Blood & Legacy

The Untold Story of Andromeda Gaunt – Born from the shadows of the Hogwarts Legacy universe, Andromeda’s story is a tale I’ve woven over more than 2,000 hours of exploration and immersion. Fueled by a fierce desire for revenge against Tom Riddle, who framed her father, Morfin Gaunt. Andromeda’s path is one of power, vengeance, and redemption. This is the story that demanded to be told—a journey through darkness and light, where the haunting legacy of the Gaunt name shapes the heir who refused to be forgotten.

[bloodandlegacy]

XXII: The Night Before Forever

March 14, 1891

I cannot control it.

Everything in it.Everything in me.It screams.

The book is useless. I have scoured through it for hours, days, months, searching for something—anything—that would make it all make sense. That would give me an answer. But it only deals in possibilities. It may. It might. It could. And yet, it could not.

I thought I had time.I told myself I had weeks.That was months ago.

Now, there is nothing left to find. Nothing left to learn.Tomorrow.

The last loose end is the book. I will return it, and then—No matter if Juniper is ready or not—I will go.

Because I have to.Because if I don’t—I fear I never will.

______________________________________________________________

The day passes in pieces.

It slips through my fingers, one moment at a time, and I let it.

I let myself have this.

One last morning in the Great Hall, where Juniper nudges me with her elbow and smirks when she catches me staring too long at my plate, lost in thought. I force a laugh, but she knows me too well. She doesn’t push.

One last afternoon in the Undercroft, where Sebastian sprawls against the stone wall, grinning as he flips his wand between his fingers. “We should duel,” he says. “Unless you’re worried I’ll finally put you in your place.”

I roll my eyes, but I say yes.

He wins. Of course he does. But I don’t make it easy.

Ominis sits in the corner, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always, though I catch the flicker of amusement when Sebastian hits the floor after dodging a particularly sharp Expelliarmus.

I want to tell them. I want to say it out loud.

That this is goodbye.

That this moment, right here, will be the last.

But I can’t.

So I just listen. I let them bicker, let them exist in this time where I still belong. Where I am still here.

I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until the castle has begun to quiet.

The fire crackles low in the hearth. Sebastian stretched his arms over his head, yawned obnoxiously, and declared, “I swear, if I hear you pacing past midnight again, Andromeda, I’m hexing your feet to the floor.”

I’d smirked. “As if you could.”

He’d only rolled his eyes, muttering something about stubborn witches before retreating to the boys’ dormitory.

As the door shut behind Sebastian, Ominis moved closer, his presence warm beside me. Without a word, he reached for the book resting in my lap, his fingers brushing mine as he gently closed it. My breath caught, but I didn’t resist when he set it aside.

Ominis pulled me in, careful yet certain, until my head rested against his chest, the steady, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear. 

For a moment, I simply listened.

I don’t know what compels me to speak, only that the words rise from somewhere deep within me.

“I love you.” I whispered. His heartbeat faltered, a startled skip.

The silence that followed stretched unbearably long. I could feel his breath against my hair, the way his grip on me tightened ever so slightly. And then, his fingers tilted my chin up, and before I could think…  His lips were on mine, hungry, fierce, as if he wished to consume me. 

I wanted to stay in this moment forever, drinking him in, memorizing every detail. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me to him as his lips claimed mine.

His breath warm against my skin, “I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing my forehead.

Then, barely above a murmur, he said, “It’s getting late.”

If only he knew this was our last night together. He would stay a little longer

It’s probably better to end the night here. Better to end the night than get swept up in something we can’t take back.

He lingered for a moment before finally standing, and I watched as he disappeared in the shadows.

And I sat there, my lips still tingling, my heart still racing. More torn than ever.

How do you say goodbye to someone you can’t bear to leave?

How do you tell someone that  you will think of them across time itself?

I don’t have the words.

So I settle for something simple. Something he can carry. A letter.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Ominis,

I don’t know how to begin, only that I must. And I must write quickly before I lose the resolve to do what is right.

I love you. I need you to understand that before you read another word. I love you enough to trust you with the truth, even if it means you will hate me for it. I love you enough to ask you to let me go.

My father was Morfin Gaunt, and his father was Marvolo. To you, he is just your younger brother, not yet shaped by the weight of this name. To me, he is a ghost of a future already written, a man who will carry on the worst of our bloodline, who will carve hatred into his own flesh and pass it down like an inheritance. 

I am not just some distant thread of the tapestry. I am its frayed and broken edge, woven in blood and bound in curses. 

I haven’t told you everything, but you deserve the truth.

I came to this time through means I shouldn’t have. I used a time-turner. I have tried, Ominis. I have tried to ignore the ticking of time unraveling beneath my feet. But every day I stay here, I am defying something far greater than magic.

I can’t stay.

I wish I could be standing before you as you read this. I would give anything to take your hand, to make you understand that this does not change what I have been to you. That I am still me, the girl who sat with you in the Undercroft, who laughed with you in quiet corridors, who trusted you when she trusted no one else.

But there is no place for me in this time. No place for us.

I didn’t want to hurt you. That was never supposed to happen. But you have to listen to me now. You cannot come looking for me. Promise me, Ominis. Swear it.

I know you. I know the way your mind works, the way your loyalty binds you to those you love. And that is why I am afraid. Because if you search for me, you will ruin yourself in the process.

So let me be a ghost. Let me become nothing more than a story you tell yourself when the nights are too long and your heart aches for something lost. Hate me if you must, but don’t search for me.

You once asked me if I believed in fate. If I thought we were meant to meet, meant to be part of each other’s lives. I told you I didn’t know.

I know now.

We were always meant to meet, Ominis. But we were never meant to last.

You told me that love was not meant to be cruel. That it should not hurt like this. Perhaps that is true. But I have never known love that was not tied to suffering. And this—this is the cruelest love of all.

So I will say it once more, so that there is no doubt, no room for questions or second guesses:

I love you, Ominis Gaunt. But I am leaving.

And you must let me.

Yours in another life,

Andromeda

[bloodandlegacy]

XXI: When the Darkness Answers

February 12, 1891

The weeks drift by like fading embers; slow at first, then all at once

I pretend. I pretend that I don’t know how this ends.I pretend that every second with them isn’t a stolen moment from a future that will take them away. I pretend that the ache in my chest isn’t growing sharper with each passing day.

And yet..

I let myself have the little things.

Late-night study sessions in the common room, Sebastian grumbling about essays he should have started days ago.Classes where Ominis whispers dry, sarcastic remarks under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.Quidditch games, where I cheer too loudly, too freely, because I want to remember what it feels like to be in these moments with them.

And Ominis.

His hand brushing mine beneath the library table.His warm breath against my ear as he murmurs something only for me.His voice, steady and soft, filling the silence in the Undercroft when I can’t find my own.

I try not to get too attached. But it’s a losing battle.

Because the end is coming.And I don’t know how to tell him goodbye.

________________________________________________________

The courtyard is crisp with morning air, the sun barely cresting over the towers of the castle. Students move about in their usual morning haze, the smell of fresh bread wafting from the Great Hall.

I barely have a chance to register the moment before Sebastian comes barreling toward me, grinning like a madman.

His eyes gleaming, breathless as if he’s been running across the grounds just to find me. "I've found something," he announces, his voice brimming with reckless enthusiasm.

I raise an eyebrow. "Sebastian, it’s too early for your usual dramatics."

He shakes his head, grinning. "No, no, no, this is real, Andromeda. I’m serious."

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "A catacomb. Slytherin’s catacomb.”

Something cold rushes over me. I don’t speak, but that only spurs him on.

“And inside it—the relic.”

I know that look in his eyes. “Sebastian.” He doesn’t let me stop him. “I’ve already been there,” he says quickly. “Well—to the entrance.” His voice lowers. “But there’s a problem.”

I already know what it is before he even says it.

“It needs a Slytherin heir to open it,” he tells me, and that’s when his gaze lands on me.

There’s expectation in his eyes. I freeze.

I know, I KNOW, he hasn’t asked Ominis. He wouldn’t dare. Ominis would have shut it down before Sebastian could even finish the sentence. And I should say no, too. I should. But I don’t.

I’m making memories. 

“Feldcroft. At the edge of the hamlet. Now.” he says before taking my arm and apparating out of the castle.

The air twists and snaps around us, until it finally settles. The catacomb entrance stands before us, carved into the earth like a wound. Sebastian’s eyes alight with something feverish. 

Something is wrong. He doesn’t feel it though. The weight pressing down on the air. The way the ground seems to hum beneath our feet. Something is wrong.

The Obscurus stirs like a beast waking, unfurling beneath my ribs with something dangerously close to anticipation. I try to push it down.

He holds my gaze for a moment, then glances toward the entrance. “This place… it’s been here all along. Just waiting.”

I try to ignore the way the air feels heavy. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “Are you?”

I don’t know if I am. But his certainty makes the choice feel easier.

He studies me a second longer. “You’re the Heir of Slytherin,” he says, quieter this time. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just stating a fact. “If anyone’s meant to do this, it’s you.”

He tilts his head toward the entrance. “Ready?”

I pause. “How do we open it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” His expression is unbothered. “That’s why I brought the Heir of Slytherin.”

He gestures toward the door. “How did you open the Scriptorium?”

“Something just… took over.” The memory sends a chill through me

Sebastian hums in thought. “Then maybe you just need to get closer.”

I slowly step forward, approaching the solid wall of stone. At first, there’s nothing. Then, I see it. Letters. The symbols are jagged, curling, unfamiliar. They make no sense, but something about them feels known to me.

I narrow my eyes, tracing their shapes with my fingers. The edges of the carvings feel colder than the rest of the stone, like ice.

I don’t know what they say. But my lips part anyway, and before I can stop myself, I start repeating the sounds in my head.

Again and again.

Until, finally, I whisper them aloud. The moment the words leave my lips, something in the air snaps. A sharp, biting chill rushes through the air, and the letters begin to glow blue.

A cold, glacial light, spreading outward like veins of ice.

And then, all at once…

The stone melts.

It liquefies, vanishing into nothing.

Sebastian blinks at the now-empty space before us. "Well, that’s one way to open a door."

Sebastian steps forward, his wand raised.

I follow, and together, we step into the darkness.

The further we go, the more the silence presses in.

Sebastian finds a torch mounted to the stone wall. With a single flick of his wand, the flame roars to life.

A ribbon of fire races across the ceiling, tracing an ancient path like a falling star. It erupts through the chamber, igniting torches along the way. Within seconds, the entire tomb is bathed in light.

And for a moment, I forget to breathe. The walls are adorned with bones, arranged in reverent patterns. Archways framed by skulls, vertebrae woven into intricate designs. Every surface is a testament to death’s beauty.

His voice barely above a whisper. “Incredible.”

Something about his tone unnerves me.

Sebastian presses forward, stepping deeper into the chamber. “Start looking through the parchments,” he says. “It has to be here somewhere.”

I move toward a crumbling stone altar, dust coating my fingertips as I pick up a fragile, yellowed page. The ink is faded, the text barely legible, but… Something catches my eye.

The relic, resting atop a pile of parchment, half-buried beneath time and dust.

Sebastian sees the shift in my expression. He steps closer, eyes flicking to what I’ve found.

He picks it up. He’s the first one to hold it.

Something inside me twists.

For a moment, I don’t understand why.

And then, I do.

Typical male heir.

A flash of pale skin, sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes that don’t belong to Sebastian appear.

I blink, but the image lingers… It’s Tom. Holding what should be mine.

The false heir to my legacy, born from deception. A boy whose mother used love potions to force the bloodline forward.

Whereas I - I am the product of love, the true Slytherin heir.

Not a deceptive bastard. 

A sharp tremor runs through me. I grip my wand tighter, my fingernails biting into my palm. My breath stutters, my magic rising.

He shouldn’t have it. It’s not his. It’s mine.

The thoughts are visceral, violent and intrusive.

And then, the moment shatters.

Sebastian is still standing there, turning the relic over in his hands, his expression filled with wonder, not malice.

Sebastian. Not Tom.

I force my grip to loosen. But the fury inside me doesn’t settle, no matter how hard I try to suppress it.

This Relic is for Sebastian. I wanted him to have this. Didn’t I?

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight. He’s fixated, his breath steady, like he’s holding something sacred. ButI can’t stop staring at it. Something about it pulls me in. Not just me, but something inside me.

The Obscurus shifts under my skin, desperate to get out. I clench my fists, willing it down, willing it quiet. Not here. Not now.

“We should go.” I say with urgency. 

Sebastian doesn’t look up. “Just a little longer—”

“No,” I say sharply. “We’ll study it back at the castle,” I say quickly, already moving toward the entrance. “Come on, Sebastian.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Sebastian won’t move. His grip on the relic tightens, his expression unreadable, but I see it in his posture. He’s not leaving. Something in me snaps.

A wave of panic surges through my veins. The words leave my lips before I fully register them.

“Imperio.”

Sebastian jerks slightly, then stills.

Then, suddenly… The world rips apart.

The Obscurus erupts.

A shrieking, churning mass of darkness explodes from my chest, twisting through the air. The torches die instantly. The chamber plunges into a suffocating, unnatural dark. The walls groan, bones shuddering loose from their places.

The relic flies from Sebastian’s grasp, clattering to the ground. He stumbles, his body no longer under my control.

The Obscurus is wild, uncontrollable. It’s alive. I try to pull it back and I can’t.

It surges forward, smashing against the walls, a vortex of shadow and rage, turning everything inside-out. A shriek, high and unnatural, splits the air. Not mine. Not Sebastian’s.

The Obscurus itself.

And then, a voice, sharp and raw, cuts through the chaos.

“Andromeda!”

The storm shudders for a moment.

Ominis.

He stands in the corridor. His wand is gripped tightly in his fingers, his knuckles stark white against the handle.

I see it then, the way his body tenses, the way he braces himself, like he’s expecting pain. Like before.

The Obscurus nearly killed him last time. I can’t let it happen again. Something shifts inside me.

Ominis’s voice is stronger this time. “Andromeda. Come back.”

I breathe, and, just like that, I feel it.

The pull of something warm. Something human. Something I refuse to lose. I grit my teeth, forcing my shaking hands to close into fists.

The Obscurus fights. It resists violently in protest, but I push. Harder. This isn’t who I am.

With a final, desperate pull, the darkness collapses inward. The screaming wind dies. The dust settles. The shadows, all of it, folds back into my chest, where it belongs.

The chamber is quiet. The air is thick with the aftermath of what just happened. Ominis hasn’t moved. Sebastian is the first to break the silence. He bends down, reaching for the relic.

“Leave it.” Ominis’s voice cuts through the stillness.

Sebastian freezes, his hand just above the relic. Slowly, he straightens.

"Ominis—" Sebastian starts.

“How dare you.” Ominis’s voice is icy with betrayal. His jaw tightens as he lifts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “How dare you both?”

Sebastian stiffens, his shoulders squaring. “Don’t blame her,” he says quickly, stepping between us. “I practically begged her to come. I needed her… uh… an heir of Slytherin. And I knew I couldn’t ask you.”

“I do blame you both.” He retorts. “You for asking her behind my back,” Ominis continues, his words measured. “And her for going along with it. Knowing exactly what you were risking.”

I glance at him, searching for something, anything, that tells me I can fix this. But his posture is rigid, his hands still trembling, and I know. I’ve disappointed him. And that, somehow, is worse than anger.

Sebastian exhales sharply. “We got what we came for. It’s done. There’s no point in—”

“We’re not taking it.” Ominis says icily. 

Sebastian stares at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” he quips.

Sebastian lets out a bitter breath, frustration barely contained. “You don’t understand what this means—”

“I do,” Ominis snaps. “And I don’t care.” His hands are shaking.

Sebastian takes a step forward, voice dropping into something dangerous. “What if I take it anyway?”

Ominis doesn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll stop you.” 

Sebastian lets out a humorless breath, his jaw tightening. “You wouldn’t.” 

Ominis doesn’t respond. He would. We all know it. The tension stretches between them, tight as a drawn wire, ready to snap.

And then, Ominis’s head drops. His shoulders sag slightly. His voice is quieter now. Weary.

“Andromeda—”

My name, spoken so softly, nearly unravels me.

“I felt it.”

My stomach drops.

“The moment I stepped inside.” His voice trembling. “The moment you lost it.”

His expression crumbles into something broken.

His breath catches. And then, the anger returns. “You knew. You felt it.”

