heritage."

"I heard about that." Gone was her interest; she wriggled, as if she couldn't get comfortable. "He doesn't like, erm, people like me?"

So she already knew. "No. He did not."

"Is my magic... worse, because I'm part-Muggle?"

"No."

"Oh." She cocked her head. "So he's getting in a tizzy for all nowt?"

What a fascinating outlook to have, as if Salazar Slytherin's complaints were wholly insignificant. "Yes. It put him at frequent odds with Godric Gryffindor, House founder of Gryffindor." He found a picture of him in the textbook to show her. "They argued about it so much that eventually Slytherin left his post – but not before he left behind his legacy."

He thought this would pique her curiosity again – but instead she said, "The Chamber of Secrets?"

"You've heard of it?"

"I, er, asked Poppy."

Curses. He went stiff. "So you know what is meant to be contained within."

"Yeah! But it's okay, because you're the Airy— er, Heir of Slytherin, and you can control it, right?"

"No, Tabitha, because it's all rubbish," he corrected sharply. "The Heir of Slytherin is a myth. The Chamber of Secrets is nonsense. None of it is real."

"Oh."

"Centuries my family has searched for it and been unsuccessful. Over a hundred years ago my ancestor Corvinus Gaunt sought to try one more time before Hogwarts installed a plumbing system into the castle, and he failed to find it. The Chamber, if it exists and is not just some elaborate hoax invented to scare Muggle-borns, has been lost to time."

Although there were some who believed it as true as the flesh on their bones. Some who believed the rumours – and that he was the face of them.

"So." He clapped the book shut and faced her, wearing his most firm expression. "I need you to promise me you won't look into it again."

"But why? I like learning about stuff like this..."

"You say history is about avoiding repeated mistakes," he said. "My history is my shackle. I have been tormented by Heir of Slytherin drivel for over a year, and I wish it would die in the rot it deserves. Please," he said, "acquiesce to my one request to leave it alone and never mention it again. The quicker the rumours die, the quicker I can live in peace."

It took a moment, two, but eventually Tabitha leant back, and nodded her head.

"Okay..."

"Good," he said, feeling his insides soothe with relief. "Very good."

What he didn't know at that moment, however, was that Tabitha Fulton-Smyth crossed her fingers behind her back.

Chapter 12: Night-Time Jaunts

Summary:

Fig asks Tabitha to follow a lead in the Restricted Section.

At the next session with Fig, Tabitha expected to be greeted by a plate of her favourite fig rolls. Only, when Fig ushered her inside with a polite, "Come in!" she was confused to see his desk bare of all but a mouldy old map, and a briefcase unfolded on his chair.

"What's going on? Are we going somewhere?"

"I'm going somewhere. You're staying put to continue your studies," he said. "Do you remember the memory phial we found in Gringotts? Over the pensieve?"

"The what?"

"The pendant over the bird bath?"

"Oh! Yes."

"It was inscribed, and when I translated it and read it aloud, this map appeared. Look familiar?"

She peered at it for one second, two...

"Nope!"

"It's Hogwarts, Tabitha," he said, exasperated. "Now, there are no markings or indicators as to what this map could lead to, but I suspect, with your proclivity for ancient magic..."

It did seem to bubble a little in one of the corners. Ancient magic was so strange. When she pointed it out, Fig hummed.

"That's the library."

"The library?" Tabitha squeaked. Oh no. That place was the bane of her existence. Not the fantastical getaway for someone who couldn't read. "But— why would there be a freaky gate there? Imagine if one of those knight-thingies clobbered all the books!"

"I imagine it will be well hidden. Quite likely... in the Restricted Section."

"Oh. Well. I can't go then."

"You mustn't let the name deter you! Unfortunately, I cannot grant you access myself. I don't want to draw unnecessary attention to our search." His lips formed a thin line. "The Restricted Section is called that for a reason. Madam Scribner won't allow you inside without a good excuse, and this is not one of them. I don't usually condone sneaking around, but in this instance I believe it necessary. Find your way inside, however you do, and locate whatever the map is leading you to."

