Fragments of Time

“What in Merlin’s beard?” Ominis exclaimed, astonished, as he brought his sentient wand closer to the newly revealed magical artifacts in his family’s secret hall. He heard Theowen approach, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the Pensieve.

“Does your family know about the Triptych and Pensieve hidden here?” Theowen asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Ominis turned towards her, shaking his head. “There was never any mention of a Pensieve here, let alone a whole Triptych,” he replied, still awestruck. “I always assumed this place was where my ancestors secretly practiced the Dark Arts.”

Theowen stepped closer to the painting. “One is restored, but two remain bare. With each piece returned, we can see her memories.”

Ominis, filled with curiosity and confusion, waited silently for her to continue. “It seems this place wasn’t so secret to your family. An Ancient Magic user from the past also used it to hide her secrets.”

“Do you know who it was?” Ominis inquired, sensing her look up from the Pensieve.

A pregnant pause followed as she considered whether he was trustworthy. Finally, she continued, “Her name was Isadora Morganach. She was a student here at Hogwarts and later became a professor—a fifth-year student, like me.”

Ominis sensed the story did not end well. “She lived during the Tudor period. Her magic was discovered by other Ancient Magic practitioners here at Hogwarts, known as the Keepers. They took her in and trained her.”

“I sense her story ended tragically?” Ominis asked, raising an eyebrow.

She chuckled. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

He crossed his arms. “If it did, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

There was truth in his words, as his wits had often saved him from his family’s bullying. His wand detected Theowen’s frown at his statement, but he couldn’t understand why since he meant no offense.

Theowen looked away and continued, “A Killing Curse was cast upon her by one of the Keepers.”

Ominis’ eyes widened. “Using the Dark Arts? But why?”

She shrugged. “Desperation? I think it’s better to show you,” she said, guiding him towards the Pensieve.

He hesitated at first. “Are you sure?”

Her grip on his arm remained steady. “Yes.”

Without further words, he leaned towards the magical waters and listened as the scene unfolded.

Theowen clasped her arms, feeling perplexed as she waited for Ominis to finish absorbing the Pensieve’s memories. She had done it now, altered the past. Theowen had always intended to do so, but now that it directly affected him, she was frightened, hoping it wouldn’t lead to a more severe event than before. She shook her head, reassuring herself that this was the best course of action. Nothing was worse than living in a world without him.

Moments later, Ominis lifted his head from the Pensieve, his eyes wide with revelation. “O-Ominis? Are you alright?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to startle him further.

He whipped his head towards her, causing her to flinch in surprise. “S-she was able to take away pain…”

Theowen clasped her hands tightly, hoping he wouldn’t react out of desperation as Sebastian had in the past. “Yes…”

“Was that the reason why she was killed?” he asked, surprising her. She confirmed, “Yes, after the event you just saw, she became obsessive, almost manic, in her quest to take away people’s pain, even without their consent.”

Ominis started to pace, lost in thought, before stopping and turning towards her. “I understand. Your secret is safe with me. Thank you for showing me.”

Her eyes widened in shock; she had expected him to want to use Isadora’s magic on Anne. “B-but…weren’t you—” she stammered, nearly revealing her knowledge about Anne.

Ominis looked puzzled by her reaction, and Theowen quickly composed herself. “No—never mind. Sorry, it has been a very long day.”

He chuckled. “Clearly.”

“I’ll excuse myself, as you can probably sense I’m in desperate need of a bath,” Theowen replied wearily, feeling the adrenaline from earlier dissipate.

Ominis nodded. “Evidently so. I trust you can keep this location to yourself?”

Theowen smiled. “Without a doubt.”

She was about to use the main exit when she remembered something important. “O-Ominis, I have a favour…”

Curious, he waited as she continued. “If you don’t mind, destroy the Pensieve and the Triptych. They could raise questions with…Sebastian.”

His eyes widened slightly in realization before he nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

Theowen sighed with relief. “Thank you…” she said before turning to leave and walking up the stairs. She heard Ominis cast Inferno and smiled, glad that at least this part was sorted and grateful for the momentary respite after her ordeal.

Her days blurred together after the whole ordeal. Theowen decided to lie low, attending classes and completing all the extra tasks assigned by the professors to catch up. She had heard that Aurors had recently come to investigate Feldcroft, likely because of her. Her roommates, however, found her increasingly suspicious due to her disheveled state when returning from the Undercroft. As much as she wanted to cast Obliviate on them, she hesitated, knowing that casting such a spell wantonly could raise suspicions.

The Great Hall was bustling with students coming and going after lunch. The vast chamber was illuminated by floating candles, casting a warm glow over the four long house tables. The enchanted ceiling reflected the sky outside, currently showing a bright, sunny afternoon. The walls were adorned with majestic tapestries and banners representing the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Professors sat at the head table, overseeing the students while they ate and conversed.

Some students stayed in their seats, scribbling away at their tasks as they ate their food. Theowen was one of them. She couldn’t believe that Professor Sharp had assigned a ten-inch essay on Dittany and its uses. She had no problem telling Sharp until his ears bled about the usefulness of Dittany, but writing it was tedious, even with an enchanted quill. Her task was interrupted as the flapping of wings approached, and an owl swiftly dropped a letter in front of her before flying away.

