Fragments of Time

Suitor?

To call the situation bizarre was an understatement. It was clear that something had possessed Theowen. The dark, foreign magic felt disturbingly similar to what Ranrok wielded, yet somehow more insidious.

“What are you?” Ominis demanded, relieved his voice didn’t crack under the weight of his fear.

The possessed Theowen moved with the predatory grace of a hunting beast. One moment, she was in bed; the next, her face was mere inches from his. Ominis felt her eyes bore into him, the scrutiny almost unbearable.

“Can you not tell? I’m Theowen, of course,” the entity mocked, each word dripping with maleficence.

“Stop toying around!” he hissed, his patience fraying dangerously. “Whatever you are, release her this instant!”

The entity chuckled, finding his threats amusing. “Now where’s the fun in that? What would you even do? Kill me?” Her breath hitched slightly, knowing the authorities would likely capture or eliminate her. “You need this body alive, and so do I.”

“Alive, yes. But with her in control,” he insisted.

“Well, that would be troublesome. For she and I are one and the same.”

“You lie,” he snarled.

The entity giggled, teleporting behind him, whispering into his ear, “What do you know of the truth?”

Ominis gasped, quickly turning towards her with his wand at the ready. “Pardon?”

“What do you know of her past or, dare I say, her true future?” she mocked, tilting her head playfully.

“I do not follow…,” he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The truth, Heir of Slytherin. The one thing she feared. Are you interested in finding out?” The entity extended her hand towards him.

Ominis sensed her hand outstretched, taunting him with answers he desperately sought. The temptation to understand her secrets, her fears, and perhaps even to aid her in defeating Ranrok, tugged at him. Yet, after a moment of deliberation, he shook his head, knowing she wouldn’t approve of such methods. “No. Release her, this instant. I won’t ask again.”

The entity blew raspberries. “I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re no fun.”

Ominis let his guard down ever so slightly, thinking the entity had relented. Suddenly, she appeared closer than before, seizing his hand. “Unfortunately, you have no choice in this matter.”

Though blind, he felt the dark, alien magic infiltrating his veins. He tried to pull away, resisting with all his might. But it was too late. The last thing he heard was its chilling voice, “I need you for this to work.”

Ominis opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, disoriented. The sensation was overwhelming—light, color, and shape assaulted his senses, things he had never experienced before. He could see. The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, and for a moment, he forgot where he was, lost in the sheer miracle of sight.

The first thing he saw was her.

Theowen stood before him in the Slytherin common room, just as she had on her first day. Her light blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk, and her eyes—lilac and glistening with curiosity—met his with an intensity that made his breath catch. She was speaking, introducing herself, her voice clear and melodic, carrying an air of determination that had intrigued him from the start.

The room around her came into focus. The dark, polished wood of the common room walls, the flickering emerald flames in the fireplace casting dancing shadows, and the ancient, ornate furniture that filled the space. Students lounged on the couches, their green and silver ties marking them as Slytherins, but his gaze remained fixed on Theowen.

Yet something was off. The conversation wasn’t the same. Her introduction was different—more reserved, almost cautious. He remembered her being confident, her words filled with the warmth and resolve that had made an instant impression on him. But now, she seemed hesitant, her eyes darting around the room as if she were wary of her surroundings.

He tried to focus on her words, but they seemed muffled, like he was hearing them from underwater. The sentences didn’t match his memories. Instead of the vibrant, engaging introduction he recalled, she was more subdued, her voice lacking the spark that had drawn him to her.

His heart pounded in his chest. Was this real, or some cruel illusion? He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat, overwhelmed by the rush of sensations and the dissonance between his memories and what he was witnessing. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to make sure she was real. But he hesitated, afraid that if he moved, the vision would shatter.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the scene began to fade. The colors and shapes blurred, and the common room dissolved into a swirl of darkness. Panic seized him, but before he could react, he was plunged back into a different scene.

This time it was her again, speaking to him in front of the Scriptorium. The ancient, foreboding entrance loomed behind her, its stone surface etched with runes and symbols that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow. Ominis’s heart pounded as he took in the sight, realizing he was reliving another pivotal moment.

He noticed a boy not far away, his hair a rich brown, and he was shocked to recognize Sebastian. Seeing his friend for the first time was jarring, a flood of emotions rushing through him. Sebastian stood there, not angry or confrontational as Ominis remembered, but rather subdued, almost uncertain, casting occasional glances at Theowen as if she were his pillar of support.

Ominis turned his focus back to Theowen. The conversation between them felt wrong, distorted. Instead of the heated exchange he recalled, her tone was different—softer, more insidious. She was convincing him, manipulating him, her words laced with subtle persuasion. She spoke of trust, of their bond, urging him to show the entrance to the Scriptorium.

