Et Monstrum
Sebastian
"Who were you working for?"
Sebastian's voice echoed through the dim cave, surrounding him and his captive in a cacophony of despair.
"Fuck you— stupid fucking boy—" Harlow hacked up a glob of blood, letting it dribble from the corner of his mouth. Sebastian gritted his teeth so hard he was sure they'd break. Creativity was needed for a man like Harlow, but Sebastian was not feeling particularly creative this evening. He slammed his fist into the man's thrice broken nose, delighting to the sickening crunch. Harlow grunted, his fingers tightening on the chair arms.
"Who took Ash Cendrillion?" Sebastian hissed.
Harlow glared at him through swollen eyes, "How long we gonna do this dance, boy? All for a piece of cunt—"
Sebastian sliced diagonally with his wand, the red curse zinging as it contacted Harlow's chest. He screamed in agony as the cruciatus tore through him, his body bowing against the bonds holding him steadfast to the chair. His misshapen legs cracked as he struggled, pus pockets popped and leaked viscous fluid underneath his thighs and forearms.
Sebastian held the curse for another heartbeat, feeling it break a piece of his soul in turn. That was fine, there was little left to break anyway. He dropped his wand to his side, and the man began twitching, each tortured muscle writhing as he searched for comfort that would not come.
"Who is Alexander Rookwood?" Sebastian snarled, leaning forward. He pressed his wand into the soft tissue of the man's throat, feeling his thumping heartbeat under the wooden tip.
Harlow's eyes fluttered, his reeking breath coming in short pants that burned Sebastian's nose.
"Stupid pawn who thinks he's a knight." Harlow coughed a laugh, broken and wheezing. "Like you—" He hacked, and blood sprayed onto Sebastian's face, "—like me. But there's only one King and one Queen who protects him."
Sebastian wiped the blood from his face as Harlow began rocking his broken body back and forth in the chair murmuring 'King and Queen,' again, and again, and again. He shoved a healing potion down his throat, and stalked out.
___•___
"I saw your sister this afternoon."
Sebastian didn't bother looking up from the tome splayed across the coffee table. He had only four pages left to translate, and the hope for any clues dwindled with each translated line. The theory that someone had placed this journal in Sebastian's path, that someone wanted him to find it and use it to find that cave— to bring Ash to that cave— became clearer every day.
Ominis took Sebastian's lack of response as an invitation and stepped further into the Room, his shoes clacking against the marble floor with every step. "She had a new map by her bed, and she described the pins placed across it—"
"Ominis—" Sebastian interrupted, not in the mood for a fucking interrogation—
"—Let me finish." He clipped, stowing his red tipped wand as he stopped beside the edge of the low laying table. "You're looking for her." It wasn't a question, "Anne told me that she is helping you, and that I would be of use as well."
"You wouldn't." Sebastian said simply, "Because you won't get your hands dirty." He turned his attention back to the tome, willing Ominis to walk away. He didn't.
"There is a difference between the revenge path you and Asha walked earlier this year, and a rescue."
Sebastian didn't respond, nor did he acknowledge that Ominis lacked the decency to call her Ash. It was one thing to have his sister helping, someone who understood him, who understood what was at stake. Ominis had always been too wrapped up in his own morals to look at the bigger picture.
A stack of newspapers dropped in front of Sebastian unceremoniously, "These were waiting outside the door. Any particular reason you're reading Romanian and Hungarian bulletins?"
Sebastian snatched the papers and laid them all flat atop the table—The Daily Prophet, The Népszava, and The Seara. His wand flicked through the air and slowly the first page of each paper simultaneously lifted and flipped. After the last two weeks of attempting to translate the papers himself, Sebastian had written to the newspapers and requested English versions of each. He wasn't sure his letters would be answered, but here were English copies of each newspaper. Sebastian scanned the pages of each, eyes dragging over the words methodically—
BUDAPEST, Hungary - In the wake of the devastating terrorist attack that claimed the lives of Count Andrássy and his family, the new Hungarian Ministry of Magic, Gábor Kovács, has announced sweeping new policies targeting individuals of Muggleborn descent. These policies, aimed at increasing security and preventing further acts of violence, have sparked fierce debate and drawn criticism from members of the wizarding community.
Under the new regulations, all individuals identified as Muggleborns are required to register their names with the Ministry of Magic and undergo a preliminary background check before being granted access to a wand. The measures, proponents argue, are necessary to ensure the safety of the wizarding population and prevent potentially dangerous individuals from obtaining magical abilities.
