Ashes and Dust

Wunjo.

A broad upstroke, an angled swipe downwards from the peak, and another stroke towards the middle of the first line. The resulting shape similar to a very angular ‘P’.

Sebastian’s skin twitched under the tip of her index finger as she traced the rune twice more across the middle of his bare chest. He watched, arm bent under his head to prop him up against the feather-filled pillow.

Wunjo. For happiness. For peace.

Her hope for them after today.

Algiz.

Three thin strokes culminating in one broad band. A pitchfork, of sorts. That one she traced across his ribs, ignoring his hiss of protest at the tickle she didn’t mean to bring.

Algiz. For protection and life.

Another wish. If she believed in a god she would send a prayer for such wishes. But God didn’t exist, so hopes and wishes they would remain.

December was a cold month, one close enough to Autumn that there was still hope for a warm day, a reprieve from brutal Scottish winds.

There was no reprieve, no stay of execution. The snow fell, and piled, and the winds continued to leave behind chapped lips and chaffed cheeks.

Three weeks had passed since the discovery of Harlow’s base. Three arduous weeks consisting of disillusionments and numb rear ends. At every opportunity, Sebastian and Ash were half-frozen as they observed the comings and goings of the cave.

The panic attack that had plagued her when they had found the cave, and the subsequent attack in the Undercroft, did not sway her from each successive mission. No, the next day she had simply strapped her leathers on and bade Sebastian apparate them.

Indeed her overwhelming panic had ceased, replaced instead by a deep-seated resolve. She would end this. And she would keep Sebastian safe.

Ominis had not participated in any operation post Ash’s hysteria induced screaming. She wasn’t sure what Sebastian had told him when she was hanging by a thread to lucidity, but it reduced their trio trips to duos.

In fact, outside of missions, Ash noticed that over the weeks Ominis seemed to be ignoring Sebastian. They no longer shared the same space of emerald cloth during meals in the great hall, nor did Ominis help Sebastian tweak her suppressant potion in the Room as before.

Ash had a lingering suspicion that Ominis’ silence had less to do with any arguments that occurred when she was shredding her vocal cords, and more to do with Ominis’ God complex.

He wanted Sebastian to hit rock bottom with Ash— with their mission. Because if Sebastian felt drowned in dark magic, in Ash’s influence, surely he would return to the light.

That was her theory, anyway. And it was a theory that left no sympathy for the blond boy, no matter the love declaration she forced from him.

Truth be told, things became much easier without Ominis’ interference. Ash and Sebastian spent the last week crafting a plan that they hoped covered every contingency.

The plan was simple. After weeks of surveillance— weeks of tracking guard rotations, supplies brought into and out of the cave, and monitoring conversations— they needed in.

They needed to know with certainty that Harlow was inside the base, and without seeing nary a hair on his head, they needed inside.

Supplies were packed, potions brewed and bottled, and the mission restated and reevaluated enough times that Ash could recall it in her sleep.

No amount of planning could remove the knot in her gut.

“I hope you aren’t placing curses along my skin.” Sebastian murmured, eyes fixated on the swirling of her digits along his dermis.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” She asked in response, tracing Uruz along his pec.

Sebastian was silent for a moment, contemplative. Not jarred by her sudden change of topic— no he understood the nerves welling under her skin.

“An auror at first,” he mused, eyes locked on her fingers as they traced another runic pattern over his ribs, “And then a professor, like my parents.”

“What would you teach?”

He gave her an amused look.

“Was it your father or mother that was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” She asked, counting the freckles under each swipe of her fingertip.

“My father. My mother taught Charms.”

“You’d be a brilliant professor.” She murmured, pressing a chaste kiss over his third rib. His muscles jumped under the skin at the light touch once again and she tucked away the information that Sebastian Sallow was ticklish, for a later use.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” He returned the question, brushing his fingers along the side of her cheek. His thumb swiped down, over the scar marring her flesh, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Alive. As a child she had always wished to be alive when she grew up. She had never put more thought into it than that, never had a reason to. Not even when she arrived at Hogwarts— not with a war thrust into her hands.

She felt alive now; with Sebastian’s calloused hand reverently stroking the raised pink jagged line that she herself so seldom sought out.

“I don’t know.” she answered simply, leaning into his hand like a touch-starved cat.

“You could be a professor too,” his thumb brushed higher, across her cheekbone, “right down the hallway from me.”

It was the closest they’d come to discussing the future. Their future. A future that didn’t involve world-ending events.

“What would I teach?” She responded, her eyes opening as the edge of her mouth twitched up.

“Anything you wanted. But I think you’d make a fantastic Ancient Runes professor. Or Magical theory.”

Her throat tightened at the image of her in Professor Fig’s old classroom.

She shook her head, sucking on her teeth, “I’d have to pass my N.E.W.Ts.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “A real challenge I’m sure. After this is all over, I’ll bloody study for you if that’s what it’ll take.”

After this is all over. The words echoed around her mind like a mantra as she pressed her lips to the warm skin along his jawline. After this is all over, she could relax. Could spend the remaining months of school focused on her work; could focus on her magic. On Sebastian. On herself.

The distant clock tower chimed seven times, the low clanging stirring her from daydreams of a future her— content, safe, happy.

Sebastian let out a breath, brushing a hand through her tangled hair, “Time to go, love. Dress, and I’ll snatch us some breakfast downstairs.”

He slid from underneath her before she could protest, stretching his bare body as he padded across the chamber to his pile of discarded clothes. She admired him, the side of her face pressed against the pillow that smelled distinctly of him. After this is all over, she thought, she’d clear out a chest of drawers for him. He could stay with her, indefinitely, tangled in the sheets.

