Fragments of Time

The descent into the depths of the Scriptorium was unsettling. The air grew colder and damper with each step, the oppressive darkness pressing in around them. Their footsteps echoed in the narrow passageway, kicking up dust that had settled undisturbed for years. The walls, slick with moisture, were adorned with faded, carvings of snakes, their beauty long lost to time. The air was thick with a musty scent, mingling with the faint odour of decay.

Ominis felt a chill crawl down his spine as whispers floated in the air, barely audible but unmistakable. Only he could hear them, their eerie, disembodied voices sending shivers through his bones. The whispers grew louder and more insistent as they ventured further, as if the walls themselves were alive, holding the secrets of a bygone era.

They came upon a broken stone mural scattered on the floor with a large door heavily decorated with serpents blocking their path. Sebastian, eager to proceed, cast Repairo on the shattered pieces. As the mural reassembled, the whispers intensified, their words becoming clearer. "Speak to me," they urged, their hissing voices resonating with Ominis. He realized with a start that only a Parselmouth could hear and respond to the call.

Theowen noticed a piece of paper near the broken mural. Picking it up, she recognized the handwriting immediately—it was from Ominis's beloved Aunt. Memories from her past washed over her, filled with regret for her past actions. She had been too engrossed in her own selfish desire for adventure to notice the notes back then. The weight of her past mistakes settled heavily on her shoulders.

Before they had a chance to proceed, Theowen placed a hand on Ominis's shoulder. "Ominis..." she began softly.

He turned to her, sensing the gravity in her voice. Before he could respond, she pressed the fragile piece of paper into his hand. He could feel its age and fragility, and before he could question it, she spoke again.

"I believe you need a moment..." she said gently, her voice filled with remorse.

Ominis held the paper delicately, the whispers around him momentarily forgotten as he processed the significance of the note from his aunt. The dark, damp passage seemed to close in around him, the eerie atmosphere amplifying the weight of the moment seemed to close in around Ominis as he held the fragile piece of parchment in his trembling hands. His wand muttered the words written on the parchment to his mind, and he realized with dread that it was from none other than Noctua. It was a journal entry, hastily written, filled with her determination to prevent their family from using the Dark Arts. Each word echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of her sacrifice and the danger that lay ahead.

As he continued to read, Ominis's heart clenched painfully. What was even more damning was that she had sent his father a letter before she disappeared, proving that his father knew all along where she was but did nothing. The realization hit him like a physical blow, and anger rose from within him, bubbling up like a cauldron about to overflow. His breath quickened, and he could feel the heat of his rage seeping through his skin, mingling with the cold, damp air around them.

Tears threatened to escape, blurring his vision. He felt his composure slipping away with each passing second, the weight of betrayal and sorrow pressing down on him. The pain was excruciating, a raw wound that had been torn open, exposing the depth of his anguish. Memories of his aunt, her gentle voice, and her unwavering kindness flooded his mind, making the betrayal all the more unbearable.

Ominis's grip tightened around the parchment, his knuckles white with strain. The knowledge that his rotten father, the man who was supposed to protect their family, had knowingly abandoned his own sister, Noctua to her fate was a bitter pill to swallow. The sense of helplessness and betrayal was overwhelming, each breath he took feeling like a struggle against the suffocating weight of his emotions.

The whispers in the air grew louder, their eerie tones merging with the chaotic turmoil inside him. It felt as though the very walls of the Scriptorium were mocking him, reminding him of the darkness that had plagued his family for generations. His chest ached with the force of his grief, and he could feel the tears beginning to spill over, tracing hot paths down his cheeks.

In the midst of his turmoil, he felt an embrace with a warmth and tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the cold, dark surroundings. Ominis hesitated for a moment, then letting himself lean into her comforting presence. The gentle pressure of Theowen's arms around him was a small comfort, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this moment of despair helped Ominis anchor himself amidst the storm of emotions.

