Familiar Faces Return
The castle became clear through the night sky as the carriages approached, the light shining through the vast windows illuminated the path below. As the carriages halted, you and the rest of its riders dispersed rather quickly which ended with Natty aiding a sick Duncan to the Great Hall who barely made it before vomiting once more. You were sure there was nothing left to expel but he surprised you every time.
By the time you had made it to the large wooden doors you had lost Garreth long ago with no inkling as to his whereabouts and Natty was still nursing a sick Duncan, leaving just you and Poppy to make your way to the Hufflepuff table. Though you were a sixth year, it was truly only your second as you entered the expansive room that was the Great Hall admiring the welcoming aura it gave off as if you hadn’t seen it before. Candles flew high above lighting what the gargoyle-guarded pyres could not, the four identical tables crammed end to end with students all of which had a proclivity for magic, and the risen platform at the opposite end of the towering doors was full of private chatter. The professors, each seated at their respective seats at the faculty table, were engaging in discussion with those beside them and beaming at the thought of bright new students ready to join their classes.
You headed farthest left to the grand table nearest to the wall, returning a small wave when you see Arthur Plummly flagging you down. His ear-to-ear grin and frantic waving knocked his glasses askew, which he quickly fixed as you sat to his right, Poppy slinking onto the bench across from you. “Thank goodness you’re here,” he sighed with relief, “I was worried you weren’t going to show this year.”
You looked at him with a quirked brow, “I took the train this year, thankfully less dragon encounters than the carriage.” Everyone smiled at the quick remark. “However, knowing Poppy my year will be chock-full of them.”
The attention fell on her small figure and red rushed to her cheeks, surely memories of her off-campus adventures making their way to the front of her mind.
“Perhaps there may be some dragon-related events in your future.” She said meekly, but to you it was her new confidence showing through. You thought of last year and her distrust of her peers, but she’s grown and is willingly engaging in banter with you and Arthur.
You were proud.
Headmaster Black appeared below the ornate stained windows that backed the narrow staff table, his dark figure seamlessly making its way toward the podium that lie at the head of the four tables. Some heads shifted their gaze toward his direction awaiting his announcement, others continued their conversation well aware of Black’s reputation. His body arrived at the podium; his hands, hidden behind the black leather of his gloves, rested at the peak of the wooden stand in front of him. You raised your eyes in anticipation.
The clearing of his throat audibly silenced any continued conversation, leaving only hushed whispers and a room waiting for him to begin.
“Welcome,” he paused, “to another school year at Hogwarts.” A few cheers came here and there, mostly from the farthest table adorned with students in red and gold robes.
“Before we begin the sorting ceremony for our new class of first years, I must make a few announcements.” He removed himself from behind the ornate stand and planted himself in front of it instead, perhaps a display of his serious intentions, perhaps something else entirely.
He gestured his gloved hand to his left toward an empty seat at the end of the table. The room was now completely without noise.
“We are currently looking for a new Magical Theory professor, when the position is filled the class will resume.” Black’s face was expressionless, perhaps some form of sorrow could be found if you looked hard enough. “Until then Magical Theory will be postponed.”
You couldn’t care less about Magical Theory; you couldn’t care less about the headmaster’s true feelings on the matter. Seeing the empty seat left just as it was when your fifth-year term ended only solidified in your mind what you already knew. He was gone. You knew he was when you held him in the Repository. You knew he was when there was no one to take you home, to pick you up at the end of August, to guide you to Hogwarts. You knew long before then, but it was no easier.
Fig was gone, and that would not change.
Arthur placed a hand on your back, a slight pat followed. He hadn’t even looked away from Headmaster Black to look at you.
“We will also be implementing a new curfew. Students are to be in their dormitories by 9:00pm—” an uproar began before he could even finish. His voice amplified, “—furthermore, Hogsmeade has upped security and visits will be heavily monitored. Any visits out of the regulated times must be approved by one of the professors behind me.” The room was abuzz for all the wrong reasons, as students expressed livid reactions to the new rules. You swore you even saw a Ravenclaw student reach for an apple, what he was planning to do you could only imagine.
Headmaster Black turned on his heel, head hanging low, but his hand shot up not a moment later, pointing toward the clear night sky the enchanted ceiling mimicked. “And one more thing…”
Students waited for whatever terrible news he could curse them with now, most checked out of the lecture entirely. His face was hidden but whatever he had to say seemed to pain him.