She forced breath through her nose, lifting herself off the plush mattress.

After this is all over.

___•___

The ocean in winter could be beautiful, Ash thought. In another life, maybe she could have been someone who enjoyed the biting wind and cliffside views of the rough and choppy sea.

But in this life, she hated it. And she voiced that complaint at the beginning of every apparation to their designated safe point high along the cliffs of Clagmar Coast. Sebastian would smile, as if tucking away every disgruntled protestation to the weather into a chifforobe labeled ‘Ash’ his mind.

She had voiced her distaste for snow, and ice, and wind, and chapped skin every mission. Except this one. As she stared across the barren expanse, her throat tightened with anxiety. She could find no words of common displeasure, not when uncertainty awaited them just hours away.

Her wand felt warm in her hand, the twisted wood buzzing as if it sensed the incoming storm.

She hadn’t even said anything to Poppy or Natty. Maybe she should tell them after today, once they had intel on the inside of the cave. Maybe their help could ensure Sebastian’s safety should Ash be useless. It wasn’t a decision for today, and Ash shelved the thoughts for later— when she wasn’t standing in three inches of snow, battered by the wind.

Sebastian stepped up beside her, booted foot nudging hers, “Area’s clear. We’re good to head down to the beach and make our way to the cave.” He gave her a once over, nothing but dangerous calm in his brown eyes, “Say the word and we’ll leave. We will back to the Room, and forget this entire thing.”

Ash knew he meant it. If she asked, Sebastian would take them halfway around the globe, where she would find no expectations— wizarding world be damned.

Ash shook her head, “No. I am seeing this through. I can’t walk away.”

Sebastian nodded, not expecting anything different. Though, Ash caught an edge in his brown eyes, there and gone, that suggested there was a part of him that wished to protect her from this— that wished she’d allow him to whisk her away.

Sebastian palmed his wand, and she could nearly feel the magic ripple around him. He smirked, “Then it seems we have a dinner party to attend. I’m sure our esteemed host will be pleased to see us.”

Ash leveled him with a look, “If everything goes well, no one will see us.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips, “Please. Ominis isn’t here, love. You’re allowed to laugh at my jokes.”

Ash smirked, bumping her shoulder against his arm, “Only when they’re funny.”

____•____

The shift change occurred every four hours in which the two Ashwinders on duty would retreat into the cave mouth; ten minutes later two fresh guards would take their place. On Fridays and Sundays there would be deliveries, crates levitated into the yawning cavern by a team of three wizards at a time. Precisely why they chose a Saturday for this mission.

Notice had been taken as to the identities of each guard, in order to determine an approximate number of what they would find inside. According to the schedule of rotations, there were roughly twelve Ashwinders that served as guards; though neither Ash nor Sebastian were under any illusions that twelve was the total number of goons they would find within the hornets nest.

Wards were erected around the perimeter, weak ones by Sebastian’s estimation. She had caught him many an early morning with a book propped in arm, practicing ward breaking. Preparing. As she had done late at night when Sebastian had long since fallen asleep. Creeping from their bed into the main Room, and murmuring quiet defensive spells as the hateful magic roared against its cage. Practicing. Preparing.

Ash repeated the plan like a mantra in her mind as she crouched behind an outcrop of snow covered boulders. During the shift change they would move from their hidden location, still disillusioned, to the perimeter. Sebastian would have approximately two minutes to disable the wards, and two to re-build them, the other six minutes would be spent entering the cave, ensuring they weren’t spotted. Six minutes allotted them the necessary time to drop any Ashwinders that might’ve strayed from routine. Once they were well inside the cave, they would search for clues as to Harlow’s location— either further inside the cave or elsewhere.

They would stick together; with Sebastian, much to her chagrin, ahead of her by roughly two meters. Walking side by side would most likely be impossible, with their assumption of narrow paths, as well as increase the likelihood of being spotted with two shimmering figures shoulder to shoulder.

Then, the horrid part. Apparation was the major hope for their exit— in the case that there were no anti-apparation wards within the cave itself. If apparation was not an option, then they would wait the four hours until the next shift change; and utilize the same plan to get in, in order to get out.

It was an option neither wanted to take, especially without knowing the internal layout of the cave.

In and out. Get in, find information on Harlow’s location, or find the man himself, and get out. No detours. No fighting, if it could be helped. If all went to plan, she wouldn’t even need her wand.

She instinctively held the gnarled wood tighter, letting the grooves and twists dig into her palm.

Sebastian’s phantom breath brushed against her ear, “Two minutes. Are you ready?”

Her blood pounded in her ears, each thump reminiscent of the magic howling and banging on its cage deep inside. She nodded, sucking a breath in and blowing it out her nose. It fogged in front of her, puffing against the rocks.

Ash’s scintillating form leaned to the side, brushing Sebastian’s. His invisible but steady form met her shoulder, and he pressed his weight back against her.

“One minute.” He murmured.

His breathing became a lodestone, a steadying force that lulled her.

The two Ashwinders leaning against the cliff walls beside the cave entrance snapped to attention; shoving their wands into their pockets and shaking their casting hands out as if burned. Some sort of chronographic charm she surmised, alerting each guard of the end of their shift. The two turned and stalked into the cave.

“Now.” Ash hissed, and they sprung into action.

Her legs were pins and needles as they sprinted the distance to the perimeters edge, which wrapped wards in a semicircular fashion from each cliffface of the bay; the cave smack in the center.

The wards began to hum as they neared and Ash and Sebastian dropped to a crouch at the base of the now glowing orange shimmering wall. Sebastian began murmuring beside her, countercurses falling from his lips. She felt the swish of his wand beside her, muted by the howling wind.