“I’m sorry about your aunt. Don’t you want to find out what happened to her?” she said, her voice a velvet whisper that sent chills down his spine.

His own voice responded, shaky and uncertain, “Aunt Noctua went down this path with good intentions and lost her life. I don’t want the same to happen again.”

She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that was almost hypnotic. “You don’t know that history will repeat itself. Besides, you said your aunt thought like you. This could honor her memory—get your answers about Slytherin, and Sebastian answers for Anne. Your aunt pursued this alone. We could do it together.”

He could feel the pull of her words, the way they wrapped around his mind like tendrils, nudging him towards compliance. The memory of the real conversation was a blur, but he knew it hadn’t been like this. She hadn’t manipulated him so blatantly, so expertly.

Sebastian’s presence loomed in the periphery, his expression conflicted but ultimately supportive of Theowen’s plea. This version of events twisted the truth, reshaping his recollections into something darker, more sinister.

The scene wavered, the edges blurring as reality reasserted itself. Ominis felt a pang of desperation, wanting to hold onto the sight, to unravel the truth hidden in these visions. But before he could grasp it, the darkness swallowed him again, pulling him back into the present.

Gasping, Ominis found himself once more as the scene shifted. This time he was in the Undercroft, the secret chamber hidden beneath Hogwarts. The air was thick with tension, and the dim, flickering light cast eerie shadows on the stone walls.

The ominous atmosphere pressed down on him, but it was the conversation he overheard that sent a chill through his bones.

It was Sebastian’s voice, unmistakably laced with frustration and desperation. “I plan to search for this relic, but I don’t think we should tell anyone. Especially Ominis. He wouldn’t understand.”

“I see no reason to involve Ominis,” she said coolly, her words striking daggers into his heart.

Sebastian’s voice followed, equally strained and determined. “I’m glad you agree. And don’t feel sorry for Ominis. Keeping this to ourselves for now is for his own good.”

The words stung, each one a dagger to Ominis’s heart. He knew that these were not the events that had transpired. Just what in Merlin’s name were the entities showing him? He couldn’t bear to see what happened next—he just knew something far more horrible would happen.

“No…Stop this!” he said in fear as he clutched his ears, not wanting to hear any of it. “This is a lie!”

Ominis found himself in a dark, damp crypt, the air thick with the scent of decay and death. The flickering light of torches cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, amplifying the sense of dread. His heart pounded as he saw a battle unfolding before him, a scene of horror and desperation.

Sebastian and his uncle Solomon were locked in a deadly duel. Solomon, breathless and weakened, faced both Theowen and Sebastian with a look of grim determination. “She cannot be healed, Sebastian. You must stop,” he implored, his voice strained.

Sebastian, driven by desperation, refused to relent. He cast basic offensive spells, his eyes wild with resolve. “Argh! I won’t let her suffer. Avada Kedavra!” The killing curse shot from Sebastian’s wand, striking Solomon with a sickening finality. Solomon’s body went limp, his eyes lifeless, as he collapsed to the ground.

Ominis watched in horror, his mind unable to process the reality of what he had just witnessed. Sebastian, realizing too late the gravity of his actions, dropped his wand in shock and regret. Theowen stood beside him, her eyes wide with uncertainty, unsure of how to respond to the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Suddenly, Anne appeared, her face contorted with grief and fury. She cast Depulso towards Sebastian, sending him sprawling as she rushed to her uncle’s side. Tears streamed down her face as she howled in anguish. Desperation turned to rage as she spotted the Slytherin Spellbook. With a cry of fury, she cast Bombarda, destroying the book completely despite Sebastian’s protests.

“You’ve made your choice,” Anne spat bitterly, clutching her dead uncle. She then apparated away, leaving Sebastian to his guilt and despair.

Ominis stood paralyzed, unable to comprehend the nightmare he had just witnessed. He wanted to flee, to escape this horrific vision and return to reality. As he stepped back, the damp crypt dissolved, replaced once more by the familiar confines of the Undercroft.

In the murky depths of the Undercroft, the air was thick with tension and despair. Ominis stood as a silent observer, trapped in a vision of twisted memories and haunting truths. Before him, Theowen and Sebastian were locked in a heated argument, their voices echoing off the stone walls.

“I can’t believe he’s gone. How did things go so wrong? I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to—” Sebastian’s voice broke as he gripped Theowen’s shoulders, his desperation palpable. He pleaded with her, his eyes wild with fear. “Anne has no one left. Please, don’t turn me in.”

