Shall I couple hell?

“It took my sister and I nearly four months before we finally got the process right, but it was every bit worth the toil. I believe she wanted to be some sort of bird, a pigeon hopefully, and was somewhat disappointed to discover she could turn into a fox of all animals. She’ll get over it, but I’ll be sure to take the brunt of her tantrums. Again. I’m a tiger, a Siberian one I believe, from what glimpses I caught of my reflection in the black lake. I admit I am thoroughly surprised, but not displeased. I’ve always liked cats.”

            (From the personal journal of an unnamed Slytherin student, 1746)

It had felt weird at first, moving without limbs. Unusual, unnatural, given how used he’d become to having to arms and legs and being able to walk and go to class and run through the ever-shifting steps that made up Hogwarts Grand Staircase. He was still getting used to the experience, but that didn’t ease the startling difference that came from being able to walk on two legs to have to slither to move forward.

When he had first heard about Animagus and all that entailed being one, he had been in his third year of school and had amassed a somewhat reasonable plan – to the mind of a thirteen-year-old – on how to proceed with the Animagus lesson. The extremely complicated and devious plan consisted in tricking a Ravenclaw student into doing the research necessary to perform the spell for him, and in return simultaneously tricking Ominis into unknowingly doing the boy’s homework for him. The plan inevitably fell apart when both sides realized what he was planning, and he was begrudgingly forced to abandon his plan in face of more pressing matters at the time. His pain, however, was short lived, as a week after his malignant plot was outed, Imelda Reyes convinced him to try out for the position of Slytherin’s beater and the incident – alongside the Animagus dream – was pushed to the back of his mind and forgotten.

Similarly, his quidditch dream also didn’t last particularly long. Despite the furious accusations flung at him by the Gryffindor team and their head of house, he really hadn’t meant to nearly break the opposing team’s keeper neck when he sent a bludger flying in the wrong direction. It really had been an accident, but no amount of pleading had worked and a week later it was decided it would be for the best for him to leave the team. Later he would claim he was trying to break the guy’s nose, but that was mostly for show.

It wasn’t until his fifth year that Sebastian once again started to consider the possibility of becoming an Animagus. It was long after his sister was cursed that his leads to a cure began to dry up. He knew about the Scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin, but Ominis remained as tightlipped as always about its location. Almost all the books in the library had been dead ends. His teachers were clueless. The medical staff at St Mungo’s were equal parts ignorant and incompetent about any possible cure and his uncle had completely given up.

It hurt, knowing he was alone in his search for a cure, but at the same time it reinforced the long – known knowledge that he was better off alone. Everything he had achieved so far, he’d achieve it alone.

And it was in his usual solitude during a particularly cold night in his usual reading spot on the forbidden section, that he came across a small mention on a book about a potential cure for his sister’s illness.

“After many discussions, I have finally been able to pinpoint the most likely location of one of the las specimens of the viridis venter (who names a plant “green hope”?). The book isn’t certain if the plant’s effects will live up to its legend, but its definitely worth a look. I’ll be sure to notify my professor about this, and hopefully convince him to help fund a small expedition to retrieve it. Additionally…”

A small footnote in a herbology diary hat had allegedly been banned for proposing a way to raise a more aggressive and bloodthirsty version of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage provided all the answers he had been looking for. A legendary plant that, according to the story, could cure all sickness.

It was a fool’s hope, and a very desperate one. But he was desperate and the prospect of hunting down a plant didn’t sound half as dangerous as any of the other stunts he had previously pulled. No giant spiders or dark, hidden passageways. Just a simple, dumb, stupid, lonely plant sitting alone in a cave, waiting for someone to go and find it.

It the end, it hadn’t really been a choice after all.

A quick trip using flu powder and he had appeared in a small town that was a couple of kilometers away from his intended target. However, it pained him greatly to admit how long it actually took him to reach the cave. He hadn’t expected how well hidden it would have been, not the sudden and steep drop that opened in front of him when he first set foot inside. He was eventually able to maneuver his way down, scraping his hands and knees in the process, but managed to arrive at the bottom with nothing worse than a bad cut across his arm.