"We should head back," Theowen whispered, "We can do this another day," she reassured readying herself to somehow find a way to destroy the stone wall that closed in on them moments ago. 

After a while, he sighed, his face still hidden in the crook of her neck, shaking his head. "No...the moment we entered, the passage closed. We have no choice but to press forward," he said grimly.

Theowen nodded, "Alright. Whenever you're ready."

He let himself be lost in her warmth for a few moments longer, drawing strength from her embrace. The whispers and Sebastian's impatient pacing haunted him, a constant reminder of the urgency of their quest. Finally, he released her and stepped back.

"Thank you," he said with a small, grateful smile before turning towards the large door.

As he approached the door, Ominis looked back in their general direction and heaved another sigh. Gathering his resolve, he spoke in Parseltongue, the hissing words echoing through the damp air. The serpents carved into the door seemed to come alive, slithering towards the top. Their eyes glowed a sickly sap colour, and with a grinding noise, the passageway began to open.

Theowen noticed that Sebastian was about to make a comment. However, judging from the earlier interaction, he knew it was better to remain tight-lipped. They pressed forward, only to hear another groan from him. "There's no clear way forward," he complained.

Ominis, anticipating the challenge, responded, "Salazar Slytherin most likely wanted this to be difficult to solve."

As all three of them entered, the large door behind them closed in an instant, sending a gust of wind and dust their way. They coughed and fanned the dust from their noses.

"Well... There's only one way through," Sebastian commented, brushing off the dust from his robes.

"I'll look around," Theowen suggested. The two boys did the same, while Theowen, already familiar with the puzzles, quickly began solving them as she had in the past. She also kept an eye out for more of Noctua's journal entries. Surprisingly, she found many, wondering if they were clues left behind for those brave enough to venture into the Scriptorium. She refrained from reading them, knowing she had no right to their contents, and instead handed them directly to Ominis.

Theowen swiftly solved the puzzles to the gates, her actions almost mechanical in their efficiency. She was too focused on her task to notice the suspicion growing in Sebastian's mind. He watched her, his brow furrowing as she moved with an uncanny familiarity through the ancient, treacherous Scriptorium.

"How are you finding these so easily?" Sebastian asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Theowen paused, realizing her mistake. "I... I think it's quite obvious. The serpents and the braziers placed on the sides," she explained, trying to sound casual.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but unwilling to argue. "Just be careful. We don't know what else might be down here."

Ominis, clutching the newly found journal entries, looked at Theowen with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Thank you," he said softly, feeling the weight of his aunt's words through the fragile parchment.

They pressed on, the eerie atmosphere thickening around them. The ancient walls seemed to whisper secrets, the air heavy with the presence of long-forgotten magic. As they ventured deeper, the path ahead grew darker and more foreboding, each step a reminder of the unknown dangers that lay ahead.

Each step was a reminder of the unknown dangers that lay ahead. As Theowen ventured deeper with Sebastian and Ominis, she knew what was coming: the Crucio door and the remains of Ominis's aunt. The dread within her grew, a cold knot tightening in her stomach with each forward movement. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the oppressive weight of the place pressed heavily on her.

The corridor ahead was narrower, the walls closing in with an unsettling claustrophobia. The torches lining the walls flickered weakly, casting long, wavering shadows that danced like spectres in the dim light. The air was colder here, tinged with the metallic scent of old blood and the musty decay of centuries.

At last, they reached the Crucio door. It loomed before them, a grotesque testament to Slytherin's dark legacy. The door was adorned with intricate carvings of a writhing woman in a hood, her face twisted with pain. Her anguished expression was captured in exquisite, horrifying detail, every line and crease etched deeply into the stone. The sight was both mesmerizing and repulsive, a chilling reminder of the dark magic that guarded this place.

Lying at the foot of the door were the skeletal remains of Ominis's aunt, Noctua. The sight was harrowing. Her skeletal form was curled in a foetal position, her robes tattered and stained with the passage of time. The bones were bleached white, brittle and fragile, a stark contrast to the dark stone around them. Her hand, bony and fragile, pointed towards something hastily scrawled on the floor: Crucio.