And then, his voice drops into something almost broken. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

Sebastian stares at me. “What?” His voice is blank. His gaze flickers between us, and I can see the moment he realizes. Sebastian stares at me. 

“You were controlling it?” he asks, incredulously.

A fresh wave of nausea coils in my stomach. Ominis doesn’t give me a chance to respond.

“Shut up.” Ominis says with an eye roll.

Sebastian’s mouth snaps shut.

Ominis shakes his head, his voice steadier now. “If this happens again, they won’t give you a second chance.”

Sebastian doesn’t move. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, but no words come. I can feel it in the way his shoulders stiffen. The way his jaw locks tight. It’s acceptance.

Slowly, his gaze drops to the relic lying abandoned on the ground. He doesn’t reach for it.

And that’s when I realize how quiet the room has become.

“We’re leaving.” Ominis says finally. 

Sebastian doesn’t argue.

Neither do I. I’m not sure I could if I tried.

Sebastian reaches the catacomb exit first, stepping out into the open air. Ominis doesn’t follow immediately.

Instead, he lingers at the entrance. His breaths are slower now, but I can still feel the tension radiating from him.

I brace myself for more words filled with anger, disappointment, and the sharp edge of betrayal.

But when he speaks, his voice is low. Softer than I expect. "I don’t forgive you.” he says. There’s nothing for me to say.

His posture remains rigid. “Not yet.” Then, quieter still, "But I don’t hate you, Andromeda.” His voice is tired. “I could never hate you.”

My throat tightens.

“You thought you might find answers in this place.” His tone holds no accusation, only quiet understanding. “Did you?”

The cold night presses against my skin.

“There are no answers.”

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

His hands find mine. Warm and reassuring. A breath shudders from my lips as his fingers curl around my wrist, then slide up, settling against my cheek. He pulls me into his arms. I don’t resist.

I press my face into his shoulder, his warmth chasing away the cold that has buried itself in my core. Ominis quiets the storm within me.

And that’s when I know. Leaving him behind will be close to impossible.

[bloodandlegacy]

XX: Time Unraveling

The earth shifts beneath me. No. No, no, no— I drop to my knees, my breath shattering into uneven gasps. 

I never thought to ask what would be waiting for me when I returned. Never questioned what I would be leaving behind.

Sebastian. Brash, brilliant, infuriating, reckless with his charm and the fire that never burned out. Ominis. Steadfast, sharp-witted, the only one who ever truly saw me..

Gone.

I should have known. I did know.

The past is real. Fixed. Unforgiving. Every moment, every bond, every fragile thread of the life I built here. None of it exists. Not in the way I need it to.

The weight of it crashes down. 

A choked sob catches in my throat, and suddenly, it’s too much. 

My fingers find the Time-Turner, twisting blindly, desperately. Back to 1890. Back before the graves, before loss could carve its name into stone.

_______________________________________________

December 30, 1890

I’m not myself. I know I’m not. The boys will return from Feldcroft in about a week, and I know I won’t be able to hide it. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions, not when they leave scars this deep.

I know I should stay away. But I can’t stop thinking about him. About his voice, his hands, the way he tilts his head when he listens to me, the way he hums when he’s lost in thought.

And worse, I can’t stop imagining him in ways I shouldn’t. The heat of his breath on my neck, the press of his fingers against my thigh, the way his lips feel against mine. The way he whispers my name.

I hate myself for it. But I can’t deny it.

So I try to rationalize it. Everyone dies eventually. This is no different, I just know about it.If I let it consume me, it will ruin me.

So I push it away.I push him away.

____________________________________________________________________

The week passes in a haze, time slipping through my fingers like sand.

I avoid them. Both of them.

Sebastian knocks on my door twice, but I don’t answer. Ominis doesn’t knock at all. That silence wounds me more than any words ever could.

I tell myself I need the space. That if I just keep my distance, I can shove this pain into some quiet, forgotten corner of myself. That if I don’t acknowledge it, it will dull.

It doesn’t.

I start taking longer routes through the castle, slipping through the halls when I know they won’t be there. I don’t go to the Undercroft. I don’t go to the library. I skip class. I don’t let myself exist where they do.

Instead, I find myself back in the one place I’ve always known how to disappear.

Myrtle’s bathroom. 

The stone is cool beneath my fingers as I lean against the sink, staring at my own reflection. I don’t recognize myself. The past has made me a ghost, haunting a world that is not my own.

And then, the door creaks open.

I don’t need to look to know who it is.

Juniper.

“I thought you’d be here,” she says lightly, but there’s too much softness in her voice. Too much concern.

I close my eyes. “Sebastian?”

She doesn’t answer right away. That tells me enough.

Instead, I feel the warmth of her presence beside me. I don’t realize I’m shaking until she sets a firm, grounding hand on my arm.

“You haven’t been yourself lately.”

The words crack something inside me.

I shake my head. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ even is anymore.”

And then, just like that, I shatter.

I crumple, knees hitting the stone floor, and before I can even catch a breath, Juniper is there. Holding me.

She doesn’t let go.

Not when my knees hit the stone. Not when the first sob cracks from my throat. Not when my fingers clutch desperately at the fabric of her robes like an anchor in a storm.

She just holds me.

I don’t know how long I cried. It felt like it would never end, like trying to purge every impossible thing inside me, grief, rage, exhaustion, the unbearable weight of knowing. And she lets me. She doesn’t hush me. She doesn’t tell me I need to be strong. She just lets me be human.

And I love her for it. 

She doesn’t speak right away, or rush to fill the silent void. She just sits with me, waiting. Letting me unravel on my own.

“You’ve been avoiding them.” Juniper says quietly. 

“I’ve been busy” I say, hoping we can have this conversation later, when I’m ready.

She doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Her eyes bore into me. 

I can see Juniper studying me the way only she can. The way that makes me feel like she’s already figured out the answer and is just waiting for me to admit it.

 Then, finally, she asks, “Is it the magic?”

My stomach twists.

“What?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Your Obscurus.”

It isn’t a question.

“I know they’re tied to suppression. To loss.” Her gaze sharpens. “And I know you.” she says as she sits down. 

Something cold spreads through me as I splash water on my face. Hoping to steady myself for this. 

Juniper keeps going. “If something’s wrong, I doubt you’ve been… letting yourself feel it properly.”

“That’s—”

She cuts me off before I can even form a lie. I realize it’s probably easier to just tell her. So, I tell her everything. The Blood Curse. Betrayed by my own grandfather.

I can see her mind working, then she finally asks, “Does that mean… there are two?”

“Two –” I stop myself. 

“Two Obscurials. One from the blood curse. One from—” She hesitates, but I know what she means. My adoptive mother.

“Is that possible?” 

She shrugs. 

“If the blood curse created one… if that magic has always been part of you, then maybe that’s why you’ve been able to control it,” she finally continues. “At least, some of it.”

The words send something cold curling down my spine. “And the other?”

She doesn’t look away. “Maybe it can’t be.”

“Hmm.” It seemed like the best response at the time.

The silence between us lingered.

She waits, until the quiet no longer feels uncomfortable. Then, careful and deliberate:

“Are you losing yourself here?”

It shouldn’t feel like a knife pressed against my throat. But it does.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. It’s the most honest thing I’ve said in weeks.

Juniper sighs. 

“I know how it ends.” I say in a whisper.

Juniper’s brow furrows slightly. “What?”

The words spill out before I can stop them.

“It’s all going to end, Juniper.” My voice breaks.

I look at her, my vision blurred.

“Sebastian. Ominis. Everyone we care about in this time.”

Juniper doesn’t react.

I keep going. “They’ll be gone. Long before we ever exist.” My voice is hollow. “They’ll live their lives, and we’ll never know how. I’ll never know when or where or what becomes of them. But I do know one thing.”

I wipe the tears away, “I know that no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to fight it, time will erase them.” My breath shakes. 

Juniper’s expression doesn’t change. She doesn’t tell me I’m wrong. She doesn’t tell me it will be okay.

She just says, “And they don’t.”

They don’t. And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Then, Juniper nods once. As if making a decision.

“Alright,” she says. She straightens, expression firm. “Then you have to pretend.”

I frown.

“For them.” Her voice steady, but there’s something urgent beneath it. “They don’t get to know what you know. They don’t get the weight of it.”

Her eyes soften. “And that means they deserve to have you. Not this ghost of you, walking around like you’re already mourning them. We never know when it’s our last day with anyone.”

Before I can speak, she presses on.

“They don’t know. And they shouldn’t. So don’t take this from them.”

I know she’s right. It’s just so heavy.

“You still have time,” she says. “So give them something real. Give them memories. Give them you, not your grief.”

The way she says it unravels me.

I take a shaky breath. “I can’t stay here, Juniper.” My voice is a whisper. “I need to go back.”

Juniper watches me for a long moment. Then, softly but firmly, she says, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

Her expression hardens. “You can.”

I scoff, looking away. “What’s the point?”

“The point,” she says, sharper now, “is that they care about you.”

Juniper leans in slightly, voice unrelenting. “You’re going to disappear from their lives, Andromeda. Forever. And they won’t know why.”

A wave of panic rushes through me. I cover my face with my hands. I hadn’t considered that.

“They’ll look for you.” Her voice quiets. “They’ll wonder if you ran, if you got hurt, if you’re even alive.”

I shake my head, whispering, “I don’t want to break them.”

“You will break them,” she says simply. “But at least you can let them know you were real.”

Juniper squeezes my hands, her grip warm. “Say goodbye. Give them that. Give yourself that.”

Her hands are still wrapped around mine as if she’s trying to tether me here, trying to make me stay just a little longer.

“And I suppose you weren’t going to ask if I was coming with you.”

The question catches me off guard. “Would you?”

She looks uncertain. I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, the battle she’s fighting in real time. Then, finally, she nods. “Yes.”

But there’s a pause. She’s holding something back.

“But?”

She exhales slowly. “But I think I’d like to come back.” I should have expected that.

“I like it here,” she admits. “My Hufflepuff mates—” A small, real smile flickers across her lips. “They’re good to me. And I think—I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt like I can just be.”

A lump forms in my throat.

“No expectations,” she murmurs. “No legacy hanging over my head. Just… me. Learning. Living. Figuring out who I am without my parents’ voices in my ear.”

I can see it. How much this means to her. How much she’s found here. She doesn’t want to leave. Not really.

“You should stay.” I say, trying to sound convincing. But deep down, I knew I would need her. 

Juniper gives me a look. “And let you run off into the future without supervision? No chance.”

A breath of laughter shakes through me.

Then she asks, “How long?”

“A couple weeks.” My voice is quiet. “Just enough to tie up everything.”

She nods again, “I’ll be ready,” then, without warning, pulls me into a hug.

I hug her a little tighter, breathing in the comfort of her presence. “Thank you,” I whisper. It isn’t enough, but it’s all I can say without unraveling again.

Juniper pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “They’re at the Three Broomsticks. Ominis and Sebastian.”

A small smile tugs at her lips as she brushes a tear from my cheek. “Go. While you still can.”

I nod, the weight in my chest a little lighter. Just enough.

Then I turn, push open the door, and step into the corridor. And I make my way toward Hogsmeade, toward them.

As I step through the door, The Three Broomsticks is alive with warmth and laughter. The scent of butterbeer fills the air, candlelight flickering against the wooden beams overhead.

I see them before they see me.

Sebastian is talking animatedly, hands moving as he speaks, while Ominis sits beside him, composed as always, fingers absently running along the rim of his empty mug.

For just a moment, I pause at the door, watching them. Letting it settle.

This. This is what I need. Not the past. Not the future. Just this.

Sebastian is the first to notice me. His eyes light up, and before I can even take a step, he’s already nudging Ominis.

“Andromeda’s here,” he says, excitement threading through his voice.

Ominis’s head tilts slightly, then his face softens in relief.

They both smile with genuine warmth. And, I let it in. Welcoming this feeling

I slide into the bench beside Ominis, and before I can say a word, Sebastian grins, leaning back with exaggerated ease.

“You know,” he drawls, “I was starting to think you were avoiding us.”

I roll my eyes, waving a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ominis doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches for my hand under the table, fingers intertwining with mine in a quiet, steady gesture.

Sebastian groans. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

Ominis ignores him. “I was worried,” he says softly. “You’ve seemed… off.”

I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I just needed time.” Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.

Christmas depresses me. That much, at least, is real.

“I never really had a happy family,” I admit, glancing down at the empty mugs between us. “Holidays have always felt… empty. Cold.”

Sebastian’s smug expression fades. He nods, thoughtful, understanding in the way only someone who’s lost everything can be.

“You should have come to Feldcroft with us,” he says. “Anne would have loved to see you.”

Ominis nods in agreement.

Sebastian continues. “We had a fantastic time. Anne was in good spirits, feeling well, and Uncle Solomon—believe it or not—was actually tolerable.” He smirks. “If you can imagine that.”

I chuckle. “Hard to believe.”

“Trust me,” he sighs dramatically, “I barely believe it myself.” Then his eyes gleam mischievously. “But, between you and me, I’m glad to be back.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Sebastian leans forward, lowering his voice like he’s sharing some great secret. “Didn’t get a single chance to study the spellbook while I was there.”

Ominis groans. “And we were so close to having a moment of peace from your obsession.”

Sebastian grins. “Oh, please. I gave it a whole week. That’s practically sainthood by my standards.

The three of us fall into easy conversation, the air between us lighter than it has been in a long time.

The food arrives, steaming and fragrant, and I let myself breathe, and take in this moment.

I let myself have this. Because these are the memories I want to keep. And if this is all I have left with them, then I will make it count.

[bloodandlegacy]

XIX: Damned 

Brocburrow is beautiful, especially in winter. I remember the first time I saw it, abandoned, left behind by time itself. Now, it is unrecognizable. Alive and bustling, the streets humming with voices and the clatter of carriages.

The entrance to the forest welcomes me, the path worn into my memory as though it has always been there. The Time-Turner hums in my handsl. I always hesitate before turning it, a moment just long enough for doubt to whisper. I draw a breath to steady myself, and twist it forward.

Stepping into the future, it is strange to think of it that way. 

The world bends. Twists. Warps. The pull of time stretches, threads of reality unraveling around me. The ground shifts beneath my feet, the air thickens, and then—

It snaps into place.

The forest is still, shadows stretching long and thin in the fading sunlight. I remember this moment with perfect clarity. This is where I saw him break.

My father.

How could I ever forget? The precise instant when everything fell apart, when the weight of loss, of betrayal, of all that had once been certain, crushed him beyond repair. I know exactly where to stand, where to wait in the darkness to see it happen again.

I see them in the distance. I don’t need to be close to know what they’re saying. I’ve memorized every word.

I remember the aftermath. The way my father collapsed into himself, drowning his grief in a bottle, slipping further into something neither living nor dead. I remember thinking that she had left too easily. That she had abandoned him without looking back. I had never wanted to say it, but it was a fleeting thought. I resented her for it.

But now, I can see the other side.

I follow her, hiding in the shadows as she makes her way to her home. She is a ghost within her own walls, her movements slow. She packs without thought, folding clothes with trembling hands, placing them in a bag she can barely hold onto. She doesn’t stop crying. Not once. She paces the hall.

By nightfall, she looks exhausted from arguing with her own thoughts . She stands in the doorway for too long, her fingers grasping at the frame. "But he’s not like this," she whispers, over and over. 

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, she steps into the night.

I watch as she makes her way toward Feldcroft, her posture stiff, her hands clenching the worn fabric of her cloak. When she arrives, she tells people her name is Aubren Alder, a name that carries no weight, has no history, no ties to the world she has left behind. She says she is looking for work, and the woman at the tavern studies her for a long moment before nodding.

"You can stay if you do the dishes and feed the scraps to the pigs out back at closin’ time," the woman says, as if she has seen others like her before; women who arrive in the dead of night, carrying nothing but sorrow. "Easy enough?"

She nods. "Easy enough."

The sadness never leaves her eyes. I catch the glint of tears slipping down her face before she quickly wipes them away.

She is still breaking, just in a different way.

As the hour stretches deeper into the night, I watch from behind the barn. Through the foggy window, I see my mother, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the last of the night’s spills from the tavern floor. When she finishes, she slips out the back door, moving toward the pigsty with slow, weary steps.

She looks so small.

What did I expect? Strength? Defiance? Some trace of the Black name she abandoned? But there’s none of that. Just a woman worn thin, stripped down to the barest version of herself. She isn’t fighting. She’s simply surviving, moving from one moment to the next.