Her eyes were trained on the cave, “One minute.”

Sebastian didn’t respond to her time call. He continued, the unfamiliar spells forming puffs of condensation as he breathed them out. The wards began to tremble, the crisscrossing lattice work snipping away as if Sebastian cut them with scissors.

“Forty-five seconds.” She warned, eyes still fixated on the beckoning darkness looming ahead.

Another wave of his wand beside her ear and the weave of wards began to crumble in earnest. It buckled, and dissolved beginning at the top.

Sebastian released a ragged breath as they watched the slow toppling of the magical barrier.

“Thirty seconds,” Ash whispered, tensing. The wards were falling too slowly. She had never seen wards dissolve in this manner; and she wondered if there was some sort of stasis charm placed along the barrier, slowing its progress. Sebastian growled beside her and she felt the air stir beside her as he stood, yanking her up beside him.

“We need to vault it or we risk losing time.”

He dropped her arm, his voice falling softer as he backed up, “I’ll go first, in case there is a caterwauling charm. In which case you get the fuck out of here.”

Before she could protest, his steps crunched in the snow as he raced past her, up and over the  waist-high barrier. Ash braced for a howling alarm and nearly sagged with relief when one didn’t sound. She jogged backwards without a second thought before she sprinted forward and leapt over the crumbling wards herself. She stumbled into Sebastian’s invisible body, his hands bracing her ribs as he righted her.

Sebastian turned, waving his wand along the wards before they could fully dissolve. Slowly, strand by strand, the complex weave of magic began reforming behind them. It felt horribly counterproductive to replace the wards that would hold them inside; but if the next shift of guards found their protective barrier destroyed, then it was likely the two of them wouldn’t escape without a fight. Harlow would likely move locations, and all their work to find him would be for not.

“One min—“

“Done.” He whispered, his voice hoarse from the expenditure of complex magic. The shimmering wards were identical to those before, minus the anti-apparation charms. She sent a quick wish to whichever magical being was listening, that they could get out.

Neither of them wasted a second of their precious time before turning and dashing for the cavernous entrance.

Sebastian murmured a spell as they reached their destination, removing all traces of their snowy footprints behind them.

Two breaths at the entrance was all they allowed before slinking into the darkness. Six minutes remained to venture past the entrance and remove themselves from the path of the soon-to-be incoming patrol.

Darkness enveloped them, and Ash felt along the cave wall to guide herself. She blinked rapidly, forcing her eyes to adjust from the blinding light reflected from the crisp snow, to the void now surrounding her. Nothing but the distant sound of dripping water met their ears, their footfalls silent from a quick muffliato.

The cave walls were rough hewn, and warm despite the raging cold they left behind. Once her eyes adjusted, she took note of the narrow path, only wide enough for her to stretch her arms across, fingertip to fingertip. They would have to find a branching route or alcove to venture into, lest they come face to face with the second set of guards.

Further ahead fire light flickered, and she made out the shape of torch sconce attached to the right side of the cave wall.

They stepped quickly, her eyes dancing between the walls around her and Sebastian’s shimmering form ahead. Soon the albedo from the snow outside could no longer illuminate the space around them, and only the small torch ahead provided any semblance of light.

Her wand warmed in her palm. “Three minutes,” she breathed, so quietly that she wasn’t sure Sebastian would hear. Their forms glinted as they passed the torch, and Ash was thankful for the chance to see that Sebastian was still ahead of her. The tunnel stretched out ahead of them, its path twisting and turning like a serpent as it gradually descended into the earth's embrace.

The walls of the cave opened further, the path now as wide as an erumpent and twice as tall. It smelled of mildew, a musty scent, tinged with hints of dampness and earth. With each breath, Ash could almost taste the history of the cave, each inhale like breathing in the entries from that horrible tome. Somewhere in this cave lies a torture chamber, cells, and a cliffside portal that a patient threw themselves out of just to escape this place.

She could almost hear the screams echoing off the cave walls. Her stomach clenched, goosebumps erupting across her body. This was a bad place, and here they were walking into the heart of it. Another torch flickered ahead, creating a pool of yellow and orange light in the thick darkness.

Her wand warmed again and she clutched it tighter as her panic began to flare, “One minute, Sebastian.” She barely whispered the words and yet she knew he heard. His invisible figure passed the second sconce and Ash saw his increased pace, enough that she herself began to hurry, as fast as she walk without kicking loose rocks along the ground, or echoing her now rapid breathing along the tunnel.

They would be caught. Fear gripped her throat. They would be caught by the next patrol and they would have to kill them. Her hands felt bloody as she gripped her wand, so tightly she worried it might splinter.

Another stretch of darkness greeted them on the other side of the torch, and Ash blinked rapidly to adjust. The tunnel continued downwards, and to the left. She couldn’t see Sebastian any longer, not in the thick shadows. The magic in her gut began to rattle the bars of its cage, begging for a release. What if he’d fallen behind and she hadn’t noticed? What if someone had grabbed him?Her blood thrummed in her veins, fear so thick she could taste it on her tongue.

Her hand did not stray from the cave wall as she moved, and as she passed what felt like a large crevasse in the rocky surface, a hand reached out and tugged her in.

Her body slammed into another and before she could scream, a large hand clamped over her mouth. She thrashed, but the body just held her tighter—

“It’s me, love.” A rough whisper brushed against her ear. She instantly sagged against him, panic ebbing only for a heartbeat. The fit inside the space was so tight that every breath caused her chest to brush the rocky wall in front of her.

