The Hollow Soul
“This is impossible!” Freya threw the paper with her homework on the dormitory floor and tossed and turned on her bed, irritated.
“Freya! Someone here is trying to sleep.” Her roommate warned her, sleepily lifting herself from her bed and giving her a disapproving look.
“How can you sleep knowing Professor Cromwell gave us a question with no answer?”
“Well, maybe I'm not the ideal Ravenclaw who needs to know everything. Go to sleep!”
“Discuss the known properties and potential ethical concerns related to ‘Soul Splitting’ and the creation of magically bound familiars.” That was the question. She had read it over and over and searched every book in the library she thought might be relevant, but found nothing. If only wizards knew about the existence of the internet, it would make 80% of their tasks easier; instead, she had to flip through 17 books to complete one assignment and still couldn’t answer the main question.
Freya tossed and turned on her bed for a few more minutes, then got up, put on her slippers, and grabbed her wand from the desk.
“Lumos!” She said the spell, and a small light appeared at the tip of her wand. She sneaked out of the dormitory and finally managed to get completely out of the Ravenclaw common room. As she made her way through the hallways, trying not to make any loud noises, she heard the portraits grumbling at her to turn off the light because it disturbed them. She ignored them and hurried to the library. At one point, she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart started beating faster. Soon she saw a cat staring at her with glowing eyes.
“Filch! Damn it! Nox!” She hissed and hid behind a wall, turning off the light from her wand. She clamped her own mouth shut, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. When she heard the footsteps stop, she turned the light back on.
She ran down the corridor, praying that no new head would appear. “How come I decided that this was a good idea?” She wondered as she ran.
“Who’s there?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Show yourself immediately!”
“No, no, no! I’m almost there!” She repeated to herself. The slow footsteps were getting closer, the cat’s meowing and hissing was closer than ever. But wait... Filch wasn’t behind her. The sounds were coming from ahead. So Filch was behind tgat wall...
“Disillusio!” A familiar voice rang out, and a spark of magic bounced off her body, pulling her strongly behind the wall she was approaching. It was pitch dark. She breathed panicked, while someone held a hand over her mouth. “Be quiet, you idiot. Close your eyes; your whites can’t be seen.”
Filch approached, swinging his lantern a few times, then continued down the hallway. “I could have sworn I heard something.”
Freya opened her eyes. “Lumos!” She said, and a small spark of light appeared. She moved her wand around, but couldn’t see anything clearly. “Who are you?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” Sky-blue eyes stared at her. “Revelio!” With a wave, she saw her hands again, that were previously camouflaged into the space around her. The blue eyes revealed their owner.
“Charlotte damn Moore, what are you doing here?” She squeaked when she saw her friend.
“That’s what I could ask you! You sound like my mom!”
“Obviously the same thing you’re doing.”
“Why are you sneaking around if you don’t even know how to sneak around?”
“As if you know how to sneak around.”
“Well, clearly I sneak around better than you. Let’s go.” She nudged her to head towards the library doors.
“Alohomora!" Freya said, and the door unlocked. “Come in.”
They walked through the library on tiptoe, urgently searching for the restricted section.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” Freya huffed.
“Amateur.” Lottie snorted. “It’s clear you’ve never had to sneak away from your parents.”
“Alright, enough. Which book might have it?”
“The Dark Art of Familiar Binding and Soul Craft.” Lottie answered.
“Excuse me? What a mobster! Who told you that?”
“Scorpius.”
“What? You asked Scorpius for help?”
“Of course. Who else would I ask? You? I don’t know why you don’t trust anyone; he’s a good person.”
“Well, I wouldn’t fall for his facade.”
“Just look for the book, and leave interpersonal relations to me.” Lottie gave her a pointed look.
“Didn’t we already deal with our sneaking around? Do we really need to do it again? Do you want us to be kicked out for real?” They heard Scorpius’s voice but didn’t see anyone.
“No one will kick you out just for going to the library.”