I was wrong.

She’s just as beaten down by this as my father was.

But then—

A shadow.

Not hers. Not mine. 

It moves differently, slowly along the edges of the barn, cutting through the pale moonlight. 

No.

He followed her.

Marvolo Gaunt steps forward, his silhouette stark against the backdrop of the forest. There is no hesitation in his movements. 

My mother, completely oblivious to what’s looming. She kneels in the dirt, tossing scraps to the pigs, wiping her hands against the fabric of her dress. The smell of rot clings to the air.

Then she freezes.

Slowly, as if she already knows what she will see, she turns her head.

Her lips part, a breath barely escaping. Then, so quiet I almost don’t hear it—

"He sent you."

There is no question in her voice. My father betrayed her. 

And then, I see it. The moment my mother realizes there is no escape.

My grandfather does not speak right away. He lets the silence settle. The dread sinks its claws in deep. His face contorts in disgust as he steps closer, his boots sinking into the mud.

"You thought you could leave." His voice is rough, laced with venom. "You thought you could take what is ours. Steal a pure-blood from his rightful place and soil his blood with the filth of the outside world?"

She doesn’t answer.

I can see her shoulders trembling, though she lifts her head.

His wand is out before I can process it, before she can react, before either of us can do anything at all.

"Mortua Manus."

The words slice through the night, adding a chill to the already frigid air. The world seems to contract around them, as if reality itself bends to the weight of the curse.

My mother crumples. A cry escapes her as she falls into the mud, fingers clawing at the ground. The pigs squeal and scatter, the air thick with magic and something far darker.

I feel it.

A shift. A wound being torn open in the very fabric of her being.

He stands over her, staring down at the wreckage of his own making. His hatred is cold. 

"You would rather the child grow up a Squib?" His lips curl in disgust. "Then so be it."

She wheezes, her body wracked with pain, but she still forces herself onto her elbows.

The moment the lingering effects of the curse begin to fade, he raises his wand again.

"Crucio."

A scream tears from her throat. Her body convulses, limbs thrashing against the dirt, fingers spasming as if trying to find something, anything, to hold onto.

He does not smile. He simply stands over her, unmoving, until the echo of her suffering fades into the night.

And then, without another word, he steps back, leaving her in the filth.

A final punishment.

A final cruelty.

I stand frozen.

Everything I thought I knew, every theory, every whispered doubt, has just been carved into truth before my eyes.

This is what I am.

This is how it began.

And I don’t know if I will ever be the same.

Every fiber of my being screams at me to go to her, to fall to my knees in the filth and hold her, to whisper that she isn’t alone, that I understand, that I see her. But I can’t. I can’t..

So I run.

I don’t know where I’m going; only that I need to breathe.  I need to think. I need to find some corner of the world that isn’t suffocating under the weight of what I’ve just witnessed. My legs move on their own, carrying me through the empty streets of Feldcroft, past shuttered windows and flickering lanterns.

My thoughts are a storm.

My Obscurus… it isn’t something I can control. It isn’t a gift. It isn’t a curse I can break.

It’s a sentence.

A death sentence.

His curse, Mortua Manus, was a way to erase my mother, to strip her of magic, to brand her unworthy in the eyes of our bloodline.

And I am the remnant of that magic. A fragment of something broken, something unnatural, something doomed.

I felt it then. Pure, undiluted terror, sharp as a blade against my ribs.

There is no cure. No way to undo this.

I will die.

This will consume me.

The breath in my lungs feels like ice, my pulse is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears. The air is sharp and freezing against my skin, but I barely feel it. My hands shake, my stomach clenches, and for the first time in my life, I feel helpless.

I force myself to focus, to push through the haze of this panic.

And then I look down.

The cobblestone path has faded into damp earth. The houses are gone. The streets are gone.

This is a graveyard. 

Rows of headstones stretch before me, their surfaces cracked and softened by time.

Someday, I’ll end up in a place like this.

Probably sooner rather than later.

My heart hammers against my ribs, my fingers grazing the rough edge of a grave. I don’t know why I stopped. Maybe I needed something solid, something real, to anchor me.

And then, I see the names.

Sebastian Sallow.

Ominis Gaunt.

[bloodandlegacy]

XVIII: Unworthy

December 25, 1890

I should be in Feldcroft. But I’m not. 

Christmas means less prying, fewer eyes, less interruptions. The castle is quiet, empty in a way I don’t mind. It gives me time. Time to think, time to dig deeper, time to let my thoughts spiral.

I have spent every free moment poring over the book. Obscurus Origins: A Study of Darkness in the Womb. The words blur together, burning into my mind even when I close my eyes. Every theory, every whisper of what I might be, it all circles back to one thing.

Mortua Manus. A blood curse tied to Salazar Slytherin’s research. A curse meant to sever unworthy witches and wizards from their magic. A punishment. A way to erase those who dared to defy blood purity.

If wielded improperly, the curse could warp the very thing it was meant to preserve, making it a horrifying contradiction. It wouldn’t strip the fetus of magic—it would create the existence of a dark force, a parasitic wound in the soul that would feed off that magic for the rest of its life. A curse not of silence, but of hunger.

My stomach twists every time I turn those words over in my mind. Unworthy. That’s what my grandfather believed. That my mother had weakened the bloodline by carrying me. That she had shamed them. That I should have never existed.

This was never about punishment. It was about power. Control. He didn’t just want to strip her of magic, he wanted to make sure that I never threatened the legacy he worshipped.

I need to know what happened after she left the forest that night. Where she went. What she endured.

But more than that. I need confirmation.

Was I born with this? Or was it forced into me?

I will use the Time-Turner. I will go back and find her. Whatever truth waits for me, I’ll face it. Even if it ruins me.

[bloodandlegacy]

XVII: A Legacy Rewritten

Sleep wouldn’t come. Not after a night like this. So I gathered what I needed and slipped out of the dormitory. The Restricted Section had called to me before, but tonight, something felt different. 

As I wandered through the torchlit aisles, I realized that going back in time had made the Restricted Section feel new again. The shelves weren’t quite where I remembered them. 

I let my fingers trail along the spines of books, titles blending together in the dim light. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, a hidden passage, maybe. Something to guide me.

Then—I stopped.

A book.

It stood out, wedged between two volumes I knew I had combed through before.

My fingers trembled as they closed around the worn leather cover, tracing the embossed title.

Obscurus Origins.

The breath left my lungs.

I turned it over in my hands, barely able to read the words beneath the title through the haze of disbelief.

A Study of Darkness in the Womb.

My grip tightened. The room around me fell away.

A voice shattered the silence.

"You’re pregnant?"

I nearly dropped the book. My heart slammed into my ribs as I turned sharply. Juniper stood a few feet away, arms crossed.

"What—? No!" I whispered furiously, hugging the book to my chest.

Juniper smirked. "Well, that’s a relief. I was about to start knitting baby socks."

I let out a laugh, but the shock hadn’t worn off.

"I’m sorry. For earlier," I muttered. Really I was, I hadn’t meant to snap at her. 

She waved dismissively. "Don’t be. I forget sometimes that this isn’t my timeline either." Her voice softened. "Sometimes, I wish I could stay here forever."

A heavy silence settled between us.

"We can’t lose sight, remember," I whispered. "We can’t get unraveled."

Juniper nodded. "Agreed. You stop kissing your uncle, and I’ll remember I’m actually a Slytherin."

I glared at her. "Go to bed."

She grinned, winking as she turned and disappeared down the aisle. I turned to leave.

But then..

 I felt it.

A pull, subtle and insistent, drawing me toward the far side of the library. The same place Sebastian had revealed the first door.

Ahead, the stone groaned as a passage opened. Beyond it, a spiraling stone staircase twisted downward. The air pressed in, heavy with something unseen.

At the bottom, towering doors pulsed with a violet glow. Wisps of magic curled and coiled around them. The moment my fingers brushed the surface, the magic rippled outward.

The space beyond was a portrait gallery, grand and endless. Gilded frames lined the walls, each holding a regal figure whose eyes followed me.

I knew who they were.

Percival Rackham. Charles Rookwood. San Bakar. Niamh Fitzgerald.

The Keepers.

A voice broke the silence.

"Oh, hello."

Headmistress Fitzgerald stood within her frame, assessing me.

She smiled faintly, tilting her head. "You have found your way here, just as I suspected you might."

I stepped forward.

Her expression changed in an instant, her composed demeanor faltering.

"Wait—" she gasped.

The once shimmering floor beneath me was darkening. Tendrils of shadow spilled outward, stretching across the room like ink bleeding into water. But why? Why was it here?

I could feel it, the power in this place was heavy. Maybe it craved something, maybe it recognized something in me. But I couldn’t coax it back.

I couldn’t stop it.

My breath caught in my throat, as I looked around, terrified. And as I took in the sight of the Keepers, I realized, so were they.

The map chamber darkened, swallowed in silence. But. Not chaos. Not destruction. Just a quiet presence, soaking it all in, consuming its surroundings like a predator watching.

The moment settled. The tendrils stilled.

The Keepers regained their composure, though something had shifted between them. They exchanged glances.

Then, Fitzgerald spoke.

"This power is not for you. This prophecy is not yours to fulfill."

The words struck deep with finality.

Hurt twisted into anger before I could stop it. How dare they decide that? 

But then, a sudden coolness washed over me, quieting the fire before it could burn too bright.

Maybe this power would do more harm than good in my hands. Maybe this power would consume me. 

My voice was quiet when I finally spoke. "Maybe I’m not the right person for this." I forced myself to meet their eyes. "But I’m trying. I’m trying to fight this darkness, and I don’t know where to start."

A pause. Then—"It’s an Obscurus."

The Keepers exchanged looks again. Their silence was different this time.

Finally, Rookwood spoke. "We have never heard of such magic."

Fitzgerald nodded, her same stoic posture. "You will not find what you’re looking for here."

The conversation was over. They had already drawn their conclusions, and disappeared from their frames.

The chamber felt colder. The tendrils began to withdraw, curling back into the stone like smoke fading into shadow. Satisfied. As though it had seen what it needed. As though I had given it something it wanted.

I stepped onto the marble staircase, the chill sharp against my skin. This power is not for you.Maybe they were right. Maybe it wasn’t.

I made my way out of the chamber, through the Restricted Section’s maze of bookshelves.

I willed myself to focus on the sound of my own footsteps, the dim torchlight flickering.

The night was too quiet. Too heavy..

Then, another set of footsteps. Quick and urgent.

"Andromeda! Wait!"

Juniper’s voice cut through the silence, breathless, eyes bright with barely restrained excitement.

"Let me in. Your dormitory. Please."

I arched a brow at her, still half-lost in thought. "Why?"

Juniper flashed a smile, though there was something softer beneath it. "Because we haven’t had a proper moment to catch up. Not really. Just little meetings in the Restricted Section or in between whatever catastrophe you’ve thrown yourself into. And, well—" She hesitated, then nudged me lightly. "I miss you."

I frowned at her, caught off guard.

"I think I still have Bertie Bott’s Beans in my bag," she continued quickly, as if to cover the sincerity of the moment. "And I know you have a spare chocolate frog."

I laughed but didn’t argue. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love me for it." She linked her arm through mine, pulling me toward the common room entrance before I could protest.

I didn’t fight her. Maybe I needed this.

Most of the Slytherin girls were already asleep, the only sound was the faint crackle of the dying fireplace. Juniper kicked off her shoes the second we stepped inside my room, flopping onto my bed with a sigh.

"Ah, I miss the green." she said, rummaging through her bag before pulling out the box of Bertie Bott’s Beans. "So, tell me about him."

I blinked. "Who?"

She scoffed. "Ominis Gaunt, Andromeda. Your great-uncle. The one you’ve been kissing."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Let it go. Please."

"Absolutely not." She popped a Bertie Bott’s bean into her mouth, making a face at whatever unfortunate flavor she’d picked. "I need details. Girly details. What’s it like? What did he say? Was it all dark and brooding, or did he surprise you?"

I sighed, shaking my head as I climbed onto the bed beside her. "Are you auditioning for a column in the Prophet, or is this just for your own amusement?"

She gasped. "So it was dark and brooding!"

I smacked a pillow into her face, and we both dissolved into laughter, as if we were nothing more than ordinary students.

For a moment, it felt normal.

But as the laughter faded, so did the illusion.

My gaze drifted toward my desk, where the ancient magic book rested.

Juniper noticed the shift immediately, her teasing softening. "Alright," she said, nudging my arm. "What is it?"

I hesitated, then reached for the book, running my fingers over the worn leather cover before handing it to her.

"I need to tell you something," I said, voice quieter now. "Something important."

Juniper’s brows furrowed as she took the book, glancing between me and the pages. "Andromeda, what is this?"

I met her gaze. "It’s time you knew everything."

Juniper sat up straighter. "Go on."

"You need to read this." I said, my tone serious.

Her expression changed to concern. "Andromeda, what are you saying?"

I breathed slowly, the decision settling into place. "I'm saying this isn’t for me. The Keepers made that clear. But you…"

Juniper’s head snapped up. "Me?"

I nodded. "You already know most of it. You’ve been researching, learning. You’re the one who found out about Victor Rookwood. You care about this, about reclaiming what was lost. Maybe you were meant to."

For once, Juniper was silent. Then, slowly, she looked at me, her usual fire tempered by something softer. "Are you sure?"

I hesitated before nodding. "Yes. And I’ll explain everything to Fig. I’ll tell him why I can’t continue with this. But you? You need to know everything first."

Juniper took a deep breath. For once, she didn’t have a quick remark.

"Alright," she said, firmer now. "Where do I start?"

[bloodandlegacy]

XVI: Shadows of Betrayal

Sebastian stormed toward our table, his footsteps echoing with the weight of frustration long suppressed. "You two!" His voice cut through the pub, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. “You two have been keeping secrets.” His gaze burned, flicking between us.

Ominis remained seated, his posture unwavering, stoic really. "Yes, for your own good. Andromeda and I have developed a relationship, and I won’t entertain your objections. That’s not why we brought you here." his voice calm, a stark contrast to Sebastian's simmering rage

Sebastian's face twisted in disbelief, his hands clenching at his sides. "My own good? You’re unbelievable, Ominis! Sneaking around behind my back, parading through the castle like you're the stars of some weird romance. Holding hands in the courtyard, kissing in class as if the rest of us don’t exist. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or was that the point? What else are you not telling me?"

His glare snapped to me. "And you?"

Sebastian took a step closer. "Was that the plan all along? Use me to get close to him and then act like I’m nothing? The two heirs of Slytherin on their rightful thrones, while I’m left standing in the dark, like a fool who never mattered."

Ominis’s voice cut through Sebastian’s fury like a blade through fog. "Enough, Sebastian." His tone wasn’t sharp, but firm, calm in a way that made the anger in the room feel louder. "Don’t say something you’ll regret."

Sebastian’s chest heaved, his fists trembling at his sides, but Ominis didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, his face inches from Sebastian’s, his composure unshaken. "Sit down. Listen. We didn’t bring you here to fight."

The tension lingered. Sebastian’s eyes burned with defiance, he looked toward the door, like he was deciding whether to walk out altogether. But after a second, he dropped into the nearest chair, his jaw still clenched.

Without another word, Ominis gestured to me. Under the table, his fingers brushed against my wrist, a fleeting touch, barely there but deliberate. A silent reassurance. After a brief pause, realizing he was gesturing for the spellbook, I handed it to him. The book landed on the wooden table, the sound anchored the tension in the room.

Sebastian's eyes snapped to it, the anger momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. "Is that…?" His hand moved instinctively toward it. An unsteady breath escaped him, as though grounding himself.

"Salazar Slytherin's spellbook," Ominis confirmed.

Sebastian glared at me. I looked away, unable to meet the intensity of his stare.

"Of course," he muttered bitterly. "The Scriptorium. The very place you swore you’d never enter. But you took her."

"Because she needed to understand something you never could," Ominis replied.

Sebastian leaned forward, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And what exactly makes her worthy of that knowledge? We’re practically brothers, Ominis. Or does that mean nothing now?"

Ominis didn’t waver. "We’re not brothers, Sebastian. Andromeda is a Gaunt, the blood of Salazar Slytherin runs through her veins. She has every right to that legacy."

Sebastian recoiled as if struck. "So that’s it then. I’m just an outsider to you."

Ominis's demeanor softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. "You’re not an outsider. But this was never about you. This is about what’s right. And what’s necessary."