He made his way across the cave with the help of a faint Lumos spell, dodging between sharp looking rocks that rose from the ground and met with their ceiling counterparts somewhere in the middle. The cavern was wet and dark, the air carrying that distinct musky smell and the ground coated in a small layer of water. At one point he had nearly fallen over the side of a cliff that suddenly appeared on his right side and later one he had had to literally squeeze himself through a claustrophobic crack in the wall, so narrow that back then he had become genuinely worried he was going to get stuck and die then and there. Panic fueling him, he had pulled himself through those last, agonizing moments and had gasped in pain when he finally broke free of his stone prison.

At some point, the path had sloped dangerously downwards and once again he had scrapped his hands in an effort to slow his rapid descent. He’d arrived at the bottom with bleeding hands, bruised legs and a rotten mood. Hi chest hurt from the tight squeeze from earlier and his eyes hurt from the ceiling dust of the cavern. Which is why he was not prepared at all for the sight before him.

He had arrived at the cave with a faint and feeble hope of finding a cure and was met with an unfortunate wall of utter disappointment when he encountered, literally, a wall of stone that marked a dead end.

There had been no branching paths to the sides, no secret passage he could have possibly missed. Just a plain wall of dark, wet stone and a silence that drowned out all other possibly noise.

He should have felt anger and rage at the situation, should have cried out in frustration at another literal dead end. Spots danced around his eyes and his hands bleed from how tightly he was squeezing his hand, but above all, he felt defeated. Disappointed, despite how ridiculous it may have sound.

Above all, he felt tired. His bones felt heavy, and exhaustion clung to his entire body and his muscles and his mind and his soul. He had known at the beginning how little hope there was to find a cure down there, amongst the silent rocks. He fell to his knees and hung his head down in shame and pain, his mind clouded and polluted.

It had been down there, defeated, that he noticed a small opening near the bottom of the stone wall. Barely tall enough for him to be able to make out the other end of the small narrow tunnel, he threw himself down on all fours and pressed his head to the cold, hard ground. Faintly, he could see the outline of another chamber beyond the little passage, another section of the cave untouched by wizarding feet. The opening stretched from one end to the wall to the other, as wide as about half his body. The odd angle of the stone had originally kept it hidden from his sight, but now he had a clear view to the other side of the cave.

Euphoria leapt through him, exited at the possibility of finding a cure once again opening up. However, he quickly realized there would be absolutely no way for him to crawl his through here. He could barely stick both of his arms inside before he became unable to move even an inch more forward, and he begrudgingly bulled back.

Under any other normal circumstances, he would have cast Confringo at the wall and taken delight as the blockade in front of him was reduced to ruble. But he was in a cave, underground, with the weight of a whole mountain atop him and no way of getting out should his spell result in a cave-in. He tried several unsuccessful attempts and pulling and pushing the rock, both with his hands and a combination of Accio and Depulso, respectively. For a brief moment, he even considered casting Reducio on himself and simply walking through the crack, but he’d seen glimpses of spider hatchlings scuttling around the natural ceiling of the cave, and the idea of encountering one of them at the other side, or worse, a full-grown giant spider was enough to deter him from his train of thought. There would have been no way he would have been able to defend himself against a spider in that size.

He doesn’t remember how long he spent pondering his options in that dark cave, but eventually he remembered his lessons from his third year, and how while a human would never be able to fit in that hole, an animal certainly could.

There was no guarantee that, provided he was able to become an Animagus, his animal form would be small enough to fit through the crack, but it was a plan, it was a goal, and he was out of options. With a new energy pulsing through him, he made up his mind and crafted a plan. It was foolish and reckless, but it could just work.

It took him painfully long to make his way out of the cave and wasn’t shocked to be greeted by the night sky when he finally broke free above ground level once again. The cool night air felt wonderful as he breathed it in, and once the adrenaline of the moment had gone down and the thrill he had felt at the beginning was gone, he realized just how tired he really was.

Later that night, for he emerged way past the witching hour, Lucan Brattleby would claim that he saw Sebastian arriving at the castle covered in blood and dirt and, if the rumors were true, he had been attempting some sort of Dark magic spell that had backfired miserably. A second year Hufflepuff student would argue he was part of a secret midnight wresting team and had emerged victorious from his match, hence the reason he wasn’t as stealthy as usual when he sneaked back into the castle. When asked, Ominis Gaunt had simply said Sebastian had most likely tripped on a branch outside of castle grounds and had been too lazy to get up for the next couple hours.