His right hand didn’t loosen from her waist, and his left pressed tighter against her mouth as footfalls sounded further down the tunnel. She tensed against him, and he offered no further words; only a brush of his thumb over her hipbone. The footsteps grew closer, a pair of two, and Ash squeezed her eyes closed.

Her heartbeat sounded too loud. If the guards passed too close, she swore they would hear it. Sebastian merely pulled her tighter to his body, scarcely breathing as the footsteps clacked along the stone right outside their hiding spot.

Soon the sound grew distant once more, though Ash didn’t move from against Sebastian. No, they remained still, quiet, for another minute. And then two. Once they were sure the Ashwinders wouldn’t be returning back their way, they slipped from the alcove, her cheek scraping the rough surface as they went.

A final squeeze to her hand and then Sebastian’s translucent form was ahead of her once more.

They continued down the weaving tunnel for what felt like hours. No branching side-tunnels, no large caverns, and no Ashwinders. The last point had her on edge more than the rest. The only people they had seen were the two sets of guards. It was something that should’ve made her more relaxed— less wizards and all that. Instead it left her feeling off-kilter and unsure of what else she had assumed incorrectly.

Ash ran her hand along the craggy wall, her eyes long since adapted to the heavy darkness and interspaced bubbles of torch light. She had calmed herself to the fact that she couldn’t see Sebastian ahead of her. He was capable, she told herself. And nothing would happen to him just because he was out of sight.

That was, until she ran into him.

She smacked into his hard body, stumbling backwards as he reached and tried to steady her own invisible form. Once he got ahold of her, his hands gripped her upper arms, “There’s a split in the tunnel ahead.” He murmured, mouth pressed against the top of her head.

She leaned against him, glad for the reprieve in agonizing silence. His smell was grounding, parchment and autumn, a tether in the dark and dampness encroaching upon her.

She squinted, her eyes focused on the shapes of the cave around her. Sure enough, at the edge of the next torch, the tunnel forked. Ash grabbed his hand, running her thumb across the calloused knuckles. She pulled, taking the lead as they crept closer to the diverging paths.

Once they stood along the outside ring of torchlight, she felt it. A tug.

Now that they were so deep within the cave, Ash could practically taste the ancient magic hanging in the air. It was thick, heavy, and beckoning her forward like a siren song.

She squeezed her eyes shut, grinding her teeth as the magic already inside of her began reaching back. It wanted connection, it wanted more.

“I can feel it—“ Ash rasped, her voice sounding foreign after hours without it. She took a staggering step forward, towards the right tunnel and the magic seemingly sang louder. “It’s stronger towards the right.”

Sebastian seemed to understand her meaning, though he didn’t say. He was silent beside her, calculating.

“We don’t know if that necessarily means Harlow is that way.” He finally whispered and despite their disillusionment, she could feel his gaze on her.

She nodded. She knew that. And yet—

And yet it was a beckoning difficult to ignore. The magic wafting in the air was calming, so different from that which she held inside locked away. It reminded her of how it felt the first time she ever tasted it, the first time she knew what it was. She knew if she went right-wards, the magic would be there to take— to taste.

“Whatever is that direction, we need to see.” She answered finally, flexing her hands at her sides as if it could rid her of the tingles running through each finger.

Sebastian didn’t argue, he simply took the lead once again. She watched his disillusioned form pass by the torch and head into the branching tunnel. She followed, breathing deeply as if she could somehow sooth the feral beast inside of her with each inhale of the potent magic ahead.

___•___

This tunnel was darker than its main artery behind them; the torches were spaced further apart and each pocket of darkness felt nearly alive. As they pressed onward, the tunnel seemed to narrow even further, the walls closing in on them like the jaws of some ancient beast. The faint light from far ahead sconces cast long shadows that danced along the rough-hewn walls, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to leer and sneer at them from the darkness.

The shadows seemed to reach out to her, tempting her into the depths. Or maybe it was the magic that seemed to have swallowed her whole. She could scarcely breath without feeling it course through her lungs— her blood.

It had been weeks since she had released the magic inside of her— weeks of her updated suppressant potion holding everything in. It was bliss. Until now. Until she could see the strands of ancient magic glistening in the air around her. Bliss until she remembered why she had wanted to take the magic from the repository so badly— it called to her.

She ignored every wisp, every tantalizing thread that hung so thickly. The experimentation all those centuries ago had created a practical gold mine of untapped raw magic, and here she was wading through it.

She focused instead on the silence.

Despite the near half hour that her and Sebastian had spent in this branched tunnel, there were still no Ashwinders to be found. Unease gnawed at her, coupled with the stifling darkness that pressed in from every angle.

Just a little further, she thought at each pocket of torch light. The magic was growing thicker, which meant they had to be close to something.

The dark tunnel stretched like a yawning abyss, its walls closing in around her with an oppressive weight. The air was thick and stagnant, carrying with it the faint scent of decay.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened up into a vast cavern, its yawning maw swallowing them whole. It was like emerging from a sea of darkness, into the stifling sun. She was nearly choked with the quantity of ancient magic swirling in the space.

Every inhale was like a thrum of power ricocheting off each nerve ending and cell in her body. Every exhale worse, because she forced herself to leave the magic be— there was no telling what would come of absorbing any the way she frequently did fifth year. Not with Isidora’s magic now thrashing and fighting against its cage with every ounce of strength.

Ash and Sebastian stayed close to the closest cave wall, hugging the rough surface with their backs. She knew he was beside her, despite the disillusionment, his hand occasionally brushing against the back of her own. She forced herself to focus, to ignore the power at her fingertips.

The cavern was well lit, with a spell that reminded her so similarly of the Great Hall. Candles floated in the upper reaches of the large space, between stalactites so ancient they nearly reached the ground in some places. The walls glistened like fresh dew, and in the very middle of the space, a rock sat, as large as a writing desk.