Tears welled in Theowen’s eyes, her expression a mix of regret and despair. Ominis could see the torment in her gaze, the weight of her choices bearing down on her. She looked to him, her eyes silently begging for guidance, for a way out of this nightmare.

Sebastian couldn’t bear the tension any longer. He turned and fled, his footsteps echoing through the Undercroft, leaving Theowen standing there, torn between her loyalty and her conscience.

She approached Ominis, her voice trembling. “What should I do? I can’t… I can’t let him get away with this, but I can’t turn him in either. I… I don’t know what to do.”

Ominis felt a strange compulsion, his lips moving without his control. “I  don't want to lose Sebastian, but I don't think we have a choice."

Theowen wiped away her tears, her face resolute yet heartbroken. "You're right... You were right the entire time..."

Ominis shook his head regretfully, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I wish I hadn't been. If we do this, we may never see Sebastian again."

"I realize that, but it is the right thing to do," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "He killed his uncle. I've tried to justify his actions every step of the way. But this has gone too far. It has to stop."

Ominis nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of their decision. "Leave it to me. I'll tell the Headmaster."

The scene blurred and shifted again, the familiar contours of the Undercroft dissolving into the darkness. Ominis screamed into the shadows, his voice raw with desperation and rage. "Enough of this! These are all lies! These events never happened!"

But his cries were swallowed by the darkness. Instead of an answer, a flurry of scenes assaulted his senses, each more harrowing than the last.

First, he found himself in a courtroom, the grandeur of the Council of Magical Law imposing and cold. The judge, stern and unyielding, slammed his gavel down. "For the use of Dark Magic and the murder of your uncle, Sebastian Sallow, you are sentenced to life in Azkaban with no parole."

The scene shifted again, the courtroom dissolving into a bleak, rain-soaked graveyard. Ominis's heart sank as he saw a sea of gravestones stretching out before him. His eyes fell upon one in particular, and his blood ran cold.

Anne's name was chiselled into the stone, a cruel finality etched into marble.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, this can't be real."

His surroundings spun, the weight of the horror bearing down on him. The sky grew darker, the rain fell harder, and the graveyard seemed to close in around him. He screamed, his voice a raw echo of his torment. "Stop! I can't take any more! End this nightmare!"

His voice echoed into the void, the silence of the shadows filled with echoes of regret.

I'm sorry...

I didn't mean for this to happen...

If only I stopped this earlier maybe... maybe Anne could've...

He immediately recognized the voice. "Theowen?" he called out, searching for her through the void.

He then saw a sliver of light and followed it until his view shifted again to that of an office.

The room was dimly lit by a single overhead lamp, casting a warm glow on the cluttered desk covered in parchment, quills, and ink pots. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes on dark magic, criminal records, and case files. The walls were adorned with moving photographs of wanted wizards and witches, along with various maps marked with strategic points.

"Where am I?" he questioned himself. He looked down at his body, realizing he was taller and more muscular, his arms showing the strength developed over years. He was wearing a well-fitted suit, and his fingers were stained with ink.

"Well?" A voice called out. He turned and looked towards the owner of the voice, shocked to see a woman with long blonde hair, her lilac eyes vibrant as they caught the sunlight streaming through the window. He noticed freckles dotting her cheeks, a detail he had never known due to his unseeing eyes.

"Well, don't keep me waiting. What's your theory?" she said again, pointing towards a large board.

He turned towards the wall filled with photographs, newspaper clippings, and notes connected by red strings. The intricate web of evidence formed a complex tapestry of a case he had no recollection of.

His lips moved on their own, and he began to articulate theories about a grisly string of murders that he had never heard of before. As he spoke, a sense of dread crept over him. The words flowed effortlessly, as if he had spent years investigating these murders, yet the memories were foreign. He glanced back at the woman, her expression serious and focused, waiting for his analysis.

His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of his new reality while grappling with the haunting visions of the past. "Theowen... what is happening?" he whispered, the question hanging in the air like a heavy fog, blending the boundaries of dream and reality.

The visions shifted again, and Ominis found himself on one knee, holding a small, velvet box open to reveal a sparkling ring. The setting was beautiful—a secluded garden bathed in twilight, fairy lights twinkling above them, casting a romantic glow. Theowen stood before him, her eyes wide with surprise and joy, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief.

Then, the scene shifted once more. Ominis's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Theowen stood at the end of a long aisle, wearing a breath-taking wedding dress. The gown was an ethereal creation of flowing white silk and delicate lace, with intricate embroidery that shimmered as it caught the light. The bodice hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her graceful curves, while the skirt billowed out into a cloud-like train that trailed behind her. A veil, light as gossamer, framed her face and cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, and her smile was as radiant as the sun, illuminating the entire room.