However, the next night, Ominis trudged across the room to Sebastian’s bed and sat next to his best friend as they talked about anything and everything but the later one’s state the previous night. Dancing around the subject eventually tired out both of them, and the conversation once again escalated to the topic of Sebastian restless pursuit of a cure. Ominis was sympathetic, of course he is, he is your best friend! but to his eyes he remained just as guilty as ever for not sharing information on Slytherin’s scriptorium.

“I don’t know where you were last night, but I have a pretty good idea as to what you might have been doing.” Ominis began, propping himself up and crossing his legs on Sebastian’s bed. Despite being born blind, it still amazed him just how perceptive his best friend could be to the things around him. “I know you will do whatever it takes to save Anne, but good will you be to her if you end up dead?”

“I was careful not to do anything too..”

“Like you were careful when you tried to ride a thestral last year?” The blond boy reminded him.

“That was different, and you know it” He defended himself. “And I don’t remember you doing anything to stop me. In fact,” He mentioned as he scooted closer to his best friend. “I remember you being there as well, laughing when that dammed animal threw me off his back.”

“You did seem rather pathetic.” Was Ominis response.

“Screw you.”

Sebastian responded to the argument in a very mature and adult way: by pushing Ominis hard enough on his shoulder that the other awkwardly plopped onto the bed, looking slightly offended as Sebastian snickered above him. His normally perfectly arranged hair was falling slightly out of place, rebellious strands cascading down his face, and Sebastian resisted the sudden urge to carefully tuck those lose strands of hair back where they belonged.

As Ominis rearranged himself back on the bed, Sebastian remembered the events the previous night and debated on wherever or not to tell his best friend the full account of yesterday’s events. The verdict eventually landed on ‘yes’, and he found himself spilling the truth about his underground adventure.

“I was looking for a cure.” He began. “Some plant that can supposedly heal all illnesses. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I finally might be onto something here.”

And so, he told Ominis everything, all that happened inside the cave and how his path was eventually blocked off. He did tell him about the small opening on the wall, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t mention his plan as to how to get around the problem.

Animagus potions, if done incorrectly, could have disastrous consequences.

However, he got the distinct impression that his best friend knew more than what he was letting on, but if he did suspect Sebastian’s true intentions, he didn’t say, and both of them fell asleep in their own beds, the cold of the room sweeping through them.

…

He found the book about Animagus in the school library the next day, nestled between ‘KNEAZLES: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR FOUR-LEGGED FRIEND’ and an old copy of “A BRIEF HISTORY OF QUIDDITCH’.

It was a small tome, bound in old faux leather and, interestingly, carrying a distinct smell of butterbeer.  The spine was cracked from its many years of service, and someone had scribbled a series of notes near the back about the dangers of pissing off the giant squid at the black lake.

He devoured the book in a matter of hours, and by the end he knew exactly what had to be done in order to achieve his goal.

Obtaining a mandrake leaf was the easiest task of all. He snuck into the Hogwarts Greenhouse during a free hour he had between history of Magic and DADA and managed to clip a handful of leaves before stuffing them in his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to transform on his first try, as the book mentioned that it took some wizards two or even three attempts, and so wanted to make sure he had enough backup leaves. Luckily for him, the next full moon was next Friday.

Obtaining a death’s-head moth hawk moth proved to be a much more complex task. He had no idea as to where to find one, and eventually decided the best course of action was to ask for some help.

He found Poppy Sweeting near the Care of Magical Creatures class, sitting near a pen full of creatures he recognized as Puffskeins. The small little creatures were happily jumping from one end of the pen to another, and huddled closer together when the fifth year Hufflepuff offered them some food.

Sebastian didn’t really know Poppy all that well. She was a kind person and had helped him once or twice in Magic History class after he’d fallen asleep during lectures. However, as far as he was aware, the girl mostly kept to herself, and if Samantha Dale was to be believed, she had almost no friends at all, if any.

However, he had caught sight of her sneaking out of the castle after curfew a few times during some of his night adventures. He was sure she hadn’t seen him, but anyone who was willing to ignore the school’s rule was good in his books.

Her eyes turned towards him as she saw him approach, and he didn’t like the way she seemed to shrink within herself. He knew his reputation at school wasn’t exactly stelar, especially with the Hufflepuffs, but he didn’t think he deserved that kind of reaction.

