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gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.10 from beyond the grave

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out between you. as time goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t while the world descends towards potential evil. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you.

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation, cheating

✼word count: 8.2k

✼chapter: 10/?

a/n: hey guys, it's been a while and I'm so excited to share where this story is heading. hopefully there are some of you who still enjoy the story!:)

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter (pending…)

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to vision-board

Present, January 29th 2010

You've been out of Hogwarts for so long now you barely recall the ease of your youth, though, you miss it dearly, knowing where has your life taken a turn. No, where did the corruption of the wizard world force you to take a turn.

It gets to you in moments like these, walking in the outskirts of London with the wind blowing through your clothes and making you shiver under its chilly embrace. Your hands work quickly to button up your coat, tucking your scarf gently inside the fabric of it to keep yourself warm enough to concentrate. The empty streets are illuminated by the lamp's yellowy streak of light, and it's dead quiet. Only the occasional rustle of rats and passing vehicles can be heard in the background, however, you still keep looking over your shoulder every now and then. Not able to help yourself with the nausea settled in the pit of your stomach as you silently wonder, wonder and wonder all over again.

Your boots thump against the pavement, hurriedly steps striding your body down the street you're supposed to, fairly nervous due to the fact getting caught at this moment could lead you to a bitter end.

Once you reach the house labelled with the number 1408, you pause in your tracks to recall what instructions you've been given.

Knock two times, pause, knock another three.

As you do so flawlessly, something rumbles behind the garage door, and before you know it —you're being teleported. Even though you deem yourself to be somewhat of a master at this, it manages to catch you so off guard that you end falling flat on your behind. You wince lowly, and blink your eyes open.

''My, my. Took you long enough,'' Devin pulls you out of your initial shock, urging you to look up at him while a small frown laces your features. He laughs in the warm way just he can muster up in times like these, getting you up to your feet with the help of his hand. Seeing him in full flesh, and most importantly, hearing his voice puts you at ease despite his teasing. Devin doesn't let go of your hand immediately once you're up on your feet, instead, he pulls you closer by it. Straight into his arms.

''Gosh, I'm so glad you're okay,'' you muffle into the fabric of his sweater in spite of your brief annoyance, your nose picking up on his familiar cinnamony scent lingering in the wool. Your arms wrap around his torso, holding him intimately close. So close you can in fact heart the thumping and stumbling of his heart. The movements of his palm against your back are a soothing gesture that brings you a passing peace of mind. With the missions they’re all doing, you can never be sure if one is to come back any time soon, or ever. Meaning moments like these are always special.

''Bells here yet?'' you pull away a couple of inches, arms still resting against him as you look up at his face. The furrowing of your brows is a clear indication of your concern for your best friend, praying she and everyone else made it back safely.

''Yeah, she was here first actually,'' he nods as stares down at you, his eyes flickering between your features as if trying to burn them to his memory, just in case this might be the last time he gets to do this. Your hands slide from his back over to his sides, squeezing them in an attempt to provide reassurance before you let go of each other.

The thundering of your heart eases down with the new information, already working on undoing your coat and unwrapping the scarf from around your neck. You kick off your boots and quietly tip toe dow the dark hallway, which is only illuminated by the dim light coming from where you're headed — the living room. Your head peaks inside to see at least a dozen of figures. As you watch them for a moment, Devin's warmth envelopes you from behind, mimicking your actions. Both of you drink in the calm atmosphere, not what’s your new setting. You can't help yourself to not lift your gaze up to him again, looking over your shoulder. He faintly smiles down at you, scanning your cheeks that are tinted by a dusty pink colour from the cold.

Then, your orbs then rake over your comrades one more time. The ones you shared your school years with and those you have come to know in favour of the world coming undone. Some you know for weeks, some for months, but only a handful for years. Nonetheless, the circumstances which brought you together paint it out to be like you've known each other since birth. You care for one another in these darker times, forming what one could describe as a second family by now.

Arabella eventually notices your figure leaning against the wall with Devin just behind you, her spirits lifting up as she measures her steps to your location. A genuine smile forces its way onto your lips, widening your mouth with a small dose of softness. Neither of you speak because your expressions and the simple way you hug each other tightly speaks volumes, volumes words could never compare to.

''Is anyone missing?'' you whisper after a long minute into her strawberry blond hair, which has ben cut short into a bob recently — her curls not as prominent. The words are hard to mouth out aloud, knowing what sort of heaving weight the answer could bring. Yet, you ask it anyway, braced to hear the news. You have already lost many in the past, so this wouldn't be anything unfamiliar.

''Beatrice isn't here, she hasn't left a message since Tuesday,'' Arabella takes a moment to speak and you know something's wrong instantly. A sigh escapes your lips involuntarily while the ache settles in your chest. The thought of loosing someone whom you know since the very first year of Hogwarts is terrifying. One that might have just become trus.

''How's Dorothy holding up?'' you mummer instead to ask about the older sisters’ whereabouts, pulling away from her homely embrace.