Theowen was puzzled about who the letter could be from. Opening it, she found it was from none other than Sirona. She had almost forgotten her meeting with Lodgok. She had assumed she would have more time to rest and blend in as a regular fifth-year before this happened. Sighing, she closed the letter and placed it within her robe before packing her papers to stop by her dormitory on her way to Hogsmeade.

“Hello, Lodgok. Sirona said I might find you here,” Theowen greeted the Goblin as he sat leisurely drinking his mead. Compared to the charm of Three Broomsticks, the Hog’s Head was a more unrefined establishment, frequented by a rougher crowd. The air was thick with the scent of stale ale and the faint odour of livestock. Dim lighting cast long shadows over the grimy wooden floors, and the walls were adorned with peeling paint and old, faded posters. The bar was cluttered with mismatched bottles and dusty glassware, giving the place a sense of neglect. Underneath the tavern, hidden from plain view, lay one of the headquarters of Rookwood’s gang of poachers.

Lodgok looked up with curiosity and guardedness, which was warranted given the unfair treatment of Goblins and other magical creatures by wizards and witches. “She  did, did she? Did she send you with news?" he asked cautiously.

Theowen shook her head, mirroring her earlier gesture. "No. Actually, I wanted to speak with you. It's about Ranrok."

Before coming here, she had ruminated on the best way to approach Lodgok without endangering his life. Theowen felt a deep sense of guilt over how much Lodgok had risked to bring her information about Ranrok’s plans, ultimately paying with his life at the hands of his own brother. She considered whether to reveal everything now, lying that she possessed the skills of a Seer. But she dismissed the idea, realizing that such a proclamation would become redundant once she changed future events. Moreover, divulging an overwhelming amount of personal information out of the blue would likely scare him away, which would be a natural reaction.

So, Theowen came to the conclusion that there was only one way to help Lodgok. Risky, but if it worked, the payoff would be worth it. She decided to let things continue as they were, trying to gain his trust by pointlessly seeking the Helmet of Urtkot. But the moment she obtained it would be when she put her plan into motion.

She had noticed that both she and Ranrok wielded the same type of corrupt magic. Knowing that the magic itself was oddly transferable, she wondered if she could transfer the corruption to herself. She still lacked the understanding or control of the magic, especially a corrupted one. Another poignant thing to add to her never-ending growing list.

Though the main goal was not only saving his life but ensuring that Bragbor's journal didn't fall into Ranrok's hands. Not again, not like last time. She sat in the chair, reiterating her words from the last timeline as her mind moved like clockwork, planning and counter-planning different steps to save the people she hadn't been able to save before.

Theowen stepped into the greenhouse for her first Herbology class, greeted by a vibrant explosion of greenery. The space was filled with an array of magical plants, their leaves rustling softly in the warm, humid air. The scent of earth and blooming flowers mingled with the sharper tang of more exotic specimens, creating an intoxicating aroma that filled the room. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls and ceiling, casting dappled patterns on the stone floor.

Professor Garlick's classroom was a bustling hive of activity. Rows of long wooden tables were filled with students settling into their seats, chatting excitedly, and examining the assortment of plants before them. The walls were lined with shelves holding pots of various sizes, each containing a different plant. Some were flowering, while others had leaves that glowed faintly or moved of their own accord.

Professor Garlick, a cheerful witch with a bright smile and fiery red hair, stood at the front of the classroom. Her long twin braids reached down to her hips, and she wore a verdant green witch hat adorned with orange blooms, matching her lively personality and the vibrant setting around her. She moved with an effortless grace, her enthusiasm for her subject evident in every gesture.

Theowen observed as Professor Garlick handed out Pungous Onions, their pungent smell causing students to recoil slightly, their faces scrunching in distaste. She approached the professor, who handed her an onion with a sympathetic smile.

"Class, please welcome the new rose in our garden," Professor Garlick said in a sing-song tune, her voice carrying over the chatter. "We do look forward to growing together."

Theowen smiled in greeting towards the classroom, her eyes briefly meeting Sebastian's and Ominis's. They were seated far apart, and her smile faltered slightly at the sight. With her Pungous Onion in hand, she made her way to the only available seat, which was next to Sebastian. He refused to look at her or speak, his posture tense and closed off.

The class proceeded much as it had in her last timeline. Professor Garlick introduced herself and the subject of Herbology, her enthusiasm contagious despite the students' initial reluctance. The first lesson was on repotting Mandrake roots, a challenging but essential skill.

"Now, remember to use your earmuffs," Professor Garlick instructed as she demonstrated the proper technique. "Mandrakes can be quite... vocal when disturbed."

Theowen donned her Pungous Onion, glancing at Sebastian, who still avoided her gaze. She focused on the task at hand, carefully removing the Mandrake from its pot. As soon as the root was exposed, the Mandrake let out a horrifying scream. The sound was so intense that it shattered several glass panes of Garlick's greenhouse, causing students to jump back in fright.

Despite the chaos, Theowen managed to secure the screaming plant into its new pot, patting the soil down around it as quickly as possible. The shrill cry ceased, and she removed her earmuffs, the ringing in her ears slowly subsiding.