The last journal entry, she thought, the same one Sebastian found in her past timeline. She took the fragile parchment and, with sadness, handed it to Ominis. It didn't take long for him to not only understand his surroundings but also to read the entry. Theowen could see his face contort in pain as he slowly approached the skeletal remains. With a broken whimper, he said, "Just how long has she—" He sucked in his breath to regain his sobriety. "This is where she died. This is where we'll die. I shouldn't have listened to you!"

Theowen sucked in her breath, expecting that this might happen, although she was still unprepared for how painful it felt. "I'm truly sorry about your aunt," she whispered before summoning a large piece of cloth and placing the remains, piece by piece, slowly onto the fabric.

"What are you doing?" Ominis questioned, his voice laced with confusion, sadness, and anger.

She hesitated before continuing, it was one of the many regrets she had when she first traversed this place—not giving this woman a proper burial. "I believe she needs a proper burial, one that is befitting of respect," Theowen explained, undeterred.

Ominis looked away for a moment, his emotions regaining their former composure before kneeling beside her to gather his aunt's remains. Sebastian, on the other hand, was still by the door, feeling helpless about what was unravelling.

"I should never have brought us here," Ominis murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. 

Theowen shook her head gently. "No, Ominis. Your aunt came here to stop the dark arts from being used by your family. She didn't die in vain. We can still honour her memory by finishing what she started."

Sebastian finally spoke up, his voice shaky but determined. "Theowen's right. We can finish this. I know what to do."

She looked at Sebastian with a disapproving glare as she carefully wrapped the last of Noctua's remains. Ominis and Theowen stood up, the oppressive silence of the Scriptorium seemed to weigh even heavier now. 

"I would rather we all die here as she did if I have to cast the Cruciatus curse, Sebastian," Ominis warned, knowing full well what Sebastian had meant.

She could see the panic rising within Sebastian as he approached Ominis, trying to plead with him, "This is why Noctua died. She had no one to cast the curse on. You have the most experience with it, so I believe—"

"Sebastian!" Theowen called out disdainfully, understanding his desperation to avoid death but knowing this approach would only make things worse.

"The Cruciatus curse is pure torture. I would know," Ominis replied, seething with anger before his tone turned to regret. "I will never cast that curse upon anyone ever again."

Theowen knew the incident well, one of his deepest traumas inflicted by his family—haunting him into adulthood. Sebastian had told her before in her past timeline, but Ominis revealed more details years later during one of their many conversations as adults. Pureblood families often kidnapped Muggles for experimentation or acts of torture. Ominis was the odd one out, refusing to participate, which led to him becoming a target of his elder brother’s cruelty.

"Unforgivable curses won't work unless you really mean them. I had to want to cause pain. And for that, I shall never forgive myself for casting it on either of you," he explained, pleading with Sebastian not to make him curse any of his friends.

"Ridiculous!" Sebastian exclaimed furiously. "As if dying here is a better option than casting a damned spell! I will cast it!"

The other two whipped their heads towards him in shock and horror. His words had never been said in her previous timeline. Things had changed, mainly due to Theowen's closeness to Ominis instead of him. Sebastian's desperation was palpable, his isolation driving him to extremes. In her past, Ominis had volunteered to have the curse cast on him, and she had vowed not to let that happen again.

"Sebastian... What are you—" Ominis whispered in horror, realization dawning on him that Sebastian had delved deeper into desperation than he had ever imagined, teaching himself an Unforgivable Curse. His eyes were wide, his face pale as he tried to process the depth of Sebastian's determination.

Before tension could escalate further, Theowen stepped forward boldly, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "Cast it on me, then," she declared, catching both boys off guard. Ominis's reaction was immediate and vehement. "Theowen, no. You don't know what you're asking for!" His voice trembled with a mixture of fear and anger, fully aware of the excruciating pain the curse inflicted, yet unaware that Theowen had endured it herself in the past.