Sebastian moved to the other newspaper, eyes raking over the article. He ignored Ominis joining him on the couch. The blond had retrieved his wand and was currently running the top over the Hungarian newspaper. Sebastian didn't comment on it, didn't encourage whatever helpful behavior Ominis thought he was engaging in.
BUCHAREST, Romania - The Romanian Ministry of Magic has announced a series of stringent measures aimed at curbing political unrest and maintaining stability within the wizarding community. The move comes amidst escalating tensions both domestically and across the border in neighboring Hungary.
In a statement released earlier today, Minister Nicolae Ardelean emphasized the importance of maintaining order and unity in the face of growing challenges. "It is imperative that we take decisive action to safeguard the interests of our nation and protect our citizens from the threat of unrest and instability," Minister Ardelean declared.
Under the new regulations, any form of political protest or dissent deemed to be in violation of Ministry policies will be met with swift and severe consequences. Individuals found to be participating in such activities may face fines, imprisonment, or even expulsion from the wizarding community.
Additionally, the Romanian Ministry has pledged its support to its neighbor Hungary in the wake of the recent terrorist attack that claimed the lives of Count Andrássy and his family. Minister Ardelean has extended his condolences to the Hungarian wizarding community and reaffirmed Romania's commitment to standing in solidarity with its allies in times of need.
A swish of his wand and the pages flipped. He didn't allow himself to think about the connections, not yet. Not until he had practically memorized the damn things. He continued alternating between the two papers, The Daily Prophet currently seized in Ominis' grasp. He ignored the blond at his side, instead focusing on reading and re-reading the first pages of each paper. He was halfway through his third scan of the Romanian paper when Ominis slid The Daily Prophet to him.
"There's a similar article here." He said simply.
Sebastian snatched the paper from the table, flipping rapidly until— there, the second to last page—
SOFIA, Bulgaria - The Bulgarian wizarding community is reeling from a devastating tragedy that has claimed the lives of both the Minister of Magic and the muggle Prime Minister. The two officials were killed in a gas explosion at the muggle home of the late muggle Minister, where they were conducting negotiations regarding policies affecting both the magical and muggle populations.
The explosion occurred during a meeting between the two ministers, who were reportedly discussing plans to bridge the gap between the magical and muggle worlds and address issues of mutual concern. Witnesses at the scene described a sudden and violent blast that tore through the house, leaving little chance for escape.
Among the casualties were Minister Viktor Ivanov, who had served as the Minister of Magic for over a decade, Minister Petar Petrov, the muggle Minister serving as head of the Bulgarian expanse of the Ottoman Empire, as well as his wife and four servants. Their deaths have sent shockwaves through the wizarding community, leaving many in mourning and raising questions about the future of magical governance in Bulgaria.
The late Minister Petrov has come under scrutiny in the magical community in the wake of the tragedy, with some speculating that his strained political relationship with Minister Ivanov may have played a role in the deadly explosion. However, official investigations into the cause of the blast are still ongoing, and no conclusions have been reached.
Sebastian stared at the page. Three. That was three Ministers of Magic within the last two months.
The threads of the grand tapestry seemingly glowed, twisting and tangling around him. This was something. This meant something.
The article was only two days old. Sebastian ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before standing from the couch. He summoned his bag from the floor before dropping the newspapers inside as well as the nearly-translated tome.
"What are you doing, Sebastian?"
"Packing."
Sebastian stalked to the potions table, summoning loose clothing he'd dropped in various piles throughout the Room. He caught Ominis nodding from the corner of his eye before the blonde stood from the couch and made his way towards the door. Sebastian turned his attention back to the task at hand, ripping open drawers and pulling various potions out before shoving them into his bag.
"Give me fifteen minutes, I need to grab my bag."
Sebastian turned on his heel, ready to ask what the fuck Ominis was talking about, but his oldest friend had already left. Sebastian gritted his teeth. He didn't have time for this. He turned back to the potions station, stashing a bottle of dittany into his bag. A shirt, pair of trousers. By the time Sebastian was headed for the wooden door, determined to finally stop chasing his tail over these pseudo-leads, Ominis pushed through from the other side. He had a leather valise floating behind him, and his cheeks were flushed as if he did indeed hurry back. Sebastian made to shoulder past him, when Ominis spoke.
