Garreth Weasley
The November chill bit at the air, a telltale sign that winter was approaching. Astoria dressed warmly—a soft, grey knitted jumper, a dark pleated skirt with thick stockings, and long black boots. She tied her hair into a half-up style, loose strands framing her face.
As she stepped out of the Slytherin common room, she walks straight in on Sebastian and Ominis, who were hunched over a wizard's checkers board, deep in concentration.
Sebastian’s head snapped up the moment she entered. His gaze flickered over her from head to toe—lingering on her outfit just a fraction too long. “Where are you off to?”
Astoria paused, a strange flicker of guilt washing over her—though she had no reason for it. Why did it feel like she’d been caught sneaking out?
“Meeting a friend in Hogsmeade,” she answered, keeping her voice neutral.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Which friend?”
She hesitated.
His expression darkened. “It’s Weasley, isn’t it?”
Astoria shifted just slightly—an unconscious movement, but Sebastian caught it immediately.
He scoffed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, it’s a date, then?”
"It's not a date!" she said quickly, though it sounded defensive even to her own ears. "We're just...catching up."
Sebastian exhaled through his nose, clearly unhappy. "And you're going alone?"
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”
“Then it’s a date,” he muttered, voice flat.
Astoria sighed. “Sebastian—”
“Whatever.” His jaw ticked as he looked away, fingers tapping against the table in barely concealed irritation. “Have fun.”
She lingered for half a second before turning to leave, feeling inexplicably uneasy.
“Astoria.”
She paused, glancing back.
Sebastian opened his mouth, looked at her for a long moment—then exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”
Sebastian's jaw tensed as he watched her go, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. The moment she disappeared, he exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His mood soured for the rest of the afternoon, his moves in wizard's checkers growing increasingly reckless. Ominis, thoroughly unimpressed, claimed victory with ease before giving him a knowing look.
"You can glare at the board all you like, but you know you're just angry that Weasley asked her first right?"
Sebastian scoffed, arms crossing tightly. "That's not what this is about."
Ominis smirked. "Isn't it? That's what happens when you sit around waiting, Sallow. Someone else steps in."
Sebastian had no response to that. He only gritted his teeth and pushed the board aside, irritation bubbling beneath his skin.
Garreth was already seated at the Three Broomsticks when she arrived, a table tucked away in the corner with two butterbeers waiting. His red hair, usually in a state of disarray, had been neatly combed for once. His Hogwarts issued robe replaced with a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbow. He grinned as she sat down, his greenish-brown eyes lighting up.
"Right on time. I was beginning to think you stood me up."
"As if I'd pass up free butterbeer."
Their conversation was light-hearted. They spoke about Quidditch, and when she finally admitted that Garreth had played well, he smirked triumphantly. "I knew you thought so."
He then shared stories about his family—his younger sister and two younger brothers back home, each more mischievous than the last. He spoke of their relentless antics, how they constantly tested his patience, and how, despite all his own troublemaking, he had somehow fallen into the role of the responsible older brother.
Astoria found herself surprised that Garreth was the eldest, but as he recounted the times he had to cover for his siblings' pranks or take the blame to keep them out of trouble, it made sense. Beneath the mischief, there was always an easy reliability to him—a quiet sort of care that wasn't always obvious at first glance.
"My mum nearly lost her mind when I started testing my potions on them," Garreth admitted with a chuckle. "One time, I made a hair-thickening serum. Meant to give a bit of volume, you know? But I must've botched something, because poor Cyril woke up looking like a bloody puffskein."
Astoria laughed, covering her mouth. "Did it wear off?"
"Eventually," Garreth smirked. "After my mother threatened to send me straight to Aunt Matilda for a proper scolding. But that's how you learn, right? Trial and error."
He sighed, swirling his butterbeer. "I love potions—I really do. But being known as the Deputy Headmistress' nephew? That's another story. Aunt Matilda keeps me under close watch, like I'm still a first-year. I swear, I can't sneeze without her knowing. It's exhausting."
Astoria grinned. "So, you're telling me all the rule-breaking is a form of rebellion?"
"Something like that," he admitted, winking. "But enough about me. How have you been lately?"
As their conversation meandered between light-hearted tales and genuine moments of understanding, Astoria found herself admitting something she wouldn't normally share.
"I've barely been getting any sleep lately," she murmured, absently running her fingers over the rim of her butterbeer mug. "It's been like this for a while. Not nightmares, just... I don't know. I struggle to fall asleep, and even when I do, it never feels restful."
Garreth tilted his head slightly, brows drawing together. "The cold probably isn't helping either. Winter nights in the dungeons can be brutal."
Astoria huffed a small laugh. "Tell me about it. I think I might be part lizard—I just can't seem to stay warm at night."
Garreth grinned. "Well, that won't do. My mum used to make something when I was younger—a warm, spiced draught with honey and moondew essence. Always knocked me right out. I can still taste it." He sighed dramatically. "Like drinking a cozy hug."
She chuckled at his description. "That actually sounds... really nice."
"You'd love it. Maybe I'll brew it for you sometime," he said, it sounded like a casual offer.
"Thanks Garreth, I'd like that."
"Don't mention it. You're always off saving the world with Sallow, but I hope you know that if you ever need someone else to confide in... you can count on me."
Astoria was taken aback by his sincerity, warmth settling in her chest. "I know. Thank you, Garreth."
After an uncharacteristically relaxing evening, Garreth insisted on walking Astoria back to the dungeons. Their conversation continued as they strolled through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, the warmth of their time together lingering. When they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he hesitated for a moment before flashing her his usual lopsided grin.
"Thanks for agreeing to go with me today. I know I kind of forced it on you but...It was really nice."
Astoria returned his smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it was."
With a final playful wink, Garreth turned and headed toward the Gryffindor Tower. Astoria watched him go for a moment before slipping inside the common room.
Deep within an undisclosed location, Magnus Dainforth stood before a grand, arcane map illuminated by flickering candlelight.
Across from him, Horace Whitby sat stiffly, hands folded as he delivered his report.
"She was guarded," Whitby admitted. "Didn't reveal much beyond what we already knew. She knows something."
Dainforth hummed in contemplation, tracing a finger along a glowing sigil on the map. "No matter. Time is on our side."
"And the vault?" Whitby pressed.
"The Vault of Transmutation can wait. Ancient Magic belongs to those who can wield it—not to be locked away by those who fear it."
A chilling silence followed.
Dainforth smirked. "And besides, I have another trick up my sleeve. Someone on the inside is already working in our favour."
Whitby frowned slightly. "Are they reliable?"
Dainforth's smile was nothing short of sinister. "Oh, they will be."