“Quidditch is reinstated thanks to our persistent flying instructor, Professor Kogawa.”
The cheers came immediately with many flying out of their seats to rejoice. Imelda Reyes was the most vocal of all, hearing her shout from the table beside yours with nothing but pure joy fueling her lungs. You didn’t get to experience Quidditch last year with its cancellation due to the injuries sustained during the previous season, but with this announcement you too felt a celebration brewing inside you. Normal students enjoy Quidditch, even play it sometimes. Perhaps you could be normal too.
The rest of the welcome feast went off without a hitch and the first years were sorted, gaining the Hufflepuff table a few new faces and the plates filled themselves in celebration. Arthur was discussing all the N.E.W.T level classes he enrolled in for this year and you felt overwhelmed on behalf of him, dreading your own classes. Across the table Poppy was enjoying her own plate of food, reaching for a dessert but hesitant to pick it up. You didn’t blame her; Duncan had expelled something similar looking off the side of the carriage earlier.
You enjoyed your own plate of food, your back warm to the touch with the pyres burning behind you. The announcement of Quidditch earlier brought to your attention the other faces you hadn’t bumped into yet and your curiosity got the better of you.
On the opposite end of the room, you immediately spotted Natty who was now free of her caretaker duties and enjoying the festivities and across from her was a head full of curly red hair, enthusiastically engaged in a conversation—you assumed this was Garreth, however you couldn’t quite make out the topic of conversation over the rest of the Hall. At the head of the Gryffindor table, you spotted Leander who was sporting a shiny new badge on his school robes.
A prefect now, huh?
Moving closer to the glittering blue and bronze you caught a quick glimpse of Duncan, who seemed to be in much better spirits than he was when you first saw him, though his plate was rather empty compared to the rest of his housemates. Amit stood out amongst the Ravenclaws, currently chatting off the ear of a first year, most likely about Astronomy you supposed—you still had the telescope he gave you last year. However near to Amit was Everett, who you caught sending nasty looks towards Imelda, reminding you of his proclivity for flying and wondered if his temper was related to the reinstated Quidditch.
I wouldn’t want to be caught in a match against him.
However, at the Slytherin table you found that Imelda was happier than a clam. Her plate full of roast beef, potatoes in all different styles, and whatever else she could find t0 prepare her for the Quidditch season. She seemed to be attempting to recruit Violet McDowell, who didn’t seem impressed, but as you scanned the rest of the Slytherin table your eyes fell on Ominis. His face was still, eyes forward; he didn’t seem to be enjoying the food like everyone else was. Instinctively you scanned around him for Sebastian, but he was nowhere to be seen. Your heart sunk.
At the end of last year, after everything, you and Ominis agreed to keep what happened in Feldcroft between you two, neither of you were exactly sure what brought you to that decision, but since then you had kept your word. Had Ominis? Was Sebastian just late? Was he simply not hungry and skipped the feast? Or was he found out somehow and expelled?
You didn’t like any of the thoughts flooding your mind. You drew your gaze down to your plate, only scraps left on it and a new fullness present in your stomach. You let yourself listen to the conversations happening at your table feeling it was better than letting worry overtake you. Sacharissa was criticizing the hygienic practices of a new first year across from her, and you were unamused.
Students were dismissed from the hall and escorted back to their common rooms for the night. Your plans differed. Slowing your pace until you were at the rear of the Hufflepuff group, you turned and headed the opposite direction when no one was looking. There was only one place on your mind; you had to check before you settled in for the night, otherwise you knew you wouldn’t sleep.
Climbing the stone staircase, you were aware of the strict curfew rules Black had just set in place, but sneaky as you were you managed to not bump into any prefects on your way as you approached the narrow staircase, an alcove left empty next to it. Instead of climbing further you headed into the cutout, an ornate wardrobe lay tucked away in the corner. Giving one last look around you brandished your wand, raising it toward the celestial décor of the wardrobe; and then you swished. The hands of the dials turned every which way clinking lightly as they went, the wooden door flew open, beckoning you inside. One foot in front of the other, you closed the door firmly behind you, intent on keeping the Undercroft a secret, if not for Sebastian, then for Ominis.