''Yeah, not good,'' your best friend shakes her head, fidgeting with her hands. And it comes to your attention Beatrice’s not in the room, probably somewhere off where no one can see her.

''We have go look for her,'' you suddenly blurt out, starring into the distance. Both Arabella and Devin go still, hearing your words doesn't shock them, but rather concerns them due to your circumstances.

''Yes, we, but not you. Not with the bounty on your head,'' Devin reminds you of the guillotine sparkling above your head, placed by none other than Gojo's father. The money reward hangs around like a painful label of the reality you're in, and what you received it for is certainly not your proudest moment. It has been months, yet it still feels as if it were yesterday you spoke that damn spell aloud.

''He's right, as much as you hate it, we can't afford to put you at such a risk,'' a hand of Arabella's lands on your shoulder, squeezing it in hopes of pressing some sense into you. In spite of your affect, you're aware they're in the right here. That you're being unreasonable, therefore, you don't protest.

''Let's leave the conversation for tomorrow then, everyone's probably exhausted,'' you mumble in substitute, casting your attention away from the both of them as you head fully into the living room to greet everybody who made it back.

Seeing the faces of your comrades makes you temporarily forget everything, shoving off the cannibalistic anxiety you are submerged in nearly every fraction of a moment. Meaning, you relish in the calm, bath in it and stretch it out for as long as you're capable of while fully aware tomorrow morning the cycle begins all new.

''There's our star, how have you been?'' one of the older members called Inez welcomes you first, pulling you into a side hug.

She’s what one could call a leader of your group.

''Oh you know, lurking in the streets per usual, waiting around for you guys,'' you respond in a teasing manner, sliding straight into the playful banter you have build over the last couple of months. She tightens her grip on you momentarily before letting you go, chuckling with a small grin in the process.

''I presume Arabella told you about Beatrice,'' she breaks straight into the unspoken tension, not dancing around it. Immediately, your smile falters in a flicker.

''Yeah, she has,'' you confirm with a heavy sigh, nodding your head and taking a step away from her.

''Did she also ask you the question?'' the woman in her early forties presses carefully as if she's unsure, probably right to be due to the fact you have no idea what's being addressed here. Your brows fall down into a confused crease, mouth opening to ask for clarification, however, you're cut off by Arabella's sudden arrival.

''Inez, no. I told you I'm against the idea,'' your best friend doesn't bother to peak into your direction, straightforward with Inez, which causes you to spiral furthermore into your inability to grasp your surroundings.

''Can either of you tell me what's going on?'' the sound of your voice breaks them apart, their attention and heads snapping into your direction — taking in the emotions swirling in your expression.

''Inez, no'' Arabella insists, her gaze uncharacteristically firm.

''I'm sorry, Bellie,'' Inez's nickname for her rolls of her tongue in an apologetically sounding way before she finally turns to you with answers.

''With Beatrice gone, there's no one to complete her mission. And I have to selfishly ask you if you'd consider taking it, despite your disadvantage,'' she proceeds to explain, picking her words with no desire to sugarcoat things, which is clearly upsetting Arabella judging by her act of clenching and unclenching her fists.

''Though, it wouldn't play much of a role. You'd be disguised as Eleanor Dawlish,'' she adds.

''This is so stupid, you cannot possibly have her be the right hand of the older Gojo, sending her straight into the dragon’s nest,'' once again, the strawberry blonde leaves no space for you to express your thoughts, fiercely taking into account the possibility of you being arrested and sent into Azkaban. Or worse.

''I'll do it, just tell me what to do. I'll do it,'' you mumble under your nose, looking at Inez rather than at your friend who had been defending you. This stunts both of them, each for a different set of reasons.

To be fair, your willingness baffles you too.

''Y/N, you can't be serious right now,'' Arabella continues to filter her disagreement aloud, shooting you down with concern and irritation. The recent years had roughened her soft edges, sometimes it's for the better and sometimes you find yourself cursing the life you're living.

''It sounds important, we also can't afford to lose more time,'' you keep your ground and respond, prepared to hear your friend's share of thoughts.

''See? That's the spirit,'' Inez mumbles proudly, encouraging you in your foolish display of bravery. Although, deep down you know she would never ask you if this wasn't significantly important.

''So, when's it taking place?'' you breath out, attempting to hide the strain in your voice. Not precisely keen on the idea of being seen as weak for backing out in front of everyone. For this particular reason, you swallow your fears and brace yourself.

''Tomorrow,''

Oh, for fuck's sake, perhaps you should have dwell on it some more before agreeing to it so carelessly.

By the time Inez and everyone else finishes explaining the details about your upcoming mission, which became your out of the blue, and the information their own missions throughout the week allowed them to obtain — it's way past midnight. And considering a long day is ahead of you tomorrow, you head to bed after bidding everyone a good night and scattering little ''see you in the morning'' back pats.

