Portus
Sebastian
Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Only two passing N.E.W.Ts, both with Exceeds Expectations. It was more than he had expected considering Ominis had dragged him from the Undercroft to sit for them. He couldn't have cared less, except for the slim hope for a future with Ash and him as professors. Would she even want that anymore? Would she want anything anymore?
She might. That was the only reason he had let Ominis force him into the testing room.
He wasn't even sure what N.E.W.Ts Ominis had passed, or even sat for. Sebastian wondered if he still wished to travel after graduation. If he still dreamed of opening a bookshop far from his family's grasp. Most likely not. Those were childish ideas, and neither him nor Ominis were children any longer.
The tests had been given earlier this year than in the past, with increased worries of terrorism within their own country. Sebastian expected an earlier graduation was to be announced soon as well, taking place inside the castle proper instead of the grounds.
He didn't care about that either. Before, he had planned to sneak Anne from St. Mungo's, and have the four of them— he, his sister, Ominis, and Ash— carve their names onto the clock guarding the undercroft entrance. Their place. All of theirs.
And then, he planned to take Ash on a proper date. One that didn't involve missions or dueling or saving an ungrateful population. Perhaps he could have taken her to a real French bakery where she could have tried pastries neither of them could name, or created a candlelit picnic under the stars where she would gaze at the sky and he would stare at her. He might've proposed, they would've been out of school after all.
Now he wasn't sure he'd even attend his graduation— what was the point? He would be wasting precious time, if he hadn't found her by then.
Sebastian dropped his score report onto the marble floor and stepped past it to the low lying couch. Soon it was lost amongst the scattered parchment and newspapers strode across the ground.
The Room was subdued as usual, though a plate of blueberry tarts sat on the coffee table. They were warm still, and soft curls of steam wafted the scent of sugar into the air. He ignored them, as he had ignored every plated offering these last few months, instead he focused on the tome sitting open in front of him. He had read and re-read it thrice over, looking for any hints as to counter measures for the manacles.
He had obsessed over Alexander's words for two weeks now. Collared and cuffed—both designed to suppress and control the wearer and the wearer's magic. Blood bound to her captor, granting him the power to command her to do anything. To kill anyone.
And also make escape damn near impossible. Removal of the manacles would kill her. Removing her from her captor's grasp would kill her. And murdering the man who had taken and tortured her, would kill her.
He thought of Harlow's words, his spluttering and raving— There is only one King and a Queen who protects him.
A man who thinks himself a king, bound to a woman who is more a force of nature than human. A man with influence. Power. Patience. And a god-complex. Sebastian knew it had to be someone in England. Someone with access to Bragbor's journals. A pureblood, based on the anti-muggleborn legislation passed in the wake of his terrorism.
Sebastian had begun making a list yesterday, of the sacred twenty-eight families in England. Crossing out those without enough influence to hold so much sway, and those without any male heirs. Some of the most prominent on his list were the Carrows, the Lestranges, the Notts, the Malfoys, the Blacks, and of course the Gaunts. Though he did not exclude the Flint family nor the Rosiers. He considered scratching off the Gaunts, in account of Ominis, but couldn't bring himself to do so without evidence. Ominis had an older brother, with a mean streak derived straight from their father, and both men would sell their souls for the power to wipe muggleborn witches and wizards from the Earth.
All in all his list contained twenty of the twenty-eight, with sprawling family trees in each ménage. Sons, nephews, fathers, uncles, cousins, grandfathers even. It narrowed his search minutely, but it was something. He planned to secure transaction records between Theophilus Harlow and Victor Rookwood, and any of the aforementioned families. Though Sebastian knew at least half of the sacred twenty-eight engaged in back-alley dealings and were likely to have crossed paths with either Rookwood or Harlow at any point.
But it was something.
He stared at the tome, eyes burning holes into the pages. Regardless of which prominent family was involved, he had to neutralize the blood bond first and then find a way to remove the manacles and collar if the two issues weren't one and the same. Finding her would matter little if he couldn't get her out.
But there was no mention of a blood bond in the tome. And Ranrok's use of collars on dragons fifth year did not include any sort of blood magic between the beasts and their binder.
