Chapter Text
As the more sentient tree branches of the Forbidden Forest shook off the last traces of the winter snow, a crisp Spring air arrived at Hogwarts. Crocus buds littered the grounds, along with sporadic beds of horklumps sprouting along the circumference of the Castle Greenhouses, as the first glimmers of sunlight began to break through the surrounding mountain peaks, reflecting onto the Black Lake.
The accompanying aura of renewal washed through the corridors of Hogwarts with the scent of fresh oranges and cherry blossom.
“It’s an enchantment, I reckon.” Garreth had chuckled on the way to Charms.
She’d rolled her eyes and called him a cynic, tucking a loose strand of her rebellious, notoriously ruby hair behind her ear as she hunted through her satchel for the right spell book.
“A cynic?! Oh, ho!! That stench is about as authentic as your hair colour, I reckon.” He retorted with a playful wink.
“Is that the latest line of enquiry along the Hogwarts gossip-mill?” She queried with a wry smile, “Only a week into the term and Sallow’s already scraping the barrel…”
“Well, I can’t have my charge claiming too many accolades now, can I?” a familiar voice crooned, causing her chest to temporarily tighten, before the familiar, accompanying warmth set in as she turned her head to meet his gaze.
Eighteen suited Sebastian. He’d grown a few inches since those early days of fifth year; the duel in Defence Against the Dark Arts class where she’d sent him flying, sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library together…
In light of all that had followed, he’d grown even more in himself; seeing Anne take her first steps towards recovery had brought the light back to his eyes and the smirk back to the corner of his lips.
The lips she definitely didn’t find herself absently staring at during every Potions class.
“Your former charge, I think you’ll find.” She corrected him.
“Is it possible that the troll-defeating Hero of both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, the Crossed Wands Champion who put us all to shame in our OWLs, and will inevitably do so again in our NEWTs, has outgrown the need for Sebastian Sallow?” Ominis teased, his familiar droll bringing a further smirk to her lips.
“Once my charge, always my charge.” He retorted, his deep brown eyes not once faltering from meeting the gaze of her own as they shared one of their infamous “looks.”
A Slytherin-Ravenclaw alliance is an often-underestimated one. One would be forgiven for assuming, upon seeing the pair at first glance, that a marriage of their mutual stubbornness and ambition would have them constantly at one another’s throats. However, as he’d been knocked to the floor in that fateful fifth-year duel, he was content in the idea that he’d met his match.
At first glance, she’d carried an air of intimidation; true to her house, she was clearly driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He was keen to discover the weaknesses in her armour and looked forward to the satisfaction of another victory against someone who, finally, seemed to be an almost-worthy opponent…
Until he found himself in an entirely unfamiliar duelling scenario; colliding with the cold, stone floor.
Her knowledge, casting and wit had both impressed him and trounced him, but her grace and courtesy in doing so had touched him. She hadn’t lorded her victory over him, as he might’ve expected from any other student. Instead, her extended hand to help him back up had left him both completely flabbergasted and utterly charmed.
Truthfully, it was an honour to be bested by her. And if you can’t beat them, he’d shrugged, in this case, you truly must join them.
Their subsequent adventures and escapades pushed them to extremes that would pale the faces of wizards over thrice their age. However, a deep mutual respect, trust and companionship had also blossomed; they both held secrets for each other that would go to their respective graves. His charisma and penchant for pulling off feats of near impossibility both complimented and often goaded her natural curiosity into action. Whereas her perceptive and creative outlook often soothed his urge to rush into situations unprepared, and her quick-thinking always got them out of the inevitable complications that arose when he did so anyway…
“What’s gotten into those two?” Amit queried, accompanied by a fresh-faced Anne Sallow, much recovered from the mysterious curse that had recently almost drained her of her life.
“The usual secret telepathy, I’d wager” she giggled. “Apparently, it’s evaded he and I, even as twins, to favour this daring duo...”
“You see? She definitely needs me...” Sebastian sighed, still locked on to her gaze, “Without my voice in her head, our heroine of Hogsmeade would be lost.”
“Likely at peace, too.” She retorted, turning into the classroom as Ominis failed to stifle a laugh.
An hour and a half of Lumos Solem later, and she had never been happier to see a free study period on her timetable. She’d spent the short hours of winter sunlight snowed into the Castle, huddled over tomes and scrolls in the east section of the Library, and she yearned to feel the sun on her face. The various Vivariums in the Room of Requirement had kept her going through the colder months, but there was something so enticing about the first light of Spring that had her loosening her tie and rolling up her shirt sleeves as she stepped into the sunlit courtyard. Her robe made something of a makeshift blanket as she sat on the cobbled ground, took a small vial of the rose petal and hibiscus tea she had brewed over the winter and poured it into a conjured cup. She let her hair loose, allowing the breeze to carry her long, red waves in any and every direction for a moment, before taking a long, satisfying sip of her brewed creation.