Your stomach's already churning with disapproval, mind filling with the countless possible outcomes of tomorrow. But you keep telling yourself you desperately need what's in the vault to play out your long planned mission to take the Gojos down.

Silence heaves in the atmosphere as your steps lead you up the staircase, the wood creaking eerily beneath feet. Everyone's either down in the living room still, or already in their rooms, hence the lack of sound. Your insides feel incredibly crushing as you rise, the aftermath of your reckless decision settling at last.

''Hey,'' you call out to Devin the moment you reach the top of the staircase, he has just walked out of his room at the opposite side of the dimly lit hallway, the yellowish lights giving the illusion of warmth.

''Hey, before you head to bed, I uhh... Bella told me what you agreed to,'' he quickly closes the distance separating you, now only a handful of inches away.

''Okay? Are you about to scold me some more?'' there's no way to suppress the irritation lacing your tone, thinking you're about to get scolded for everything all over again by another person.

''No, I've grown used to you being so stubborn,'' Devin's response takes you by a surprise, not an unpleasant one. As a result, your features soften up.

''What else brought you to me?'' your head tilts to the side in suggestion, tone altered into a casual one.

''I guess I simply wanted to see you one more time. I won't be here in the morning, gotta run errands early,'' he utters quietly, his statement meant for your ears only. Devin proceeds to look over his shoulder, surveying the surroundings for any passerby before his hands ultimately reach for your face in order to cradle it. He searches your eyes for permission, which you sense instantly and then nod. This small gesture is the reassurance he needs, wasting no more time in bringing your mouth over to his. He kisses you with no rush, savouring the sensation of being able to sense the press of them against his. Your hands act on instinct, sliding up his upper arms to wrap around his neck in hopes of deepening the kiss.

''Mhm, I'm glad you stopped by then,'' you speak after breaking the interlocking of your mouths with eyes barely open, breath still fanning over his parted lips due to your close proximity.

''Yeah, me too,'' he whispers back, barely sucking in a dose of air as he takes the initiative to seize another kiss from you. Another, and then one more.

''I promise we will find Beatrice,'' he mumbles into your skin, both of your chests heaving with the heat of the moment.

''We have to,'' Devin adds once this kiss comes to an end, pulling away a reasonable distance while his hands move down to the sides of your neck.

''Don't go around doing something stupid out there,'' you gulp down, composing yourself.

''Almost sounds like you care about me,'' he snickers with a lazy grin, drawing his thumb over your pulse point.

''Don't be an idiot,'' your face furrow gently, though there's a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. This expression of yours causes him to softly chuckle, your failed attempt to present yourself as something you're not amusing to him.

''Till next time?'' you mouth the words you tell one another every time you're about to part ways, your ritual of promises to meet again.

''Till next time,' he repeats.

The last time you saw the white-haired prodigy was at the graduation ceremony in May, over two years ago. In a few months, when spring pierces through winter, it will be three. Even then, the world was already teetering on the edge of corruption, and you stood there, watching it unfold with no power. Nearly three years have passed since you last saw the interior of your second home, yet you can still vividly recall the chill running through your bones as you stood atop the Astronomy Tower, betrayal coursing through your core.

You didn’t return home that May, ignoring every attempt your mother made to schedule a meeting, and carefully avoiding every place where you might run into her. Strangely, she never sought you out, though she must have known where you were staying. Arabella offered you a smaller room at her parents' house in the countryside, far from the bustling centre of London. That summer, you spent the last days of your childhood there — both you and Arabella filled to the brim with hopes for a better future, though neither of you would admit what was quietly blossoming beneath the surface.

To ease your mind, you kept yourself busy. Arabella’s parents assigned countless tasks to pass the summer months. You picked all sorts of fruits in the garden. Ranging from berries, cherries, and peaches to watermelons. The sun burned down at your back with a severe desperation, leaving your skin wore down. You cared for the animals, baked pies with Arabella’s mother, and walked long kilometres to stock up on essentials at the nearest shop. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you had an aversion against using magic and refused to cast any sort of spell for weeks on end.

Looking back at it now, you only recall climbing trees, laughing at Muggle TV shows, and the calm simplicity of that summer.

The quiet before the storm.

But with autumn came a shift, still caught up in trying to process the summer's passing. The government, led by Gojo’s father and surrounded by former Death Eaters, seized full power over the wizarding world. Suppression of wizards born to Muggle families accelerated. By winter, a season meant for warmth and celebration, the nightmare had taken a real form. Wizards from non-magical families were banned from Hogwarts, high-ranking positions were reassigned purely on bloodline, and even half-bloods like you were no longer safe. You truly began to grow worried for your best friend when letters informing her of her restrictions regarding usage of magic came to her house.

What made your cup of wrath spill was seeing Gojo Satoru on the front page of The Daily Prophet, crowned as the head of the primary magical law enforcement — seeing his lazy smirk in a moving photograph made you rip the paper into tiny bits. Of course he would be the one enforcing the oppression. However, anger wasn't the only sensation suffocating you. Whether you liked it or not, there was a major hint of disappointment as well, because for a godforsaken reason you wanted him to be different.