Ominis could scarcely believe his eyes. The beauty of the scene, the vividness of the colors, and the sheer emotion of the moment overwhelmed him. He felt his heart swell with an indescribable joy as he watched her walk towards him, her steps light and graceful.

The scene shifted again, now to a cosy house filled with warmth and laughter. Ominis and Theowen were moving in together, the rooms filled with boxes and the promise of a shared future. He saw their lives unfold in a series of heartwarming moments: cooking together in a sunlit kitchen, their fingers playfully dusted with flour; sitting by a roaring fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, reading books to each other; tending to a small garden in the backyard, where colorful flowers bloomed under their care.

The daily life they shared was simple yet profoundly fulfilling. Ominis watched as they decorated their home, celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, and supported each other through life's challenges. The visions were filled with laughter, tender touches, and quiet, intimate moments that spoke volumes about their deep connection.

Each scene was more vivid than the last, the colors and details so real that he could almost touch them. He felt the warmth of the sun on his skin, the softness of her hand in his, and the sheer happiness that came from being with the person he loved. For the first time, he saw Theowen's world as she did, and it was beautiful beyond words.

Then, as suddenly as the joy had enveloped him, the scene plunged into darkness. Ominis found himself standing in the cold, dimly lit house, the air thick with malevolence. He saw himself, desperate and determined, casting a sacrificial charm to protect Theowen. The words left his lips with unwavering conviction, the magic pouring out of him in a torrent of shimmering light. He could feel the life force draining from him, the pain intense but bearable because it was for her. 

He found himself standing over his own lifeless body, sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground. The sight was grotesque and surreal—his still form lay motionless, the unmistakable signs of death evident in the pallor of his skin and the lifelessness of his eyes. The chilling reality of his sacrifice was now laid bare before him.

Nearby, Theowen lay unconscious, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. The once vibrant and powerful presence was now subdued, the weight of the ordeal having taken a toll on her. Her face was ashen, her expression one of deep exhaustion and pain. The sight of her in such a state was both tragic and haunting. Ominis felt a pang of sorrow, unable to shake the image of her vulnerability and the knowledge that his sacrifice had led to this moment of despair.

As he looked at the scene, the world around him began to dissolve into nothingness, the colors and shapes blurring into an all-consuming darkness. A profound silence enveloped him, the oppressive weight of the scene leaving him in a state of disorientation and confusion.

His thoughts raced, grappling with the enormity of what he had witnessed. The scenes were fragmented, interspersed with moments of horrific clarity and shifting shadows. Ominis began to realize that these might be glimpses into Theowen’s memories or potential future events—visions of a timeline that was not his own but potentially hers.

His mind reeled with the realization that these memories, these events, might be more than just visions; they could be fragments of a future that Theowen was desperately trying to prevent or alter. But the idea that she could somehow turn back time or manipulate these events was baffling.

“I... I don’t understand...” Ominis muttered into the void, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and bewilderment. The fragments of memory and possibility floated around him, each one a piece of a puzzle he could not yet comprehend. The weight of the knowledge pressed heavily on him, leaving him with a profound sense of helplessness and confusion.

"This is where we were born," the multitude of whispers echoed, sending a chill down Ominis's spine. The darkness around him began to dissolve, revealing an unknown but strangely familiar place. The architecture was grand and ancient, the stone walls and towering columns reminiscent of Hogwarts but with an aura of ancient  power and mystery. It was the Repository, hidden deep beneath the castle, a place whispered about in legend but seldom seen by mortal eyes.

In the centre of this vast, cavernous space stood a large, pulsating orb of immense power. Its surface shimmered with an ethereal glow, casting eerie shadows that danced along the stone walls. The air was thick with magic, thrumming with a palpable energy that made Ominis's skin tingle.

He saw her then—Theowen, grown and resolute, standing before the orb. Her expression was a mix of determination and vulnerability, her eyes reflecting the orb's powerful light. She held a pendant in her hands, its shape intricate and unfamiliar, its purpose a mystery to him. The pendant seemed to pulse in sync with the orb, resonating with the same ancient power.

Ominis watched, transfixed, as Theowen began to channel the orb's energy. She raised the pendant high, and as she did, the light from the orb intensified, casting brilliant rays that illuminated the cavern. The energy flowed from the orb, through her, and into the pendant, creating a spectacle of magical force.