This seemed like a huge task. At least before she had him to help her. Now she was on her own.

"What about you?"

"I'll be away for a week. The Ministry has finally summoned me to discuss Ranrok. After the troll attack at Hogsmeade I'm hopeful they will finally respond with action, but I'm afraid this does mean you must go without me." He offered her a wistful smile. "Miriam used to sneak into the Restricted Section all the time, you know. She was always hungry for knowledge."

But Tabitha wasn't Miriam. The very idea of doing this made her want to vomit, poo, and set herself on fire, in no particular order.

"I'll... I'll try my best."

"You will."

She stood outside his office moments later. Tabitha had done her fair share of sneaking around. Late this gone summer she snuck into Highgate Cemetery on a dare by the annoying neighbourhood boys who thought a girl would be scared. Well... they were right – she was wee-her-knickers petrified – but she still had to prove them wrong! If only for her friends' sake. But that was a graveyard, a Muggle graveyard. There were no chances she'd get haunted there. Magic presented its own problems.

The first being... how the heck was she going to get in?

 

 

Tabitha doodled her plans during Transfiguration.

She couldn't read, but that didn't mean she couldn't draw. When Professor Weasley wasn't looking, and her seatmate Garreth Weasley was distracted trying to conjure birds, she drew an approximation of the library floor plan to figure out the route. After Fig had left, she'd gone ahead to do a scouting trip, like a real spy, and discovered the Restricted Section was blocked by a padlock and a big, fat keep-out-you-nosy-little-buggers Anti-Unlocking charm on the gate. Tabitha knew the padlock was sturdier than a rhino's face. She'd poked the metal out of curiosity, set off like fifty wailing bells and had to play innocent when Scribner came rushing over to yell at her – now henceforth dubbed Scary Scribby.

Getting to the Restricted Section wasn't the problem. Getting in was. As much as she was improving with magic, she knew she might be a little out of her depth when it came to unlocking the gate without alerting anyone. She was about as stealthy as a cheese wheel rolling down a busy street.

"What're you drawing?"

Dragged kicking and screaming out of her thoughts, Tabitha immediately threw her arms over her book. "N-Nothing, Garreth! Nothing at all!"

Garreth raised an eyebrow and twirled his wand. "That's not suspicious. You're not drawing me, are you?"

"No!" she said hotly. "It's just a doodle."

"Well, if you want my advice, be careful. My aunt doesn't really appreciate that sort of thing. If you think you can avoid getting caught though," he winked, "I won't tell."

Tabitha huffed. Just great. Now he was going to think she fancied him!

Well, he was good-looking. And he did make her laugh. And he did have a nice smile. And he did smell nice. And he did play Quidditch.

But that was not the point! She couldn't get distracted!

"For your homework," Professor Weasley announced then, as Tabitha hunched over her parchment, "I want a thirty-inch essay on the dangers of human transfiguration, with references to the worst-known cases."

She doodled the lock to get her inner gears working. Locks needed keys. Where was that going to be? In her desk? Her office? Her bedroom? And if getting past her wasn't enough, Tabitha didn't even know what she was looking for. Would it be another pendant? Another bird bath? Or something library related, like a book? She wouldn't have time to pause every five minutes to read the spines. She tapped her quill impatiently.

Professor Fig said she had to do this without him... not that she had to do it alone.

That meant she could bring an accomplice.

She sat up. Yes, this seemed the best solution, and there were loads of candidates! Except Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur didn't seem like the sneaky types. And Poppy would immediately object. And Leander was about as subtle as a brick to the face. So that left only two options: Sebastian, because he'd probably done it before and could read easy-peasy, and Ominis, because that nosy Nancy would find a way extract the secret heist out of her like squeezing a tube of paint. Better to just keep him in the loop from the start, because she liked her paint to stay in her body, thank you very much.

They'd want to know why she needed to go, though, and she really didn't want to say squat about ancient magic. It wasn't that she couldn't trust them... well, it was. Ominis made it clear he didn't actually like her whatsoever – all it would take for one of his very frequent mean moods and the jig was up. But she'd made Fig a promise she wasn't ready to break. Would they go without knowing why? Would anyone?