Shortly after New Year’s, a mysterious letter arrived, inviting you to an unknown address. You don’t know what compelled you to take the risk, but you went alone, unwilling to put Arabella in danger.

What awaited you there exceeded all expectation. It was Inez, a woman whose name was unfamiliar at the time but whose connection to your mother was undeniable. Both had once been members of the Starry Knights, the organization your mother led against conservative pure-bloods. Trust was slow to form, so you didn’t involve Arabella for a long while, only bringing her once suspicion had subsided.

By spring, the group had grown to over a dozen members. You all agreed it wouldn’t be fair to endanger Arabella’s parents, so you moved out of their house. The new headquarters became a house infested with magic, molding itself to your wishes. It could accommodate everyone, shifting location every few days to remain untraceable. Together, you strategised to restore rights to wizards born into Muggle families, planning missions to gather information.

The missions came quickly after that. Each one more dangerous than the last. You learned to move in shadows, to speak in code, to trust your instincts and the few people who’d proven themselves worthy of it. In the face of constant risk, bonds were forged. Not shallow alliances, but something far deeper. You relied on one another for survival, shared secrets in candlelight, laughed in order to keep each other sane. In the dark hallways of the house in between missions, small comforts turned into family.

And in that natural closeness, old flames began to stir. There were glances that lingered too long, touches that said more than words dared to. You can't say it's exactly love what you share with Devin, but the fact it's happening is achingly undeniable. Perhaps an affection born out of fear and adrenaline would be a better fit to describe what's going on.

You lived for the missions back then, pouring your entire life's purpose into them — intercepting Ministry communications, stealing information from Gojo’s networks, sabotaging shipments of mails, freeing wizards born into a human family from being sent to Azkaban and offering them a place in your group. Each success made Gojo's father's grip on the world tighten, article after article published about a mysterious organisation sabotaging the government filled the wizarding world.

But each failure came at a cost, you buried names as often as you celebrated them.

Everything was still going well though, almost too well. You began to believe that perhaps, finally, the darkness could be undone. But then came the mission that shattered everything. What began as a a quick extraction and a quiet escape turned into pure chaos. The air had been thick with the scent of smoke and charms when you saw them. Your mother and Gojo’s father, standing together in the wreckage like phantoms from a life you no longer claim.

Their faces were calm, untouched by the destruction around them as they grew used to that over the course of recent months. Nonetheless, it must have been a slap to their faces to see you out all people. Gojo's father portrayed a clear sign of disapproval, but he most definitely wasn't too taken back. Your mother’s voice was almost gentle when she spoke, pleading as she urged you to stop, to let it all go, to come home. And the older man with that same smug composure his son had perfected, echoed her words.

The words made your blood boil.

Years of grief, betrayal, and silence manifested into one reckless motion. You acted before thought could intervene — wand raised, voice trembling with fury. The spell leapt from you like lightning, bright and violent, aiming straight for his chest. He deflected it easily, smirk briefly fading as his own spell cracked through the air in reply. Sparks collided midair, painting the room in a blinding mixture of light streaks fighting for dominance.

And before you even realised what you were doing, the words of the unforgivable curse slipped from your lips. Avada Kedavra, raw and instinctive, an act born of rage and pain as well as too many sleepless nights.

The flash of green light illuminated your mother’s horrified face. And if Gojo’s father hadn’t moved, if he had hesitated for even a breath, he would be dead.

The silence that followed was defeating. You had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and for the first time in years, you saw the look in your mother’s eyes — not anger, not even disappointment, just fear.

You turned and ran for your life.

A spell screamed past your ear, close enough that you felt the heat of it fizzle past your hair. Another shattered against the stone wall beside you, showering you with dust and sparks and making you stumble. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you tore through the hallway, almost tripping on a broken tile. Every sound, every flicker of a spell flying past you could have been the death itself chasing you, targeting you.

You ducked behind a fallen beam, breath uneven to the point you forgot how to even breath manually, wand slick in your shaking hand. For a heartbeat, you hesitated out of shame.

What have you done?

Footsteps echoed closer, quickly reminding you there was no time left to think.

You gripped your wand tighter and forced yourself to focus, drawing every shred of strength you had left. You pictured the meeting point, the narrow alley beneath Blackfriars Bridge.

“Apparate,'' you mouthed shakily, sucking in a sharp dose of air.

Your world imploded then, pressure crushing your lungs as if being dragged through the eye of a storm. Wind roared in your ears while the colours of the world merged into a single, blinding streak — until you slammed into reality again with a defeating crack. You landed hard on wet cobblestone, the cold instantly biting into your palms and your knees. A smell coming from the river water attacked your nose immediately. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe nor move. You just laid there beneath the bridge, your body trembling from the force of both the Apparition and what you just endured.