Sebastian started to speak, but Ominis silenced him with a raised hand. "We brought you here because this book contains what you’ve been searching for. It holds the answers that might help Anne. That’s what matters now."

Sebastian’s anger eased. He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edges of the spellbook. "You did this... for me?"

Ominis nodded. "For Anne. For you. Take it. Use it wisely."

Sebastian looked between us, the storm in his eyes slowly fading. Gratitude warred with betrayal on his face, but he said nothing more. His focus was consumed by the ancient book that now rested in his hands.

The three of us stayed at the table long after the conversation shifted from confrontation to reluctant understanding. Words came slower now, the sharp edges dulled by time and butterbeer. The tension never fully faded, but for tonight, it was quiet.

Ominis was the first to rise. He smoothed the front of his robes, then leaned down, and pressed his lips against my temple. His silent reassurance.

Sebastian groaned. "So this is a thing now.”

Ominis straightened, smirking. "Would you like one too, Sebastian?"

Sebastian scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "No, thank you. I’d like to keep my supper down."

Ominis laughed, shaking his head as he turned toward the door. 

The moment it closed behind him, Sebastian's attention snapped to me.

“What was it like?”

I knew what he meant.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “Oh, it was so romantic,” I drawled, leaning back in my chair. “Candlelight, darkened corridors, whispered secrets in the shadows. Truly, a night to remember.”

Sebastian scoffed, exasperation flashing across his face. “Andromeda.”

I laughed, the sound breaking through the tension. “Fine. It was suffocating. The air felt like it was pressing down on me, like the place itself was testing whether I was worthy of stepping inside.” My fingers curled slightly, remembering the way the stone walls had whispered. “The entrance was locked with a blood sacrifice. A test. And then there was the Cruciatus Curse.”

Sebastian stilled, his fingers tightening around his mug of Butterbeer.

I met his gaze. “Sebastian. It was a tomb. A place built on suffering. But it held answers. It held power.” My voice lowered. “Maybe one day, you’ll see it for yourself.”

His eyes darkened.

“But for now,” I continued, pushing the spellbook toward him, “be happy with this.”

Sebastian hesitated, his fingers ghosting over the cover before pulling it closer. 

"I suppose I can be content with this," he murmured. "For now."

He traced the book’s spine, exhaling quietly. "One day, I’ll see it for myself."

I didn’t argue.

[bloodandlegacy]

XV: ‘Let Them Talk’

November 30, 1890

The Undercroft is all mine for the first time. With Sebastian and Ominis gone to Feldcroft, the space feels strange. Quiet. But for once, that’s exactly what I needed.

I’ve finally had the chance to study the spellbook properly.

When they asked if I wanted to join them for the weekend, I almost laughed at how transparent it all was. Sebastian’s enthusiasm was predictable, his grin wide as he made it sound like some grand adventure. Ominis, however, was different. The deliberate tilt of his head, the careful way he asked the same question. It was permission.

He wanted me to stay.

It was subtle and perfectly timed. He didn’t press when I declined, and Sebastian eventually gave up after one last dramatic sigh. But it wasn’t until Ominis brushed past me, his hand just barely grazing mine, that I realized how much thought he’d put into this. The folded parchment he slipped into my palm said: 

Don’t worry. Trust me.

And so I have.

This weekend has been… productive. The spellbook is unlike anything I’ve seen, its pages grotesque, and its contents haunting.

Blood curses… they aren’t spells; they’re something else. Twisted rituals that demand more than magic; they demand pieces of you. A life for a life. Flesh for power. Every word feels alive, like it’s cutting into me, dragging me closer to a truth I don’t want to see. These curses are designed to corrupt, to hollow out whatever humanity you have left and fill the cracks with something darker.

And I can’t stop thinking about her. 

Did my grandfather curse my mother? It’s exactly the kind of cruelty he’d think was righteous. The question claws at me, digging into my skin until it feels like I might bleed from the weight of not knowing. 

That was his way; Marvolo Gaunt thought cruelty was power. And if he cursed her… what does that mean for me?

-Andromeda Gaunt

The sharp echo of students’ chatter filled the halls, mixing with the clatter of footsteps and the occasional swoosh of an owl overhead. My own footsteps felt heavy against the stone, the weight of the weekend settling in my chest.

When I reached the Great Hall,the long tables were crowded with students, plates and goblets cluttered with breakfast remnants. My eyes immediately sought them out, Sebastian and Ominis, seated at the far end of the Slytherin table.

They were mid-argument when I arrived. Of course they were.

“You weren’t even here yet,” Sebastian said loudly, gesturing animatedly with a piece of toast. “You can’t just reserve a seat in advance!”

Ominis, ever composed despite the edge in his tone, replied, “I always sit there, Sebastian. You know this. It’s practically my spot.”

The sight of them bickering brought a small smile to my face. 

I made my way over, setting my books down beside Ominis with an exaggerated thud. “Morning, gentlemen,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Arguing over breakfast seats now?”

Ominis turned toward me, his expression calm but tinged with exasperation. “Sebastian does things on purpose to irritate me. I’m sure you’ve noticed. He does the same to you, like calling spiders insects and expecting you not to correct him.”

Sebastian spun to face me, his eyes wide with mock offense. “You told him about that?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I didn’t have to. You’re predictable, Sebastian.”

Sebastian groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own friends.”

“You make it so easy,” Ominis said dryly.

Sebastian paused, tilting his head as though deep in thought, his tone more serious now. “You know, with all this time you two have been sneaking off together, I can’t help but feel a little left out.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Ominis got there first. “Sebastian,” he said evenly, “we’ve talked about this. You’ll know everything in time. But you’ll have to be patient.”

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Sure. In time. And what time is that?”

Ominis’s lips twitched into a faint smirk of his own. “Patience, Sebastian. Or perhaps you’d like to discuss your fear of spiders again?”

Sebastian grabbed his toast. “That was once. And I was eleven.”

“It was just a few weeks ago, actually,” Ominis interjected smoothly.

Sebastian froze mid-bite, his face flushed. “You’re supposed to let that go.”

“I’ll consider it when you stop calling spiders insects,” Ominis replied calmly.

Sebastian slumped back in his seat. “Unbelievable.” He turned back to his plate as Ominis stood, turning toward me. “Can we talk? Before class?”

“Of course,” I said, a little too quickly, as I hurriedly gathered my things to follow him out the door.

Sebastian’s voice followed us as we left. “Oh sure, you two aren’t making this look suspicious at all.”

I paused just long enough to shoot him a grin over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sebastian. If we were plotting something, you’d be the last to know.”

His jaw dropped, caught between laughter and indignation. “I hope you two are plotting something, just so I can say I was right!”

The courtyard was cold, the December air biting at my skin, but Ominis seemed unaffected. He stopped beneath an archway. Before I could say a word, he spoke.

“I didn’t tell him,” he said quietly, his voice firm.

“I didn’t think you would,” I replied, though the relief I felt was undeniable.

He stood there for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“We should give Sebastian the spellbook tonight,” he said. “If you think you’ve found what you need.”

I hesitated, my thoughts still clouded from the weekend. “I think I have my answers,” I said finally.

He didn’t speak, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were carefully weighing my words.

“Can I know what you found?” he asked, his voice carried a gravity that made the question feel far more significant than it should have.

“Another time,” I replied softly, the words feeling heavier than I intended. It was too fresh, too tangled to unravel now.

Silence stretched between us. It felt like the calm before a storm.

“He’s going to be angry with us,” Ominis said suddenly, his tone matter-of-fact. “Which is why a public place is best to break the news.”

“I agree,” I said, exhaling slowly. “He’s going to have so many questions. You know how he is, he won’t let it go.”

He adjusted the cuff of his robe, before turning to face me. “Leave that to me,” he said resolutely.

They’ve been best friends for years, if anyone could redirect Sebastian’s focus, it was Ominis.

“And the other thing…” he began slowly.

My heart leapt into my throat. “The other thing,” I echoed softly.

“No one will understand,” he said. “But maybe they don’t need to.”

Before I could reply, he reached for my hand. My heart raced as he pulled me closer, my mind caught between hesitation and the magnetic pull of his touch. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was reckless, but his arms around me silenced every doubt.

“Let them talk,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips met mine and the world around us seemed to fall away. I could feel the weight of stares, the whispers starting to build, but I didn’t care. And neither did he.

Our fingers still intertwined, his breath against my cheek, Ominis’s voice was steady and clear. “Let them talk. The Gaunt name is powerful enough to silence them.”

We walked to Potions class hand in hand. As the whispers grew quieter behind us, I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep walking unbothered by them, and how much louder they would grow once Sebastian found out. 

Ominis didn’t flinch.

I barely had a moment to take my seat when a voice, firm and authoritative, cut through the noise like a wand’s precise slash.

“Ms. Gaunt”

I turned sharply, startled by the sound of my name. Professor Fig stood at the doorway, his expression a mix of urgency and purpose. “I hate to interrupt, but I need you in my office.”

Ominis turned to me, his brow furrowing. “Go,” he said, his voice steady with reassurance. “It sounds important. Hog’s Head tonight. Seven.”

And before I could process the weight of his words, Ominis leaned in, his hand brushing mine as he kissed me again, right there, in the middle of Professor Black’s classroom.

My heart leapt to my throat as a soft gasp escaped me, but Ominis didn’t seem to notice, or care. His confidence was unshakable, his touch grounding, even as whispers began to ripple through the room.

I broke away quickly, my face flushed, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Ominis!” I whispered sharply, glancing around. His lips quipped in a subtle smile, his composure irritatingly intact.

“Let them talk,” he said again, his tone light and unbothered.

I ducked out of the room, my heart hammering in my chest as I followed Fig down the corridor.

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself already,” Fig said as we walked, his tone tinged with amusement.

I let out a nervous laugh, clutching my cloak tighter. “Not entirely by choice,” I muttered.

Fig led me through the maze of hallways until we reached his office. The familiar clutter greeted me, scrolls stacked high, strange contraptions that hummed with magic. He gestured for me to sit, his face growing more serious as he began.

“There’s a hidden chamber in the castle,” Fig said, each word weighted with significance. “And we’ll need the Ancient Magic book you found to unlock its secrets.”

He gestured toward the map sprawled across his desk, the parchment worn and marked with faint lines. His finger traced a careful path, pausing near an area I vaguely recognized.

“You’ll need to bring it with you when you return to the Restricted Section,” he continued. “I suspect the chamber’s location is close to where you first encountered these traces of ancient magic.”

I hesitated.

Fig watched me carefully before adding, “This has to remain between us.”

I nodded slowly, the responsibility pressing against me like a lead weight. “I understand,” I said, though the words tasted heavier than I’d expected.

Fig offered a faint smile, a flicker of reassurance. “Good. Be prepared, Andromeda. Now, off to class.”

I wasn’t sure what I dreaded more; seeing Juniper in Magical Beasts, knowing she would have heard every rumor swirling through the school, or the wait until seven o’clock. But of course, that was also when we would face Sebastian, with his million questions and inevitable lecture.

The other students were already gathering, their breath curling into the cold morning air. I barely had time to take my usual spot before Juniper spotted me. The moment her eyes locked onto mine, I knew I wasn’t escaping this conversation.

She wasted no time marching over.

"He's your uncle," she said, each word landing like a stone. "Your great-uncle, Andromeda."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my face neutral. "I know."

She studied me, her eyes searching for cracks. "You're messing with the threads of time. You need to be careful."

I frowned, the words striking a nerve. "It’s not like that."

Juniper leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Isn’t it? Because it feels exactly like that."

Frustration flared, hot and unwelcome. I grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. "Stop. We don’t even exist in the same timeline."

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she met my gaze with a quiet defiance that made my stomach twist. "That doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter."

I released her wrist, stepping back, the space between us suddenly too vast.

Juniper’s expression softened, but her voice remained steady. "What if you change something? Even something small?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but she wasn’t finished.

“What if you get too attached?” she whispered.

“I won’t,” I answered quickly.

Juniper didn’t look convinced. She leaned back, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “Are you sure? Because it seems like you already are.”

I wanted to snap back with something cutting, something that would push her doubt away. But the truth sat between us.

She didn’t wait for me to answer. “If you’re not attached, then stop talking to him.”

Frustration prickled under my skin. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, it’s not? Seems simple enough to me. You’re not attached, right? So walk away.” She said flatly.

“I can’t,” I snapped. I lowered my voice. “He understands things I can’t explain to anyone else. It’s not about—” I caught myself, clenching my jaw. “It’s not just about him.”

Juniper arched a brow. “Yeah. Any excuse, huh?”

Her words hit harder than I expected. What could I say that wouldn’t sound like exactly what she accused me of—an excuse?

She sighed, the fight draining from her expression, leaving something softer in its place. “Just… be careful. He’s not the only one who can unravel you.”

Professor Howin’s voice cut through the air, calling the class to order

The rest of the lesson dragged on. So did the next. And the one after that.

Until finally, the hour crept closer.

Seven o’clock.

The Hog’s Head.

Ominis. And Sebastian waiting, with his inevitable interrogation.

There was no avoiding it now.

[bloodandlegacy]

XIV: Ties That Bind

The Scriptorium loomed ahead, its entrance a gaping maw carved into the ancient stone. As I crossed the threshold, the air seemed to change. Every step reverberated faintly. Shadows danced wildly along the walls.

The chamber stretched before us, its towering vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. Serpents adorned every corner, their emerald eyes glowing faintly. The air hummed with power.

The pedestal at the chamber's heart stood bathed in an emerald glow. A book lay atop the stone, its leather spine cracked with age, an embossed serpent emblem gleamed with emerald eyes.

Ominis moved with ease, as though the darkness of this place was an extension of himself. He paused near the center of the chamber, tilting his head as though listening to something. 

I followed his wandlight back to the pedestal. The chamber felt alive, its magic seeping into the very air we breathed.. Every detail of this place screamed of Slytherin’s power.

Ominis didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the book, his wandlight reflecting off the serpent’s gleaming eyes. “Take it,” he said quietly. “It’s why we’re here.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. “Why?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Because it’s meant for you,” he said plainly, “I thought… I thought if we brought it to Sebastian, it might help him. That it might settle him. But now…” He hesitated. “Now I think you need it more.”

His eyes seemed to search the air between us. “I’ve heard stories about Salazar Slytherin’s magic,” he continued. “Blood Curses. Curses that do more than wound; they stay with you. They twist you, become part of you.” His tone grew heavier. “Darkness that feeds on itself.”

“You think it’s the same magic,” I said finally, the truth settling over me.

“If it is the same magic,” I murmured, “then what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Learn,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “Learn to control it completely.”

For a moment, I didn’t move, the spellbook pulsing faintly in my hands.

Then his voice softened, the edge falling away. “There’s another reason I brought you here.”

I blinked. “Another?”

His hand brushed against mine as he spoke. “I needed you to see the darkness Slytherin demanded of his family. What it meant to cast a curse like that on someone you care about. To be willing to do it without a second thought.” His jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s not a darkness I could ever want to be part of.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the look on his face stopped me. He took another step forward, closing the distance between us until I could feel his robes against mine. The room around us seemed to fall away, the magic of the Scriptorium dimming into shadow.

“You hesitated,” he said, as though the admission cost him something. “When you could have just cast that curse on me, you hesitated.” His expression softened. “That told me everything I needed to know.”

His hand brushed mine again, deliberate, and I didn’t pull away. My heart quickened, heat rushing through me like wildfire. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The intensity of his presence stole them from me.

He didn’t move, he just stood there, waiting. 

And then, I realized the choice wasn’t his to make. It was mine.

My thoughts flickered back over the weeks that had led to this moment; the way his voice softened when he spoke to me, the way his hand lingered just a second too long, or the way he stood too close sometimes and pretended not to notice. 

Juniper had told me not to read into it, not to entertain it. “It’s Ominis,” she’d said, exasperated, the way she always was when she thought I’d lost all sense. “And he’s your great-uncle, Andromeda. Are you truly that dense?”

And yet here I was, not just entertaining the thought, but breathing life into it

Ominis’s fingers brushed mine a third time, and this time I met him halfway. His touch was steady. He leaned in closer, the edges of his words brushing against my skin.

“I’ve spent weeks wondering,” he said. “If I mattered. If you even cared. And now…” He paused, his fingers curling lightly around mine. “Now, I know.”