"Waaaaah," she blurted. "This is exhausting!"

"I know!" said Garreth, groaning. "Thirty inches! Who sets an essay that long?"

 

 

She was bouncing on her heels by the time she managed to whisk both Ominis and Sebastian away to an empty classroom to talk.

"Are you going to explain why you look like you're about to explode?" asked Sebastian.

Ominis sighed. "Don't tell me you stole another house-elf's raiment again?"

"For the last time, I was just going to wash it! It was filthy!" Trying to embody the epitome of calm, Tabitha propped herself on a desk, and the two boys followed opposite. "Actually, I need your help."

"To?"

"I need to go to the Restricted Section."

They reacted like she expected them to. Sebastian leant back with a glimmer in his eyes – full of mischief, intrigue, bewilderment too. Ominis' change in expression was much more discreet, but she knew him now. The way his fingers steepled together meant he was calculating the risk-reward assessment like weighing her on one side of Libra's scales.

"I'm listening," said Sebastian, at the same time Ominis said, "Whatever for?"

"Just because," Tabitha said primly.

"Just because? You make fairy cakes just because," snorted Ominis. "Doesn't mean you don't get to eat them at the end."

"If you have an interest in the Dark Arts," Sebastian waggled his brows, "I can help you get started."

Ominis immediately went rigid. "If that's the reason—"

"No Dark Arts, I promise," she said. "But... I can't tell you what it is. So? Will you come?"

"You expect me to come when you won't tell me what you're going for?"

"Yep!"

"No—" Ominis' eyes tightened, something Tabitha had quickly learnt was his approximation of rolling his eyes. "No one takes a night-time jaunt to the Restricted Section for their own amusement."

"Speak for yourself," said Sebastian, leaning back. "I love a night-time jaunt."

Ominis managed to look even less impressed. "Of course you don't need a proper explanation."

"Not everything needs a damn analysis, Ominis. Sometimes people just have fun. Oh, I'm sorry to bring up your allergies. I wasn't thinking."

"All I'm saying," Ominis said, choosing to ignore the jab, "is it's not easy getting into the Restricted Section, certainly not for someone as... accident prone as yourself. You'd better have a damn good explanation for dragging us out at midnight to explore."

She remembered Fig's words a long time ago that ancient magic was a very very very very very times-one-thousand big secret, and that breaking it could risk her life, and the lives of anyone else who knew too. She looked between Sebastian and Ominis. No, she couldn't tell them. Ominis had almost died against the troll, and with what she knew now about its armour, Tabitha could only assume it was her fault that thing was there in the first place.

But Ominis was right, it would be really odd if she didn't have some reason for wanting to go. She had to make an excuse. A believable one. Or at least, one that would placate Ominis.

"Are you reeeeeally sure you want to know?"

"Spit it out," he snapped.

"Okay, but... it's a bit embarrassing." Tabitha sat up, placing her hands on her lap. "Last Quidditch session, Grace McMorey was telling me that the Restricted Section has certain... books."

"A library? With books? How revolutionary!"

"Not just any books! Specific books. Books... with lots of kissing!"

Sebastian went bright-eyed. Ominis went bright red.

"Tabitha!"

"And hugging!"

"For goodness sake!"

"And... and hand-holding!"

"Outrageous!" Sebastian cried. "When do we go?"

She knew, of course, Ominis was going to say no. She couldn't read, and this was fishier than Billingsgate Market at four in the morning. But she nudged him with her boot. His brow tightened, just a fraction, and she hoped the movement translated to it's troll-related, you slug! Evidently he got the message, but he made a show of begrudgingly nodding his head.

"Only because I don't trust what sort of filth you two will attempt to acquire, I'll come along. But I'd better not get into trouble, Tabitha. I mean it."

Sebastian chuckled darkly and slapped Ominis on the shoulder.

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 7 of A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet || Ominis x ReaderOC