Your chest was practically heaving, each breath shallow and uneven. You wanted to vomit, to rewind time back five minutes. To scrub that curse from your memory, from your soul. But there was no undoing it. The words had left your mouth, the spell had lived because of you and even though it hadn’t struck its target, it had left something rotten inside you. Meanwhile the city above you was quiet, untouched by the chaos unraveling in its hidden corners. You had escaped, but as the light coming from the lamps crept over the Thames, you felt no relief.

Only a hollow, sick dread.

After that, you relocated to the outskirts of London, dedicating yourself to fully live in the Muggle world in disguise, trying to blend in while keeping one eye on the upcoming war you are preparing to fight. As a result of your actions, there was no chance for you to safely continue to take upon missions.

Not when it's the Gojos primary focus to locate you and make you pay.

The marble floor of The Gringotts Bank gleams in polish beneath your shoes, every step echoes a little too loudly for your liking through the early morning hour. The Polyjuice Potion still burns faintly in your throat, its bitter aftertaste clinging to your tongue as you try to keep your breathing even. Your reflection in the glass door isn't your own, it's the face of Eleanor Dawlish. The right hand of Gojo's father who leads the secret agenda along with Gojo.

Someone powerful, someone the goblins would never dare to question. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Inside, the air is cold and still. Rows of goblins hunch over ledgers, their sharp eyes flicking up briefly as you pass. You force your chin higher, imitating the brisk confidence of a woman whose form you're wearing. Nonetheless, your pulse is thundering even under the illusion. It's quick, ringing in your ears as you attempt to portray the aloofness of the woman whose skin you're wearing — wondering if the sound in your ears alone could give you away.

Every shadow in the high-arched hall feels like a pair of eyes, scanning its prey and waiting to spring. Inside these walls, your real identity carries a price, a bounty fat enough to make even the not ill-fated look twice. But you can't be thinking about that now, you need to focus on the mission ahead of you.

It’s been so long since you’ve done that you’ve fallen out of it.

''Vault inspection,'' you speak, sliding the forged key across the counter, keeping your voice steady and monotone. The goblin’s eyes narrow into an emotion that's impossible to read. For one dreadful heartbeat, the disguise seems paper-thin. The potion might have changed your face, but it can't quiet the truth beneath your ribs.

You're a wanted wizard, walking straight into the dragon’s den.

Literally.

The goblin’s stare hold yours for a moment longer than necessary. His gaze is peculiar like he's boring straight to look through flesh and fabric all at once. His nostrils twitch as if sensing decievement, feeding into your paranoia. If the goblin so much as blinks the wrong way, if he senses who you truly are for whatever reason, you'd never make it to the vault and neither out.

''This way,'' he huffs out, climbing off his ridiculously tall chair. The moment stretching out between you felt like eternity.

You follow his footsteps without a second thought, grabbing the key from his table.

The marble hall behind you now filled with the rhythmic clack of his shoes on the stone along with yours. The further you go, the darker it becomes. Torches burn in iron sconces along the walls as you descend, their flames thin — doing little to illuminate the space properly.

Your pulse steadies, no longer making its presence known in your ears. You tell yourself that the worst part has come to an end. Now, just keep walking, don’t falter, don’t breathe too loud.

You pass other goblins along the way, bend over their scrolls, murmuring in low miserable tones. Some give you the time of their day by flickering their eyes up briefly, their orbs glittering like coins under torchlight. You make sure to carry yourself in a way you suppose someone of high rank would, finding yourself reminiscing and mimicking what Gojo used to do — chin high, shoulders square, a faint scowl of impatience carved onto a face that doesn't belong to you. Despite the calming of your heart, your palms are slick with anxious sweat, and beneath the woman's clothes, your entire body is dipped in chaos.

Every glance feels like a knife sliding in between your ribs.

The goblin leads you to an eerie-iron gate and snaps his fingers. The sound roams throughout the hollow space, chains uncoiling with a sound of serpents hissing, and the gate swings open to reveal a rail track plunging into darkness. The cart waits, a worn out thing of black metal.

You hesitate then, barely for a second before you climb in carefully.

''Keep your arms inside, no rocking to the side,'' the goblin instructs you with disinterest of someone who has said this thousand of times while he takes the front of the cart, gripping the controller. The metal on wheels jolts forward just then, causing your heart to nearly leap out of your chest.

The wind howls through the tunnel, sharp and cold enough to sting your eyes. The walls blur past you in streaks of passing abstract of bricks and darkness. Sparks fly from the rails as the cart manoeuvres around bends so hastily they seem impossible. Rustling of water rumbles somewhere in the dark, meanwhile, the goblin’s robes flap from the impact of the air into your face. Your clothes cling to your borrowed skin, silently thankful your hair is put up.

With each twist of the track, the Polyjuice churns in your gut — a reminder of the transformation back to your usual self is prickling faintly under the surface of your skin, like pins pressing from the inside out. You grasp the metal edge of the cart so hard your knuckles turn white, desperate to not let out a wince.