“Maybe not for the library, but for its restricted section. If it weren’t a problem, we wouldn’t be sneaking around in the middle of the night and almost running into Filch.”
“Well, well, well... Seems that we have company.” Freya said. “What did they hide behind?”
“They clearly didn't use my concealment spells.”
“Albus, did you hear something?” Scorpius spoke alertly.
“No. It’s all in your paranoid head. Keep moving. Filch isn’t around.”
“It’s not Filch. It sounded like Lottie.”
“Lottie? Come on! It was Rose until recently, and now it’s Lottie. Calm your hormones down.” Albus sounded irritated.
Lottie felt her cheeks burn while Freya tried to stifle her giggle. “There you go. All men are the same.”
“Albus, I’m serious. I heard something from over there.” Scorpius continued to protest, still unaware of how well hidden they were. “Aha! There they are! I see a tuft of hair!” He pointed in the direction where the two girls were crouched.
“If I go over there and see a broomstick you mistook for hair, I swear I’ll hex you.” Albus grumbled, and they began to approach the girls.
Yes, it was indeed them, but the girls didn’t realize the boys had crept up and were watching them with smirks. They were under the Invisibility Cloak that Albus had long since confiscated from his older brother, James. Albus grinned and tugged at a strand of Freya’s hair. “Ow!” Freya hissed. “What was that?”
“What’s wrong?” Lottie turned around.
“Something pulled my hair.”
“You probably caught it on… Ow!” Lottie yelped.
“What? You caught on something too?” Freya smirked at her.
“Something is fishy here.” Lottie looked around, waving her wand's light to find “that something.”
“I know what’s going on. Scorpius’s little friend is a Potter; I’m sure he has…” She waved her hand in the air around her and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, revealing the culprits of the mischief. “Aha!”
“How did you know?” Albus’s eyes widened.
“You know, I’ve heard all the stories about the legendary Harry Potter; there was no way he wouldn’t give you his Invisibility Cloak.” Freya smiled proudly.
“You know, it’s starting to make more sense why you’re a Ravenclaw.” Scorpius remarked.
“Thank you, Slytherin.” She grinned.
“Alright, fantastic! The perfect reunion of the fantastic four!” Lottie coughed and drew attention to herself. “Now, let’s figure out what the hell we’re doing with that huge book. Jesus, I can’t believe I risked my sleep for homework.”
“Freya, what do you think?” Scorpius turned to her.
“The Restricted Section isn’t child’s play. If we mess something up, detention will be the least of our worries. We could curse ourselves, summon something…”
“Well, do we want to do this or not?”
“We want to.” She answered decisively. “The professor didn’t ask us that question for nothing. He surely wanted to test our courage and boldness.”
“Hate to break it down for you, but isn’t that a bit of a description of Gryffindor?” Lottie crossed her arms. “And as we can see, we have all colors here but red.”
"Then shut your nose and puff up your cheeks until your head turns red, because we still have to find it."
"The queen has spoken," Scorpius teased.
"We’re right at the edge of the restricted section. Maybe it’s best if just one of us searches. If we all search we'll make noise with our footsteps," Albus suggested.
"Accio!" Lottie flicked her wand. Nothing happened. Embarrassed, she lowered it. "Well, it was worth a shot."
"There’s no way a simple Summoning Charm would work on a book like this, but there’s a spell that can solve our obvious problem," Freya said, pulling out her wand and pointing it at their feet. "Silencio!"
They stomped experimentally—silence.
"Alright, now let’s get to work. Silencio!" Freya repeated the spell, this time directing it at the bookshelves.
After painstakingly combing through every possible book, their frustration mounted.
"Scorpius, are you absolutely sure about the title?" Lottie asked, exasperated.
"A million percent sure," he said, shifting uncomfortably.
"This must be one hell of a book if the four of us can’t dig it out," Albus muttered.
"Unless..."
"Freya, please, if you say one more thing, my brain will explode," Lottie groaned.
"No, no… Let her think. Clearly, she’s the only one here with functioning brain cells."
