“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.