"How do you plan to get to Bulgaria, Sebastian?"
Sebastian hated the condescension lacing each word, as if Ominis already knew the answer. Sebastian tugged at the roots of his hair, frustration in every breath, "Floo."
Ominis scoffed, "Floo where exactly? Unless you took a vacation last year I was unaware of, you haven't been to Bulgaria, and have zero idea of Floo locations."
"And what's your perfect fucking solution, Ominis?" Sebastian spat. He was tired. Tired of games, of being one step behind at every turn.
Ominis didn't flinch at the vitriol, "My family has an estate in Greece. We can Floo there, and take a train to neighboring Bulgaria."
"Why are you so insistent on tagging along?" Sebastian said bitterly, "Your help is unnecessary, especially if you're only coming to criticize my methods."
Ominis was silent for a moment, his free hand ran over the hem of his jacket once, twice—
"You love her. You've been in love with her since fifth year." Ominis' porcelain features betrayed nothing, each word said with a careful layer of occlusion, "I was worried that she was dragging you down a path that would only result in Azkaban or your death." Ominis shook his head, as if the thought was too realistic to bear, "But if you lose her, I worry for the rest of us as well."
"So you're helping for selfish reasons?" Sebastian scoffed.
Ominis' face shuttered for only a moment, as if Sebastian's words punched through the cracks in his occlusion. But, as if layering himself up brick by brick, he disappeared under that blank facade, "The reason I'm helping is entirely selfish I'm afraid."
Sebastian stared at Ominis. His first friend, his closest friend before everything began falling apart. Sebastian gave a stiff nod, "We're wasting time, and I need you to get through the blood wards on your estate."
Ominis' shoulders dipped imperceptibly, a breath falling from his lips as if Sebastian had somehow relieved him with his begrudging acceptance.
___•___
The train ride was too fucking slow, even by magical standards. Five hours. Five hours of wasted time. It had taken an additional two hours to find the damn station. One of those hours was spent just to dismiss the caterwauling charm built into the Gaunt blood wards around the estate, no doubt alerting Ominis' father of his impromptu trip out of the country. If Ominis had any thoughts about that, he kept them to himself.
Then the two of them wondered about like bumbling idiots, searching for the equivalent of Kings Cross in the Grecian countryside. In fact, what they found was a covered platform with a small yellow building only big enough for a ticket stand. Not that Sebastian gave a shit, Ash probably would've loved the architecture.
The train compartment was decorated with plush seating and polished wooden paneling. It was nearly sunset at this point, and the soft lighting cast a warm glow over the interior. Sebastian scribbled another rune into his journal, cataloging the upward curve and three middling slashes. They'd been on the train for four of the five hours. Four hours of Sebastian working on the time while Ominis had read and re-read the Bulgarian newspaper article.
Sebastian had spared only a glance out of the window at the scenery unfolding before him. Rolling hills and verdant valleys stretched out as far as the eye could see, punctuated by olive groves and vineyards. The landscape had shifted as the train crossed into Bulgaria, with rugged mountains rising in the distance.
Sebastian rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He had two pages left to translate. Two pages until he would be forced to abandon the idea that the tome contained anything useful.
"Why do you think there's a connection between her captors and these terrorist attacks?" Ominis voice was barely a murmur despite the silencing charm they had placed on their compartment hours ago.
Sebastian twisted his quill between his fingers, "Because I have a source that mentioned the Romanian Minister of Magic's death and subsequent political instability in the country. That Romania was an 'easy target.'" Sebastian scribbled in his green journal laying on the seat beside him, "I don't know the motivations or even if there's a connection to the other Minister's deaths, but it feels too orchestrated to be a coincidence."
Ominis' face tightened at Sebastian's use of the word source, but he didn't lecture. Or argue. In fact, he dipped his chin in a simple nod. "I agree that three subsequent deaths of political leaders cannot be coincidental." Ominis cocked his head to the side, the last remnants of daylight lighting his face, "Now we need to understand what Asha's captors gain if they are involved in it."
"The million galleon question." Sebastian retorted, leaning his head back against the cushioned seat. If he closed his eyes he could be on the Hogwarts Express. Perhaps third year. Ominis would be sitting ramrod straight across from him, explaining all the new tricks and spells he taught himself over the summer. He himself would be reading, third year it would've probably been a dueling book. Anne would be chasing down the trolley, trying to snag a pumpkin pasty. And Ash would be—
Not there.
