The Long Slumber
Ominis navigated the bustling corridors of Hogwarts with practiced ease, his wand emitting a faint pulse that guided him. The chatter of students filled the air, interspersed with the clatter of utensils and the rustling of robes. He could smell the rich aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafting from the Great Hall, a reminder that it was indeed lunchtime.
As he moved past groups of students, their conversations became a murmur of indistinct voices, each step bringing him closer to his destination. The ancient stone walls were cool to the touch, their rough texture familiar under his fingers as he trailed them lightly for orientation. Occasionally, a tapestry brushed against his arm, its intricate embroidery a tactile map of the castle's history.
His mind was preoccupied with the letter he had received from Theowen. The tone had been frantic, almost manic, and it gnawed at his conscience. He feared that his insistence on finding a cure for Anne had driven her to this state. He trusted Theowen, and in turn, had kept the secret of the Room of Requirement’s location safe from others.
He and Sebastian had offered their help to her numerous times to find the one who cursed Anne, but she was insistent that she had to do so alone. This puzzled both of the boys as they wondered if she truly had something to hide.
Approaching the hidden entrance, he counted his steps, recalling the exact spot where he needed to stop. The enchanted door materializing silently in response to his presence. The familiar hum of the Room of Requirement’s magic greeted him as he stepped inside, a sanctuary that morphed to suit their needs.
Inside, he could sense the vastness of the room, its layout shifting to accommodate their latest endeavours. The faint scent of parchment and potions lingered in the air, mingling with the soft glow of enchanted lights that provided warmth to the space. His worry deepened as he called out, "Theowen?" hoping to find her within, and dreading what state he might find her in.
Theowen's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the walls and making it difficult to pinpoint her exact location. Ominis held his wand aloft, its gentle pulse guiding him as he navigated through the room. Each step felt cautious, his shoes making soft thuds against the floor.
His wand detected an unfamiliar entryway, one he deduced was newly created. As he moved toward it, he noticed the once smooth wooden walls were now replaced with sharp rocks and creeping vines. The air grew damp, a faint mustiness seeping in, and he could feel the moisture clinging to his skin, making it slightly clammy.
Venturing deeper, the atmosphere changed drastically. The room felt colder, the dampness intensifying as the rocky walls closed in. The scent of earth and mold was pervasive, mingling with the faint metallic tang of old, damp stone. It reminded him uncomfortably of the Slytherin Scriptorium, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on him.
Water dripped somewhere nearby, the sound echoing through the narrow passageway, and the ground beneath his feet was slick with moisture. He could feel the rough texture of the rock walls, jagged and unyielding, as he trailed his fingers along them for guidance. Vines twisted around the stones like serpents, their presence adding to the eerie, dungeon-like feel of the place.
Ominis's heart pounded as he followed the twisting path, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the distant, constant drip of water. The sensation of descending deeper into the earth was palpable, the air growing heavier with each step. Finally, he heard Theowen's voice again, closer this time, guiding him through the labyrinthine passage.
As he rounded a final corner, the space opened up, and he could sense the shift in the atmosphere. He stopped, listening intently, hoping to hear her voice again and dreading what state he might find her in. Ominis instead heard a violent chittering, the unmistakable sound of a distressed mouse. He approached cautiously, puzzled by the bizarre scene he stumbled upon. "Theowen? What in Merlin's name are you doing? Is that...a mouse?"
He could hear her hair ruffling as she turned to look towards him, her movements filled with agitation. Her voice, hesitant and strained, replied, "That's why I've asked you to come."
As Ominis stepped closer, mere inches away from the rat cage, he sensed the presence of multiple protective enchantments surrounding it. These spells, strong and meticulously cast, were clearly designed to keep someone—or something—contained. The high level of security placed on such a tiny entrapment made him uneasy.
"This...is not a rat, is it?" he deduced, his tone filled with a mix of confusion and concern.
Theowen sighed deeply, her voice trembling slightly as she responded. "No, it isn't. This is Victor Rookwood."
