Wildfire
The Room of Requirement felt suffocating, its walls scarred with the remnants of Ash's explosive magic. It only took fifteen minutes after Ominis left the room for the ancient magic to rip its way through her, charring the walls of the chamber. Two days had passed since the confrontation with Ominis and Sebastian, and she still found herself lost in the aftermath of their shattered friendship. The pain was a constant ache, a heavy weight that clung to her every step.
Ash sat on the floor, her back against the wall, staring at nothing. She clutched the crumpled letter in her hands, the one she had received from Professor Weasley— an owl that carried both concern and a gentle reprimand. The letter lay opened, its contents burdened with expectations. Expectations that meant she couldn’t remain a student at Hogwarts if she refused to leave her room. Professor Weasley's understanding and sympathy had been a lifeline, granting her leniency thus far. But the reality remained that she couldn't continue to avoid her classes indefinitely.
The thought of taking a step outside of the Room made her throat tighten. The past year and a half had taken its toll, leaving her stranded on a deserted island of her own making with firewhiskey as her reluctant companion. She glanced back to the letter crumpled in her hand and sighed. Not attending class day after day would only draw more attention, and she couldn't bear the scrutiny that awaited her if she chose to hide indefinitely. She had considered simply leaving Hogwarts, but where would she go? She had no name for herself, no overflowing vaults, and no particular talents beyond violence.
She was a pawn on a chessboard, it seemed. A piece that could only move forward despite the dangers around. Trapped.
Summoning what little strength remained, Ash slowly rose from the floor, her movements listless and heavy. The scorch marks on the walls seemed to mock her as she made her way out of the Room, traversing the castle's corridors like a ghost drifting through shadows.
She hadn't bothered looking in a mirror on her way out, she knew she looked like shit but she couldn't bring herself to care. Fifth year she actually tried to look good. She frequently wore her long blonde hair in a braid or loose waves down her back, and always wore her Gryffindor uniform with pride. It was the first time she had belonged somewhere, and she was desperate for that sense of self.
Her tie was haphazardly slug around her collar, her robes discarded in the dorms. One reprieve for seventh years was that wearing outer robes was optional. Her hair was unbrushed and tangled down her back. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed her sleepless nights to anyone who paid enough attention.
The walk to the potions classroom was a lonely one. She curled inside herself as she walked through the halls. What a joke that the once great 'Hero of Hogwarts' couldn't even meet the eyes of those around her. She felt like an outsider, detached from the world she once knew. The anticipation of class clung to her, dragging her steps slower with each passing moment. There was no excitement for the lesson ahead, only a begrudging acceptance that she had to be there.
As she approached the classroom, the muffled sounds of student chatter reached her ears. The familiar scent of potions ingredients mingled in the air, thick and heavy in the damp dungeon. Ash hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Doubt and self-deprecation gnawed at her, urging her to turn away and retreat back into her sheltered cocoon. She could just go back, try again tomorrow.
What a fucking joke that she would run away again.
Ash clenched her jaw, and with a heavy sigh, turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
The room fell silent for a brief moment as her classmates' eyes glanced in her direction. Some showed curiosity, while others seemed indifferent. Professor Sharp's gaze met hers, a mix of concern and understanding in his eyes. He was there that night of the battle, had actually been the one to pull her off of Professor Fig's lifeless body.
She glanced around the room, looking for an empty seat. Her eyes landed on a stool, and when she glanced to the side of the seat, she met Natty's eyes. The girl gave her a smile. Ash forced a half-smile back. She shouldn't be here. This was too much. Ash had tried at the beginning of sixth year to maintain contact with her other friends but it was too hard. Natty deserved better than this, how long had it been since they had spoken? The girl who had taken a cruciatus curse for her?
Her eyes scanned the room again, taking in the empty seat next to Ominis that was usually filled by a certain brunette. Well, that was one less thing she had to worry about then.
Ash took the seat next to Natty, her movements mechanical, devoid of enthusiasm. She hoped if she kept her eyes on the cauldron in front of her Natty wouldn't speak up.
"How have you been Ash?"
No such luck.