“They look cute.” He said as he came to stand next to where she had been kneeling in the ground. The girl came up to about his chin at her full height, and her short brown was look slight ruffled, most likely from working outdoors.

“They are, aren’t they” She genuinely sounded delighted at the mention of the creatures. Good place to start. “Most of them were breed here, at the school, and all of them belong to the same poffle.” She responded somewhat shyly. The girl seemed slightly unsure as to what to say next and didn’t add anything else to her comment.

“Poffle?”

“A group of Puffskeins.” Poppy quickly responded. She mostly avoided his eye gaze, and the whole situation seemed awkward all around.

“I didn’t know that.” He responded, and he genuinely hadn’t known that’s what they were called. “Do they have names?”

She seemed relieved to have something else to talk about and began listing the poffle of creatures before them, knowing each of them by name and, as he soon found out, painfully excruciating detail of their personalities.

“Which one’s your favorite?” He asked as soon as she was finished. Poppy responded by leaning down and picking out a brightly orange one from the clump of fur below and wordlessly handed him the animal. The creature stared and chirped at him as its fuzzy tongue stuck out, darting dangerously close to his nose. “His name’s runner. He really seems to like you!”

He certainly didn’t like him, but Sebastian eventually managed to maneuver the ball of fur enough to keep it at a reasonable distance without the risk of it sticking its tongue where he really didn’t want it to go.

“I never had Puffskeins as a kid, but I always wanted a Runespoor.” His uncle had paled at the suggestion of keeping a three headed snake in his house, and Sebastian had gotten a firm ‘No’ in response to his pleading.

Poppy, on the other hand, lit up at the mention of the creature, and proceeded to recall everything she knew about the creature, going deep into detail about their mating habits and the roles each head played in the life of the snake. Sebastian did know most of this, as he had done ample research on his own in an effort to convince his uncle, but he allowed the girl to continue uninterrupted. He needed to find an opening so he could as about the moths, and eventually she arrived at one when she jumped to some nocturnal animal he couldn’t quite place.

“Are mooncalfs the only night creatures you’ve seen?” That was the opening he had been waiting for.

“Oh, there are plenty more creatures around here. I could point you to some of my favorite spots if you’d like.” She sounded hopeful about their nonexistent magic adventure together, and so he decided to play along.

“Oh, I’d love that.” He swiftly answered, before slowly continuing. “And that’s part of the reason why I’m here. See, I was reading this book on Fwooper birds and-”

“So that’s why you came.” She sounded offended, and a great number of possibilities raced through his head. He vaguely recalled some talk amongst the Slytherin ranks about some heavy pranks being pulled on her, and he mentally slapped himself from forgetting such a vital detail. He needed to steer her away and towards a safer topic. “I should have known-”

“Believe it or not, I’m not actually trying to trick you into doing my homework for me.” He sounded far too defensive, but he shifted his face into a look of offense. “If I wanted to do that, I would have gone for someone more gullible. Sides that I am rather brilliant.” He concluded.

 “My sister likes Fwooper birds” He began, aiming to shift the blame from one side to another. “And since she’s unable to attend Hogwarts, I was thinking of getting her some feathers to cheer her up. I’m sure you heard about what happened to her.” It was a dirty move, but it was always easier to play the victim. People tend to help you if they feel like they crossed some unseen barrier, and throwing the blame on them was easy if you knew how.

“I’m sorry, I, … I forgot.” She had a look of remorse on her face, and the bravado that had previously adorned her face was gone now. Jackpot.

“You can find a nest of them near the edges of the forbidden forest, all the way to the north. You can get there from the North Road out of Hogsmeade. It is a bit of a difficult path, especially near the end when you have to go up the mountain, but the view is definitely worth it all. You can find the Fwooper tree near the top. It’s pretty big; you can’t miss it.”

She swiftly concluded. Poppy took a deep breath and finally met his eyes again. “About your sister-”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t know.” He softly assured her. Guilt was a good strategy, but he needed to leave the door open for any future favors he might need, and it was always good to have people in your debt, even if was based on a lie.

“If you don’t mind me asking some more…” He continued, easily carrying on with the conversation. “What could I possible use as bait for them? I don’t plan to capture one, but I doubt they’re friendly.”