What was most striking, was the vacancy.

The cavern was empty, devoid of the crates and supplies they had seen the wizards bring into the cave over the past few weeks. Of course, this cavern might have a different use than storage. The cave system must be so massive that Harlow had little need for some of the passages and caverns. That’s what she told herself when she assessed the stone hewn room.

The air was thick with a sense of unease, as if the very walls themselves were watching and waiting with bated breath.

Sebastian casted a silent revelio, but no hidden figures were hidden in the shadows of stalagmites. The only sound, besides her pounding heart, was a faint dripping of water.

Sebastian’s glimmering figure stepped forward, lacing his free hand with hers as he began walking further into the cavern.

Ash pointed her wand ahead, somehow holding it steady.

A step, and then another, and another led the two of them near the center of the space. Her stomach lurched into her throat at the rock carved from the floor. It wasn’t just a rock.

It was a table.

Weathered iron chains hung from the sides and Ash felt her knees buckle.

She knew then why the magic was so potent here, why her own magic fought to escape. This was the epicenter of Bragbor’s experiments. It was Isidora’s own magic permeating the cavern.

The flickering candlelight above revealed that the stone table was stained. A red so dark it was nearly black.

Sebastian said nothing beside her. Only tightening his grip on her hand when he himself realized where exactly they were.

Horrible things had happened here; things that caused the magic in her to purr with glee, with recognition.

Ash forced herself to focus. They had come for a reason— and she knew this was the place of horrors before he ever stepped foot inside. There was no time to think about it. She needed information on Harlow— anything. Anything describing his location and plans.

Ash forced her feet to walk away from the table, deeper into the cavern. Near the back of the cavern, a second opening was carved from the rock. Another chamber, smaller than the one before, hidden away in the depths of the darkness.

No torches hung along the interior, and the enchanted ceiling of the cavern before offered no candle light. Ash was beyond stealth at this point, and so she dropped her disillusioned form and casted a quiet Lumos, brightening the tip of her wand and a small area around it. Sebastian did the same, and with their combined efforts she was able to make out the carved rock in front of her.

The walls were lined with rough-hewn cells, their jagged edges cutting into the stone like the teeth of some ancient beast. The smell of decay hit her then, like a smack in the face. She stumbled back, back pressed against the stone behind her.

Were there bodies here? There couldn’t be— not from Bragbor’s time. They’d long since become dust and bone. But the smell of death lingered, and Ash couldn’t shake the feeling that someone wanted her to find this.

As they gazed upon the cells, a chill ran down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. In the depths of the cavern, surrounded by the oppressive weight of darkness, Ash felt like a pawn in a game that had begun long before she was born.

Sebastian approached the cells, his face grim. He tilted his wand through the bars of the first two cells, peering inside. Ash was aware that information on Harlow wouldn’t be found in the depths of a torture chamber, but she had to see it through.

Ash forced herself from the back wall, and stepped beside Sebastian as he stood in front of the third cell. The interior was shrouded in darkness, the faint light of their wands barely penetrating the gloom.

There was something in there.

She squinted, leaning forward against the rusted iron bars, to make out the lumpy shape propped against the far wall of the cell. It gave way— the barred door, and groaned as it opened on barely functioning hinges. The sound was oppressive in the silence, but Ash paid no mind as she forced herself to cross the threshold. She vaguely felt Sebastian at her back, wand raised in preparation.

The glow from her wand illuminated the room with every step inside. The scent of death coated her nostrils and tongue, heavier than before. She swallowed, forcing herself forward. The floor was covered in a thick layer of grime, and detritus, enough that her boots squelched as she stepped through the room. Ash took in the heavy chains hanging from the walls, and the scratch marks etched into the stone walls.

Fingernail marks.

She forced her gaze to the corner of the room, following the gouges in the stone, right to the huddled form.

Ash’s breathing became shallow, and bile rose in her throat.

There in the corner, was a body. Or what remained of one. Its once vibrant features now preserved in a grotesque parody of death. Limp blonde hair hung in patches across the mummified face, frozen in a scream.

Ash muffled a sob as she stumbled back and slid against the wall to the cell floor.

Pristine Hufflepuff robes hung off the remains, the garments cleaned and pressed— at odds with the horrible state of the witch’s body.

Adelaide Oakes’ body.

Despite the dim lighting, and the body’s condition, she recognized the blonde. Recognized the flowers embroidered around the badger on her robes, and the ruby ring on her left pinky.

Ash’s breathing was ragged as she took in the sight— the burn marks scorched around each mummified wrist, the body propped up presentationally, her hands delicately laced together and placed in her lap; the clumps of scalp missing from her head—

Ash pushed forward onto her hands and knees and vomited on the stone floor.

Trap— it was a trap for her—

That sweet hufflepuff girl was taken and brutalized because of her. And Ash hadn’t looked hard enough for her— had given up like everyone else while Adelaide was here being tortured—

She vomited again.

Sebastian was behind her, tugging her back against him. His breathing was as heavy as hers, the realization of their situation hitting him—

“We have to go, now.” Sebastian panted, grabbing under her arms when she didn’t move, and yanking her upwards to her feet. She couldn’t breathe— couldn’t tear her eyes away from Adelaide and the frozen scream on her face—

What had they done to Adelaide? Why had they taken her? How many others? Were all the kidnapped muggleborns and halfbloods taken for some sick game of Harlow’s?How did they know that she would come to this cave and find Adelaide’s body—

“Ash!” Sebastian shook her shoulders, his panicked face in front of hers, blocking her view of Adelaide. “We have to apparate now, we need to get out of here.”

