𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕

Sekhmet could not stop thinking about what Dumbledore had said to her yesterday. As she walked to the library from her last class her mind was racing with the possibilities of what he could mean. You truly do remind me of someone I had once known so well… the words echoed in her head, staying on repeat like a broken record. She was heading to the library to do some research for her Transfiguration essay, though she supposed working on some other things wouldn’t hurt. With her mind made up, she pushed through the library doors, her steady stride leading her to her favorite table in the back corner. The table sat near a window allowing her to look across the courtyard where students could be seen messing about. Although the weather was starting to chill the window allowed some comforting sun rays to caress her skin whilst she sat. Sekhmet got to work eagerly.

As Sekhmet worked on her Transfiguration essay she was distracted by something reflecting straight into her vision. Her eyes squinted, her hand going up to block the light. Sekhmet looked closer at what could be causing the glare assuming that it was most likely some first years pulling some sort of prank. She pushed out of the chair she was sitting in, leaving her essay on the table. She walked closer toward the restricted section where the light was coming from, tiptoeing her way through the aisles of books.

When Sekhmet finally got to where the light was coming from she saw that it was not a student causing the glare, but a book. An old, worn, and dusty tome to be more exact. It had a large jewel embedded in the cover which had likely caused the glare. The problem with this however was that it was in the restricted section. Sekhmet peered around the library, knowing that she was technically not allowed to go into the restricted section without permission from a teacher. The only issue with this line of thinking was that breaking the rules had never been that large of a deterrent for her. With that in mind, Sekhmet performed a spell to unlock the door to the restricted section and quickly grabbed the book that had seemed to almost call to her. She blew the dust off the cover prompting a large cloud of smoke to fill the air. She coughed slightly at having it breathed in. When she looked closer at the fading title she saw that it was in Russian.

Sekhmet knew some Russians due to her mother having lived in St. Petersburg during her youth. Sekhmet didn’t know much about her grandparents on her mother’s side of the family. She knew that they were both pureblood, and wealthy, and seemed to align themselves with Grindelwald during the First Wizarding War. The title of the tome read Чистокровный Патриархат (Chistokrovnyy Patriarkhat: Pureblood Patriarchy). Sekhmet brought the book over to her table near her essay and after making some last finishing touches she decided to take a deeper dive into the contents of the tome. She had always been curious about her mother’s family. Her father hardly ever talked about her and with Sekhmet being the youngest she didn’t have many memories with her. Maybe I could find something in here? She thought.

Flipping to the first page Sekhmet noticed that there was a chapter dedicated to each of the larger pureblood families in Russia. The Morozovs were on page 546. She quickly leafed through the pages trying to get to the chapter about her mother’s family. Whilst flipping through the book she scanned the pages seeing all sorts of different magical genetic traits and family trees. When she finally got to the Morozov family she saw that the family tree mysteriously stopped on her would-be grandpa’s side. Sekhmet furrowed her brows in confusion. It was as if her mother’s father had disappeared off of the face of the earth. Off to the side of the tree, she saw a passage saying the Morozov family name had died off after their close involvement with Grindelwald, the last of the line being Adette Arafa Née Morozov. Sekhmet was not entirely sure if her mother had any siblings before this point, but she supposed that now she knew. The fact about Grindelwald’s close association with her family piqued Sekhmet’s interest. Just as she was contemplating whether or not he would have any affiliation with her family mentioned she was interrupted by someone suddenly saying her name right behind her. She quickly slammed the book shut.

“Sekhmet, my أخت ('ukht: sister), how are things going? I wasn’t expecting you to be here at this time,” Anubis remarked, his voice holding a tone of happy surprise. Sekhmet moved her head to look up at him beside her now. Anubis had a breathable Ravenclaw jumper on, his hair messy, but it usually was her brain supplied fondly.

‎“أخ ('akh: brother),” Sekhmet greeted Anubis warmly, her eyes less severe than they typically were with people she was around, “What do you mean by that?”

“I meant that you don’t usually study this close to dinner. Don’t you usually sit with your friends in the Great Hall?” Anubis questioned her, his body moving with his words to better express himself.

“What time is it?” Sekhmet asked cautiously knowing that she had probably gotten carried away in the library. Her eyes turned down and she cringed a bit at whatever answer was coming her way.

“It’s 6 o’clock. What has got your attention hmm? Does it have anything to do with what you are reading there?” Anubis remarked peering over her shoulder at the old Russian tome. His eyebrows shot up a bit in surprise as he read the title, his gaze turning to Sekhmet with a slightly nervous air.

Sekhmet knew he caught her, so she figured she might as well tell him at least some of the truth, “Yes, it does. I was wondering about  Маманя (mamanya: mom). Her family doesn’t have much information about them…” she trailed off in disappointment.

“The Morozovs were very complex. You never got to meet our бабушка (babushka: grandma), but she was a very private person. The most we knew about дедушка

(dedushka: grandpa) was that he was an incredibly powerful wizard who had come to Russia in search of something important. She said that he would change history,” Anubis revealed to her, his tone also holding a hint of longing. They both looked at each other.

Anubis and Sekhmet had gotten the brunt of their father’s hatred. After Set had been told by someone in the Sacred Twenty-Eight that his son was a blood traitor because he was placed in Ravenclaw, he went mad. Set didn’t send howlers; that wasn’t his style. No, instead he waited until Anubis got home for Christmas break. Set had always stewed in his fury before he acted on it. Sometimes Sekhmet wishes he didn’t so that the atmosphere wouldn’t always be so tense and frightening. After the family had eaten dinner, Set called Anubis back into the room as the others were exiting. They all knew better than to stay, knew that his fury would be focused on them if they did. Set closed the door but that didn’t stop Anubis’ pained screams from reaching each of their ears upstairs. When they had finally stopped late in the night and Sekhmet heard Anubis’ door close she tiptoed her way over to his room. Anubis was passed out, his form slumped on the floor as if his weak, tired body couldn’t even make it to his bed. She picked him up as best she could, but she didn’t think it would have mattered if she dropped him. He wasn’t waking up for anything anytime soon. She put him into bed and cleaned his cuts, putting ointment on his bruises. When she was sure he would be as good as he could be she started back to her room. She knew that they had to look out for each other. Anubis, her sweet, caring أخ ('akh: brother) who had done nothing but get sorted into a house. She had committed no crime but being that of a girl.

The silence between them carried on. Sekhmet hesitantly broke it,

“I suppose I should probably get ready for dinner then…” she whispered to Anubis. Neither of them moved to leave.

“I suppose so…” Anubis replied, “maybe we can look for more on Маманя (mamanya: mom) over break?” He offered hesitantly.

“That would be nice” Sekhmet smiled, moving to get her things together.