"Say that again, and I'll make you regret it!" Albus snapped at Scorpius, visibly irritated by how often Freya was the one to figure things out.
"Has it ever occurred to you why you only have one friend, Albus the Perpetually-Grumpy-Potter?" Freya raised an eyebrow, catching onto his jealousy and frustration.
"And what about you?" he shot back.
"Guys, this is not the time—" Lottie tried to intervene, but it was useless.
"Maybe it’s because people like you judge me without having the slightest clue who I actually am! Because if y'all did know, maybe then you'd understand why I don’t have friends! It’s because of people like you!" Freya slammed her fist onto the table, making a book tumble from the shelf right beside her hand.
All four of them leaned in.
"What is this? It’s blank," Lottie frowned, flipping through the pages. There was nothing inside. It looked more like one of those overpriced ‘vintage’ journals people sold online for a fortune. Merlin, how useful the internet would be right now.
"Aparecium!" Freya tapped the book’s cover with her wand, and slowly, the title began to reveal itself. She grinned triumphantly.
The Dark Art of Familiar Binding and Soul Craft.
"Please let this be some kind of elaborate joke. Like, I turn the page and it just says ‘Haha, gotcha! You fell for it!’ Because if we actually have to dig through dark magic and cast some soul-ripping spells on ourselves, I’m going to cry," Scorpius whined.
"Don’t be ridiculous!" Albus snapped. "This has to be it. We just need to find our answer and get the hell out of here."
"Yeah, yeah. Just read it, Freya," Lottie urged. "I can’t take this anymore."
"Soul Splitting involves tearing apart a wizard’s soul, which is usually done through committing murder or another extremely dark act. This results in a fractured soul," Freya read aloud. "The primary purpose of Soul Splitting is to create a Horcrux, which anchors a piece of the wizard’s soul to an object or a living being. This grants a twisted form of immortality; as long as the Horcrux exists, the wizard cannot truly die."
The room fell into dead silence.
A Horcrux?
After everything that had happened, did people still dare speak of such magic?
"My dad…" Albus began, pale as a sheet. "My father was a Horcrux to the Dark Lord."
They all knew that. But hearing it from him, in this moment, sent an unexplainable chill through their bones.
"But… the Dark Lord was destroyed. And with him, all of his Horcruxes," Lottie added, trying to convince both herself and the others that they were panicking over nothing. "No one does this anymore… right? I mean, it wouldn’t make sense."
"A living Horcrux, such as a human or a familiar, would have its autonomy stripped away. The piece of soul embedded within it could overpower its free will, essentially making it a puppet for the creator," Freya continued reading, the horror settling deep in her chest.
Who would do something like this? Who would willingly sacrifice their sanity—and someone else’s—just to cling to life?
"I… I think we’ve got all the answers we need. Freya, close the book," Scorpius muttered, his voice uneasy.
"There’s more," Freya hesitated. "It’s handwritten. Not printed."
She traced her wand over the words.
"Animus Revelio, Aperi Anima… Animus Revelio, Aperi Anima… Animus Revelio, Aperi Anima… Why does it keep repeating?"
"Freya…" Lottie’s voice trembled as she stared at what was happening.
The light at the tip of Freya’s wand flickered violently. The air around them grew unbearably cold.
A sudden, suffocating stillness filled the air.
Freya’s wand trembled in her hand, the flickering light at its tip pulsing erratically, like a dying heartbeat. The words Animus Revelio, Aperi Anima glowed in faint, eerie embers on the pages of the book. A sharp gust of wind, unnatural and ice-cold, burst through the library, extinguishing every candle and lantern in its path. The darkness swallowed them whole.
Then—Freya gasped. A stabbing pain shot through her chest, so raw and visceral that she clutched at her ribs, her legs buckling beneath her. It was as if something inside her had been unshackled, torn open from the inside out.
"Freya!" Lottie lunged forward, catching her before she could collapse completely.