The cart screeches to a halt, spitting out another wave of flaring sparks that dimly lit the wall. You almost loose your balance as you step out of it, your breath hitching in the process.

You do your best not to think of the posters plastered across alleys, the ones bearing your real face, throughout the long walk down the endless hallway filled with humongous vaults.

“Vault six-hundred and thirteen,” the goblin points his finger to one of the doors, forcing your head to tilt in the direction. Before you rises the vault's door, ancient and carved with symbols that appear to have a life of their own in the faint light. Symbols with carved dragons intertwining across the metal, dragons whose eyes glitter with trace of gemstones.

''Your key, Madam Dawlish,'' the goblin breaks the silence yet again, his expression still just as unreadable.

Your hand finds it in the pocket of your skirt — that small heavy piece of metal tucked away. When you withdraw it, your fingers tremble. He takes it without a word and slides it into the lock, unsure whether he’s aware of your nervousness or not.

For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then the symbols begin to twitch and turn, lines of light dance across the door like veins awakening after centuries of sleep. Deep inside, the mechanism shifts, unlocking with a simple click. The vault busts open, releasing a gust of dust and revealing the secrets locked behind it. A sliver of torchlight spills inside, reflecting golden attire of treasure that blinds you for a split second. Heaps of goods pile high, containing coins, goblets, jewelled daggers, and artefacts.

The Polyjuice flickers through you again — a faint twitch along your jaw, a tightening at the base of your throat. You can practically feel your time running out, minute by minute, slipping away like sand between fingers. The goblin glances at you, without a doubt sensing something off. You met his gaze with all the cold disdain you can muster.

You stand frozen at the threshold, chest tight, wishing this would already come to an end. Regardless of that, turning back right now isn't an option, not when you're so close to the map.

You step forward, crossing into the vault. The vault door seals behind you with a sound like thunder rolling through stone. It eventually ripples into silence, leaving you alone with in the dark. You instantly panic, reaching for your wand to charm at least a little bit of light while the weight of this woman's history heaves down on you in form of glittering piles around you.

For a moment, you just stand there. Breathing in the dusty air, head twitching into every direction. Light from your wand spilling across the chamber in pale stripes, catching flashes of unique metals.

The map of The Gojo Manor.

Not treasure, not artifacts — not the thousand temptations gleaming from every corner.

Just a single piece of parchment, you remind yourself.

You begin to move then, careful not to touch anything you don't have to. Gold coins shift softly under your feet, their clinks echoing like thousands of whispers. Your panic hasn't dissolved since you had entered the bank, not even here. If anything, it chokes you even harder now. Your face shifts again, earning a groan from you. This makes you reach into your purse, seizing the second dose of the PollyJuice, and pulling it out. The smell of it is nauseating, causing you to gag. Though you have no other option available beside pushing your pride aside and swallowing the rotten like liquid, its power shaping you back into a perfect state.

The vault sprawls deeper than you had expected. Past the piles of coin are shelves filled with folders, chests with gems seeping out of them, and relics. You stride pass a goblet that shimmers like quicksilver, a dagger whose blade seems to absorb the light from your wand, your steps guiding you from it rather swiftly.

“Focus,” you mutter under your nose, voice coming back to you in a whisper you don't recognise — the borrowed voice still foreign on your tongue.

Then, tucked between two stacks of ledgers bound in leather, you see it. A chest smaller than the rest, no larger than a shoebox. Its lid sealed with three separate locks. The first opens easily with a whispered Alohomora. The second as well yet the third one resists.

For a moment, doubt flutters in your stomach.

What if this won't budge?

What if you’ve come all this way, risked everything, for nothing?

But then the lock falls open with soft sound too.

Inside, nestled in a deep forest green silk, is not one parchment but two.

The first is unmistakable. Its edged are yellowed, folded in careful manner. The family crest at the top confirms it. Gojo Manor sprawled across the page in neat handwriting. A wave of relief surges through your blood system, you shove the map into your purse. Beneath it lies a smaller paper, sealed with wax so dark it’s almost black. No markings, no crest, no clue to its purpose. You lift it into the air carefully to examine it, the wax not tearing from the paper no matter how hard you try.

You stuff the second parchments into the purse too, tucking both of them away. The light coming from your wand jitters as your hand trembles. And in that moment, hidden in the dark, with a stolen face fading and lingering questions pressed your my chest, a realisation of something terrible crushes onto you. There must be something of great value sealed beneath the wax, and you know you aren't supposed to have it.

You don’t remember the journey back up.

The world is a blur of motion and noise, the rattle of the cart on iron rails, the cold wind cutting and slapping your face, the goblin’s indifferent muttering as you dance through the tunnel like a lightning bolt. Your hands won't stop trembling, even after retrieving the parchments from the vault.

Nonetheless, it's done.

The map is yours.

You made it.