Before I could speak, before I could think, it happened, like two planets, never meant to share the same orbit, colliding in a moment of impossible magic. His hand found my face with a gentleness that defied the chaos between us, and then his lips met mine. 

I kissed him back, the impossible magic of his touch erasing weeks of doubt and restraint as I leaned into him fully. The air in the chamber seemed to shift around us,. 

When we finally broke apart, his breath lingered against my skin. My heart thundered in my chest, every beat amplified by silence between us. Neither of us moved, caught in the fragile space that had formed between what we’d done and what came next.

I felt him hesitate, his hand still cradling my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek. 

And then he leaned in again, his lips finding mine with a gentleness that left me breathless. This kiss was slower, as though he was trying to commit the moment to memory. My hand curled into the front of his robes, holding him there as though I could stop time.

When he pulled back, it was gradual, his hand drifting from my face as if some part of him still wanted to stay.

“We should go,” he said, his voice uneven.

I nodded, though my voice didn’t come. I pressed the spellbook tightly against my chest.

As we turned toward the doorway, the shadows of the Scriptorium seemed to retreat, though the weight of what had passed between us clung to the air. Even as we stepped into the cold corridors of Hogwarts, I felt the warmth of his touch lingering. A presence that I knew wouldn’t easily fade.

Ominis walked just ahead of me, his wandlight casting shifting shadows. I could feel the weight of his thoughts.

“You can’t tell Sebastian about this,” he said suddenly. 

“I agree,” I said softly. “It’s best if we don’t tell him anything. Not yet.”

Ominis slowed slightly, turning his head toward me. “Anything?” he asked, his tone quieter now, layered with a question that I knew wasn’t just about Sebastian.

The word lingered in the air. “Anything… anything?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for the briefest moment, I saw the hint of a smile play across his face. “We should both take some time before we make decisions like that,” he said, his voice tinged with something lighter. “After all, we are related… though I’m still not entirely sure how.”

I couldn’t help the small breath of laughter that escaped me, though it was tinged with a nervousness.

We fell into silence again as we rounded the final corner. Ominis descended first, his wandlight sharp. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, my gaze landed on Sebastian sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He turned slightly at the sound of our approach, and I felt the spellbook grow heavier in my arms.

“And where have you two been?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the warmth of the common room. He stood arms crossed, his figure silhouetted against the flickering flames.

Ominis didn’t flinch. He turned his back to Sebastian with ease, composed—too composed. He leaned in toward me, his voice so low it barely carried. “Take the spellbook and go.”

His tone left no room for argument, but before I could move, his hand brushed mine. Then, in one smooth, deliberate motion, he bent his head and pressed a featherlight kiss to my temple.

The gesture sent a jolt through me The warmth of his lips lingered, an imprint that burned hotter than the fire crackling just feet away.

“Goodnight, Ominis,” I said, dazed, as if the room had tilted slightly off its axis.

“Goodnight, Andromeda,” Sebastian called after me, his tone dripping with suspicion.

Sebastian tapped his foot dramatically. “Well?”

Ominis didn’t flinch. “Does it matter?” he said, his tone slicing through the tension.

Sebastian faltered, his irritation twisting into confusion. “Of course it—”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Ominis interrupted smoothly. “You would’ve been wandering these halls all night if I hadn’t noticed you weren’t in bed. Again.”

“Me? Wandering? I came out because—wait, what are you—” Sebastian stammered, his composure faltering.

“Honestly,” Ominis continued, his tone clipped “these bouts of sleepwalking are becoming a nuisance. You never remember what you’re doing or why.”

“Sleepwalking?” Sebastian spluttered, his voice rising. “That’s ridiculous, even for you, Ominis. Where were you really?” His frustration spilling over. “And what’s so important that she’s sneaking around with you this late?”

As their voices faded into the background, I slipped into my room and leaned against the door. I set the spellbook carefully on my desk before sinking onto the edge of my bed, my mind spinning.

Ominis’s voice echoed in my ears. There was a quiet insistence in his words, the warmth in the way he’d said my name. And that kiss… I reached up, my fingertips brushing the spot on my temple where his lips had pressed. The heat of it hadn’t faded.

I kept replaying the way he’d pulled me close, his hands finding me like they’d always known the way. His lips had been softer than I’d imagined—no, softer than I’d let myself imagine, because I’d sworn I wouldn’t let myself think of him that way. But now… now there was no pretending.

[bloodandlegacy]

Before I could speak, before I could think, it happened, like two planets, never meant to share the same orbit, colliding in a moment of impossible magic. His hand found my face with a gentleness that defied the chaos between us, and then his lips met mine.

[bloodandlegacy]

XIII: Burdens of Blood

November 28, 1890

Dear Diary,

Juniper is thriving in this new world. Just yesterday, she cornered me in the corridor, practically glowing as she recounted her ride on a Hippogriff. “You’ll love it!” she said, while offering to introduce me. I couldn’t say no, not to her. Though the thought of soaring so high makes me sick.

I envy her freedom. She belongs here. 

She’s happy. Free in a way I can’t seem to be. I want to share in that, but something keeps me at arm’s length.

And yet… There's Sebastian. He’s the exception I didn’t expect. If I had to imagine what having a brother might be like, it would be this. 

The other day, we had a ridiculous argument about spiders. He called them insects, and I couldn’t let it slide. His eye roll was so dramatic, I was sure they’d stick that way. And then, somehow, we ended up debating Thestrals. Thestrals! He’s as stubborn as Ominis claims, though Ominis isn’t without his quirks.

Speaking of Ominis. He insists on helping me with Potions, though I hardly need it. I can brew a better Felix Felicis potion any day! But I let him, mostly because I can see how much it means to him to be needed. He asked me to meet him in the Undercroft tonight after curfew, his tone was unusually serious. It wasn’t like him to be so… grave. He made me swear not to tell Sebastian.

I don’t know what he’s up to, but I can’t help but hope it’s not another prank. The last one was... memorable. We managed to sneak a Boggart into Sebastian’s trunk and hid in the shadows to watch his reaction. When it transformed into an Acromantula, he screamed like a first-year and nearly cried. Ominis and I still laugh about it. Sebastian hasn’t forgiven us yet.

There’s something about Ominis’s request tonight that feels different. Whatever it is, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

—Andromeda Gaunt

Ominis spoke differently than I’d ever heard him before. His voice was completely void of his usual air of superiority. 

“You didn’t grow up with this,” he said, his eyes searching the air as if trying to meet mine. “The traditions, the expectations… the weight of it all. You can’t fully understand what it means.”

“I know enough,” I said firmly. “I know about the name. About the traditions. I know what people think when they hear it.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into an almost pitying smile. “You’ve only touched the edges of it. The Gaunt name… it’s more than just a burden. It’s darkness. It’s power. And it’s a choice.”

“I’ve lived with darkness,” I said, with a slight edge. “I don’t need to be reminded of what it feels like.”

“No,” he said, “but you need to understand it. Truly. And you don’t. Not yet.”

I crossed my arms, feeling defensive. “And you do?”

“I grew up with it. Every day of my life, it was there—in the traditions, the lessons, the rituals. The Gaunt legacy is more than just power, it comes with cruelty, control. And control by using cruelty.”__

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, I felt like he was saying all this to scare me.

Ominis turned toward me with an unspoken urgency.

“Come with me,” he said, offering no explanation.

“Where are we going?” I asked, falling into step beside him.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

I followed silently, with the faint unease curling in my chest. When we reached a quiet corner near the Slytherin common room, he finally stopped, his fingers brushing lightly against the stone wall as though feeling for something unseen.

“This is it,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the unremarkable stretch of bricks.

I frowned, glancing between him and the wall. “What is?”

“The entrance,” he said simply. “To the Scriptorium.”

I gasped.  “There’s nothing here.” I said, feeling the cool stone under my palm.

“Not yet,” Ominis said, his voice quieter now. “But there will be. You’re going to open it.”

“Me?” I asked, my voice rising. “How?”

“You’ll know,” he said, his tone calm. “The magic will guide you—it always does, for a Gaunt.”

I hesitated, unsure whether to feel reassured or intimidated by Ominis’s confidence. As I raised my wand to the cold stone, I could feel Obscurus pulsing. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, almost as if the magic itself was pulling me, I began to tap the bricks in a sequence I didn’t understand but somehow felt right.

The wall began to shift, grinding stone on stone. With a low rumble, it split apart, revealing a dark passageway that seemed to stretch endlessly into shadow. 

I turned to Ominis, my heart pounding in my throat. “Now what?”

He gestured toward the open passageway. The corridor swallowed us in its shadows and the entrance behind us slammed shut with a deafening thud.

Ominis stepped closer. “Now,” he said, “you’ll see why I brought you here.” He raised his wand, casting a shimmering light that danced along the walls. The glow revealed a single word scrawled across the stone wall ahead, etched in dark crimson.

"Crucio."

My stomach turned as I stared at the word.

“No…” I whispered, shaking my head. “It can’t mean—”

“It does.” Ominis’s voice was grim. “The only way forward is for one of us to cast it.”

He turned to me, emotionless. “On me. It’s a test—one of the many traps Salazar Slytherin set to guard his secrets. The Scriptorium only opens to those who embrace its darkness.”

I took a step back, my hand trembling as I tightened my grip on my wand. “That’s madness. We can’t—”

“We have to,” Ominis interrupted. “There’s no other way. If we don’t, we’ll be trapped here.”

The air hung heavy with silence. My mind raced, searching for another solution, another way out. But the walls seemed to be closing in.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.

“Andromeda,” Ominis said, stepping closer. “This isn’t about what we want. It’s about what’s necessary. You think I want to do this?”

“There has to be another way,” I insisted, desperation creeping into my voice. “There has to be.”

“There isn’t,” his tone hardened. “The Scriptorium was built to test us. To test loyalty, resolve, and darkness. This is what it means to be a Gaunt. You know that.”

I looked at him, as his stoic mask faltered. Beneath the determination in his eyes, I saw fear, and a silent plea. He didn’t want this any more than I did. But he trusted me.

I raised my wand. “I can’t…”

“You can,” he said, stepping closer until there was almost no space between us. “Andromeda, this is about more than just the curse. It’s about us. It’s about proving we’re more than the choices we hate. Prove it—to me, to yourself, to him.”

The mention of Salazar Slytherin sent a ripple through my chest. The pressure around me became suffocating, my pulse pounding in my ears. The Obscurus stirred, restless and hungry, as though it knew what was coming.

My hand trembled as I raised my wand, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stop. I swallowed hard, my voice breaking as I finally admitted what I’d been too proud to say until now. “Ominis… I’m scared…”

His eyes softened, though his expression remained resolute. “I know,” he said quietly. “But you’re stronger than whatever fear you’re feeling. I’ve seen it.”

Stronger? My chest tightened. If only he knew what I was truly afraid of.

What if I lost control? What if the darkness consumed me entirely?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

“You will,” Ominis said firmly. “Because that’s who you are.”

His words steadied me just enough. I clenched my jaw, forcing down the fear that threatened to choke me. The legacy I had been so eager to claim demanded this.

With a shuddering breath, I raised my wand, my hand shaking, the spell ready on the tip of my tongue. The silence between us grew heavier with each passing second.

“Crucio.”

The spell lashed out, a jagged streak of green light struck Ominis squarely in the chest. The air rippled with the force of it. He crumpled to his knees with a strangled cry, his back arching as the curse tore through him. His hands clawed at the ground, shaking as though every nerve in his body were ablaze.

I stood frozen, my wand shaking violently in my hand. The jagged streak of green light lingered in the air, its searing glow imprinting itself behind my eyes. 

And then I felt it.

The Obscurus.

It surged forth with a force that left me gasping, an unstoppable torrent of dark, swirling magic. I stumbled back, clutching at my chest as icy tendrils of power curled outward. But, unlike before, these tendrils were different. As they spread, they twisted and contorted, their ends forming serpentine heads. Their jaws snapped hungrily, their forked tongues flicking as they lunged through the air.

“Kill,” they hissed, the word slithering into my ears.

“No,” I whispered. But the Obscurus didn’t listen this time. I couldn’t control it, like I had before. 

The chamber quaked under the onslaught, ancient dust and stone rained down as the air filled with their relentless chorus:

“Kill. Kill. KILL.”

Ominis groaned, his body convulsing. The sound cut through the storm of chaos, grounding me enough to see him kneeling, vulnerable, his hands clutching at the stone floor. He was in pain. Because of me.

Because of it.

The serpents turned toward him, their glowing eyes fixed on their target. Their voices rose in unison: “Kill him. Kill him.”

“No!” The word tore from my throat as I stumbled back, clutching my wand tighter. The serpents hissed furiously, their movements growing more erratic as I forced them to retreat. One by one, they unraveled into shadow, their cries fading into silence.

The green glow of the curse dimmed, and Ominis collapsed, gasping for breath.

“Ominis!” I dropped my wand, the clatter echoing as I fell to my knees beside him. My hands hovered over his trembling body. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”

His chest heaved violently, each inhale jagged and broken. His fingers twitched, and a faint groan escaped his lips as he tried, and failed, to push himself upright.

“Please,” I whispered, panic clawing at me as I watched him struggle. “Just stay still.”

Then, through the thick silence, his rasping voice cut through. “What was… in the room?”

Panic surged through me, “W-what do you mean?” I knew exactly what he meant.

“That thing,” he said, his voice trembling. “I heard it. It was alive, Andromeda. It wasn’t the curse. It was something else—something dark.”

My breath stopped, and I instinctively pulled back. “Ominis, I—”

“It was coming from you,” he interrupted, his tone firm despite the strain in his voice. His eyes seemed to fix on me, piercing through the haze of my denial. “What was that?”

His words crushed the air from my lungs. For a fleeting moment, I considered denying it, brushing it off as his imagination. But Ominis already sensed the truth. He’d always had a way of knowing things.

And I trusted him. I didn’t know when it had started… Maybe by the fire that night, when he’d shared the weight of his family’s darkness with me. Or maybe, in Potions class, when he’d defended me against whispered slurs about our name.

It had been a passing comment, barely audible above the clatter of cauldrons. “Careful, Gaunt,” one of the Gryffindors had said with a smirk. “Too much time with him, and people might think you’re keeping it in the family.”

The implication made my stomach churned. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the potion simmering in front of me, but my fingers were shaking as I measured out the next ingredient. Before I could even formulate a response, Ominis’s voice had cut through the air.

“Say that again,” he said, keeping his voice calm, the kind of calm before the storm. The Gryffindor froze, startled by the sudden shift in Ominis’s demeanor.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, stoic but his wand subtly angled toward the boy. “Go on,” he said, his voice quieter now but laced with steel. “Give me a reason to show you what this name really means.”

The boy had mumbled something unintelligible before slinking back to his station, and Ominis had turned back to me, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t said anything more, but his presence beside me had been enough to steady my hands.

The slur had stung, not just because it was crude, but because of how close it had come to the truth. The Gaunt family had always prided itself on its “purity,” they would even intermarry to preserve their bloodline.

But Ominis had rejected that legacy. He had stood against it, against everything his family represented, and in doing so, he had given me a glimpse of something I didn’t realize I had: a choice.

And maybe that was why I trusted him. Because he understood what it meant to carry a name like ours. He knew the weight of it, the darkness it demanded.

If there was anyone who could know this part of me and still stand beside me, it was Ominis.

“It’s called an Obscurus,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… a wound. On one’s soul…”

I trailed off, my throat tightening. The words I had spoken felt foreign, as though they belonged to someone else.  I hesitated, unsure if I could continue.

Ominis’s breathing was still labored. “A wound,” he repeated, with quiet horror. “How… how do you have something like that?”

How could I explain? How could I put into words the years of repression, the punishments for things I couldn’t control, the way the magic within me had twisted into something so raw and volatile? 

“It forms when magic is forced to hide,” I said with my voice shaking. “Punished for being what we are...”

He didn’t speak immediately, but I could see the understanding settle over him. His silence pressed against me, a question he didn’t need to ask: Who punished you?

“I was raised by a woman who hated me,” I replied, the warmth of tears on my cheeks now. “She thought I was… a parasite. And she treated me like one.”

The weight of his attention pressed on me, urging me to continue.

“She said I was the reason my mother died,” I whispered, my chest tightening with each word. “Her best friend—gone because of me. And so she took me in, not out of love, but out of some twisted sense of duty. But she couldn’t stand the sight of me. She hated everything I was. Every time I showed magic, she…” My voice faltered.