“We can’t leave her body—“ Ash rasped, reaching past Sebastian for Adelaide. Sebastian clamped a hand on her wrist but Ash stretched her other arm out—

“Ash! Don’t touch—“

Her fingers grazed the hem of Adelaide’s robe and the three of them were sucked away to oblivion.

___•___

She was spit out so violently from the portkey that Ash smacked her head against the hard earth. Snow filled her mouth, and she spluttered it out. The smell of sea salt or damp earth was nowhere around her, instead she smelled pine and oak. A body was clutched in her hands, Adelaide’s mummified remains gripped tightly in her fingers. Ash released her, gasping down air as she fought to understand her surroundings. Her vision was filled with stars as she forced herself up and onto her knees—

Where was her wand? And Sebastian, where was—

“We hoped you’d be sentimental enough to grab the dead one.” A voice said, deep and mocking.

Chills snaked down her spine at the timber, the cadence. She raised her head up.

Theophilus Harlow stood across the forest clearing, a grin across his fat face. Twenty Ashwinders stood gathered around the field, and from the crunching of snow behind her, she knew more awaited at her back. But she had eyes for one person only—

Sebastian forced to his knees at Harlow’s feet.

Two Ashwinders stood at each side, holding Sebastian’s arms back, forcing his head back at an angle as Harlow pressed a wand to his throat.

Sebastian was calm, holding her gaze with ferocity.

Her body seized, fingers tightening in the snow until she felt rocky soil beneath. Panic tightened in her gut— oh god, oh god they had him—

She lurched forward and Harlow tutted, pressing his wand harder against Sebastian’s throat, causing the skin the indent at the tip. Ash froze instantly.

“None of that, my dear. No heroics I’m afraid, unless you want your companion’s blood painting the snow.”

Ash forced herself to look up from Sebastian, holding Harlow’s gaze. He was gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. His teeth were yellowed, and chipped, and Ash wondered if his time in Azkaban had caused the distress painting his features. She hoped so.

Harlow nodded to the men behind her, and calloused hands roughly grabbed under her arms and around her throat. She didn’t fight, not with Sebastian compromised. But she felt it— the magic seething. Like some feral animal clawing at her rib cage.

Sebastian yanked against the arms holding him as Ash was pulled to her feet; a drop of blood ran down his neck, from Harlow’s wand. They hurt him. She didn’t feel the hand yanking her hair back, or the wand at her own throat. Her eyes tracked the drip of blood sliding down the column of Sebastian’s throat, right to the pristine snow beneath him.

Harlow was speaking she thought, something muffled that she forced herself to hear, “— needs you in tact, of course. But I don’t see why I can’t have some fun first.”

The men around them laughed, but the sound was underwater— garbled.

Ash stared at Sebastian, at the calmness in his eyes. He wasn’t scared, angry of course, but no fear was found in the brown of his eyes. He dipped his chin imperceptibly, his dark eyes locked on her.

“—What do you say men? Or should we start with the boy? See how far our hero’s sentimentality stretches.”

The man holding her hair chuckled, and leaned forward enough to lick a strip up her neck—

Sebastian snarled, pushing forward again, and another bead of blood slipped down to the snow. They hurt him. Her Sebastian.

She felt the familiar tingle run through her hands, dancing across every nerve ending, culminating in a warming vibration in her fingertips. Ash could feel her magic pool around her, addictive. Ripe and thick from the excess she had accumulated by simply breathing in that cave.

She knew then what Sebastian’s nod had been for.

To kill them all.

Ash felt that door shutting again, as she locked away the scared child and let the monster out— something ancient and angry and unequivocally her.

And then she incinerated the cage surrounding her magic— burned through the suppressant potion with a simple thought. She dug deep, and the magic welcomed her with a purr as she grabbed the tendrils with no fear. Fear had held her back, but she was afraid no longer—

“—nothing permanent but I’m sure she won’t need that pretty face—“

Ash snapped her head backwards, slamming her skull into the man’s nose. The hands around her arms loosened enough for her to grab the wand at her throat; she turned, fast as an asp, and shoved the wand through the man’s neck.

Everyone sounds the same when they die.

He gargled around the intrusion in his windpipe, falling to his knees as he frantically grasped at the handle—

The man yanking her hair was next, she spun on her heel, striking him in the face with her fist. His nose crunched but it wasn’t enough—

She reached behind her and grabbed the wand from the dying man’s throat, yanking it free before shoving upwards, though the second man’s chin.

“Bombarda,” she hissed, and the man’s head exploded.

She registered the sounds of struggling across the field, and cut her eyes to the sight of Sebastian freeing himself from Harlow’s grasp.

A man reared back with his wand, preparing to shoot a spell towards Sebastian—

Ash reached a hand outwards, clenching her fist. The man evaporated, nothing but dust in his wake.

Chaos erupted.

Spells were thrown violently across the clearing, stunners in her direction, and unforgivables in Sebastian’s.

Sebastian rolled across the ground, dodging a jagged red spell, and snatched a wand from the pile of dust atop the snow. A burst of yellow barreled towards her and Ash twisted her torso, watching as it hit a balding man behind her instead. He flipped upside down and hung in the air; Ash clenched her teeth and squeezed her fist between them before slamming it downwards.

The man followed— slamming against the earth in tandem with her downward fist. Ash bashed him against the ground three more times before dropping her fist, letting his limp and bloody body crash to the snow.

She spun on her heel, letting her eyes land once more on Sebastian. Spells whizzed past her head but she stood stock-still, watching Sebastian locked in battle with Harlow.