“Insects are fine, but they like small lizards and moths the best.”

“Moths seem easy.” Come on, come on, take the bait.

“I suppose so, but personally I believe insects are the best way to go.” Then she added. “If you want to try your luck with moths, you can find some in the forbidden forest, near the spider’s nests, so please be careful.”

“I’ll make sure I am.” He answered, a small grin adorning his face. “Thanks” And he honestly meant it.

“I think it’s pretty amazing that you know so much about creatures.” Once again he needed to change the flow of the conversation. “What else can you tell me about Fwoopers?”

And so Poppy Sweeting carried on, rambling about creatures and completely unaware on what she had helped achieved, and Sebastian returned to the castle that day one step closer to achieving his goal.

…

His trip to the forbidden forest had proved just as fruitful as he had imagined, but Poppy hadn’t been lying about the Spiders. He lost count of how many he had to cut, burn, butcher and massacre his way through. Near the end, his shoes had ended up covered in Spider guts and gore, and a sickly yellow substance he vaguely recognized as the arachnid’s blood had coated a big portion of his robes. No one ever said this was going to be a clean victory.

He found the Death's-head Hawk Moth resting peacefully amongst the tree branches of an old oak and did not feel any pang of remorse when he yanked the creature from its hiding place. It struggled in his hand, wings flapping in panic before he quickly silenced it with a charm.

He was drawn from the contemplation of his catch by the sound of clicking fangs behind him and dodged just in time to avoid the deathly snap of the venomous maw that opened before him. Another giant spider, this one a bright purple coloring, stood before him. He cast a couple of spells and it and, irritated when his efforts proved in vain, cast a quick Diminuendo at his enemy, drew it close to him with Accio, and stomped hard on top of the spider. Feeling its tiny body being crushed under his boot provided him an odd sense of satisfaction, and he quickly stored the moth into his pocket for safe keeping.

On his way out of the forest, he took the opportunity to collect some dew from a dark, damp space beneath the tree roots and made sure to protect it with another charm. Sunlight wasn’t supposed to touch the bottle which contained the precious material.

However, just as he was about to break out of the threes and into the sunlight above, he caught sight of another spider near his right. It was a small one, practically a baby and yet still as big as one of the stray cats that roamed Hogwarts. The creature didn’t notice him, too busy crawling across the undergrowth, before rapidly pouncing on a squirrel above it and sinking its fangs it. The squirrel convulsed, legs kicking up and down, foam forming on its mouth and various shades of green and yellow appearing in patches on its skin. Within a couple of moments, it was dead, and the spider victoriously carried its prize away.

As he watched the limp body being dragged away by a predator much stronger and bigger than it was, an idea occurred to him. It was a risky one, and he stored in his brain for later use. Right now, he had far more pressing matter at hand, but that didn’t stop him from brainstorming a concept for a brand new, excitingly poisonous spell.

…

He had chosen the Undercroft as the place for his final transformation. It felt proper, adequate, for these entombed walls to witness him in what could be either one of his greatest success or his most stupendous failure.

He had successfully carried the mandrake leaf in his mouth for a moth, earning him a great number of odd looks from his various classmates. During the course of four weeks, he had failed nearly three classes and almost gotten himself killed by mispronouncing the Bombarda charm. His reputation in crossed wands was left in tatters after a slightly humiliating defeat by a Ravenclaw sixth year, professor Sharp had given him two detentions due to a series of incidents in potion class and finally he had discovered that, apparently, he talked in his sleep, a discovery he had made when Ominis had roughly woken him up one night because he had nearly swallowed the mandrake leaf and choked with it. He had begrudgingly allowed Ominis to fuss over him for the span of 5 minutes and then silently readjusted the sticking charm on the mandrake leaf.

Luckily for him, the full moon had shown bright in the sky exactly one month after he had begun. Preparing the potion was easy enough, and he had stuffed the precious brew in a dark, quiet, undisturbed corner of the undercroft. The next thunderstorm had not been scheduled for another couple of weeks, and thus he was left reciting the Animagus incantation twice every day, once at sunrise and the other at sundown. It was a miracle no one had discovered him yet, but he was far fonder of claiming it was due to his secretive abilities than it was to plain old luck.