Ominis’s hand twitched, and I saw his jaw clench. He didn’t speak, didn’t press me, but his silence was loud enough to make me stumble forward.

“She locked me away when she couldn’t handle it. Told me I was worthless, unlovable—” My breath caught as I continued, “And for a long time, I believed her. She made me believe her.”

My vision blurred as the words escaped me, memories I had buried for so long, now surfacing in fragments. “I tried to suppress it. To suppress me. But the more I pushed it down, the stronger it became. The anger, the magic, the resentment—it all turned into… into this.”

My voice dropped. “It became an Obscurus.”

Ominis shifted again, his hand reaching for mine. “Andromeda,” he said quietly. “None of this was your fault.”

I stiffened, pulling my hand back, though I didn’t let go. “It’s done that before,” I said, changing the subject. “It feeds on emotion… I can usually control it, but… this time, I couldn’t.”

He didn’t interrupt, even as my voice wavered. “It felt different this time,” I admitted. “Like it was feeding on something else...”

I dared to glance at him then, his features etched with lingering pain. His hand tightened around mine, steadying me despite everything.

The realization sent a chill through me. The darkness within me had recognized the Scriptorium’s power, and had latched onto it like a parasite.

I fought the rising tide of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words weren’t enough.

He shifted, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Help me up,” he murmured.

I helped him to his feet, and I could see he was still in pain as he steadied himself.

“We should stop,” I said softly. “You’re hurt.”

“No,” he said firmly. “We’ve come too far.”

Then I saw the wall before us, once solid, had split open to reveal an arched doorway, framed in carved stone that gleamed with an otherworldly glow.

Serpents coiled forms lined the arch, emeralds glinted in their eyes. It was unsettling, as though the serpents were watching us, judging our worthiness to enter.

Ominis’s brows furrowed as though he could sense it too. “What… what is it?” he asked.

“A doorway,” I said in a whisper. “It’s lined with serpents. Their eyes… they’re emeralds.”

He nodded faintly. “Slytherin’s mark,” he murmured. “The Gaunts’ legacy.”

The Obscurus stirred again. Ominis straightened beside me. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice steady despite the faint tremor of pain beneath it.

I hesitated. “Yes,” I whispered.

With Ominis at my side, his steady presence grounding me, we stepped across the threshold into the darkness.

[bloodandlegacy]

"Kill,” they hissed, the word slithering into my ears.

“No,” I whispered. But the Obscurus didn’t listen this time. I couldn’t control it, like I had before.

[bloodandlegacy]

XII: Bonds Forged in Fire

By the time we arrived back at the castle, the halls were eerily quiet, the hour was well past curfew. Shadows stretched along the walls as Sebastian and I slipped into the Slytherin common room. The dim glow of the fireplace, and there, seated near the hearth, was Ominis. His posture was stiff, his voice low.

“Reckless. Impulsive. No better than he is,” he muttered.

Sebastian stopped beside me. I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Time to put this to rest,” he murmured. “Let me start things off.”

Before I could respond, Sebastian stepped forward. The firelight flickered across his face. He stopped a few paces from Ominis, who remained motionless, staring straight ahead at the flames.

“Ominis,” Sebastian began. “I know I push too far. I test your patience, and I don’t always think things through. But I never act out of carelessness. Everything I do is because I believe it’s the only way forward.”

Ominis’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrests, his posture still rigid but not as unyielding.

Sebastian’s voice softened. “I’ve always trusted your judgment. I just wish you could trust mine.”

Ominis turned his head toward Sebastian, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“We’re better together than apart,” Sebastian added. “You know that as well as I do.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low. Whatever he said next was too quiet for me to hear, but it made Ominis pause, his expression softened, and his head bowed slightly.

Sebastian straightened and turned toward the dormitories, pausing only to glance back at me.

I hesitated for a moment, watching Ominis as he sat rigid in his chair. The warmth of the fire did little to soften the chill between us.

“Ominis,” I started. 

His head turned slightly. “I don’t have much to say to you, Andromeda,” he said coldly. “You and Sebastian are a perfect match—reckless, short-sighted, and entirely too arrogant to see the damage you’re doing.”

Sebastian, stopped in the doorway. His tone was sharp, "Ominis, what did I just say?" he snapped from over his shoulder.

Ominis let out an exaggerated sigh before responding. “Fine.” He turned his attention back to the fire. “I’ll start again.”

“You don’t understand what you’re involving yourself in,” Ominis said abruptly. “You think the Scriptorium is a gateway to power, to solving all your problems. It’s not —it’s a trap. It holds a darkness you can’t possibly comprehend.”

“You think I don’t know darkness, Ominis? I’ve lived it.” I said resolutely. 

His head turned toward me sharply, his pale eyes narrowing as though trying to see through my words. “Have you?” he asked, his voice soft but cutting. “Because if you had, you wouldn’t be rushing toward it so blindly.”

My first instinct was to lash out, to match his coldness with fire. I understand darkness because I have it living in me. And that’s not something he could possibly comprehend.

Ominis drew a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly. “Do you want to know what it means to embrace darkness, Andromeda? What it truly asks of you?” He leaned forward, his expression unguarded. “When I was a boy, my family wanted me to prove my loyalty, to embrace the Gaunt legacy they so treasured. They forced me to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Muggles—any Muggle. When I refused, they decided I needed to learn obedience.” His hands rested on the armrests of his chair, white-knuckled as though bracing against a memory. “They cast it on me, over and over again, until I thought I’d lose my mind.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the crackling of the fire suddenly louder. My throat tightened, but I couldn’t speak. His anguish was suffocating.

And in oppressive silence, I saw Merope.

The memory surged forward like a rising tide, swallowing me whole. Merope, crouched in the dirt, her frail body trembling as my grandfather’s cold eyes bore into her. His voice venomous and cruel. “You filthy Squib!” he had roared, before raising his wand and casting the curse once more.

Even now, I could hear those screams, a phantom echo in the firelit room. Ominis’s words merged with the memory.

This was what it meant to be a Gaunt. To be crushed beneath the weight of power twisted into cruelty.

His voice softened. “You think you’re chasing strength, but do you even understand the cost? Do you know what this so-called legacy demands of you?”

“I didn’t grow up with this,” I said suddenly. The words surprised even me.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone cautious.

“I didn’t grow up knowing I came from magic,” I said, leaning forward, my words deliberate now. “I didn’t know about the Gaunt name or what it meant. For so long, I thought I was… nothing.”

His entire expression faltered. “You didn’t know you were a Gaunt?”

“I didn’t even know I was a witch. And when I finally found out who I was—what I was—there seemed to be only one choice. To be proud, embrace the name. To carry it like armor.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “And you think pride in the name will protect you?” he asked softly, his voice almost gentle.

“What else is there?” I shot back. “The Gaunt name isn’t just a legacy—it’s power. These curses, Ominis… they’re not just about cruelty. They can be used for justice.”

“Justice?” he echoed, the disbelief in his tone cutting sharper than any accusation. “What’s just about inflicting pain without mercy?”

“It depends on who it’s used on,” I said, my voice steady. “Other pure-blood families use the Unforgivables on Muggles. They always have.”

Ominis didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond me. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost as though he were talking to himself. “You didn’t grow up with this,” he said, the words heavy with something I couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t inherit the traditions, the expectations, the weight of it all.”

“No,” I admitted, my tone softening. “But now that I know, I can’t let it go. It’s part of me.”

Ominis sat quietly for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. “I’ll show you the Scriptorium,” he said finally. “But on my time. When I think you’re ready.”

Relief coursed through me. “And when will that be?” I asked.

He smirked faintly, his tone turning lighter. “When I’m convinced you won’t set off every trap Salazar Slytherin left behind. The school year just started, Andromeda. Let me at least finish my homework before risking my life.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Of course.”

“And,” he added, leaning back with a mock air of superiority, “I’d suggest spending some time improving your Potions. Frankly, they’re an embarrassment to the Gaunt name.”

I blinked at him, caught between annoyance and amusement. “My Potions? Really?”

“Yes,” he said with mock severity. “Your last attempt was disastrous.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m realistic,” he corrected. “If you’re going to carry the Gaunt name so proudly, at least make sure your potions won’t kill someone.”

“Fine,” I said, standing from the chair. “I’ll work on my Potions. But don’t think I’m letting you forget this conversation.”

Ominis’s smirk softened, a hint of genuine warmth behind it. “Be patient, Andromeda..”

Brushing my robes as I turned toward the door, but a thought stopped me in my tracks. I glanced back at Ominis, who still sat by the fire, his expression was still unreadable.

“Ominis,” I began, hesitant.

His eyes fixed somewhere near the fire. “Yes?”

“Will you…” I paused, unsure how to phrase it. “Will you keep this between us? What I told you tonight.”

His tone remained calm. “You don’t want Sebastian to know?”

I stepped closer. “He thinks highly of me because of the Gaunt legacy,” I admitted. “He sees me as someone who upholds it, who honors it. If he knew I didn’t grow up with it—if he knew how little I understood—he’d think less of me.”

Ominis was silent, his expression thoughtful. “You think Sebastian would care about that?” he asked curiously. “You’re giving him too little credit.”

“It’s not about caring,” I replied. “It’s about respect. He respects me because he thinks I’m everything the Gaunt name stands for. If he knew the truth, I don’t know if he’d look at me the same way.”

Ominis sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Sebastian admires strength, not perfection. He wouldn’t think less of you for not being what he assumes.”

I frowned. “Maybe,” I said finally, my voice uncertain. “But for now… please.”

Ominis nodded. “If that’s what you want, I’ll keep it between us.”

Though it felt fragile, there was trust between us.

“Goodnight, Ominis,” I said. My gaze lingered on him for a moment longer.

“Goodnight, Andromeda,” he replied, almost warm.

[bloodandlegacy]

XI: Ashes of the Past

“He thinks he knows everything,” Sebastian fumed, his voice sharp as it cut through the quiet. “Like I don’t understand the risks, like I’m some reckless child playing with spells I can’t handle. It’s ridiculous.” 

I walked alongside him, letting his anger spill out unchecked. We wandered toward the Quidditch pitch, Sebastian’s rant continuing unabated. I stayed quiet, nodding occasionally as he vented. Let him burn through his anger first, I thought. Then we could get to what was really important; Ominis’s remark refused to leave my mind.

Sebastian veered off course slightly, heading toward the equipment storage shed. He opened the lock with a flick of his wand, the door creaking as he stepped inside. A moment later, he emerged with two brooms in hand, tossing one to me.

I caught it, surprisingly. “You didn’t think we’d be walking, did you?” he asked.

“I don’t even know where we’re going,” I replied, giving the broom an appraising look.

He let out a laugh. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Instead of waiting for a response, he mounted his broom and kicked off.

I paused for a moment, before following. The sky stretched wide above us, the familiar rush of wind against my face was exciting. For a while, we flew in silence and Sebastian’s frustration seemed to dissipate with each passing minute, but I knew him well enough by now to recognize that it was only lying dormant. Finally, he broke the silence.

“We fight like cats and dogs, Ominis and me,” he muttered, his broom dipping slightly. “But he’ll come to his senses soon enough. He always does.”

I glanced at him, debating whether to say anything. Instead, I let his words settle. There was a rhythm to this conversation, one I wasn’t inclined to disrupt just yet.

The Quidditch pitch faded into the distance, the skies stretched endlessly ahead. After a few moments, Sebastian steered closer, his voice breaking through the wind.

“All right, Andromeda. You’re a Gaunt. How do you fit into the family? Ominis hasn’t mentioned you, and he’s not the type to leave out details like that.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the horizon as I tightened my grip on the broom handle. “The Gaunt family… isn’t exactly simple,” I said, realizing now I should have thought of a backstory, like Juniper suggested. “There are branches that aren’t as connected—or as well-known — they’re more… distant.”

Sebastian’s broom drifted closer, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Distant enough to be ignored?”

I hesitated, my mind racing.

“Distant enough to go unnoticed,” I said finally. “Quieter in our practices.”

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened. “Practices?” he echoed.

His eyes stayed fixed on me, I could see his mind working. “You’re talking about Dark Magic.”

It wasn’t an accusation, it was a statement.

“So you’ve used it, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

“You haven’t?” I countered, trying to match Juniper’s same confidence when speaking of the Unforgivables. 

Something in his eyes looked satisfied. Sebastian tilted his broom slightly, his voice carrying a touch of admiration. “You know, Andromeda, you and I aren’t so different. You get it. The Gaunt name isn’t something to fear or reject. It’s power. You know that. More than I can say for Ominis.”

“I can’t comprehend why he’s like that. It’s baffling.” I said, my confusion was genuine.

Sebastian nodded. “ It’s like he’s blind to what he’s been given. All that potential, all that history, and he just… turns away from it.”

I paused, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Well, he is blind, Sebastian,” I said dryly, unable to resist.

Sebastian chuckled softly at my remark. “You know what I mean. Blind in a different sense—he refuses to acknowledge what he has, all that he could be.” 

He looked deep in thought, as if he were debating how much to reveal. I watched him closely, sensing that something had just changed.

Finally, he let out a bitter laugh, one that carried no humor. “It’s not so hard to understand if you knew his family. They forced it on him, Dark Magic. When he was young, they made him cast the Cruciatus Curse on a Muggle, said it was a ‘rite of passage.’” He paused, his voice darkening. “Once, when he refused, they cast it on him instead. To ‘teach him a lesson.’”

I said the words without hesitation: “The Gaunt family tradition.” 

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like you’ve got your own stories,” he said quietly.

I held his gaze for a moment, “Every family has its traditions,” I said. “The Gaunts are no different. The Dark Arts, the Unforgivables—they’ve always been part of our legacy.”

As I spoke, I couldn’t stop the memories from surfacing. My father’s wand raised, the Cruciatus Curse spilling from his lips without hesitation. His target had been his own sister, her screams piercing the air as my grandfather watched with twisted pride. Later, it was Tom Riddle Sr., the hatred in my father’s eyes searing through the curse. This was tradition. This was power.

Juniper had never seen anything wrong with using the Unforgivables. Her ease with them, her encouragement, had only solidified my belief that power wasn’t something to question. We wielded the curses with purpose. My choices weren’t like those of my father or my grandfather. My actions were different. Justified. 

“You don’t see anything wrong with that?” Sebastian asked, his voice sharper now, as though daring me to challenge him.

I hesitated. The wind rushed past, the weight of my legacy pressing down on me. “No. If you’re going to cast it, it should be cast on you,” I said finally, my tone careful.

Sebastian looked surprised.

“Not everyone understands our traditions.” I added.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on me, before he looked ahead. 

Feeling braver than before, I said, “Ominis told me that the Gaunt name doesn’t just carry darkness—it is darkness.”

Sebastian’s brows lifted slightly. “I’ve heard him say that before,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

I sighed. “Understanding the darkness is the only way to face it. Rejecting it doesn’t take away its power—it just gives it power over you.”

The rest of the flight passed in quiet, the rush of wind filling the space between us. As Feldcroft came into view, Sebastian broke the silence. “There it is,” he said, angling his broom downward. The wind grew colder as we descended, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of the village below. 

We touched down in the field just outside the hamlet, the ground soft beneath my boots. Sebastian didn’t wait, his stride quick as he made his way toward a modest stone cottage at the edge of the village. I stayed back, taking in the scene. 

“Come on,” Sebastian called over his shoulder. “Anne will be thrilled to meet you.”

The closer we got to the house, the more I noticed the signs of wear. The garden was overgrown, the windows dusty. The door bore fresh scratches, as if someone had slammed it one too many times.

Sebastian knocked once before going inside. “Anne?” he called out.

A moment later, a girl appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. Her movements were slow, as if every step was measured. But her smile lit up her face when she saw her twin brother.

“Sebastian,” she said warmly. He crossed the room in a few steps, wrapping her in a careful hug. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, full of concern.

Anne pulled back, giving him a small smile. “Better,” she said, though the faint lines around her eyes betrayed the effort it took to lie. Then her gaze shifted to me.

“And you’ve brought a friend,” she said, her smile turning curious.

Sebastian stepped aside, his tone lighter as he introduced me. “Anne, this is Andromeda. She’s in Slytherin—and she’s somehow related to Ominis.”

I stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Anne,” I said, keeping my tone just as light as Sebastian’s.

Her expression warmed, but there was a sharpness in her gaze that reminded me of Sebastian. “Anyone who can keep up with my brother must have more grit than sense,” she said with a laugh.

