Shall I couple hell?

“One can argue that dark magic is, by nature, an art based on hatred and greed. But why is it that no one has ever considered the benefits of understanding it better, of seeking out the darkness instead of fleeing from it? It is undeniably true that we fear what we don’t understand, it has always been this way. But why is it that wizard-kind still refuses, to this date, to view dark magic as anything other than something to be feared? We are in the eighteenth century, and we have always prided ourselves as being better, less savage than muggles. We understand magic, the world, the universe itself, in way they never will, but still, they are the ones seeking out forbidden knowledge from all corners of the world. Muggles seek to understand that which they do not know, and for once, it is a habit us wizards could do well with learning. So why deny ourselves the right to wield dark magic, when no one, in the whole history of wizard-kind, has sought to understand the dark arts as something else than a practice to be shunned and feared? If we truly, completely, seek to understand magic, then we will remain ignorant to the truth until we embrace the darkness as well.”

            (From the unedited version of A consideration of dark magic: Effects and consequences of willingful ignorance, F. Durand. 1723)

“One of the Gryffindor students screwed up a conjuring spell two days ago, and instead of summoning a toad, the bloke instead summoned a snake! Obviously, I was the one responsible for calming the animal down, though I did consider ordering it to attack some of the half breeds on the room instead. People may say whatever it is they want about parseltongue, but it is an ancient art, one passed down to us from the great Salazar Slytherin himself! It is part of my family’s legacy, one that few are privileged enough to wield, and one that I will never shy away from!)

            (From the personal journal of Olivia Gaunt, Slytherin, 1654)

It was not uncommon to hear about magical tattoos. Mary Taylor, the seventh year Ravenclaw, had a sprangling Hebridian Black dragon etched onto the skin above her shoulder blades. The beast’s wings reached from one end of her shoulders to the next, and the creature would occasionally flap its wings and send torrents of inky fire down her nape and arms. It was an enthralling piece to look at and was widely regarded as a hidden marvel of the Hogwarts student body. When he was a third year, Sebastian and other students had gone swimming at the black lake, and he had been temporally mesmerized by the beast forever engraved into the girl’s back.

Now, sprawled on his own bed back at the dorms, he suspected some similar kind of enchantment had been placed on the book he had found in the cave. A week after acquiring it, he had noticed that, sometimes, the words in the book would change. It was subtle, and if he wasn’t such an avid reader he doubts he would have noticed it, but he had a near photographic memory when it came to books, and he slowly began noticing that the words in the book seemed to change.

They weren’t big enough changes to raise any sort of alarm; the book was clearly magical, and the contents remained the same as the night when he had first opened it, but sometimes the word ‘cut’ would randomly be replaced by ‘sever’, ‘buried’ with ‘submerged’, ‘fire’ with ‘flame’, and so on. Nothing else in the book seemed to change, and as far as he could tell, whatever he was reading was rarely altered, if ever. The meaning behind the texts remained the same, and soon he began to think of it less like a worrisome detail and more like an annoying quirk.

The changing words were quickly pushed to the back of his mind, and he carried on with his life as usual.

One of the perks of being an Animagus, he quickly discovered, was that sneaking around the castle at night became considerably easier. He considered inviting Ominis to his nightly adventures, but he still hadn’t broken the news of his new serpentine form to him, and he wasn’t sure as to how his best friend would take it. He knew Ominis despised snakes, and anything that had to do with them, or the strange ability he had inherited from his family, another subject that wasn’t safe for conversation.

He wasn’t sure how the other would react, and there had been some tension amongst them lately, especially regarding Anne and her sickness. He had spent almost every single night since his somewhat failed expedition down that mysterious cave going over the healing tomes at the forbidden section. He had read them already, of course he had, but was going over them again in vain hopes he had missed something. When that proved unfruitful, he had scanned the shelves packed with knowledge in hopes of finding any sort of reference to the so called ‘J. M.’,         but so far that investigation wasn’t going very well either.

Ominis had confronted him about his strange behavior in the library the other day, and the exchange had been anything but pleasant.

“I can tell there is something wrong, Sebastian.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He replied, not bothering to look up from his book. He tried to make his tone as bored and innocent as possible, which was hard, because he was extremely guilty of everything he probably though he was.

“Sebastian.” Silence, then quickly. “I swear, if this about the scriptorium…”

“You can forget about that.”

“…what?”

He couldn’t help as a small smile found its way to his lips, despite knowing the other boy couldn’t see it. “Turns out, you were absolutely right. We shouldn’t mess with that sort of magic. Matter of fact, I’m fine to never speak about it again.”