To this day, he couldn’t tell what exactly had made him so tightlipped about his Animagus transformation, but for some uncomfortable reason, the thought of anyone knowing what he was up to had caused him great distress. No, no one could find out yet.

Sebastian also wasn’t sure on wherever or not he planned to register himself as an Animagus. The threat of imprisonment at Azkaban was a strong one, but the need to possibly disguise himself in the future was an even stronger one, and the decision had been made up in his mind before he realized it.

Now, flask ready in his hand and wand pointed directly over his heart, he heard the first echoes of thunder resonating through the undercroft, and he loudly spoke the incantation for the last time.

“Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”

It took him a moment for his mind to process what was happening, as he felt his body shift and twist and contort and bend in ways it wasn’t supposed to do. Fear clouded his mind and for a split second he thought he might have done some part of the process wrong – he hadn’t waited enough, had failed at some part of the process and thus his body was punishing him for his impatience and arrogance, breaking and tearing itself apart in a million ways. It hurt, it burned through his body and as he fell to his knees he was vaguely aware of the ground coming ever closer to him, the roof stretching overhead becoming ever so distant, but he couldn’t focus on that, not as his arms seemed to melt and he felt his legs twist the other way. Lighting in his veins, fire in his gut and heart, acid flowing through his skin as it stretched and teared itself into a brand-new form. Scales replaced flesh, fangs grew form his mouth and his eye pupils stretched into sharp slits.

Then just as soon as it had started, it was over.

Above all, it was disorientating.

There were no mirrors in the undercroft save for a small broken thing he had shoved to a corner years ago, and it took him a painstakingly long time to reach his destination. He couldn’t move right, couldn’t walk. He felt the absence of his limbs more than the shape of his new body, the lack of anything to help guide his new form forward, and so he crawled as best as he could through the cold, hard floor. His mind set on reaching the mirror, on the promise of discovery as to what his new body looked like. The rest of the world melted away, replaced only by the awareness of the mass of flesh and muscles that made up his self and the possibility of answers lying forward.

When he finally reached the mirror, the creature that looked back at him was not himself.

A lean, strong, nearly gigantic body held his gaze, intelligent amber eyes having replaced his usually brown ones, and he recognized the creature immediately. Secretly, he had been hoping for a cat, or maybe even a dog. A small creature that could move undetected through the world, one that no one would pay much attention to.

Instead, a snake stared back at him through the glass. He wasn’t surprised, it was as if some part of him had always known what animal he would tun out to be and had simply been waiting for the right moment to show itself. He took in the long, scaled body, watching the muscles that rippled like water under the surface. Intricate patterns of yellow, green, black and brown danced across his back and he raised his head to get a good look at the white underbelly scales that protected his stomach. His new body was huge, easily stretching back to one of the pillars of the room, and he briefly wondered just how big he really was.

There was power in this new form. He twisted around, now slightly more used to moving his body, to admire the way the snake’s – no, his body – seemed to curl and sway one way and then the other. He knew from memory that snakes were either poisonous or constrictors, but no animal was ever the two, and based on the rough analysis of his new form, he would say he didn’t fall on the poisonous side. This body was far too large, too sturdy, too strong to need any sort of venomous defense. 

A wicked sort of glee spread through him at his success, and he spent the rest of the night moving around the undercroft, shifting and twisting in ways he normally wouldn’t be able to, testing the limits of this new ability and all the perks that came with it. He learned to coil his body before a strike, to rise so high he could nearly touch the ceiling, to slowly make his way up the stone columns by wrapping his tail around the base, to dash rapidly across the floor and squeeze himself in tight crevices. It felt surreal, and he took great delight in the fact that he had accomplished everything on his own. He always did.

He was a reticulated python if his assumptions were correct. He had spent the next day devouring book after book about snakes and had finally found one that seemed to match his appearance from the previous night. By the end of the day, he was an expert on all snake related subjects. Later, when he was back at the undercroft, he stretched himself from one of the stone pillars to the other, then carefully managed to scratch the floor where his head ended. Back in his human form, he used a measuring spell to discover the size of his new serpentine form, and staggered back when the measuring came back at 18 feet. He knew pythons were big, but he hadn’t expected that.

Later, while studying in the forbidden section, he would learn that an Animagus’s form keeps growing up alongside the wizard as they aged and grew older, and that any changes to the wizard in his human form would reflect on his animal counterpart. He also discovered that the world record for the size of a reticulated python was at 33 feet, and he went to bed grinning that night when he realized just what a monster he might one day grow up to become.