I couldn’t help but smile faintly at her words. The conversation shifted , moving to lighter topics. Anne asked about Hogwarts, our professors, our classes. 

As the evening came to a close, we stepped outside, Sebastian closed the door behind us.

“She’s not getting better,” he said quietly. “I’ve been reading everything I can find, trying to figure out how to reverse the curse. But nothing’s worked so far.”

I watched him for a moment. He seemed smaller somehow. 

“Ah,” I said suddenly, the words escaping me. “The answers you couldn’t wait for.”

Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “The answers I can’t wait for.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, and he looked away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Anne,” he began, his tone heavy. “She was cursed. Some… foul, dark magic. The healers say it’s like nothing they’ve seen before. It’s something ancient and cruel.” He paused, his voice growing sharper. “I know it was goblins. They’ve been stirring up trouble for years, and she was caught in the middle of it. If it weren’t for them…”

His voice cracked. “She hasn’t been the same since. The pain—it’s constant. She tries to be strong, but I can see what it’s doing to her. And no one knows how to undo it.”

His words hung in the air like a storm cloud. I stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I’ve searched every text, tried every potion, every charm I could find,” he said, his voice rising. “And still, nothing works. The healers say it’s incurable, but I can’t accept that. There has to be a way to undo it. There has to be.”

“I understand,” I said. “What it’s like to need answers. To feel like your world is stuck in place until you find them.” My gaze drifted downward, “Searching for something that might make sense of it all…”

Sebastian turned to me studying my expression. “And did you find it?”

I hesitated and gripped the fabric of my robes. “Not yet,” I admitted.

He held my gaze for a few moments, then his expression shifted. “I’ve read about it, you know,” he said.

I frowned, uncertain. “Read about what?”

“The Scriptorium. Salazar Slytherin’s writings. The relic,” he said, his tone sharpening with urgency. “I found references in the Restricted Section—just fragments, but enough to piece some of it together. It’s real, Andromeda. And I thought Ominis would help me find it, but…”

He trailed off, before locking onto me with an intense look. “You’d know where to find it, wouldn’t you? You carry his bloodline. You can open it too.”

The realization hit. Ominis’s earlier words suddenly made sense. 

I took a deep breath. “Ominis said you’d ask for this..”

Sebastian’s demeanor changed. “ I’m sick of him acting like he knows everything, like he’s the only one who gets to decide what’s too dangerous.”

He stepped closer, his voice urgent. “This relic could undo curses, undo pain. Don’t you see? That’s what I need.” 

Undo pain. The thought stuck with me, but I stayed quiet as he pressed on.

“Ominis knows where it is. He’s spoken of it before, but he refuses to show me, saying the same thing—you don’t understand. But I do. And you’re the key to all of this.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I admit.

Sebastian faltered. “Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t know where it is? You’re an heir, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that sort of thing be passed down? Family secrets and all?”

“Not all families pass everything down, Sebastian,” I said, the knot in my stomach tightened.

His skepticism is clear. “Really? The family of Salazar Slytherin himself didn’t think to teach their heir about the location of the Scriptorium?”

I let out a dry laugh, hoping to redirect the conversation. “My family wasn’t traditional. The secrets of Hogwarts weren’t exactly part of the curriculum.”

I kept talking, cutting him off, before he could dig deeper. “If I knew where to start, I could open it,” I said confidently, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “But I’d need to know where to look.”

“Ominis knows,” he said, almost to himself. “He’s mentioned it before. He knows where it is.”

“I doubt he’s going to just hand that information over.”  I said, careful to keep my tone neutral. 

Sebastian laughed dryly. “He won’t. He avoids it for a reason, which means it’s important.”

Sebastian tilted his head, an amused look came across his face. “You could ask him. There’s just one problem.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“He can’t stand you,” he said bluntly.

“Well, thanks for the insight,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “That’s very helpful.”

“I’m serious,” Sebastian said, his tone shifting. “If you want to get anywhere with him, you need to make him feel like he’s part of this. Like he’s important.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” I asked, already regretting the question.

“Well,” he said with a smug smile, “you could apologize.”

“Apologize?” I echoed, my voice rising in incredulity. “What? No. For what?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. For being, and I quote, ‘reckless and entirely too sure of herself.’” He mimicked Ominis’s clipped tone with a laugh.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “Fantastic.”

Sebastian’s grin softened. “Relax. You don’t have to grovel. Just… acknowledge his perspective. Make him feel like you’re willing to listen to reason.”

“And if he still hates me?”

“Then prove him wrong,” Sebastian said simply. 

[bloodandlegacy]

X: The Undercroft

The next morning arrived too quickly, the pale light of dawn seeped through the curtains like an unwelcome visitor. My body ached for more rest, but there was no time for that.

Pulling my cloak tight around me, I made my way to Professor Fig’s office. The air in the corridor felt charged with anticipation, each step echoing softly against the stone walls. Hopefully he knows more about the strange wisps of magic.

When I arrived, the door stood ajar, the room beyond silent. Inside, the usually orderly space was in chaos. Books leaned precariously in mismatched stacks across the desk and floor, their spines worn, their titles barely legible in the dim morning light. A single piece of parchment sat atop the clutter.

The note, written in sharp strokes, read: “I hope your sudden interest in this topic is not related to that dragon attack. —M. Weasley.”

Fig must have been digging for answers, and involving others in his search. I let the note fall back to the desk and scanned the room. My fingers brushed the spine of a thick tome titled Ancient Convergences in Magic, but before I could pull it free, something else caught my eye… the folded pages of the Daily Prophet.

The headline blared in bold typeface: Goblin Rebellion Gains Momentum. Ranrok’s name was mentioned in the subtext, though the details blurred as I leaned closer to read. Before my eyes could focus, the bell for morning classes tolled in the distance.

With a sigh, I folded the paper and stuffed it into my bag. There was no time to waste. I turned, and hurried toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower.

“Late for class, Gaunt,” came a smug drawl as I approached the classroom door.

Sebastian stood leaning casually against the frame, his wand twirling idly between his fingers.

“Well, that makes two of us, Sallow,” I shot back, brushing past him.

His chuckle followed me. “I was hoping I’d bump into you today,” he said, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He gestured toward a worn cabinet tucked into a corner nearby. Its surface was scarred with age, the brass lock tarnished and dull. With a flick of his wand, the lock clicked open, revealing a concealed mechanism that hummed faintly with magic.

“After you,” he said, watching for my reaction.

His confidence was contagious. I stepped forward. The cabinet’s interior shimmered faintly, the air inside rippling like the surface of a pond.

The air changed instantly, it was cooler, denser. The room was vast, its stone walls adorned with faded carvings. A single chandelier floated above us, its candles flickering with a ghostly blue flame. The space felt secret.

Sebastian stepped beside me, his grin tempered more thoughtful. “Impressive, isn’t it?” he said, his voice quieter in the cavernous space. “The Undercroft. Ominis and I found this place forever ago. It’s perfect for practicing spells without prying eyes.”

He gestured to the open expanse. “Look around.”

I took a step forward, my eyes stuck on the intricate carvings on the walls. My voice broke the silence. “Why are you showing me this?” I asked, I couldn’t help but feel there was more to this gesture. 

Sebastian leaned against the stone wall, his expression thoughtful. “You’re a Gaunt,” he said simply. “But not just that. There’s an air about you, something… unapologetic. Unlike Ominis, you don’t shy away from magic that goes beyond what they teach us here. I can sense it.”

His words hung in the air, laden with meaning. I turned to face him. “Ominis disagrees with you?”

Sebastian nodded, stepping closer, studying my every reaction. “Ominis, heir of Slytherin, bloodline steeped in dark magic, and yet, he wants nothing to do with it. He detests that history. Refuses to acknowledge it even. He’d rather it all disappear.”

“It’s strange,” I added, “for a Gaunt to turn on their own name. It’s power, its history. How could he walk away from that?”

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened, his interest crystal clear. “Ominis doesn’t see it as walking away. To him, it’s a stain to be erased.”

The words unsettled me. I couldn’t understand how someone with our blood could reject what made us who we are. There were times my name felt heavy, but it was never enough to reject it. 

“Rejecting the Gaunt name,” I murmured, almost disgusted. “I can’t imagine that.”

“And that’s why you’re here, Andromeda. You’re not Ominis. You’re not running from who you are. That’s why I knew I could show you this.”

The Gaunt name was more than just dark magic and legacy, it was the only thing connecting me to my father.

“And he knows you’re showing me this…?,” I said, my voice softer now, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, and let out a laugh. “Didn’t have the chance to tell him yet. But better he hears it from me before you meet. Trust me, it’ll save us all some trouble.”

Sebastian went on, “He’ll  probably be furious at first. Might accuse me of betrayal or poor judgment—he’s dramatic like that. But he’ll come around.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying him. “And if he doesn’t?”

Sebastian shrugged, unbothered. “Then I’ll remind him that I’m right—like always. Besides, Ominis is stubborn, but he’s not unreasonable. He’ll understand why I brought you here.”

I let his words settle for a moment before my gaze drifted back to the room.

“Stay as long as you like,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence. “I’ve got a few things to work on before I go.” He turned toward one of the carved alcoves, already pulling out his wand.

As I stepped back through the hidden doorway, the sun blinded me, a stark contrast to the Undercroft.

The sound of deliberate footsteps echoed from the hall ahead, reverberating through the air. I moved forward, there was a figure slowly taking shape.

The boy was strikingly pale, his sharp features framed by slicked-back, platinum blond hair that looked silver in the sunlight. But it was his eyes that truly marked him. A hazy blue, like a lake that’s been frozen over, concealing its depths.

His emerald-green robes shimmered with each movement. “Sebastian,” the boy called suddenly, his voice slicing through the silence. “I knew I’d find you here…”

He paused, tilting his head, as if something had unsettled him. His brows furrowed, his head tilting further as though catching something amiss. “Wait… those aren’t Sebastian’s footsteps.”

I froze. “They’re not,” I said, stepping into his line of hearing. “I—stumbled upon this place by accident.”

Ominis turned toward me, his expression unreadable. “You’re lying.” Although his tone was calm, it edged with certainty. “Nobody stumbles upon the Undercroft. If you’re here, Sebastian brought you.”

His frown deepened. “He knows better than to share this place.”

I felt a sudden need to defend Sebastian. “He does know,” I countered, stepping closer. “He trusts me.”

The tip of Ominis’ wand flared briefly. “This isn’t about trust,” he said flatly. “It’s about recklessness. Sebastian doesn’t understand what’s at stake—he never does.”

“And you do?” I shot back, without thinking. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you—because he’s tired of you looking down on him.” 

Ominis’s grip on his wand tightened, the glow flaring briefly. “I don’t look down on Sebastian. It’s not about that either,” he said curtly. “It’s about recognizing limits. And Sebastian doesn’t have any. He charges ahead without thinking of the consequences—for himself, or anyone else.”

“Or maybe you don’t give him enough credit,” I countered, realizing I was defending the parts of myself that I saw in Sebastian. “You think he’s reckless because he doesn’t follow your rules. But maybe he’s just braver than you.”

His expression hardened. “Bravery?” he said, his voice colder. “Is that what you think this is? There’s a fine line between courage and arrogance—and Sebastian crossed it the moment he brought you here.”

The tension thickened, Ominis’s words like a blade. Something bubbled beneath the surface, a searing, protective fury I hadn’t felt before. A newfound loyalty toward Sebastian? Perhaps. Or maybe it was something else. The Obscurus stirred.

I tightened my grip on the fabric of my robe, resisting the urge to reach for my wand. My voice was sharp when I finally spoke, cutting through his dismissive tone. “Maybe you should save your breath,” I said, my words laced with venom. “Sebastian doesn’t need your permission to decide who’s worth his trust.”

The words hit their mark; Ominis’s jaw clenched, his grip on his wand tightening until the glow at its tip pulsed erratically. “You should go,” he said coolly, his voice now strained. “Sebastian’s going to get an earful.”

“Of course he is,” I snapped, my anger flaring hot. I could feel the tendrils beginning to escape. 

He turned sharply, and began to walk away. “Consider this carefully, Andromeda,” he called over his shoulder, his voice ice cold. “Sebastian doesn’t see the full picture. You don’t either.”

I didn’t move, my heart pounding as the sound of his footsteps faded. 

I called after him, my voice steady but less cutting. “You’re so quick to lecture Sebastian about his choices, but if you think we’re wrong…” I waited, letting my tone soften. “Then show us. Please. Help us understand what you see—that we don’t.”

He paused mid-step, as he turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with meaning. “Consider this carefully, Andromeda. The Gaunt name doesn’t just carry darkness—it is darkness. And it runs deeper than you could imagine.”

Before I could respond, he turned fully toward me, his tone laced with something that felt uncomfortably like pity. Ominis’s voice was quiet and each word deliberate. “You may think he brought you here because he trusts you, but Sebastian isn’t interested in trust. He’s interested in leverage. And your bloodline gives him exactly that.”

“What?” I managed, the confusion and disbelief tightening in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

Ominis tilted his head, gazing in my direction. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said. “The answer is still no.”

“No?” I repeated, baffled. “What does that even mean?”

But Ominis had already turned away, his wandlight flickering as he strode off down the corridor. 

I stood frozen with my mind racing. 

I let out a deep breath. Already running late for class, I decided to skip the rush entirely. I needed a moment to breathe, to think. 

The walk to the Great Hall helped clear my mind. But Ominis’s words echoed in my mind. His accusation stung, I didn’t want to believe him, but it planted an unwelcome seed of doubt. By the time the warmth of the Hall greeted me, I was ready to shake it off and focus on something, anything, else.

I quickly found Juniper’s vibrant hair near the far end of the Hufflepuff table, standing out like a beacon. Without a word, I slid onto the bench beside her, my bag dropping heavily.

She looked up, a radiant smile lighting her face. “Productive morning?”

“You could say that,” I replied, rolling my eyes with exaggerated weariness.

Juniper raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. I sighed, the words spilling out before she could press me. “Sebastian showed me this hidden room, it’s called the Undercroft. Apparently, it’s his and Ominis’s secret spot. Ominis caught me there, of course, and he was angry; he said something about Sebastian—about him using me for my bloodline.” 

Her smile was replaced by a thoughtful frown. “Using you for your bloodline? That’s dramatic.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. The words felt absurd even as they echoed in my mind, but Ominis’s tone had been anything but flippant.___

Juniper watched me. “But?” she prompted gently.

“But the way he said it…” I trailed off, unsure of how to explain the chill that had settled over me. “It felt like… something else. It was a warning. He meant it.”

Before she could press further, the heavy doors to the Great Hall creaked open. The sound drew every eye, mine included, as Sebastian stormed in, his expression enraged.

Juniper’s mouth snapped shut as she sat straighter, her curiosity now fully piqued.___

Sebastian didn’t wait for me to acknowledge him. “Ominis,” he began, shaking his head, “always thinks he’s the authority on everything. Like he’s got some higher wisdom the rest of us can’t possibly understand. It’s maddening.”

He paced as he spoke. “And then there’s the way he carries himself—like rejecting his family name makes him better than the rest of us. Like pretending the Gaunt legacy doesn’t exist somehow erases it. It’s ridiculous.”

Sebastian stopped abruptly and turned to face me, his expression dark with conviction. “He acts like avoiding Dark Magic makes him noble, but all it does is prove how terrified he is of his own potential. What’s the point of having a legacy like his if he refuses to acknowledge it? He could do so much, be so much, but instead, he just hides from it all.”

His voice dropped lower, more pointed. “He’s so quick to judge me, to call me reckless or dangerous, but at least I’m not afraid of the power I could have. At least I’m not running from who I could be. Everything I do—every risk—is to save Anne. And I’ll use anything that can help me do that.”

Sebastian threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m done. I’m not sticking around to deal with his nonsense. I’m heading to Feldcroft. Anne actually needs me.”

He paused mid-rant, his gaze shifting to Juniper for the first time. He arched an eyebrow and then turned back to me. “Friend of yours?” he asked, his tone still sharp with irritation.

Juniper, caught off guard, straightened awkwardly and smiled shyly. “Uh—Willow Weasley,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as though her ridiculous alias might somehow go unnoticed.

Sebastian blinked, his brow furrowing slightly before giving me a confused look.

Before he could say anything, I felt Juniper nudge my arm, her silent encouragement cutting through the awkward tension.

Quickly, I turned back to Sebastian. “I’ll go with you,” I said simply. My tone softened as I added, “We can talk on the way.”