She halted Ominis with a quiet but resolute whisper, her eyes locking onto his, filled with determination. "It's either you cast it on one of us, or he does. Neither of us will," she insisted. "Besides, we owe it to your aunt to give her a proper burial. I doubt she'd want you to remain here with her." Her words hung in the air, appealing to Ominis's sense of honour and respect. The weight of their situation pressed heavily on them, the oppressive atmosphere of the Scriptorium amplifying every word.

Ominis stood frozen, torn between his principles and the grim reality before them. After a long, agonizing moment of contemplation, he sighed heavily, conceding, "Very well. But Sebastian will not cast the curse on you." Theowen's breath hitched, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and determination. Internally, she chastised herself for the blush creeping to her cheeks at such a moment, quickly regaining her composure.

"I'm sorry, Ominis. But I've made my decision. Please respect it," she said firmly, hoping to dissuade any further objections from him. Her voice was steady, but the gravity of the moment weighed heavily on her, the air thick with anticipation and fear. Ominis, his lips pressed into a thin line, recognized the need to honour her choice as a gentleman.

Without allowing Ominis to interject, Theowen turned resolutely towards Sebastian. "Do it. Now," she commanded, her voice unwavering despite the tumult of emotions within her. Sebastian, his face a mask of desperation and fear, nodded slowly. He raised his wand, the tip trembling slightly. The tension in the air was palpable, each second stretching into an eternity as he prepared to cast the curse.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint sound of their breathing. The weight of their predicament pressed down on them, the dark walls of the Scriptorium closing in. Theowen stood firm, her eyes locked on Sebastian, bracing herself for the inevitable pain, knowing that this was their only way forward.

As Sebastian raised his wand, her mind flashed back to the first time she had faced the Cruciatus curse, mercilessly cast by Sebastian himself. The trauma and fear from that experience still lingered, a persistent shadow in her thoughts. Yet, she pushed down the memories, steeling herself for what was to come. Without any further words, her eyes shut tightly, preparing for the worst.

She could hear Sebastian's voice, strained and desperate, casting the spell. "Crucio."

The pain hit her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in agony. It felt as if her bones were being shattered from the inside, her muscles twisting and contorting against her will. Her screams echoed through the Scriptorium, the sound bouncing off the cold, stone walls. The searing torment was overwhelming, a relentless assault that threatened to consume her entirely. She could feel her skin burning, her insides writhing as if they were being torn apart.

Yet, amidst the excruciating pain, a small part of her mind noted that it wasn't as unbearable as the last time. It was still agonizing, still enough to make her want to claw her own skin off, but there was a slight difference. Perhaps it was the determination to see this through, to honour Noctua's memory and protect her friends, that gave her the strength to endure it better this time.

Her vision blurred with tears, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought to maintain some semblance of control. She could feel her body convulsing, the pain radiating in waves, but she refused to succumb. She thought of Ominis, of the look on his face when he realized what she was about to endure, and it gave her a small measure of comfort. She wasn't alone in this; they were in it together.

Seconds stretched into an eternity, each heartbeat a drum of torment. She could hear Sebastian's panicked breathing, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to maintain the curse. The room seemed to close in on her, the darkness pressing in, but she held on, clinging to the thought that this was their only way forward.

Finally, mercifully, the curse was lifted. Theowen collapsed to the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably, the echoes of the pain still reverberating through her. Her skin was slick with sweat, her muscles twitching in the aftermath of the torture. She lay there, gasping for breath, her mind struggling to process that the immediate agony had ended. Through her blurred vision, she saw the door ahead of them dissolve, revealing the entrance to the Scriptorium.

Despite the pain, Theowen felt a grim satisfaction. She had not instinctively repelled Sebastian's attack as she had in their initial duel, which would have defeated the entire purpose. Her body ached, and every breath was a struggle, but they had succeeded.