…

Overall, it took him 4 days of learning and adapting to his new form before he was ready to tackle the challenge of the cave again. Getting there proved no greater challenge than the last time, although he did make use of his new serpentine abilities while traversing the narrower places of the cave.

Sebastian Sallow was in his human form when he arrived at the stone dead end, and it was as a great big snake that he slithered underneath the rocks and made his way deeper still into the cavern.

Predictably, there were a few spiders inside the cracks, and he made good use of the biting strength his new form possessed. Just like before, it was a very tight squeeze, and there came a moment where the ceiling brushed so low that it scrapped against his head, biting into his scales in a painful way. Eventually, however, he made it to the other side and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

A small chamber had been carved directly into the mountain. He could see what once must have been a pair of stone columns that stretched into the cavernous ceiling, one on either side of the room. The place was small, cramped even, with the little free room that hadn’t been covered in falling and crumbled stone occupied by a frail-looking wooden desk and the stack of books that lay atop it. The place felt cold, untouched and he vaguely registered that he must be the first person to step foot into this place for a very, very long time. Up above him, the ceiling dripped with stray drops of water, cascading ever so lightly down the walls, forming small puddles near where he was.

He could see no entrance to the hidden study, nor anything that could resemble a hidden passageway, but he did notice that there seemed to be something engraved into the stone below him, a symbol of sorts. Shifting back into his human form, he used his foot to wipe the dust below him and finally got a good look at what was hiding underneath him: It was a centipede. The animal had been carved directly into the stone, clearly by magic, and he suddenly became painfully aware of how the previous owner had managed to get inside.

His wonder was suddenly replaced by rage, because despite the great discovery, the room didn’t hold what he was looking for. The plant wasn’t here. No magical miracles, no legendary cures, just a great monument to all the things that weren’t here and never would be.

Anger cursed through him and he had to blink through the daze to realize he had buried his own fingernails into his wandless hand so tight he had drawn blood. He wiped the warm substance on his pants and took another look around the room. There has to be something else in here, there must be!

“Revelio.”

A blue light trickled softly out of his wand, making its way across the damp ceilings and walls, running like water until it encompassed the whole room, before finally settling on the carving near his makeshift entrance.

The glowing shape of the centipede held his gaze as he stared it. It didn’t particularly strike him as magical, but unlike him, magic never lied. He pondered his options for a moment but could think of no way to crack the creature’s challenge. There were no clues around the cave, no secret writings, or clever hidden riddles. He opened one of the books that rested on the table, being careful while he handled such a precious object in his hands. It was clearly old, with most of its spine having been eaten away by bugs and heavy patches of mold coating the pages.

There were a few interesting notes inside about herbology, but the writing stopped before he finished the first quarter of the pages, and the rest of the book mocked him with its emptiness. There was no author on the cover and none of the notes were signed.

Begrudgingly, he moved onto the next one, his movements less carful as bitterness set in. Then he moved on to the next book, and the next, and the next, and then finally the last one. His eyes felt heavy as he finally finished his search through all of them, and he was vaguely reminded of some of the all nighters he used to pull before final exams. He had discovered nothing even remotely interesting in his long search through the pile of books, and near the end of it he felt as though he was reading the same line, as though he was reading the same line, as though he was reading the same line over and over again.

However, just as he was about to label the entire adventure as a colossal waste of time, he noticed a small illustration on the back cover of the last book, and thus commenced the beginning of the end.

It was a poorly made drawing of the room he was currently sitting in, drawn crudely in charcoal that was smeared around the edges. By all means, it was exactly identical to the cave, except the room inside the book sported a door that did not match its real-life counterpart. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the doorframe wasn’t made by another piece of rock, but rather by a hundred different scuttling little legs.

Strangely, he thought of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and how it could only be accessed by the snake on the floor. The door only appeared once the creature made its way up the wall, so how different could it be now?

He wasn’t sure if it was the right spell, but it seemed the most appropriate at the moment. He aimed his wand at the stone shape on the floor, visualized the entrance he wanted to create very clearly, and summoning all of his strength, he spoke the words loudly and clearly.

“Piertotum Locomotor!”