Sebastian had someone else’s wand, and yet he did not falter. The two wizards traded spells— dark ones. Bursts of green and red zipped from Sebastian’s wand, and Ash could feel the darkness radiating from him, despite the distance between them. Harlow threw a spell, a cruciatus from the looks of it, and Sebastian ducked— a growl on his face as he slashed his wand in an unfamiliar pattern before casting a spell she had never seen—

Jagged and purple and electric.

Harlow twisted to avoid it, and it smashed into a tree beyond the clearing. The tree began to split at the seams, rupturing from the inside before flames poured out of the trunk, melting the snow beneath. Sebastian was unleashed, and Ash was glad for it.

Harlow had the audacity to look gleeful at Sebastian’s creation.

Harlow— who had hurt him. Who had made him bleed.

She would break his miserable body for it.

Her pupils burned as she bared her teeth and began her trek across the clearing. She knew if she saw a reflection of herself, her eyes would be red— not an illusion as she assumed the first time it happened; but a revelation. Of her true self.

Every wizard in her path was cannon fodder, a fucking annoyance— no more than a fly buzzing around her head. She swatted them like the bugs they were.

A woman rushed her, silver mask in place, and Ash threw her hand forward and launched the idiotic witch backwards. She barreled into a pine tree, and the resulting crack caused a wicked smile to carve on Ash’s face.

Sebastian had downed two wizards before locking in a duel against Harlow, and Ash had killed five. The snow was blotted with red and black, gore strewn over the once pristine landscape— a sight to behold. Ash counted sixteen remaining annoyances between her and her prize.

She stepped forward—

A bolt of red whizzed past her and she snapped her head in its direction. An unforgivable. They weren’t playing nice anymore. Ash thought she heard laughter as she reached for the energy surrounding a small boulder near the edge of the field; she yanked on the magic and the boulder flew towards her—

She twisted, and the boulder followed as if on a leash, flying towards the man who had the audacity to try to curse her—

It smashed into his head, sending brain matter flying in all directions.

Ash realized the laughter was coming from her own mouth.

She was halfway across the field now, and she watched in glee as Sebastian sent the killing curse to an Ashwinder to his left, dropping him like a stone.

Something changed in Harlow’s face then, as he caught a glimpse of her, covered in blood and gore, stalking across the field. A spark of fear, and another as Sebastian sent a green bolt of magic his way. Harlow dodged it, and Ash was grateful.

Because she wanted to end his miserable life. Just as she ended Rookwood’s and Ranrok’s.

The smell of sulfur and bile assualted her nose and she relished in it— relished in the squelch under her boots as she crossed the field. Two wizards to her right attempted to apparate away—

She snarled, and slammed her hand down across her body diagonally, pulling a bolt of lightning from the heavens. It caught one of the offenders— turning the man into a smoldering husk with a boom so loud her ears rang.

The other fumbled, a cry in his throat as he tried to complete his apparation— splinching himself halfway across the clearing. A mutilated torso and leg landed in the trees nearby.

Twelve remaining.

A wizard to her left, face obscured by a wretched silver animal mask, rushed her. He aimed a punch to her head and she swiveled, sending an elbow back into his throat. He choked, but made to send a second fist—

She caught it. The force enough to cause a tendon in her shoulder to pop. She didn’t feel it; Only vaguely heard the sound beyond the blood pounding in her ears.

Ash snarled, squeezing his fist as the man’s eyes widened behind the mask. Energy cracked under his skin, spreading like a spiderweb from his hand, up his arm and neck. He gasped, wrenching his hand away—

Gurgling sounds fell from his cracking lips as red magic filled his veins, burning him from the inside out. The man fell to his knees, yanking the mask from his face as he fought to suck down air into his scorched lungs.

Ash leaned forward, threading a hand through his short brown hair and snapping his head backwards. She leaned closer, bringing her face level with his as she sucked a hard breath in—

Magic poured from his lungs— red and writhing just as it had from the repository left by Isidora. She inhaled it, taking his energy, his pain and emotion with her.

Buzzing filled her body as she dropped his quivering form to the ground. He whimpered, eyes glassy as he stared into nothingness. Ash brought her booted foot down on his face thrice, until the whimpering stopped.

She was filled to the brim with magic, burning in her veins so deliciously. It crackled at her fingertips, emanating from every pore in her body.

She didn’t contain a maelstrom of power.

She was the storm.

Sebastian sent his purple curse towards a witch barreling towards Ash— and the woman cracked open down the middle as the tree had before, spilling blood and bile and flames from her torso—

Ash liked that curse. She’d learn it herself after the slaughter, she thought.

Ten left—

Harlow was backing away now, towards the edge of the clearing as Sebastian fired spell after spell in his direction. She wouldn’t let him escape, not this time.

Four wizards ahead caught her eye, some trembling as they held their position between her and their boss. One had a dark stain spreading across his pants.

Pathetic whelps.

Ash lashed out with her magic, a lethal web of crackling red power that sent the dark wizards crashing to their knees, necks snapped before they slumped to the slurry of snow and blood.

A grunt of pain caught her attention and she practically growled when she saw Sebastian clutching his arm, blooding flowing from the wound. Slicing hex she surmised. From a wizard to her right that yanked his wand back, preparing to send another spell Sebastian’s way.

She summoned a wand from the pile of bodies beside her, snapping her hand in the jagged motion in the man’s direction—

“Crucio,” she hissed, her eyes burning the same ruby red as the spell streaking across the clearing.

The man dropped like a stone, screaming and writhing. She held the curse, until the wizard’s vocal cords gave out; and then a little longer still. Held it until blood leaked from his nose and ears, and his eyes rolled back.

Sebastian dropped another wizard, an aguamenti to the lungs, before turning back to Harlow; holding his attention she realized— until she could get there.