Ominis's heart sank as he heard the infamous name of the poacher running rampant in the Wizarding world, particularly around Hogwarts. "The Rookwood?"
"Yes," Theowen confirmed. "He was the one who cursed Anne."
When she revealed this, Ominis almost stumbled, finding it hard to believe. Sebastian and Anne were so sure that it was a goblin, not a dark wizard. "Are you certain? How do you know you're not mistaken?"
"Children should be seen and not heard," Theowen repeated the harsh, cold words that had been uttered to Anne that day. "He said the exact same thing to me when I fought him."
Hundreds of questions plagued Ominis at that very moment, especially why Theowen had been fighting Rookwood. Before he could ask, she continued, "He was there that night, alone among the goblins. Poor Anne, he thought she had witnessed him in partnership with Ranrok... So he cursed her."
Ominis felt a chill run down his spine. The revelation was staggering, and he struggled to process it. He couldn't fathom how Theowen had managed to uncover such critical information or why she had taken on Rookwood herself.
"I don't understand," Ominis murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What kind of magic did he use? No curse-breaker or anyone from St. Mungo's could ever cure her?"
Theowen gave a sad smile and sighed in exasperation. "Ancient Magic."
Ominis's breath hitched. "He is a wielder of Ancient Magic?"
Theowen leaned onto the table where the cage was placed. "Technically, _anyone_ can wield it if they have access to the power. Ranrok originally was unable to wield it until he...absorbed the powers that Isadora kept in the Repositories."
"Repositories?" he questioned, unfamiliar with the term due to the secrecy surrounding Ancient Magic.
Theowen sighed, knowing she had to reveal more information that could potentially put him in danger, but believing that the timing was right. "Do you remember the memories from the Pensieve?"
Ominis nodded, urging her to continue.
"Well, when Isadora discovered how to absorb negative feelings from living beings, she didn't stop. She collected massive amounts of them."
"And that's what these Repositories are?" Ominis asked.
"Yes," Theowen confirmed. "She enlisted the help of a goblin named Bragbor, who is the ancestor of Ranrok himself- he was the one who had build these Repositories. Hence, Ranrok was able to wield Ancient Magic after successfully absorbing a it."
Ominis stood in silence, absorbing the weight of the revelation. The dark, damp air of the dungeon pressed down on him, bringing back memories of the Slytherin Scriptorium. He tried to comprehend the immense danger they were facing. Ominis then sensed dread, realizing the nature of the power that Ranrok was absorbing. "But... if the power he absorbed originates from a culmination of negative feelings, wouldn't that be considered dangerous and uncontrollable?"
"As sharp as ever," Theowen mused. "Yes, unfortunately, it is. Especially when wielded by someone who was not born with it—it corrupts them instantly."
He grasped his mouth in shock and horror, his mental map immediately connecting the dots to form a full picture. "Theowen... if what you're saying is true, that would mean Rookwood is also aware and have used of such unprecedented magic."
"Yes," Theowen confirmed. "Ranrok promised Rookwood a share of the Ancient Magic. Of course, as you can guess from the nature of these two, when the time comes, they will fight one another for full control of such power. That's why they were after me—they believe I know the location of the other two Repositories."
"And do you know their locations?"
Though Theowen did indeed know where the last two were placed, she believed it wise to continue pretending she didn't. Just in case Rookwood managed to escape and venture to absorb the power for his own, she replied, "No. I do not know why they assumed that I do."
Ominis sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "This is perplexing, to say the least. I have a feeling that breaking Anne's curse has something to do with these Repositories?"
Theowen nodded. "I would need to absorb them before Ranrok gets his hands on the last two."
The room fell into a tense silence. Ominis couldn't comprehend what he had just heard. "I don't think I heard you right. So, you're telling me that you want to absorb the power we just established as completely unstable and highly likely to corrupt?"
Theowen went silent, knowing how psychotic it all sounded. She knew he would lose his mind further if he knew she had already absorbed two Repositories. "It must be done, Ominis. I need to get stronger to remove Anne's curse."