[bloodandlegacy]

IX: Secrets of the Keepers

The library after dark was a sanctuary of silence. Sebastian moved ahead, his wand casting a faint glow that illuminated the path just enough to guide us through the maze of books.

We descended toward the Restricted Section, the soft creak of the wooden stairs marking our progress. I walked behind Sebastian, my attention flickering to shelves I’ve never studied. A few paces on, he paused, his wandlight dimming as he turned toward what appeared to be a solid stretch of wall. 

He pressed a hand against the stone. A faint hum pulsed through the corridor as the stone rippled, edges blurring into the shape of an arched doorway.

I stared, catching my breath as I stepped closer. “A secret door,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. 

Sebastian glanced back. “Not so secret, after all,” he said softly, gesturing for me to follow. Maybe he could prove useful after all.

Before I could take another step, a shrill voice echoed through the corridor, stopping me in my tracks. “Ooh, naughty little students! Out of bed, sneaking about where you shouldn’t be!”

“Peeves, don’t,” Sebastian hissed, already moving to intercept him. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Just...research.”

Peeves swooped down from above, and he positioned himself directly in front of the door. His grin was gleefully wicked, as his wild eyes darted between us. “Oh, what fun this is! Shall I scream? Shall I shout? Naughty little students, sneaking about!” With a dramatic swoop, he flew upward, looping erratically before disappearing into the shadows.

Sebastian cursed under his breath, turning toward the sound of approaching footsteps. “I’ll take care of this,” he said quickly. “I’ll come up with something for the librarian. Meet me at the top of the Central Hall staircase when you’re done.”

I faltered for a moment, my mind racing with doubts. Could I trust him? Could I risk that he might tell the librarian I’m to blame?

The air between us was thick with unspoken tension before I finally gave a nod. It was enough. Sebastian turned and strode down the corridor with his usual air of confidence.

I scanned the shelves, looking for… what, exactly? Then I saw it: faint, silvery wisps of magic curling and twisting in the air. The same magic I’d seen in the carriage with Osric and at the ruins with Fig.

My wand reacted immediately, tugging me toward the source. I followed the trail to a hidden alcove, where an archway shimmered into existence. The wisps of magic swirled around, as if inviting me to step through. I reached out to try to feel the wisps but the magic enveloped me, pulling me forward into another time.

The desolate hamlet that materialized around me was a far cry from the grandeur of Hogwarts. Standing in the center of the village, there were three men and one woman working in harmony, their magic weaving life back into the crumbled buildings and barren fields, as the villagers watched from a distance.

The scene shifted suddenly, and I found myself in a room where Isidora Morganach was speaking to Niamh Fitzgerald, Percival Rackham, San Bakar and Charles.. Rookwood. 

“Welcome, Isadora,” Headmistress Fitzgerald said warmly. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Indeed,” added Professor Rackham. “It’s not often we see such promising potential.”

Professor Bakar smiled softly. “We’re eager to see how you’ll progress here.”

“And I’ll be keeping a close eye on your progress,” said Professor Rookwood.

“How are you adjusting, Isadora?” Headmistress Fitzgerald asked kindly.

Isidora nodded. “Well, Headmistress. It’s an honor to be here, especially as a fifth-year student.”

“You’re not the first,” Professor Rackham said with a small smile. “I, too, was admitted as a fifth-year. It’s a rare circumstance, but still significant.”

The professors exchanged glances before Headmistress Fitzgerald continued. “We’ve never encountered another who can see the wisps of ancient magic, Miss Morganach. It’s a unique gift that requires great responsibility.”

“Can I wield it?” Isidora asked, her voice steady.

Professor Rackham looked slightly concerned. “With proper training. But… this magic is powerful and can cause great harm if misused. It is entrusted to very few.”

“You must keep your abilities secret for now, Isidora,” Professor Bakar said. “Master everything Hogwarts has to offer before you even consider attempting to harness such magic. It is not something to be taken lightly.”

Isidora’s eyes burned with unyielding resolve. The flicker of torchlight reflected in her gaze, giving her the air of someone who had already made a dangerous decision but was unwilling to voice it. 

Her expression mirrored my own; defiant, yearning, and utterly unwilling to back down from what we both knew was a treacherous path. A sense of kinship surged within me, though I knew I was merely a spectator in this memory. It was as though her defiance echoed across the years, a reflection of my own struggles to master the darkness within me.

The room faded like smoke dissipating in the wind, leaving me standing once more in the shadowy stillness of the Restricted Section. The weight of Professor Bakar’s words lingered in my mind.

Master everything before you even consider... But I knew, deep down, that I was already far beyond considering.

My heart raced as I retraced my steps, the weight of what I’d seen settling heavily in my chest. The archway’s magic, the professors’ words, Isidora’s journey—it all felt intertwined with my own path. But there was no time to dwell. I had to get back.

The library was silent now, the faint rustle of the librarian’s robes fading as I slipped unnoticed past the last row of shelves. At the top of the stairs, I found Sebastian leaning against a column, he glanced up as I approached. “About time.” he said, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I had to dodge the librarian,” I replied with a frown. “It’s not as easy as you make it look.”

Sebastian laughed, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It does take a certain finesse,” he said, “I’m sure you were impressed by the secret doorway. Not many people know about that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “It was... clever,” I admitted cautiously, I didn’t want to inflate his already obvious pride.

He puffed out his chest just slightly. “Ominis showed me that, you know. He likes to pretend he doesn’t enjoy bending the rules, but he has his moments.” His tone was almost boastful, as though being privy to such a secret elevated him.

“Did Peeves rat us out?” I asked, changing the subject before his head grew any bigger.

“Almost. Madam Scribner bought my excuse about studying advanced defensive spells.” His tone turned teasing. “You owe me for that.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I’ll add it to the tab.”

“So,” he said casually, as though he were asking about the weather, “did you find anything of importance? All that sneaking around can’t have been for nothing.”

Silence loomed between us for a few moments, the memory of the archway and the professors’ warnings flashing in my mind. “A few things,” I said carefully. “But nothing that concerns you.” I made sure to match his teasing tone. 

His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Nothing that concerns me yet, you mean.”

I forced a casual shrug, letting a faint smile tug at my lips. “Maybe,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

Sebastian stretched lazily, as he glanced toward the staircase. “I’m heading back to the dungeons. Care to join me?

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I think I’ll spend some time in the courtyard first. The moon’s out tonight—it’ll help me clear my thoughts.”

“Just don’t let Peeves catch you twice in one night.” With a casual wave, he turned and disappeared down the stairs.

I stepped into the courtyard, the faint glow of the moon casted long, soft shadows across the stone. I let out a slow breath, the stillness was comforting.

“Andromeda!”

The voice was unmistakable, and I sighed quietly, bracing myself before turning around. Juniper darted toward me, “What are you doing out here?” she asked breathlessly, her voice loud enough to make me wince. “You’re supposed to be sneaky, not strolling around like it’s midday!”

“Lower your voice,” I hissed, placing my hand over her mouth. 

Juniper grabbed my arm, her expression filled with amusement. “So? Did you find anything? I thought for sure he’d get caught—he’s known for breaking rules, but not for getting away with it. His detention record could fill an entire library.”

“Well…” I said, letting the word hang in the air for just a moment. “He did get caught.”

That set us both off, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably, the tension of the evening momentarily forgotten.

Juniper wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head as her laughter subsided. “Honestly, I don’t get how he does it. I’ve been sneaking around this place for years, and I’ve never been caught.

Her laughter faded as her expression shifted. “So, did you find anything new?” her tone suddenly became serious.

I recounted what I’d seen.

“They warned her,” I finished. “About the risks, about how dangerous it could be if misused. They told her to keep it a secret.”

Juniper’s eyes gleamed, her mind clearly racing. “And the wisps of magic? What do you think they mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But the way they moved, the way the Keepers spoke about them... it felt like they were alive, somehow. Like a connection to something deeper.”

Her gaze narrowed, as if piecing together a puzzle. “Magic that powerful…” she murmured, almost to herself. “I read once about ancient spells that were more than just spells, almost as if they were alive.. sentient. Do you think the wisps could be something like that? A force strong enough to…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze locking on mine. “You don’t think they could help you control—” She cut herself off, but I knew what she meant.

The mention of the Obscurus always felt like a storm cloud.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice softer. “But it’s possible. If Isidora could wield something like that, maybe…”

Juniper’s expression darkened, suspicion flickering across her face. “You didn’t tell Sebastian, did you? About the Obscurus?”

“What?” I snapped, startled by the accusation. “Of course not! Why would I tell him that?” My words came quickly, too quickly, and I hated the flicker of doubt in Juniper’s eyes. Did she really think I’d betray her trust so easily? Or was this about something else; her fear that Sebastian was pulling me into his orbit?

“Promise me you won’t. Ever.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“Juniper—”

“Swear it,” she demanded, her voice rising. “You don’t know what he’d do with that information. You don’t know who he’d tell.”

“I swear,” I said as fast as I possibly could. “I haven’t told him, and I won’t.”

She studied me for a moment longer, searching for any crack in my resolve. Finally, she said, “Good. Because if this gets out, Andromeda…”

She didn’t need to finish. I understood. I nodded silently, feeling the intensity between us ease just slightly.

Juniper’s expression turned more thoughtful now. “Well, whatever those wisps mean, we need to figure it out.”

I offered her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Be careful, Andromeda,” she said over her shoulder. “Secrets like these have a way of unraveling. Especially when there are others who might… meddle.”

Her words lingered as she disappeared into the corridor, leaving me alone with the echo of her warning. Answers felt closer than ever, yet so did the enormity of what lay ahead.

[bloodandlegacy]

VIII: Wands and Whispers

The morning sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows of the Great Hall. Somewhere across the hall, I caught sight of Juniper. She was leaning over the Hufflepuff table, gesturing animatedly, her face lit up with joy. Even in her new house, she was already thriving.

My morning was off to a quieter start. I was scheduled to meet Professor Fig before classes.

His office was tucked away in a corner of the castle. Artifacts lined his shelves, the faint scent of parchment and wood polish mingled with the subtle hum of enchantments. 

Fig greeted me with his usual composed demeanor, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that made it clear this was no ordinary meeting.

“Miss Gaunt, good of you to come early. There’s a matter of some importance,” he began, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I nodded, choosing to remain standing instead. “What is it, Professor?”

He leaned against his desk. “You’re progressing well, but you’ll need resources beyond what the curriculum offers. There’s a book in the library—‘The Foundations of Ancient Magic.’ It will serve as a cornerstone for understanding your… unique circumstances.”

“I already have it,” I replied, reaching into my satchel, careful to keep my expression neutral.

Fig’s eyebrows rose, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a thoughtful nod. “I see,” he said slowly. “Then you’ve already taken a step in the right direction. Tell me, what have you learned?”

Before I could respond, a sharp, impatient knock echoed through the office. Without waiting for permission, the door creaked open to reveal Headmaster Black.

“Fig,” he barked, his tone laced with irritation. “A word. Now.”

Fig straightened, his demeanor shifting to one more formal.

“Miss Gaunt,” Black said, his piercing gaze turning to me. “You’re dismissed.”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gathered the book quickly. “Of course, Headmaster.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever conversation followed would be far more significant than Black’s tone let on. 

After Herbology and Potions, I had Defense Against the Dark Arts. The arched windows were the same, casting light that mingled with the room’s natural gloom. 

Among the gathering students, one figure stood out effortlessly, a boy with a charming smile. Sebastian Sallow. His reputation had preceded him, and it was easy to see why. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, an energy that seemed to draw people in before he even said a word.

The professor’s voice cut through the low buzz of conversation. “Before we begin, ensure you’re proficient with the Shield Charm. I’ll not have anyone injured due to carelessness. Do I make myself clear?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

“Good,” she continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “I expect precision, discipline, and creativity in your spellwork. A duel is not a mindless exchange of curses—it’s a dance of strategy and skill. Now, pair off! Practical dueling today. No excuses. Begin.”

With a deep breath, I made my way to the center of the room, my eyes locking onto Sebastian’s. My wand was already in my grip.

“You look like you could use a challenge,” I said.

He stepped forward with a confidence that bordered on daring. “Bold of you, Gaunt. I have to admit—I like it.”

The duel began with a flourish of spells, light crackling through the air. Sebastian was fast, his wandwork sharp, each move executed with ease. 

With a sharp flick of my wrist, the disarming charm hit just right. Sebastian’s wand flew from his hand, clattering to the floor. The gasp of the room was as satisfying as his sheepish grin.

Sebastian’s laugh broke the silence as he bent to retrieve his wand, brushing off imaginary dust with an exaggerated flourish. “Alright, you win. Rarely happens, but I’m not above admitting it.”

As the other students went on with their duels, Sebastian approached me. “There’s a club,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “We duel, here and there. Strictly unofficial. You should try it out.”

I glanced at him. “You’re not worried I’ll make a habit of embarrassing you?”

“Embarrass me?” he countered, his grin sharpening with mischief. “You’re good, Gaunt, I’ll give you that. But one duel doesn’t make you unbeatable. Come to the club tonight—we’ll see if you can keep up.”

A small crowd of students had already gathered by the clocktower, their voices hushed as I got closer.

Whispers rippled through the room as soon as I stepped inside..

“Isn’t that Gaunt? She beat Sebastian in class.” “She’s a Gaunt, too? I heard she’s Parseltongue.” “What was that disarming spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

Sebastian stood near the center of the room, his wand casually twirling between his fingers, his grin widened as he caught sight of me.

“First match of the night,” he declared, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Me versus Andromeda, the other Gaunt. Let’s see if lightning strikes twice.”

Sebastian came at me with everything he had, his spells faster, his combinations more creative. It would have been a fight to hold the Obscurus back, had it not been for Sebastian’s smug smile. I held my ground. Without losing control. 

The air sparked with the clash of our magic, and once again, I hit him with the disarming charm Juniper taught me, and his wand flew out of his hand.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I rarely lose, but I’ll admit defeat when it’s deserved.”

“You’re a worthy opponent, Sallow. I’ll admit, there were a few moments I thought you had me.”

“Almost isn’t enough, though, is it? But I’ll take it for now.” He said. 

As the matches wound down, the crowd began to disperse. Sebastian, however, lingered near the dueling platform, deep in thought.

“You’re good. Really good,” he said at last. “But you’re not here just for the duels. Nobody is. Everyone’s got an angle.”

I thought for a moment, gauging his tone. There was no malice in it, he was only curious. I decided to trust him, or rather make him think I was trusting him. “The Restricted Section,” I said plainly. “I need access. The professors keep saying it’ll take a year to earn it, and —”

“You don’t have that kind of time,” he interrupted smoothly.

His grin returned, sharper than before. “Breaking into the Restricted Section? That’s my kind of trouble. Consider it done.”

Our eyes met, and for a moment, silence hung between us. His smirk faded, replaced by something more serious now.

“What are you after?” he asked, his voice low.

“Answers,” I said. I let the weight of the word linger. I couldn’t start sharing everything; I needed to plant seeds of trust with him.

Sebastian studied me closely.

“Answers, sure. But something tells me you’re after magic you can’t learn in class.”

I raised an eyebrow, catching the insinuation in his words. “And if I were?”

He leaned just slightly closer. “Then I’d say you’re not the only one. A collector of power, perhaps?”

I tilted my head and caught the playful glint in his eyes. “And you? A collector of Gaunts?”

“Maybe. Seems I’ve got a knack for it.” he replied as he let out a laugh. “Meet me tonight. Eleven. Central Hall, top of the staircase.” 

I nodded. “I’ll be there.”

______________________________________________________________

Central Hall was quiet, the clock’s steady ticking echoing through the castle as I climbed the staircase, finding Sebastian already waiting at the top.

“Right on time,” he said, his tone light. “I half-expected you to back out.”

“Not my style,” I replied, stepping closer. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He straighted up. “Fair enough. Though I have to admit, I’m curious. What makes someone like you so eager to take risks? Most people wouldn’t even think about sneaking into the Restricted Section their first week.”

“Most people don’t have the same priorities I do,” I said evenly.

He studied me for a moment. “I get it,” he said quietly. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice but to bend the rules.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience?”

Sebastian chuckled. “You could say that. I know what it’s like to need answers—and to not be able to wait for them.”

I looked down, the weight of an unspoken understanding settled between us.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “You ready for this? Because once we’re in, there’s no turning back.”

“Lead the way,” I said, my grip tightening around my wand.