Suddenly he was back in Bulgaria, on a train that rocked far too much to be the Hogwarts Express.
___•___
The ruins of the muggle minister's city home were like a black stain against the vibrant city. Only blocks away, musicians sat at street corners singing while patrons danced and tipped their heads up to the starry sky.
And yet here, in this spot, the aftermath of a once-grand building lay scattered and broken.
Piles of rubble and debris littered the ground, the jagged remnants of what had once been walls, floors, and ceilings. Charred wooden beams jutted out at odd angles. Dust still hung heavy in the air, choking and acrid, as if the very soul of the building lingered in its ruins.
Sebastian and Ominis stood at the forefront of the devastation, feeling magical wards tingling at their fingers if they dared to step closer. Muggle repellant wards, Sebastian knew, as well as simple barrier charms to any wizarding folk who might find an interest in the scene. Besides the wards, there was an evident lack of magical signatures on the site, and a definitive lack of aurors.
It was well past midnight after all, though Sebastian had expected at least a guard at the scene. Ominis cast a disillusionment over the both of them, ensuring no passerby's caught sight of them, before murmuring a near silent revelio.
Not even a galleon lit up with the spell. The ruins were wiped clean, only soot and debris left behind. Sebastian stared at the pile of blackened rubble, numbness seeping into every pore, every cell.
Sebastian didn't know what he had been expecting upon arrival in Bulgaria. He didn't expect to see her, but fuck he expected something. To feel something, some sort of pull in her direction. How could she be woven into the very fabric of his being, and yet he couldn't find her?
He wanted to burn the fucking city to the ground.
Sebastian gripped his wand tighter and slashed it through the air, whispering a series of spells—
A hole formed in the wards and Sebastian stepped through without a second thought. Ominis didn't protest, instead he stayed at the boundary, his disillusionment glinting in the moonlight as he stood watch. Sebastian stepped over piles of brick and glass, swishing his wand to sweep larger pieces of debris from his path. He pushed through, manually shoving blackened wooden beams, sending them toppling as he made his way to what was the epicenter of the blast.
He didn't know what he was looking for, but fuck he needed to find it.
He arched his wand in a semicircle, sending piles of wood, and stone, and soot blasting outwards away from him. The debris slammed into the wards, some pushing through the hole he had made, which Ominis readily vanished.
A charred marble floor was left behind. Not charred—
Sebastian's knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, palms sweeping over the marks that branched outwards from a single point. Burn marks— scorches so deep not even a cleaning spell could remove them.
He knew these marks.
His throat burned as he dropped his forehead against the cool stone, inhaling as if he could catch a hint of her wildfire left behind.
Ash had been here.
His breathing was ragged—
No she hadn't just been here. Ash had caused this—
Sebastian summoned his bag from Ominis' side, and dug until he felt the familiar leather under his hand. He yanked out his journal, and the tome, and laid them along the scorched floor.
Alexander was a pawn. Harlow was a pawn. One King, one Queen who protects him.
Sebastian flipped rapidly through the pages of both books—
Muggleborns and half-bloods across Europe had been taken. Taken to the cave in which centuries prior, experiments had taken place involving goblin silver and ancient magic. Experiments in which manacles were put on witches and wizards to suppress their magic. Burn marks along Adelaide's wrists. Similar experiments done by Rookwood and Ranrok two years ago with dragons in which magic was not only suppressed but the will of the creature was bent to their maker.
Muggleborns and halfbloods. Ash was muggleborn. Whoever had taken her had been testing goblin silver for—
Sebastian felt nauseous staring at the tome, at the scorch marks surrounding him. Sebastian flipped to the last page of the tome, the only remaining section untranslated. He skimmed the mix of runes and goblin until his eyes caught on something scrawled near the bottom.
A different penmanship. Fresher ink compared to the rest. Not runes. Not goblin. Latin.
Et sic ignis egredietur et monstrum nascitur
Sebastian magic thrummed in his veins, a painful lump in his throat as he stared at the words that could only be left by her captor. By the person who ensured they found this book. It was a message, just for him.
Et sic Ignis egredietur et Monstrum nascitur
Thus the Fire is unleashed and a Monster born.
___•___
The Wraith
Darkness. Fractals of sound and movement.
A voice begging her for mercy.
Distantly a smile carved across her face.
Screaming. Always screaming.