"What the hell is happening?!" Scorpius's voice cracked with panic.
Freya’s breathing came in ragged gasps, her pupils dilating into vast pools of black. She felt it. Her soul. Something had come undone. The words she had spoken—she hadn't known, hadn't understood. They weren't just incantations. They were a command, a permission.
And then, from the shadows—
"Very good, Miss Everhart."
The voice was smooth, silken, yet laced with something chilling. A voice that did not belong here.
They all turned, frozen in place.
Emerging from the darkness between the shelves, robes billowing like living shadows, was him.
Professor Cromwell.
His presence alone seemed to warp the air, making the darkness around him feel heavier, thicker. Though his face bore the same polite mask he always wore in class, there was something about his smile now—something terribly, irrevocably wrong.
"Oh, you clever little things," he mused, stepping closer, his boots silent against the stone floor. "To think you’d figure it out on your own. Impressive… though admittedly, you did have a bit of guidance."
He gestured lazily towards the book still clutched in Freya’s hands. She wanted to let go, wanted to drop it, but her fingers refused to obey.
"You," Albus hissed, stepping protectively in front of Freya and Lottie. "You sent us here. You wanted us to find this."
"Of course I did," Cromwell replied smoothly. "You were the perfect candidates. Bright. Curious. And most importantly… willing to break the rules when necessary."
Freya could barely process what was happening. Her body felt wrong, as if something invisible was threading itself through her very essence, stitching her to something else. The realization hit her like ice water.
She was open.
Her soul was unlocked.
Cromwell's eyes flickered to her.
"You feel it, don't you?" His voice was almost... gentle. "That lightness, that raw openness? It’s a strange thing, having one's soul laid bare."
Freya gritted her teeth, fighting against the dizziness that threatened to overtake her.
"Shut up," she spat.
"Tsk, tsk. No gratitude? After all, I’m about to give you something truly magnificent."
And then, he raised his wand.
"Vincula Anima."
The words sent a shockwave through the room.
A violent force slammed into Freya’s chest, lifting her off the ground. She screamed—a sound that did not belong to her, a sound that tore through her lungs as her back arched in agony.
The others tried to move. Albus, Lottie, Scorpius—they tried to grab her, to pull her away, but an invisible barrier repelled them, sending them stumbling back.
"Freya!" Lottie sobbed, pounding against the unseen force.
Freya’s veins burned like molten fire, as though something was seeping into her, sinking its claws deep into the fabric of her being. She felt it—the weight of another presence pressing against her, inside her. A force that was not hers. A soul that did not belong to her.
Cromwell's soul.
"Yes," Cromwell murmured, eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger. "Let it in, child. You have already opened the door."
Freya struggled, fought, but she could feel herself slipping. A foreign, sickly sensation curled around her mind, twisting through her thoughts, whispering things she could not understand.
And then—her heartbeat stopped.
For a fraction of a second, everything was silent.
The room seemed to tilt, the walls folding in on themselves, the darkness pulling tighter and tighter until—
With a shuddering gasp, Freya’s eyes snapped open.
The candlelight flickered back to life. The barrier vanished. The library was exactly as it had been before.
But Freya…
She stood there, still as stone, her breath eerily calm.
"Freya?" Scorpius whispered.
She blinked. Slowly. Deliberately.
And when she lifted her gaze, her irises were no longer entirely her own.
A sliver of black bled into them, spreading like ink through water.
Albus was the first to move.
His wand shot up, and before Cromwell could utter another word, he shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
A bolt of red light streaked across the dimly lit library, fast as lightning. But just before it could reach its target, Cromwell flicked his fingers—not even his wand, just his fingers—and the spell shattered mid-air, dissolving into harmless sparks.
"Oh, come now," he sighed, tilting his head. "Do you think a simple disarming spell would work on me?"
But Albus was only buying time.
"Stupefy!" Lottie screamed.
"Depulso!" Scorpius bellowed.