He was familiar with some blood magic, however. His ancestral home had blood wards erected around the property, and Sebastian's father had left record of how to strengthen them when the time came for Sebastian to run the household. He had yet to do so, despite the years that had passed since his parent's, and Solomon's, deaths. He had also considered the merits of blood magic fifth year when removal of Anne's curse seemed hopeless; binding his own life to his twin's might have granted her a half-life, one in which they shared the curse. Anne wouldn't even consider it, and Solomon had destroyed the spell scroll before Sebastian could memorize it.
His jaw clenched. If he had that scroll, he could possibly determine what binding spell was used and find a counter to it. He would have to find another. There was always another.
He pulled the sickle from his coat pocket, checking it for changes as he had every day. Nothing was different. Two days after his conversation with Alexander, in which he had been engrossed in re-reading his translation of the tome, Sebastian had remembered the coin. 'Unum Sickle' was embossed across the top of one side with a dragon underneath, and a rendering of Merlin on the other. It was unremarkable, no different than any silver sickle he could find on the street. Until he had decided to cast a detection spell on the piece of metal.
A protean charm. Replication of sorts. Sebastian assumed that transfiguring a part of the coin's verbiage or pictures would reflect on a connected coin— most likely one in Alexander's possession. Another spell was woven into the metal, layers of arithmantic calculations that Sebastian's detection couldn't quite unravel.
Clever bit of magic. Though Sebastian had no idea how to activate it. He didn't think himself able. Not from lack of trying; Sebastian had spent hours after discovering the charm trying to transfigure the phrase atop the coin with no luck. He assumed that meant only Alexander could activate the coin, for whatever purpose.
It remained the same and Sebastian slipped it back into his pocket as the door creaked open.
"You're back." Sebastian murmured, eyes trained on the tome in front of him. Footsteps scraped across the ground, and Sebastian raised his gaze towards Ominis. The blond was haggard, his suit jacket missing, and hair mussed. His hands were trembling where they were clutching the stack of books to his chest.
"Your family wasn't away then?" Sebastian stood and carefully took the books from Ominis rigid grip. The boy's fingers spasmed with nothing to hold onto and he promptly pressed them against the sides of his trousers as he blindly made his way to the couch, no wand in hand.
Ominis said nothing as he slumped against the plush material, sinking into the cushions as if they could swallow him away.
Sebastian glanced at the books in hand. All accounts of blood magic, most of them personal journals, directly from the Gaunt library. His fingers itches to dig through them, and he only hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to set them down on the table. He spun and headed for the small potion's station that he had become familiar with in those months he worked to create Ash's suppression potion.
He tried not to think of it.
Instead he ripped open the drawers and pulled out a topical potion, one used for aches and pains, as well as the aftermath of the cruciatus curse. He had made a batch during that time of their constant surveillance trips, in case she had gotten hurt. It was also useful on scar tissue, which he had meant to show her. It wouldn't remove the scars lining her back, but it would reduce their inflammation, and reduce the strain they caused on muscle movement.
It wasn't Sebastian's first time creating the potion. No, during those formative years when Ominis was forced to return to his manor every break, Sebastian had gotten quite good at making it for his return.
The potion was a milky consistency, nearly transparent save for its slightly violet tint. He shut the drawer and made his way back to Ominis, whose eyes were shut tightly as his body occasionally twitched against the sofa.
Sebastian settled beside him, "How long?"
Ominis' face pinched as he forced out, "Nearly a minute. Twice."
An unfathomable amount of time under the curse. Sebastian unstoppered the potion and gently took his friend's left hand. He poured a dab of the liquid into Ominis' palm and began massaging it into the tense muscles. Ominis gritted his teeth as Sebastian worked the potion into each spasming finger, slowly easing the tremors.
After a few minutes he began on his other hand, "Your father?"
Ominis shook his head, finally opening his eyes as he leaned his head against the back of the couch, "Brother. Father was away on business."
Sebastian took note of that as he rubbed the potion into the tense knot between Ominis' thumb and forefinger, "What business?"
"I didn't ask," Ominis snipped, "Though I know what you're assuming. When I arrived, I checked the manor. Despite my family's...disappointment in me, they cannot ward me from any aspect of the grounds unless they went ahead and stripped me of my blood title," Ominis let out a tense breath as Sebastian rubbed the potion into the sensitive tissue around his wrist, "I checked every room. She wasn't there nor were there signs of her confinement."