Around her, the cavern responded to the surge of power. The light from the sun, filtering through the cracks and crevices of the underground space, began to shift and change. The cycle of day and night sped up, the light and shadows alternating at a dizzying pace. The entire chamber seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the magic, the walls almost alive with the pulsating energy.

Ominis's breath caught in his throat as the realization hit him—Theowen was turning back time. The enormity of her actions and the potential consequences filled him with a mixture of awe and dread. He watched in horror as the process took its toll on her. The orb's glow intensified, shifting from its ethereal shimmer to an eerie, malevolent crimson, the same sinister hue that had flickered in the eyes of the entity.

Theowen screamed in agony, the sound piercing through the cavern and resonating in his very soul. Her body began to dissolve, particles of her being drawn into the orb as it absorbed the power she channelled. Each second seemed to stretch into an eternity as she continued her desperate act, her form gradually disintegrating into the consuming light.

"No!" Ominis cried out, his voice echoing off the ancient stone walls. Desperation surged through him as he sprinted toward her, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. He reached out, trying to grab hold of her, to anchor her to the present and prevent her from being consumed by the dark magic.

Just as his fingers brushed against what remained of her form, the scene abruptly vanished. The cavern, the orb, and Theowen all dissolved into nothingness, leaving Ominis standing alone in a void. His outstretched hand grasped only air, and the oppressive silence of the shadows enveloped him once more.

Panting and disoriented, he struggled to process what he had witnessed. Theowen's desperate attempt to reverse time, the excruciating pain she endured, and the malevolent influence of the crimson glow all swirled in his mind. Deep down, he began to understand that these visions were not mere illusions but glimpses of possible futures, distorted memories, or events that had yet to come to pass.

"Why... Why show me all of this?" Ominis whispered into the void, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and sorrow. The weight of what he had seen pressed heavily upon him, and he could feel the raw, unrelenting power of the entity that had shown him these visions.

"Pain and darkness was all we ever known," the multitude of voices replied, echoing hauntingly in the void. "When she took us in, we saw—we remembered what we were once before."

"You believe that by taking control of her body, you can gain this... freedom?" Ominis questioned, uncertain of the true nature of the entity.

"Freedom, redemption, a chance to live," the voices answered, their tone almost pleading. "In her, we see a light, a possibility. But the path is fraught with pain, with sacrifice."

Ominis's heart ached as he tried to comprehend the entity's motives. The visions had shown him fragments of a life filled with love, loss, and unimaginable hardship. He struggled to reconcile the malevolent force he had initially perceived with the tragic, desperate beings that now spoke to him.

"Why her? Why Theowen? Your other selves are doing a remarkable job with Ranrok," Ominis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel a rumble, noticing that the void around him started to crack.

"Do not speak to us about that defiler!" the voices roared, the fury palpable and resonating through the darkness. "He was not born with the powers of Ancient Magic like our creator. He ripped us apart, so we did the same to him."

The force of the entity's anger shook Ominis to his core. He felt the void shudder and splinter around him, pieces of the darkness falling away to reveal glimpses of something more—a pulsating light, ancient and powerful, struggling to break free.

"He does not deserve to harness our powers," the voices continued, now seething with a mixture of rage and sorrow. "He violated us, tearing us from the essence of Ancient Magic. We retaliated, but we became fragmented, lost."

Ominis's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of truth within the entity's words. Theowen was caught in the middle of an ancient struggle, a battleground for forces beyond his comprehension. But he had to understand, to find a way to end the torment for both her and the entity.

"She is gifted, unique," the voices softened slightly, as if momentarily soothed by the thought of Theowen. "Her connection to Ancient Magic is pure, untainted. Through her, we can restore what was lost, become whole again. But it is a delicate balance, one that requires her strength and our control of her autonomy."

The void cracked further, beams of light breaking through the darkness. Ominis could sense the entity's desperation, its yearning for completeness, but also the danger it posed to Theowen.

“But why the desperation of controlling her?”

“She had refused our call, time and time again. We had grown impatient for her constant fear.”

“So, you believe that by involving me. You can use me to convince her to give control?” He said questioningly knowing the entity had grown desperate. "I will not let her be consumed," Ominis vowed, his voice steady with determination. "I will find a way so you both can exist mutually. But for now, you must release her."

The entity's response was a low, rumbling growl, filled with both frustration and a grudging respect for Ominis's resolve.

"Then you must act quickly, Heir of Slytherin," the voices warned. "Time is against you, and the forces that seek to exploit our power will not rest."

The void shattered, and Ominis found himself engulfed in blinding light. He braced himself for what lay ahead, determined to unravel the mysteries of Ancient Magic and save Theowen from the darkness that threatened to consume them all.