The spells erupted at once, streaking toward Cromwell from all angles. For a moment, it looked as though they might actually hit—
But then, with a lazy wave of his wand, Cromwell twisted the air itself.
The stunning spells ricocheted backward, slamming into bookshelves with enough force to send ancient tomes crashing to the ground. Lottie barely dodged her own attack. Scorpius was thrown off balance, tumbling onto his hands and knees.
"Pathetic," Cromwell muttered. "Did you truly believe you stood a chance against me? Against a master of the Dark Arts?"
Freya’s body was rigid, still trapped in that eerie, unnatural stillness. But inside, her mind was screaming.
She could feel him now.
A foreign presence, something insidious and rotting, coiled around the edges of her soul. It lingered, testing its grasp, searching for weak points. But—he wasn’t in full control yet. He hadn’t figured out how to puppet her completely.
Not yet.
Which meant she had time.
And she was the only one who could do something.
With every ounce of willpower, she forced herself to move.
It wasn’t easy. Every muscle in her body felt like it was weighed down by invisible chains, like she was moving through water. But still, she moved. Her fingers curled tighter around her wand, and she took a step forward.
"Freya?" Albus noticed immediately.
She took a slow breath. Stay focused. Stay in control.
"He doesn’t have me yet," she rasped. Her own voice sounded foreign, hoarse from the force of whatever dark magic had just tethered her to Cromwell. "I can still fight."
Cromwell’s smile faltered just a fraction.
"Oh?" he mused. "You’re stronger than I expected. Most would be writhing in agony by now, their minds shattered, their will mine."
"Well, I’m not most people," Freya shot back.
Then, with the speed of a striking viper, she raised her wand.
"Incendio!"
A blast of fire roared to life, surging toward Cromwell like a tidal wave of embers and heat. At the same time, she flicked her free hand in a sharp arc— "Expulso!"—sending a concussive blast right behind the flames, designed to hit him even if he blocked the first spell.
It was a brilliant move. Fast. Unpredictable.
And still—he was faster.
Cromwell didn’t block the fire. He absorbed it.
The flames curled around him, their brightness dimming, twisting, until they snuffed out entirely. The explosion of force behind it? He redirected with a casual flick of his wand. The force rebounded toward Freya—
And this time, she wasn’t fast enough.
The blast struck her square in the chest, hurling her backward. She hit the stone floor with a sickening thud, her head snapping back against the cold marble. Stars exploded behind her eyelids.
"Freya!" Lottie rushed to her side, but before she could help, Cromwell raised his wand again.
"Stay down," he ordered.
And then—Freya felt it.
The shift.
The moment Cromwell found what he was looking for.
Something latched onto her like a vice. A hook sinking deep into her mind, twisting, pulling. Her fingers spasmed around her wand, her limbs locking against her will.
No. No, no, no.
"Ah," Cromwell exhaled, pleased. "There you are."
Freya jerked.
Her body—her own body—moved against her will.
Her fingers tightened. Her wand lifted.
And suddenly, she was pointing it at Albus.
Albus froze.
"Freya—?" His voice was soft. Worried.
She couldn’t stop. Her hand was shaking, her wrist straining as if she was fighting against an invisible force.
"No—" she choked out.
"Freya, fight it," Lottie begged. "You’re stronger than him—!"
Cromwell chuckled darkly.
"No, she isn’t," he murmured. "Not anymore."
Her arm steadied.
She felt it happening. Felt the control slipping.
Her heart pounded violently.
She had to stop this.
She had to—
But then—
Footsteps.
A new presence.
And then, the voice.
"What in Merlin’s name is going on here?!"
Everything froze.
Professor Cromwell went rigid. The dark tendrils of magic receded like a tide. The force gripping Freya’s body snapped, leaving her gasping, collapsing to her knees.
In the doorway stood Professor McGonagall.
Behind her, several other professors flooded into the library—Professor Flitwick, Professor Sinistra, even Professor Longbottom. Their eyes widened as they took in the scene—the ruined bookshelves, the scorch marks on the floor, the four disheveled students, and—
Cromwell.