Sebastian didn't mention that his father could have her somewhere off manor grounds, not after the ordeal Ominis went through at his behest.
"Did Marvolo catch you snooping?" Sebastian asked, his own fingers tingly from the potions effects.
"No. He arrived at the manor precisely when I was leaving. Unfortunate timing."
Sebastian saw the tension in Ominis' face, the ill-ease he never fully rid himself of. No potion could remove that sort of pain.
"Do you want me to apply it to your back?" Sebastian asked, gently pushing on Ominis' shoulder to pivot him on the couch. Ominis' skin jumped at the contact and his hands flexed at his sides. He removed himself from Sebastian's touch and instead settled on the far side of the couch, "No. Thank you."
Sebastian didn't argue. Instead he passed the potion bottle to Ominis and turned to the new stack of books now piled on the table, "Use the rest of the potion tonight then."
There were no more words between them. Not when Sebastian pulled the first journal from the stack and began devouring each page, stopping only to write down anything that felt important.
Ominis merely listened, his head lolling back at the sound of Sebastian's soft murmuring and his quill scratching across parchment.
___•___
Alex
"And how has our pet been behaving this week?"
Alex stood rigid beside Black's desk, diligently staring at the opposite wall and not the man sitting only feet away.
He had arrived this morning. It was the first time in weeks that Black had stopped by the manor in person and he had called Alex to his study directly after breakfast. He was dressed impeccably, despite the early hour and the dreary weather outside.
His robe, crafted from the finest black velvet, was embroidered with intricate silver patterns that shimmered subtly in the light. The robe's high collar stood stiffly, framing his sharp features. Beneath the robe, he wore a dark waistcoat of deep emerald green, the buttons fashioned from polished obsidian, catching the light with every movement. His white dress shirt was impeccably pressed, the collar peeking just above the neckline of the waistcoat, adorned with a cravat of rich burgundy silk, tied with meticulous precision.
His trousers, tailored to perfection, were a dark charcoal wool that complemented the darker tones of his robe. The hems brushed the tops of his polished black leather boots.
On his right hand, he wore a silver ring. One that glinted with every swipe of the man's hand over the parchment as he wrote. Alexander did his best to not stare at the ring, goblin silver crafted, with runes etched into the polished surface.
"Perfectly, sir. She has attended training sessions daily in which she has showcased mastery over her abilities."
"And you?" Black didn't look up from his writing. Alexander schooled his expression despite his surprise at the question.
"Sir?"
"How have you entertained yourself since your last mission?"
Black posed the question as merely conversational intrigue, enough so that Alexander wondered why he was having a personal conversation at half past seven.
Alexander didn't let his thoughts stray from the intricate wallpaper adorning the room. Didn't let himself think of the sickle burning a hole in his pocket, "I traveled back to Rome after the mission to ensure all was according to plan. Apologies sir, for not obtaining permission."
The sound of the quill stopped and Alexander dated a glance at the man. He was staring at him, a gleam in his eyes, "I thank you for your service, Alexander."
Alex have a short uneasy nod and Back turned back to his parchment. Silence filled the room but Alex knew better than to take his leave without dismissal.
"Tomorrow you will take our pet to Switzerland. The minister is unwilling to part with his ways and needs a little nudge." Black said nudge the way arsonists say fire— far too much enthusiasm.
Alexander gave another nod, "Any explicit instructions for the wraith?"
"The messier the better."
And he was dismissed.
Alexander's ears were filled with screaming as he made his way back to his chambers.
___•___
Alex leaned against a wrought-iron railing, observing Bern from his vantage point atop the Kirchenfeld Bridge. The city sprawled beneath him, a picturesque blend of medieval architecture and burgeoning modernity, all framed by the distant, snow-capped peaks of the Bernese Alps.
The summer sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the terracotta rooftops and narrow cobblestone streets. The air was fresh and crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hint of pine from the forests surrounding the city.
It was a storybook city, one untouched by the fear spreading like a disease around Europe. Minister Wilhelm Drechsler was a tough man, unswayed in his firm stance that all born with magic have the right to magic no matter their blood. It was poetic really, enough to make Alexander gag.