"This can't be the only way. I cannot accept it, the risks are too high!" he said vehemently, pacing the room hastily back and forth.
"It's either that, or we exhaust all our options and Sebastian returns to the Dark Arts," she replied, which halted his steps promptly. Biting her lip, she knew it was unfair to put him in such a spot. But she believed she had no other choice. Theowen needed him to understand the direness of the situation. This, she believed, was their best chance to prevent Sebastian from using Dark Magic and curing Anne’s curse. Though curing it wasn't her main idea but instead to transfer the curse, just like Isadora had done before. It was unethical, but she had done some preliminary trials on Rookwood. She wholeheartedly believed that though her methods were unjust, they were warranted due to the pain he had indirectly caused by cursing Anne.
The rat deserved it, she thought.
Ominis gave an exasperated sigh after a while, knowing the topic of Ancient Magic was far too unknown for him to truly understand what was at stake. “It’s quite unfair that I am unable to fully refute your claim that this is the only way since I am very much unfamiliar with the subject.”
She frowned, feeling guilt creeping up. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I’m just worried and frustrated for you. Here, Sebastian and I are constantly stumbling in the dark, unsure how to best assist you.”
Theowen chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Ominis. I promise you that I’m alright. Besides, I am closer than ever to curing Anne.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” he said, reaching for her hand and clutching it tightly. “You are always doing this alone. I can feel it, Theowen, you are keeping me at arm’s length at all times.”
I have to, she thought. If he ever got hurt, all she had done till now would’ve been for naught. “I’ll be alright,” she said reassuringly, trying to change the subject. “I need your help, anyway. To tell all of this to Sebastian, without him strangling the rat.” She added, knowing Sebastian’s impulsive nature.
Ominis sighed. “That is not the help I was thinking about, but if it is what you need, then I’ll oblige.” She could see him wince slightly—clearly not looking forward to broaching the subject with his best friend.
Their glances then shifted towards the trapped Rookwood, who lay helplessly in the cage. Ominis could sense, through the delicate vibrations his wand revealed, that the rat was not only exhausted but writhing in pain. He resolved to question Theowen later about the experiments she had conducted to conclude that she needed more power. The unsettling realization that the magic she was delving into might be even more dangerous than the Dark Arts gnawed at him. He could sense an underlying darkness emanating from Rookwood, a mix of malevolent Dark Arts and an uncontrollable magic of unknown origins. As the heir of Slytherin, he decided to withhold further questions until he better understood the situation. Little did he know, he would soon regret not intervening.
Theowen appeared with a soft crack amidst the desolate Scottish Highlands, where the ruins of Rackham's Tower loomed ominously against a stormy sky. The remnants of the once-grand structure, now reduced to crumbling stone and overrun with relentless ivy, precariously clung to the edge of a jagged cliff. Below, the tumultuous sea churned with unbridled fury, crashing violently against the rocky shore in a relentless display of power.
The air was thick with mist and a biting chill, carried on fierce winds that howled around the ruins. The broken tower, now a mere skeleton of its former self, cast long, foreboding shadows that were stark against the darkening sky. Theowen’s footsteps echoed softly on the uneven ground as she approached the edge of the cliff, her breath visible in the cold, turbulent air.
The entrance to the hidden repository was cleverly concealed, obscured by the sheer drop of the cliff and the relentless ferocity of the sea below. Only the keenest observer, armed with intimate knowledge of the area, could discern its location. The wind howled louder as if protesting her intrusion, while the crashing waves whispered dark secrets against the rocks.
The atmosphere was laden with suspense, every gust of wind and crash of the waves heightening the sense of impending discovery. The Tower’s broken walls seemed to hold their breath, as if awaiting her to unveil the secrets they guarded. The entrance to the repository, perched high above the tumultuous sea, could only be reached by flight, adding to the sense of isolation and danger that pervaded the scene.