The marble hall of Gringotts opens before you again, this time like a promise. It's bright, almost blinding and unreal after the darkness below. Each step you take towards the doors feels lighter, your breath calming down into a regular motion. The Polyjuice is fading, yes, but slowly now due to the second dose you gulped down inside the vault. Just a couple of more meters and you'll be outside. Simply another face in the crowd, another shadow lost in Diagon Alley.

Freedom.

You make it to the door, the morning light spilling across the space of the polished bank. As you reach for the handle, parchment stuffed tightly in your purse — a voice calls out the name that doesn't belong to you. The name of the woman you are pretending to be. It echoes down the marble hall. Too sharp, too loud. And yet, undoubtedly familiar. If it weren't for that, you doubt you'd register it.

Even though it had been nearly three years, three years of distance, of deliberate pretending his voice didn’t echo in the back of your mind when things got too quiet — you can still recognise it.

You had told yourself you were over it. Over what he did to you, over the mess you had been tangled in. But then fate, or whatever cruel greater force that likes to spite you, decided that today of all days, you’d see him again. Completely caught off guard.

You aren’t even yourself, not really. The Polyjuice shimmers its last traces of warmth through your veins. Still shaping your face, shifting your voice, erasing every trace of who you truly are as your eyes meet as you’re momentarily taken by the sight of him. It's ridiculous. He shouldn’t be here seeing you. Not with this face, this borrowed voice.

Hw shouldn’t be seeing you at all.

''Eleanor, you're here quite early, something urgent?'' Gojo says the name again, testing it like he doesn't believe it. Like he can taste the lie. However, this is most definitely your paranoia getting the better out of you yet again.

And in that instant, your pulse stutters the moment you look up. Not only due to being nervous. It's silly how one glance can undo every coherent thought in your head. The room tilts towards him, as if gravity itself had chosen a new center. The one person you sworn to work against, the one whose family you built an entire secret organisation to dismantle, the one you used to absentmindedly dream about when you should’ve been plotting his downfall back at Hogwarts, is standing here — eyes locked on you, or well, at Eleanor.

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air. Not sweet, not floral, something more fresh. It hits you as a memory, immediate and impossible to ignore. He still smells the same as he did in school.

''Vault inspection,'' you choke out, the sound of voice not your own. The grip you have on your purse becomes visibly tighter, poorly attempting to shove all of your inner emotions somewhere they can't reach you.

''Oh, that time of the month again huh? I thought you'd do it tomorrow like you said yesterday,'' his voice is calm like water on a summer day, strangely familiar yet so foreign. Your orbs flicker across his features, unable to stop yourself from doing so. He's the same as he always was and it fills you with dread, the fact it seems like nothing affected him at all while your whole life turned upside down. Yet here he is, flawless as ever. He towers over you impossibly, perhaps he has gained some inches and muscles as his frame is not as lean anymore. Dressed in the most presentable outfit consisting of crisp navy robes with subtle embroidering, a white shirt stretched over his muscles beneath, and a black slack pants. His white hair neatly combed, glistening with a trace of gel.

''Rather do it now than bother tomorrow. I had uh.. some time off,'' you swallow the lump in your throat, completely in the blind of how they usually interact so you give into your intuition.

''Is that so?'' Gojo lets out in amusement, cocking his head to the side a bit. He knows something's off, you can sense the shift in the atmosphere and the slight twitch of his brows.

Just then the potion surges in your veins, the tremor of change beginning in your fingertips again. You look over to your right, starring at your reflection in the polished glass door nearby. Your borrowed face flickers at the edges, needles pinching into your flesh.

Panic claws up your throat, because your time has run out, and there's no doubt he noticed the beginning of your transformation.

You turn before he can muster up something. At no cost can he see you for real. Your movements are not considered fast enough for running, nonetheless, it's clear you're bolting from the scene. Instantly, his presence follows you out, hurried footsteps chasing after yours. Gojo's voice calls out to you, ordering you to stop, but you manage to slip into the sea of bodies walking into all sorts of direction through the Diagon Alley. This is your only chance without drawing any more unwanted attention to yourself, to shake him off in the crowd. You push through the people without hesitation, mumbling small apologies as they turn to gaze at you in disapproval. But it doesn't matter, you're not thinking. You're acting purely on your survival instinct, frustrated that you're unable to simply cast a spell to get yourself out of this mess. You need to find a secured place off the main street, surge of fear squashing you at the though that you're going to be you in public.

Eventually, you abruptly take a turn into a small alley, hurriedly opening your purse to catch a grip on your wand. About to finally vanish from here. At this point, you're sure you shook him off in the crowd, though your hands are still trembling. Therefore, it’s incredibly difficult to retrieve the piece of wood from your purse.

Before you know it, your back is roughly pressed into a brick wall, the sharp edges digging into your skin even through the thick fabric of your coat. You blink your eyes open, shaken by the impact of the force he used against you.