He watched as horse-drawn carriages clattered along the streets below, their passengers oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that seemed to permeate every other corner of Europe. The Aare River glinted in the sunlight, winding its way through the city with a deceptive tranquility.
He swatted at a bug that buzzed near his head, his irritation a stark contrast to the serene beauty around him. The city, with its ornate fountains and meticulously maintained gardens, felt like a facade, hiding the same corruption and decay he had seen in countless other places. It was here, all it would take is a nudge.
He passed through a run-down tavern, out the back and through a warded backstreet similar to that of Diagon alley. Magic skimmed over his skin as he passed from the muggle to magical part of the city.
Alex wove through the bustling stalls of Marktgasse, his sharp eyes scanning every detail. The market was alive with activity, a vibrant artery of commerce snaking through the heart of the city. Stalls were laden with an array of goods, their wooden frames creaking under the weight of wares. Fresh produce glistened with morning dew, the scent of ripe strawberries mingling with the earthy aroma of potatoes and carrots.
One stall showcased an array of cheeses, each wheel and wedge meticulously labeled. The tang of aged Gruyère and the creamy allure of Emmental filled the air, tempting passersby. Next to it, a butcher's stall boasted an assortment of meats, from plump sausages to marbled cuts of beef, all displayed with pride.
Further along, the sweet scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a baker's stand, where loaves of all shapes and sizes were arranged in neat rows. The golden crusts of baguettes, the hearty roundness of sourdough, and the rich, dark loaves of rye drew in customers with their promise of warmth and sustenance.
Craftsmen had set up their stalls with equal care. One vendor displayed intricate wooden carvings, each piece a testament to the artisan's skill. Figures of animals, fantastical creatures, and ornate boxes were laid out on velvet cloths, catching the eye with their detail and craftsmanship. Nearby, a potter's stall exhibited a range of ceramics, from delicate teacups to robust, hand-thrown bowls, each glazed in rich, earthy tones.
Textiles added a splash of color to the scene, with bolts of fabric unfurled in a rainbow display. Richly dyed silks, sturdy linens, and soft wools fluttered in the breeze, offering the promise of future garments and household items. The scent of leather wafted from another stall, where belts, bags, and shoes were laid out, their polished surfaces gleaming in the sunlight.
Alexander snagged a small animal figurine from a stand before the vendor could notice, and shoved the wooden carving into his coat pocket.
He made his way toward the Bundeshaus, the Swiss Federal Palace, its imposing structure a symbol of stability and governance. But even here, amidst the grandeur and order, Alex could sense the fragility of peace, as delicate and fleeting as the summer blooms adorning the city.
Alexander knew peace was a facade, nothing more than the status quo that protected those of influence. He knew, just like any other target city, he could weave his way through the beauty and find the slums. If he searched he would find orphans huddling in alleys, begging for a scrap from those who would pass them by.
It didn't matter how good the city was at hiding its underbelly, Alexander could sniff it out. Because wearing ostentatious clothing and living in a manor did not erase that he was an outsider, born and raised with the rats.
He circled the palace at a leisurely pace, checking the status of the wards without so much as lifting a finger. Guards were on patrol, stationed every fifty feet or so, spanning the length of the iron fence that surrounded the property. He expected at least a similar number inside the palace walls. More security than usual, though Alex felt no fear.
After all, what were sentries to death herself?
___•___
Alexander made his way to the outskirts of the city, the moonlight dancing on his skin. He knew the wraith was at work, stalking her prey. They wouldn't make a move until tomorrow, however. Black always insisted on routine, and routine demanded at least one day of surveillance of the city proper and the target's location; at least one day in which she did nothing but learn the target's schedule as well as guard rotations; and finally the assassination.
He found himself surrounded by forested hills, their lush green color seemingly brighter under the light of the moon. He swished his wand, using a quick revealing spell to ensure no one was nearby. He checked twice, both times finding no other soul but himself, before pulling the coin from his pocket.
___•___
Sebastian
Sebastian woke to a burning sensation against his leg and he hissed as he sat up from the couch. The book that he had been reading before he had succumbed to exhaustion tumbled from his lap onto the floor. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled the bit of heated metal from within, its surface scorching. He made to drop the damned thing, but as soon as his fingers touched the coin— and as soon as he read the words 'Bern, Switzerland' etched across the top— he felt a tug at his navel and was whisked away.