Ash let out a soft sigh and turned her attention from the table to Natty. Their eyes met and she forced another smile across her face, her voice hoarse as she spoke, "I'm...I'm okay." Fuck. That hadn’t been convincing. It sounded like she hadn’t spoken in days, which unfortunately was the case. She sucked in a breath and tried again.
"I'm...sorry I haven't reached out much Natty." She waited— waited for the pity or anger from Natty that she desperately didn't want to hear. Instead a wide smile spread across Natty's face at her words.
"That's okay, we have all the time in the world this year to catch up!"
She nodded numbly. That was the last thing she wanted, to spend her year trying to re-involve herself in the lives of people who had moved on without her. She turned her attention to the front of the room as Professor Sharp cleared his throat.
The potions lesson unfolded before her, but Ash's mind remained distant, trapped within the walls of her own thoughts. She mechanically followed the instructions, her hands moving by muscle memory rather than genuine engagement. She used to enjoy potions. It had been a challenge, a welcomed one, to create substances using only a handful of ingredients. Of course, Sebastian had been the real prodigy. The thought caused her hand to slip, crushing the Hornswood flower under her palm. She sighed, starting over on her brew.
As the class continued, Ash became increasingly aware of her isolation. She felt detached from her peers, unable to bridge the chasm that separated her from their world. The weight of her pain remained unyielding, threatening to crush her spirit entirely. She needed a drink desperately. She could practically taste the burn. It would be easy to slip out, pretend to go to the restroom. Her stool made a noise against the stone as she scooted back, preparing to flee—
And then, like a disruptive gust of wind, Sebastian entered the classroom. He was disheveled, more so than usual. He didn’t bother with a tie, and his hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it ten-fold times before entering the class. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the only available seats— one next to Ominis, and the other beside Garreth Weasley at Ash's table. A moment of hesitation passed across his face, his jaw tense as he stared at Ominis, and to Ash's surprise, and apprehension, he chose the seat beside Garreth, his silence speaking volumes.
Dread tightened its grip in Ash's stomach as Sebastian settled across the table directly in front of her. She could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words hanging heavily between them. The wounds of their fractured friendship seemed to ooze, and the proximity only amplified the weight of their unresolved issues. She dared a glance at him, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than two days ago. She quickly looked away, not wanting to catch his attention. She stared back at the table, and said a prayer to whatever god was listening for Garreth to set his cauldron on fire again so they could all leave.
As if fate itself heard her silent wish, Professor Sharp's low voice bellowed through the classroom. "Mr. Sallow, for your tardiness, you can head to the greenhouse to gather potion ingredients for the class." Ash let out a quiet breath before Sharp continued, wondering if maybe some benevolent force did exist, "Take a fellow student with you... not that I do not trust you Mr. Sallow," The look Professor Sharp gave Sebastian suggested otherwise, "But you might find a helping hand useful."
Ash kept her head low, staring at the table as she heard Sebastian let out a huff and stand from his stool. She heard his footsteps walk past his side of the table— and stop next to her seat. She slowly raised her head, a sickness curling in her stomach.
Ash's heart skipped a beat as Sebastian's gaze locked with hers. He raised an eyebrow at her— an invitation. The unspoken question hung in the air. Why had he chosen her? The answer eluded her, buried beneath layers of pain and confusion. The dread intensified, but she nodded in acknowledgment, accepting her role in this unexpected turn of events. So much for a benevolent God. Perhaps malevolent at this point.
She stood from her stool, turning to walk towards the door where Sebastian already stood. Garreth leaned across the table to whisper to her as she slid the stool back in place, a smirk on his face.
"It's been awhile Asha, how about we catch up tonight?" There was a suggestive look in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed by her. Or by her table mate, Natty, who thankfully ducked her head.
That was another vice she picked up sixth year. Garreth and her weren't particularly close fifth year, though he had been persistent in his attempts to court her. She had no interest in courting, but he didn't mind slamming her into his headboard on nights when even firewhiskey couldn't settle her.
She let out a soft sigh and spoke in a low voice, "Sure, Garreth." She turned from the table and she must have imagined Sebastian's clenched jaw as he stared at Garreth. He quickly turned away, back to the door and walked out. She numbly followed behind him, exiting the classroom.