You made your way down the spiral stone staircase thinking of last year and your first conversation with Ominis, as unwelcoming as it was. Sebastian had introduced you to the wooden cabinet in the corner, seemingly average enough until he gestured for you to open it. He told you it was Ominis who found it astonishingly, knowing he was blind this threw you off guard. You learned more about the Slytherin boy that day than you had ever intended, especially after your run-in with him on your way out of the Undercroft, clearly remembering his immediate hostility towards you.
How things change.
Your hand rested on the cold metal grate of the entrance, with a firm push it opened and it felt like you were back in your fifth year, invited here for the first time to learn an ‘illicit’ spell from the brunet who was now missing a year later.
It looks the same, you thought.
It was cold and damp, what little warmth and light that was there was came flickering from the chandeliers dotted around. The greyed bags and barrels had remained, dust collecting around them from a lack of routine cleaning, candles burned near the base of the pillars that held up the stone roof, dedicated to lighting up what little they could. Old blackboards that were scratched and cracked still held the many writings of charms and runes that the users of the space left before.
Then there was the triptych. It was hard to ignore, but you had tried. Your robes flowed silently behind you, gathering dust and ash at the base as you made your way to the front of the paneled pictures. The portrait remained empty, a part of you was glad Isidora had not shown to assign you a new life-threatening quest and part of you yearned for more answers, answers to the pile of questions that still haunted your mind.
An answer as to why the hair on the back of your neck was standing as you got closer in proximity to the triptych, it was the same feeling you had when you approached the old mirror in King’s Cross Station earlier. However, there were no swirls or portals to be found, just a feeling.
Unbeknownst to you, a figure had been eyeing your movements throughout the Undercroft. He watched you enter; he watched you examine the place as if you were reliving your past all over again, he watched you hesitantly approach the empty portrait. You did not watch him approach the pensieve behind you.
“Didn’t think I’d bump into you here of all places.” You jumped at the sudden intrusion of what you thought was a vacant room, whipping your head around to find the culprit.
Your eyes softened as they met the warm brown ones of none other than Sebastian Sallow. Your heart tightened as he made his way around the pensieve to come closer to you, his face plastered with a strained look; you were unable to read it. As he closed the distance you realized something had changed.
“You’ve…” you paused, unsure of yourself, “…gotten taller?”
His eyes widened followed by a burst of laughter. You chuckled nervously along, even though your statement was true, you confirmed it as he approached you, your neck straining farther than it did last year to meet his eyes. Now that you had broken the ice, you looked at him more closely. He had broadened at the shoulders a bit more, but still had a full frame—and face for that matter; his hair, a bit wilder than before and longer—in desperate need of a haircut.
You wondered what had changed, but you knew deep down. He lived alone now; all his growth was probably him taking care of the home in Feldcroft without help. As for the hair, you could only imagine he didn’t know how to cut it himself. Other than that, he was still the same, his freckles and moles still plastered messily about his face, his gait still full of determination, and his smile still cheeky.
“Was that too far?” You asked, unsure if the observation had been too much.
“No, not at all. Just that you haven’t seen me for three months and that’s the first thing you say.” His hand reached toward the back of his head, tousling his untamed hair while nervousness drenched over him.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He eyed you, not knowing where to start, whether to ask you how you’ve been, to tell you all he’s accomplished, or fall to his knees and grovel for how he left your friendship in June. The words never found their way to his mouth, instead you were next to speak.
“I didn’t see you in the Great Hall earlier.” You left the sentence there, hoping he would understand your desire to know his whereabouts. He understood very well.
The corner of his mouth tightened, unsure if to beat around the bush or speak plainly. He opted for the smarter route.
“I wasn’t ready.” Your eyes darted between his, beckoning for him to continue. “I don’t know if I should be here after what happened last year, in Feldcroft…” the last word barely made it out, his eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry, for bringing you—no, dragging you into that. I’ve…had time to reflect.” He cracked a smile, but you knew it wasn’t one of humor.
You shuffled your foot, scuffing it against the stone floor of the Undercroft, Sebastian’s eyes made their way to yours once more, this time it was his turn to search yours for answers. Your answer surprised him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.” You didn’t elaborate further instead opting to embrace him, something you felt he needed. He was stiff against your hold, and you let go soon after, not wishing to overstep his boundaries after a tumultuous summer.
You bid him a good night, promising to send him a letter when you get some free time and with that left, closing the metal gate of the Undercroft behind you.
Sebastian stayed in the Undercroft a little while longer after you departed, reflecting on your conversation and eyeing the triptych just like you had.