He was dropped in the same position he had been in when he touched the blasted thing, practically prone. His body slammed into the hard ground and he let out a groan before craning his neck up towards the figure standing above him.
"Portkey. Clever." Sebastian grunted. He pushed himself off the ground and slid his wand into his palm as he stared at the man across from him. "Has something happened?"
Alexander was a man of stone, Sebastian had come to see. A perfected solider, who barely blinked without cause. He stood, moonlight at his back, and he looked like some sort of Roman statue. One crafted of darkness. He wondered if he had always been that way, if Ash had known him to be so unmoving. Or maybe he was created, turned into the man he was by Rookwood or his master.
"I cannot meet with you outside of mission hours. My…master has become suspicious of my comings and goings this month." Alexander said by way of answer.
Sebastian looked around, taking in the lush hills and distant city lights. Switzerland. Alexander had brought him to Switzerland while he was on a mission. His heart raced as he realized what that meant. He turned back to him and stalked closer, "She's here then?"
Alexander stared at him as if he were a stupid child, a sneer pulling at his lips, "You can't see her."
Sebastian growled and stepped close enough that they were nearly nose to nose, "You cannot bring me here and expect me not to go to her."
Alexander clenched his jaw, "She would kill you. And if she didn't, she would report your disturbance to the mission to our master. Then he would send me, or some other wizard, to kill you."
"You could try." Sebastian snarled, lifting his wand to point at Alexander's neck.
"Don't be a fucking idiot," Alexander snapped, swatting his wand away like he would a pesky insect, "Don't ruin whatever plans you have to get her out by running down to the city to try to find her right now," he stared at Sebastian nearly baring his teeth, "Don't force her to kill you."
She's in this position because of you, Sebastian thought. He didn't say it, didn't need him to fly off the handle and leave without telling him anything. He bit his tongue hard enough that a coppery tang filled his mouth. Sebastian stepped back and ran a hand over his face once, twice.
"What is the purpose of killing the ministers in the first place?"
Alexander let out a breath, his gaze caught on the distant sparkling city, "Her master is in the process of seizing control of wizarding Europe. To do so, he needed to topple a few well-positioned pieces— enough to inspire fear and anarchy. I'm sure you've seen the muggleborns legislation passed in a select number of counties, but that's mostly a distraction—"
"What do you mean?" Sebastian cut in, his mind reeling.
Alexander faced him, "Those policies give countries and their leaders a sense of control over the situation which makes them...complacent. When he is ready, the whole stack of a cards will blow over with a simple gust. With the use of the rings, the replacement ministers will follow his command when the time is right."
"Rings." Sebastian said, his mind jumping back to one of those first newspaper articles. The new Romanian Minister was pictured, waving a hand at the crowd. A silver ring on his finger. "They are like the manacles then."
Alexander gave a short nod, "Similar, though not as powerful. Those wearing the rings have a semblance of control— or else they believe themselves in control. It's close to a long-lasting imperius. Less like collared pets, and more like servants."
Collared pets. Sebastian snarled through clenched teeth, "Don't refer to her as a dog."
Alexander said nothing, just checked the time with a tempus spell. He let out a breath through his nose, "I have to go. The coin is not a two-way portkey so I trust you can find your way back."
He didn't wait for an answer before he apparated away.
Sebastian didn't wait either before he began trudging his way down towards the city.
___•___
He found the palace after a few hours, in which the moon had crept low to the horizon and the first hues of day were beginning to glow.
He disillusioned himself on an adjacent rooftop, close enough to see the guard rotations along the perimeter, though not close enough to make out details of their appearance.
He didn't care what Alexander said. He had to see her, at least from a distance. Even if it killed him.
He waited, until the sun began its ascent, and his eyes grew heavy from his interrupted sleep. He didn't dare look away. Sebastian readjusted his footing, moving from his crouched position to kneeling when his legs had gone numb.
He felt her before he saw her. His eyes snapped to a neighboring rooftop two buildings away, where a shadow appeared. She was there only a heartbeat, but as she turned and he glimpsed her pale face cloaked in black, his heart which had long gone dormant began beating again.
As she spun into an apparation, the silver around her neck glinted in the first rays of daylight. And he swore, despite his disillusionment, that her red eyes met his.