Ominis was beside her in an instant, his hands shaking as he helped her sit up. "Theowen... are you alright?" His voice was filled with anguish and guilt, his eyes searching her face for any sign of permanent damage.

Theowen, through her blurred vision, managed a weak smile. "I'm alright. I just need a moment," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could see Ominis nodding, his face still etched with apprehension and worry for her well-being.

As she steadied herself, she noticed Sebastian standing off to the side, his expression ridden with guilt. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to be caught in his throat. Theowen, determined to reassure him, spoke weakly, "Go on ahead, Sebastian. We'll catch up..."

She saw him hesitate, his eyes flickering with a mixture of remorse and reluctance. Finally, he nodded, his voice a barely audible whisper of thanks before he turned and ran headlong into the Scriptorium. The sound of his footsteps quickly faded, leaving Ominis and Theowen in a heavy silence.

Ominis stayed close, his concern evident in every line of his face. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked softly, his hand gently brushing against her arm as if to offer support without overwhelming her.

Theowen took a few deep breaths, willing her body to recover from the lingering pain. "I'll be fine," she replied, her voice gaining a bit more strength. "We need to keep moving. I do not want to stay here longer than necessary," she said with a light jest.

Ominis nodded, still looking hesitant but trusting her resolve. "Alright."

With Ominis's help, Theowen managed to get to her feet, every movement a reminder of the curse's recent torment. Together, they began to make their way into the Scriptorium, the oppressive darkness and eerie silence closing in around them. The further they went, the more Theowen's determination solidified. They had come this far, and there was no turning back now.

The Scriptorium was a vast, multi-levelled chamber, reminiscent of the grandeur of the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, but far more foreboding. The dim light from flickering torches cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, which were adorned with intricate carvings of serpents, their eyes seemingly following the intruders' every move. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and a faint, acrid tang of old magic. Ancient tomes and scrolls were stacked haphazardly on every surface, some teetering precariously on the edge of collapsing piles. Dust motes danced in the thin beams of light that pierced the gloom from high, narrow windows.

Two spiral staircases, wrought in dark iron and adorned with more serpent motifs, wound their way up to a second level lined with more shelves of ancient books and mysterious artifacts. Here and there, desks covered with quills, inkpots, and faded parchments hinted at the long-forgotten work of dark wizards. The atmosphere was thick with the weight of centuries of secrets and the oppressive sense of a place that had seen far more shadows than light.

She noticed Ominis scanning the area with his wand, awe evident in his expression. "I can't believe we're here..." he whispered, his voice reverberating softly off the stone walls.

Theowen looked at him with a smile. Despite his hatred for his family's dark practices and mistreatment of Muggles, Salazar Slytherin was still his ancestor. Not wanting to hinder his desire to explore, she said, "I'll look over here. You go on ahead."

He looked at her with apprehension. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, knowing what would happen next. "Yes."

After a long, hesitant pause, he released her and went about the Scriptorium on his own, ruffling through papers and old tomes with a mix of curiosity and reverence. His fingers traced the spines of the ancient books, feeling their history and power.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frantically searching, rifling through desks and shelves with a sense of desperation. His eyes were wild, driven by the singular focus that had brought them to this dark place. Theowen watched him, her heart heavy with foreboding.

After a while, she saw his eyes finally land on the accursed Slytherin Spellbook. The book that Theowen would argue started his spiral to doom. Its dark leather cover seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, the silver snake emblem gleaming ominously in the dim light. Sebastian's hands trembled slightly as he reached for it, his expression a mix of triumph and dread.

As he lifted the book from its resting place, the room seemed to grow even darker, the oppressive atmosphere closing in around them. Theowen's stomach churned with anxiety, knowing the danger that lay within those pages. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was to come, It was as if an invisible clock had started ticking, marking the countdown to finding Anne's cure. The weight of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders; every second would now matter in their desperate quest.