''Think you can run from me?'' the white haired wizard mumbles with a blank expression, irritation bubbling inside of him as he moves the point of his wand to dig into the sensitive flesh of your neck, into the delicate place where your life pulses underneath. His other hand coming to press down onto your chest, making it significantly harder to breathe properly.

And then the real pain hits.

It begins behind your eyes as a sharp, blinding pressure. Like your skull is too small to contain you. Your vision blurs, leaving you only with the outline of Gojo and the colour of his hair. Heat rushes through your veins, it feels molten and violent. Your borrowed features ripple as if splitting your face open — skin tightening and bones shifting within your body, gasps falling from your mouth.

Whether you like it or not, Gojo's grip on you currently serves as pilar, which keeps you on your toes. Otherwise you'd probably stumble down to your knees due to the way your shoulders snap. Your eyes flutter shut in defeat, trying to put yourself together before he'll face the real you.

The final shift comes like the snap of a whip, your face falling back into its rightful shape.

The wizard's expression changes, recognition flaring through him first, then horror, then something colder.

Your disguise is gone. And one of your deepest, darkest scenarios has become a reality.

''Y/N?'' he mumbles under his nose, iridescent orbs widening with shock at the reveal of your true identity. The sound of your first name falling from his lips stirs something, you were never on first name basis. His eyes quietly flicker over the frame of your face while your features settle into your real appearance, the effects of the potion fully dissolving. Your expression remains neutral, his mirrors it but not with such precision as yours does. Being this incredibly close to him after everything strikes you in a way you haven't expected, not that you expected bumping into him at all.

''Are you crazy? Coming here with the reward hanging around your neck, you're one ticket away from Azkaban,'' his voice is still low, but not as strained as when he spoke your name aloud — as if to reassure himself you aren't such some sick and twisted creation of his consciousness. You can't bring yourself to answer him, not with so many emotions bubbling beneath your surface.

Not with so much remorse for what happened with his father.

''Talk to me goddamn it,'' Gojo curses, his expression breaking into something between a plea and a frown. He slowly pulls his wand from your neck, the pointy end no longer digging into the delicate skin of your neck, and softens the force with which he's pressing you into the brick wall.

''From beyond the grave, Gojo,''' is all you can manage, voice uneven due to you still trying to catch your breath from all the running and from processing. Your brows curled into a furrow, face blank otherwise.

''You haven't changed a bit, still so damn difficult,'' he utters in amusement, not capable of keeping it out of his voice. It's a habit with you at this point.

''Why did you come here? You must been out of your mind,'' his expression breaks into a serious one again, and seeing him from up this close makes you realise that you might've assumed the wrong thing. There's something different about him after all, yet it's hard to read him, because he obviously doesn't want you to. Still, the crease of the unknown in his expression betray the shift in him.

''I have to take you with me, I'm sure you understand,'' a mumble comes in addition, making your heart sink. He doesn't move despite his words, silently contemplating what to do as a next step.

''Why didn't you answer any of my letters?'' Gojo sighs out in surrender to his own nagging urge to ask. At that, your initial anger twists into pure confusion.

Letters? What letters?

Your lips part to answer, his question cracking you open. Unfortunately, before you can collect a coherent answer, another voice cuts through the air.

''Expelliarmus,'' the words rip from the throat of Devin who had just appeared, loud and furious. Magic surges before you're even finished with processing Gojo's question. One so simple, yet so deep. A streak of red light explodes from the tip of his wand, searing across the air in a sharp arc. It lits the entire alley in a crimson flash — bright enough to momentarily freeze you. The beam hits Gojo's hair wand midair with a sound like thunder snapping, instantly flying from his grip as he stumbles away from you. Just as baffled.

For a silent moment, no one moves. The scent of burned wood hangs in the air, red sparks still shimmering faintly along the floor where the spell had struck. Your entire body shakes, the aftershock buzzing through you, heart hammering in rhythm with the fading glow. And then you run into the direction of your saviour.

Your hand reaches out for Devin's without a second thought as he prepares to mouth the teleportation spell, and what occurs within the next fraction of a moment urges you to hold your breath. Gojo's back to his senses, wand too far for him to reach before you disappear. His mind is reckless, lacking in reasoning as his brain puts his feet to motion. The white haired wizard launches at you both, eyes finding yours admits the chaos.

dividers: [ @steviebboi @cafekitsune ]

taglist: [ @k-kkiana @cuffiescariche @sylustoru @hyori2 @ethereal-moonlit @crankyarchives @jjklover365daysayear @cailliz @kaisenkalogatia @urthem00n @katsukiseyebrows @poopooindamouf @heiejdhdh @tessasweet @sa-yuuki @moomoov @frzzyhairr @minascasket @ttscker @simplygojo @cuffiescariche @sylustoru @hyori2 @azzberry @hellicify @bubbleguppy @venture-venus @feline-burger @chimytoru @jellybellyconnoisseur@y0url0cal3stcrypt1d]

so sorry if i forgot anyone, lemme know!:(

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