His wand was still raised.
For the first time, something like irritation flickered across his face.
"Tch," he muttered.
Then, he vanished.
No sound. No incantation.
One moment he was there. The next, gone.
A cold silence lingered in his absence.
"Freya!" Albus, Lottie, and Scorpius rushed to her side, catching her before she could collapse entirely. Her breath was ragged, her limbs trembling. But she was herself.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Explain," she demanded.
Freya’s head lolled against Albus’s shoulder. Her vision blurred, her body ached, but she managed to whisper: "Professor Cromwell… he—"
Darkness swallowed her before she could finish. Albus barely managed to catch her as she collapsed.
"I've got her—" he breathed, easing her onto the floor as gently as he could. He could feel how cold her skin was, how unsteady her breath had become.
Lottie knelt beside them, panic flashing across her face. "Is she—?"
"She’s breathing," Scorpius confirmed, though his own voice was strained. "But something’s wrong. She looks pale."
Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the moment.
"What," she said, "is the meaning of this?"
Her tone was clipped, controlled, but there was no mistaking the anger in her gaze. She swept her eyes over the destruction—the shattered bookshelves, the burn marks, the scattered wands still clenched in trembling hands.
Then she exhaled, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose.
"If this is yet another one of your reckless student rebellions—"
"It wasn't a rebellion!" Albus snapped before he could stop himself. He swallowed hard, steadying his voice. "Professor, we weren’t... this isn’t..." He turned to the others, looking for help.
Lottie straightened up, still kneeling beside Freya. "We were attacked."
McGonagall’s gaze sharpened instantly.
"By who?"
Silence.
Then—Scorpius said it.
"Professor Cromwell."
A stillness settled over the room. The other professors exchanged glances, but McGonagall’s face remained unreadable.
"Elaborate," she commanded.
Lottie sucked in a breath. "He… He was here because of the assignment. The Horcrux paper."
McGonagall's expression darkened.
"You mean to tell me," she said slowly, "that Professor Cromwell was in this library, alone, with four students... and performed Dark Magic?"
"Yes," Scorpius answered immediately. "We... we were just finishing up, but then Freya figured out how to—" He hesitated.
McGonagall’s gaze flicked down to Freya’s unconscious form.
"How to what, Mr. Malfoy?"
Albus swallowed hard. "How to... unlock a soul for a Horcrux."
The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to drop ten degrees.
Professor Sinistra inhaled sharply. Flitwick’s fingers curled tighter around his wand. Even Longbottom, usually the most mild-mannered of the group, looked grim.
McGonagall, however, didn’t move.
"Explain. Now."
Albus, Lottie, and Scorpius took turns filling her in.
About how Cromwell had given them the assignment. About how he’d encouraged them to push boundaries, to explore Dark Magic in theory.
About how, when Freya figured out how to unlock her soul—he had been waiting.
"He was there the second she did it," Albus murmured. "It’s like he knew. Like he was waiting for someone to figure it out."
Lottie clenched her fists. "And then he made her his Horcrux."
The words hung heavy in the air.
McGonagall’s face was unreadable. "Made her his—" She cut herself off, her fingers tightening at her sides. For the first time, a flicker of something. Worry? Rage? "You're certain?"
"She was fighting it," Scorpius said. "But we could see it. He was in her, controlling her. At first, she could resist, but then—" He exhaled shakily. "Then he figured out how to use her like a puppet."
Lottie glanced down at Freya’s unconscious form. Her lips were pale, her breathing shallow.
"She tried so hard to fight it," she whispered.
McGonagall was silent for a long time.
Then she turned sharply to Professor Flitwick. "Take her to the Hospital Wing. Immediately."
Flitwick nodded. With a flick of his wand, Freya’s body lifted gently into the air, cradled by an invisible force.
"The rest of you," McGonagall continued, her tone still dangerously calm, "are coming with me. And you will tell me everything, every single detail, about Professor Cromwell."