Such a romantic.

Another witch to her right sent a green curse her way— Harlow’s plans be damned. Ash almost admired the woman for it—

Ash dropped to her knees, avoiding the death hex, before digging her fingers into the ground. She let out a broken scream, and the earth shuddered, cracks zigzagging towards the witch who could only watch in horror as the broken earth reached her feet—

And opened beneath her, swallowing her up.

Half her face remained above ground as she choked and spluttered. Ash clenched her teeth, and the ground rumbled again, snapping back together at its cracks and smushing the witch in between.

Ash pushed up onto her knees, another laugh bubbling from her bloodied lips.

Three remained—

Sebastian downed another and then it was just Harlow and two idiotically valiant wizards in her path.

This was nothing. Ash pushed up onto her feet, sending another wave of crackling red energy towards the closest Ashwinder— evaporating him. Goddamn childs-play. When would she get a real challenge—

A figure in black apparated onto the field, directly between her and Sebastian’s duel with Harlow. She bared her teeth at the intruder, stepping towards him palm raised—

The wizard tugged his hood back, dropping his mask to the ground.

Everything stopped; the screaming around her, the roaring in her blood, the magic laughing and itching for more suffering— more pain—

The deep brown eyes she had nearly forgotten were pure ice, the mouth that had smiled at her so many years ago downturned. He was unrecognizable and yet familiar as oxygen.

She stuttered forward, her face dropping, “Alex?” Her voice was a rasp, and at the sound, the man’s eyes hardened.

Harlow yelped in the distance, a cry of anguish, and Ash forced her attention to Sebastian who was staring at her; blood splattered across his face like mockery of his freckles. Harlow was down on the ground, writhing in pain— alive. Just barely.

The figure— Alex— stepped closer, snow and gore crunching under his heavy boots and Ash snapped her eyes back to him. Confusion clouded her mind, overwhelming the bloodlust fueled by the crackling magic at her fingertips.

“Alex?” She whispered again, his name a voice of all the questions she needed to ask— why was he here? How was he here?

How did he have magic?

A yell of warning sounded from behind Alex, Sebastian screaming her name, running for her—

A bolt of blue magic stabbed through her, from the Ashwinder she’d left alive and pain shot through her— pain and a wave of frozen energy, tensing her muscles into paralysis—

The last thing she saw was the swirl of apparation as Alex snagged her wrist, whisking her away.

And Sebastian’s panicked brown eyes.

___•___

Pain.

Every cell in her body felt alight with pain. Flaying. Boiling. Ripping her apart piece by piece.

Darkness.

She was awash in it. Not quite awake. Or perhaps not quite alive. Though Ash assumed death would be less painful than this. Unless Headmistress Beckett was right all those years ago. Perhaps this was hell. It was a fitting fate, Ash thought.

“I believe our guest has awoken.” A deep voice rumbled above her, somewhere amongst the darkness. The voice with lithe, teasing almost. Familiar.

The pain increased until a scream ripped from her throat, and her body bowed upwards— up and up and up until her hands and feet were yanked downwards.

She was chained to something. And something was burning at her wrists and throat; something heavy and metal. She screamed again as the burning grew hotter, screamed until her throat felt raw and bloody. She still couldn’t see—

“Alexander, be a good lad and remove the blindfold.”

Fabric was ripped from her face and suddenly everything was too bright— too much— and it still hurt so bad she arched against what she know recognized as a slab of rock, yanking against her binds—

She gritted her teeth, forcing her eyes to adjust to the torchlight. She needed to see— see what happened to her, what happened to her Sebastian, what happened to her Alex—

Another wave of pain assaulted her and she screamed again, wondering who was casting the cruciatus so violently—

“Unfortunately the adjustment process to the manacles is quite painful,” the voice drawled again from her right, “but you’re a hardy one. And with Morganach’s magic, you will survive. I will ensure it.”

She recognized the voice, its titillating drawl, but couldn’t place it amongst the haze of agony circulating through her.

A figure stepped up to her side, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead before yanking his hand away, hissing at the heat radiating from her skin. She forced her eyes to the figure, forced herself to focus on his dark sweeping hair and manicured mustache—

He tutted, “Fools are often overlooked, you know. My father never understood that, nor his father before him. They thought power was taken forcefully, through fear and contrition. But true power, true power is offered by willing hands. Brewed in shadow, bottled in secrecy. True power is granted to those who earn it.”

Her vision was blurry, her thought scattered— was the voice real? Or in her mind? Ash’s body seized again atop the table, her magic fighting whatever had been forced upon her—

“Such a perfect weapon. Lethal. You just need some…honing. Direction.” The voice tutted again, “Shame about Theophilus, though he was a true fool in the end to attempt to fight you and that infernal boy rather than capture you immediately.”

She screamed again, and her magic clawed at the bands around her throat and wrists. The thoughts eddied from her mind, washed away in the pain. Memories fracturing under the oppressive weight of the presence burrowing into her brain—

A brunette kissing her.

Freckles.

Brown eyes— two pairs. One light, one soil brown—

She held on to the fragments slipping through her fingers—

No.

No.

No. No. No.

She would not break. She would not yield. The stars would go out before she forgot him, before she forgot the boy she loved—

She gagged, her eyes rolling back as her body arched against the table; fingers splayed at odd angles, skins cracking and burning under the metal stretching across her throat and wrists—

The face stepped into view, leaning over her shattering body and mind. A cruel smirk misplaced on his once foolish face. And as she slipped into darkness, Headmaster Black’s voice called out, anchoring him to her—

“Answer me this Miss Cendrillion, is a monster born a monster, or is it created?"