The ringing in her ears slowly subsiding, Theowen refocused as Professor Garlick moved on with the lesson. The class swiftly transitioned to planting Dittany and other varieties of magical flora. Towards the end of the class, Garlick introduced Theowen to some of her more violent plants.

As in her previous timeline, Leander Prewett approached her, offering to show her how to handle the Chinese Chomping Cabbages. Theowen had little recollection of Prewett beyond a forgettable encounter during an unsanctioned duel. He was eager, but she found his enthusiasm unmemorable.

Prewett led her to another section of the greenhouse, where the gnarly cabbages waited. Theowen picked up the cabbages effortlessly and tossed them toward a dummy, watching as they snapped and chomped aggressively.

"Vicious little bastards, aren't they? My kind of plants—not like stupid Bubotubers and Bouncing Bulbs. The kinds of plants that have your back in a fight," Prewett remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Indeed they do," Theowen replied, recalling how the cabbages had been invaluable in her battles against Goblins and Dark Wizards.

Their attention was diverted when Ominis walked in, his wand guiding him toward them. "Prewett, Professor Garlick summoned you back to class. She asked me to take over."

Theowen immediately recognized the lie, as this had never happened in her previous timeline. Prewett hesitated but knew better than to question a Gaunt. The red-haired boy nodded, smiling briefly at Theowen in greeting.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it," he said, and promptly exited the greenhouse.

Once Prewett was gone, Theowen turned to Ominis, raising an eyebrow. "Do you need something from me, Ominis?" Theowen questioned with amusement, raising an eyebrow.

Ominis hesitated, silent for a moment as he steeled himself to broach the subject. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I need a favour, and only someone with your skills might be capable of... curing someone."

Theowen blinked at the statement, knowing where this was going. "I'm not so sure that my capabilities in that sort of magic have anything to do with healing."

"It's not healing magic that I require," Ominis explained, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly uncomfortable with his request. "She was cursed."

Theowen stepped closer to him and leaned against the potted tables nearby. "Mind painting me the full picture, Ominis? I can't decide to help you unless you explain more in detail."

He blinked profusely. "Right..." He was reluctant to explain, knowing that even though she was a friend, she was not one of his most trusted companions. Understanding this stung Theowen slightly, but she couldn't blame him. The man had been through so much; trust to him was worth more than any treasure in the world.

"It's Sebastian," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness and desperation. "He's been insistent on finding Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium. The reason he's so obsessed with researching dark magic is because of his twin sister, Anne."

Theowen stayed silent, prompting him to continue. "Anne was cursed by a Goblin. We've tried everything, and no one has been able to alleviate her curse."

"Until you saw Isadora's memories in the Pensieve," Theowen confirmed, leading Ominis to give her a grave nod.

"I know what I'm asking is too much, and there are risks involved, but I believe delving into the Dark Arts has far more consequences than Ancient Magic."

Theowen hesitated. There was some truth in his words. She had seen how corrupted Sebastian had become due to his mastery of the Dark Arts. But what about Ancient Magic? She noticed that the whispers and her lashing out in rage and violence were as deadly, if not more so, than the Dark Arts.

One of her goals was to cure Anne, but she had planned to use Isadora's skill on Anne as a final choice, not the first. There were many side effects she did not fully understand.

"Ominis," she began cautiously, "I understand your desperation. I do. But Ancient Magic is not without its dangers. I've seen how it can corrupt, just like the Dark Arts. Isadora's methods, while powerful, come with risks we're not fully aware of."

Ominis sucked in his breath, thinking she was about to reject him. "It does not mean that I will not help her, but I prefer to use Isadora's method only when we are left with no other choice. Is that alright?"

He sighed in relief. "That's perfectly acceptable. Though, do you have any other ideas to alleviate the curse?”

Theowen smiled, her pride as an experienced curse-breaker bolstering her confidence. “I cannot say for sure, but it would be great if I could meet her first.”

Ominis frowned. “That might be difficult. My relationship with Sebastian at the moment is not stellar, and visiting the Sallows without him is improper.”

“Indeed it is,” Theowen nodded. “While we think of a solution for that particular hiccup, I do have a favour to ask of you as well.”

Ominis smiled. “After agreeing to help someone you’ve never met, I’d say I’m already very much indebted to you.”

This time it was Theowen who hesitated. “Since you already know about Isadora and much of my magic, I believe that… it will be beneficial for both of us—you especially—to know more about the nature of Ancient Magic. We need all the information we can get in order to cure Anne.”

His face filled with confusion. “Of course, what do you have in mind?”

Theowen gripped her hands, unsure if involving Ominis with the business of the Keepers was the right decision. However, she had an idea that she wanted to turn Ominis into one of the members of the Keepers, just as Professor Fig had. If she wanted to cure Anne and hunt down Rookwood and Ranrok, she wouldn’t have to explain her sudden reappearances in the Undercroft constantly to him. So far, he had been trustworthy enough to keep her secret and not force her hand or manipulate her to use her Ancient Magic as Sebastian had done in the past.

“Meet me at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”