It shouldn’t have worked. The spell was an incredibly advanced one, far beyond the abilities of a fifth year. But he was smart, and far better at magic than anyone his age had a right to be.

The creature on the floor sprang to life with a shuddering screech, before slowly making its way up the walls and towards the other end of the cave. There, it rested on the wall for a few moments before stretching its long body towards both ends of the floor, carefully making the outline of a door as it reached the other end of its body and painfully bit into it.

The space inside the outline the creature had made with its body seemed to simply fade, as if there had never even been something there to begin with, like a reflection slowly disappearing from the water’s surface. Across the newly formed threshold was a single stone pilar that must once have been a desk of sorts, and a lonely book that rested peacefully, undisturbed atop it.

It was bound in old dark leather, with gold engravings running smoothly down its spine. Again, there was a small centipede symbol near the cover, and from where he was standing, he could make out what seemed to small writing on the back cover of the book.

The book reeked of dark magic. He could it feel it as it seeped into his bones, filling his nostrils with the smell of brimstone and his lungs with fire. Finally gaining enough courage to grab it, he shuddered as a series of spasms shot though him. The power from this object rippled through him like a live current, filling him to the brim with power and greed and madness and oh so sweet bloodlust.

It took a while for him to regain his composure, and he made sure to carefully look around the small compartment one last time. Even though it had been a small, fleeting hope even from the start, he was still silently hoping to find some semblance of the viridis venter, but it soon became clear enough that, even if the plant really had existed at some point in history, it was long gone, possibly extinct, and permanently out of his grasp.

His disappointment was shortly lived, however, as soon as his attention returned to the precious object in his hand. He could feel as something inside the book called to him, beckoning him to come closer and dive into its contents. To come close and just take a peek, a really quick one, what harm could it do? What could possibly go wrong?

The evil within those pages called to him, lured him in in a magnetic sort of way. Like a moth to the flame, there was little he could do to prevent the moment when he inevitably burned.

His hands showed no hesitation as he opened the heavy tome and peaked inside.

Lighting ran through him, and a strange, prickling sensation spread quickly across his arm. For a nauseating moment, he could have sworn he felt an array of tiny legs, hundreds in quantity, scurrying along his arm, climbing up his muscles and settling close to where his neck was. He was briefly reminded of phantom limbs, but then the moment was over. Nothing had crawled over him, nor had anything jumped out of the book.

The first few pages revealed surprisingly little about the tome, or its writer, for that matter. Near the end of the eight page however, he found the initials ‘J. M.’ scrawled neatly at the bottom of the page. This carried on for the rest of the book. Wherever an essay or sidenote or anecdote ended, those two letters would be found. There was no other indication as to the identity of the author.

The book itself seemed to be made up by a great number of entries, all on completely different subjects. He read a couple of pages on how to maximize the effects of Bombarda, a note on the appropriate care of Thestrals, a very curious indication as to when to invest on foreign wizarding markets, as well as a remarkably useful side note advising against trusting the goblins at Gringotts.

Whoever had written this had been a dark magician, and a remarkably powerful one two, if the amount of dark energy that was pouring of the pages was anything to go by. He spent the next couple of hours reading in silence, marveling at the obscure knowledge held within those pages.

When he was finally satisfied with the knowledge acquired from the book, Sebastian cast a quick Tempus charm and consequentially nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized it was nearly 3 am in the morning. He hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time reading the journal, hell, he hadn’t even felt tired. He felt fresh and awake, a strange sort of restlessness running through him. Still, grabbing the book tightly in his hand and afraid to let go, he used his wand to apparate right outside of Hogwarts.

The cool night air was a welcome fresh change from the stale air of the caverns. He hadn’t realized how much he missed open space until he was out of the oppressive atmosphere of being underground. Behind him, he could see the faint lights of Hogsmeade, as well as the occasional dark shape that coursed through the air, most likely a group of Thestrals, flying high overheard. Far, far above him, the stars twinkled and shined.

Standing there, he felt a sudden sense of peace. There were no noises beyond the natural sounds of the earth around him, and it felt as though the night itself was trying to lull him to sleep. He stood there for a few moments, mesmerized in the beauty above him.

That night, book still held firmly in his hand, Sebastian Sallow made his way back to the castle with a head full of hope and a heart full of darkness.