“Too much rose, not enough hibiscus” she hummed. She nursed the warm cup, nonetheless.
As the bells tolled on the hour, she heard the faintest ringing of something new coming from the northernmost bell tower; singing.
Anne had mentioned to her in passing a few weeks prior that she was looking forward to re-joining the Frog Choir that term, but in all honestly, she hadn’t paid the concept much mind. Professor Black was not renowned as a Headmaster who even remotely cared for, let alone championed the extra-curricular activities on offer at Hogwarts, as such, they often remained a mystery to anyone who wasn’t in the know. Crossed Wands was an unsanctioned, student-run club that had been extended to her through an invitation from Sebastian, and Imelda did a very good job of gatekeeping the newly reinstated Quidditch regime. However, music was her best-kept secret from her so-called “Squib years.”
When she had not shown any trace of magical abilities in her younger years, she had turned her focus to music; playing the piano and singing, namely. She had been offered a scholarship to London’s Royal Academy of Music to study, which she had had every intention of accepting, until her magical abilities had begun to appear. Nowadays, her voice was kept to the gentle humming of a half-remembered aria that echoed around the Room of Requirement, much to Deek’s delight.
It had never occurred to her to ask about musical pursuits in the Wizarding World, what with the events of her fifth year and the aftermath that followed in her sixth; whilst taking time to mourn the loss of Professor Fig, she had then turned most of her attention to aiding Sebastian in curing Anne. It felt fitting to try and make some good out of all that had happened and all whom had been lost. Whilst she had sided with the Keepers and vowed to protect and seal away the Repository, she couldn’t deny that further exploration of Isidora’s methods was entirely the cause of Anne’s recovery. ‘Taking away’ the curse was not a decision she had reached lightly, and the time she had taken to consider the matter had put much of a strain on her friendship with Sebastian, but she had seen the dark bags under his eyes growing as he became gaunt; dancing on a knife’s edge as his desperation drew him closer to darker and darker magic. She’d known the consequences of taking away Anne’s pain, whereas neither of them could begin to fathom the consequences of the tomes he had begun pouring over…
______
“I’ll do it, Sebastian.” She had stated, as his pale, hunched frame had jolted up from the runes he was translating.
“You…” he hesitantly croaked, “You will?”
“On one condition.”
“… Condition?” He’d repeated in disgust.
“You…” She faltered, gently reaching for his cold, pale hand, which he’d flinched away. “You’ll stop… this.” She gestured towards the scrolls and scrawling of his notes on dark artefacts.
“I’m not afraid of the Relic,” he’d frowned.
“Nor am I,” she’d soothed, “but… I am afraid of what it’s doing to you.”
He held a defensive look.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she’d continued, “Isidora’s desire to take away pain wasn’t wrong. Her genuine wish to cure and heal wasn’t wrong... But she went mad with power. She took the best of intentions and turned it into the worst of outcomes, and I’m scared that it’s happening to you, too.”
She found his hand again. Her touch sent a shock down his spine.
“I’ve seen what happened to Isidora, Sebastian. I can’t let that happen to you.”
Their eyes had met for the first time in weeks. Tears welled in both of their eyes.
“Come back to us, Seb...” She’d whispered tearfully, “Come back to me. I’m losing you, and I can’t do this without you.”
His gaunt, pasty face had softened, as if somewhere, deep inside himself, he’d heard her through the darkness.
“Isidora felt alone, like no one could see her vision, like no one supported her, and it drove her to her demise. I won’t let that happen to you. I know you don’t think I can ever truly understand, and maybe I can’t, but I’m trying to... I support you. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.”
Abandoning her seat, she’d stood and crossed over an unspoken border, around the table, and kneeled in front of his chair, which he had turned to face her.
“I’ll do this, Sebastian... But you… Must… S-stop…” she stammered between heaving sobs.
“Anne needs her brother, now more than ever, and I need my friend… My best friend… And… I don’t know… W-where h-he is… Anym-more...” She wept into the silence as tears blurred her vision into obscurity.
The stalemate was broken after what felt like an eternity, as she heard the creak of his chair, and the softness of his jumper enveloped her. She clung to him as her cries were muffled into his shoulder.
“I’ll stop... I’ll stop. I’m so sorry… I’ll stop. I’m here...” He’d hushed, stroking her hair and rocking her gently as her sobbing shook her body.
They’d sat on the floor of the Undercroft like that for over an hour.
“I’ll never leave you alone again.” He’d vowed, as delicate tears of his own stung his bloodshot eyes, before tumbling to grace his freckled cheeks.
____
Sourcing the Goblin silver had taken a little longer than she’d planned, and her greatest worry was causing Anne any further pain, but as the colour began to return to both twins’ faces in the weeks that had followed, she knew in her heart she had done the right thing, both magically and morally.
She was brought back into the Courtyard from her mind’s musings over the last two years by a loud, abnormal call of birdsong. Starlings, by the sound of it. Unusual, she pondered, for them to make it so far north into the Highlands…