Theowen’s mind raced as she considered the recent developments: having just completed Rookwood’s trial and exchanged tense words with Niamh Fitzgerald. Despite her concerns about the Keeper’s relaxed approach in light of the current dangers, Fitzgerald had opted to suspend the trial, a decision Theowen had anticipated. The gravity of the situation in the wizarding world seemed to be met with surprising leniency from the Keepers.
Ominis had taken on the task of informing Sebastian about Rookwood’s transformation into a rat, a duty that had fallen on him rather than her. Sebastian’s reaction had been predictably volatile; initially skeptical, he became incensed when Ominis recounted the infamous words Rookwood had used. The idea of the Dark Wizard in such a pitiful form had almost driven Sebastian to destroy the cage and exact vengeance. Theowen was relieved that Ominis had been the bearer of such distressing news, saving her from the confrontation with Sebastian herself.
She summoned her broom, taking off with a swift motion toward the cliffside. As she neared the hidden entrance, she cast Revelio, unveiling the intricate architecture woven with Ancient Magic. The concealed door glimmered with ethereal light, ancient runes dancing along its surface, guiding her towards the entrance. The stone archway, previously invisible, now stood clear against the cliff, its edges glowing faintly with the telltale signs of powerful enchantments.
Inside, the dungeon opened into a grand, cavernous hall, the walls lined with ancient symbols and carvings that pulsed with a soft blue light. The architecture was both awe-inspiring and eerie, reminiscent of the long-forgotten secrets of the Keepers. Massive stone columns, entwined with luminous vines of magic, rose to the high ceiling, casting elongated shadows across the floor. The air was heavy with the scent of aged stone and the faint hum of ancient spells still active in the walls.
As Theowen navigated deeper into the dungeon, she encountered the first of Rackham’s Sentinels. These formidable guardians, their stone forms imbued with the power of Ancient Magic, were more powerful than any she had faced before. The Sentinels moved with a fluidity that belied their stone bodies, their attacks precise and relentless. However, Theowen, bolstered by the strength she had gained from absorbing the Repository in Rookwood's possession, dispatched them with newfound ease. Her spells crackled with an intensity that shattered the stone guardians, sending fragments scattering across the floor.
The deeper she ventured, the more formidable the Sentinels became. Each guardian she faced was stronger and more cunning, their defensive and offensive capabilities escalating with each encounter. Theowen’s determination and skill saw her through, her movements precise, and her spells devastating. The ruins echoed with the sounds of battle, her magic lighting up the dark corridors as she pushed forward.
Finally, she reached a series of massive gates, their surfaces engraved with more ancient runes. Beyond these gates lay the heart of the dungeon. As she passed through, the remnants of her battles littered the path – the broken carcasses of the Pensieve guardians, their once powerful forms now reduced to rubble.
At last, Theowen stood before the chamber holding the Repository. The room was vast, its center dominated by a large, glowing orb filled with swirling, silvery power. The air was thick with the potent magic emanating from the relic, a tangible reminder of the power and danger it contained. The chamber was eerily quiet, the hum of ancient energy the only sound, as Theowen prepared to face the final challenge in her quest to harness the power within.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the wave of power and the corruption that would inevitably follow. Pointing her wand towards the relic, she didn't hesitate and began the absorption. Initially, the magic appeared calm, a beautiful silver hue swirling gracefully within the Repository. But then, it turned crimson, morphing into a voracious force, hungry to consume her. The wave of magic entered her with an intensity she had never experienced before, enveloping her in a rush of power so overwhelming that it threatened to tear her apart.
Theowen felt the magic invade every fiber of her being, its violent surge almost too much to bear. Her vision blurred, and she could barely stand as the last remaining drops of power were devoured by her. Just as she felt herself reaching her limit, she heard a growl behind her, a menacing sound that sent a shiver down her spine.
A howl of frustration echoed through the chamber, followed by the incantation of a deadly curse: "Sectumsempra!"
Her heart dropped, knowing she was in no condition to counter such a violent spell. The flash of crimson light was the last thing she saw before everything turned to black.