They walked in silence down the corridor towards the greenhouse, the weight of their unspoken words filling the air. She walked behind him, her eyes focused on the back of his head. He had grown so much since fifth year, at least five inches. Her eyes roamed down his back, and she saw the muscles there through his white button down, something else that had changed in her absence. She mentally slapped herself for the observation.
The sound of their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, amplifying the tension that simmered between them. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Ash gathered her courage and asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Are you still angry at Ominis?"
Sebastian stopped abruptly, his eyes flashing with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t decipher— his face was usually an open book but his eyes were a maelstrom she could never chart. Without a word, he stepped towards her and grabbed her arm. He ignored her gasp of shock, pulling her into the nearest broom closet, the darkness enveloping them. The air felt heavy with anticipation, as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath, waiting for their conversation to unfold. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their breathing.
In the confined space, Ash's heart pounded within her chest, the sound reverberating through her ears. She could barely make out Sebastian's silhouette, but the intensity of his presence filled the space.
She wondered if he brought her in here to curse her. If that was the case, she'd let him.
Finally, breaking the silence, Sebastian spoke, his voice laced with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Yes, Ash, I'm still angry at Ominis." His use of her nickname didn't go unnoticed by her, "What I can't understand is why you aren't angry at him."
His words struck Ash like a blow, the weight of his anger sinking deep into her core. She had been aware of the strain between Sebastian and Ominis, but the magnitude of Sebastian's anger surprised her. Why would she be mad at Ominis? She had agreed to it herself.
Ash's voice trembled as she replied, her own pain seeping through her words. "I... because Ominis was right, Sebastian. He was just trying to protect you."
Sebastian's eyes blazed with indignation, his voice laced with a bitter resentment. "How can you not be angry with him for leaving you to face everything on your own? I didn't ask him to protect me. I didn't ask him to make that choice."
Tears welled up in Ash's eyes, a mixture of frustration and sorrow. She had hoped for understanding, for a chance to bridge the gap between them, but instead as always, their emotions clashed like a storm in the night. "Sebastian, you didn't have to ask." Frustration laced her trembling voice, "Ominis was scared. We were all scared. He thought he was protecting you. After everything that happened with your uncle, you were struggling and he couldn't stand to see you fall further into that darkness, couldn't risk me poisoning you further." She spit the words out as if they burned her throat, "He knew you were at risk to go to Azkaban— Merlin I was so close to going myself!"
The words had tumbled out of her before she could stop them, and she heard his breathing change. There was silence for a moment and she thought she felt him move closer to her as he spoke in a low voice, laced with confusion.
"What do you mean you could've gone to Azkaban? Killing Ranrok saved Hogwarts."
She let out a broken laugh her words laced with the pain burning in her veins, "Not because of Ranrok— because of Rookwood." Her breathing was heavy as the words fell from her.
"I didn't just kill him Sebastian, I tortured him."
The words vibrated around the room as they tore from her throat, though the silence afterwards was more deafening.
"He deserved it. Anyone would agree with that." Sebastian knew that Rookwood was the one who cursed his sister, she knew Ominis had told him fifth year. She had wanted to be the one to break the news, but the ties had already been severed at that point.
"It doesn't matter if he deserved it." The words were broken as she spoke them, her breath feeling like fire in her throat. "I used the cruciatus curse on him three times before I finally ended him, and his brain was basically mush by then anyway. I didn't even care that his goons were fleeing the site until after it was over. If it wasn't for Professor Weasley screaming my defense at the ministry, I'd be rotting in a cell right now."
She could barely hear anything over the pounding of her heart, but through the silence she could still hear Rookwood's screams echoing in her ears. Her breathing was hard and before Sebastian could say anything she continued in a much softer voice, "Ominis was right. Even if... even if I didn't want to walk away I had to. You were suffering so much after Solomon's death and there was already too much scrutiny around you, you didn't need me hovering like— like poison when I was so close to Azkaban myself."
Sebastian didn't speak and for a moment and the silence stretched so long that she thought maybe he had somehow apparated away. He let out a breath and opened the closet door, the bright light blinding as it hit her eyes.
"We should go to the greenhouse." His words were heavy, and she swore for a moment, as he stepped through the closet door holding it open for her, she could see tear streaks down his cheeks. She didn't know what to say. She wiped at her eyes, making sure no errant tears were visible before walking out after him.