Ominis didn’t even try to hide his suspicion as he asked. “What changed?”

“Like I told you, you were right. Turns out, I found the answers I was looking for someplace else”

This time, there was worry on his voice. “What did you do?”

Ominis must have assumed he was guilty when he didn’t answer, because almost immediately he asked. “Sebastian, please talk to me. Whatever is going on, there’s no reason for you to have to do this alone. Let me help you, you’re acting strange, but I need to know what’s going on.”

“Ominis.” He said, his face a perfect mask of calmness. “I already told you. Nothing at all.”

His worry quickly turned to bitterns, and he stood up from where he had sat down next to him. “Fine, be that way! But don’t come looking for me when you wind up dead somewhere!”

Over the years, his relationship with Ominis had been a complicated one, upon a lack of better words. They had met on the first day of their first year and had been in separable ever since then. Anne used to joke that they were joined at the hip, and that Ominis was more his twin that she ever was. But then she had gotten cursed, and something had changed inside them both.

A deep sickness had begun brewing inside of him, nearly matching his sister’s. Something had rotten deep within him, and it seemed like all the love he once had had instead been turned into bitterness, ambition and hate.

The change wasn’t that bad, he had good days. He was happy. He had friends. But his sister’s curse wasn’t like a storm cloud that kept following him around, never allowing him a moments reprise. Instead, it was like a cold bucket of water. He could pretend everything was fine, could laugh and play the part given to him in this ever-ongoing play: the worried brother, the dedicated student, the loyal friend. But then he inevitably snapped out of the dream, came back to reality and understood how unjust and cruel and unfair their situation was. Back then, just after she’d gotten cursed, he used to feel guilty. Because how dare he be happy and go to school and have friends and laugh when she was left stuck at home being miserable.

Over time, the feelings had gotten easier to manage, but that ever-chasing feeling of guilt, of powerlessness in the face of adversity, never truly faded.

And so, at some point, all of those pent-up emotions needed an outlet, and so he threw himself into his schoolwork and his research, vowing to never be powerless again. Consequently, his interest in the dark arts grew and grew and grew.

That was another thing that never really stopped nagging at him. At the beginning, he used to tell himself that his interest in the dark was merely out of necessity, that it had been born as a result of the need to find a cure. But another part of him, deep and dark and macabre, seemed to light up at the prospect of the dark. It marveled at the power, the viciousness hidden in the sinister corners where the light never reached.

Ominis, however, remained an unknown subject. Back before everything, he use to spend hours secretly watching Ominis, admiring the way his hands would trail across a book written in braille, marveling at the soft waves his pulled back hair made and silently laughing when a stray tuff of hair fell out of place, then at his best friend’s pointless attempts to return it to its rightful place, only for it to fall back seconds later, and the process would begin anew.

On their third year, he had begun to notice things about Ominis under a different light. His soft frame as he slept, the light of the fireplace across his face, his laughter. But he had been unable to understand what those feeling meant, didn’t have enough time to ponder them before the attack on Feldcroft, and then everything had gone wrong.

“Fuck this.” He murmured to himself, moving to stand. He had spent enough time lost on his own thoughts already, and he had work to do.

…

One of the positive aspects of being at the start of a school year meant that he had a lot of extra time on his hands, something unheard-of in his life. The copious amounts of homework hadn’t been assigned yet, and that gave him ample free time. He was always rushing to some new adventure, some grand marvelous discovery, but for the first time in his life, the free time in his hands doubled.

Latin wasn’t a subject that was taught at Hogwarts, but there were more than enough books on the school library for him to be able to learn the basics of it all. He knew spell creation was dangerous, a volatile practice with endless possibilities for something to go horribly wrong. But the scene of the spider killing its prey in the forbidden forest kept playing in his head like a broken record, and he arrived at the undercroft with all the books he could find on the subject levitating in a neat pile behind him.

He knew what he wanted his spell to do, he just didn’t know how to translate it into actual magic.

One of the tomes he had brought with him recommended meditating, focusing on the intention of the spell and then proceed in the way that felt the most natural. He had summoned a pumpkin in front of him and then sat down on the floor with his legs crossed in butterfly style. He had never done this before, but instead of trying to clear his mind or anything of the sorts, he focused on the magic at his core.

It was a trick his uncle had taught him before he came to Hogwarts, to focus on an image, a representation of magic instead on the actual feeling. Doing wandless magic was difficult because it required a great deal of control over oneself. Wands were channelizers, outlets for magic to be wielded more easily. If magic was a dog, then the wand was the leash that held the animal firmly in place. If you tugged on one end, the dog would understand the command meant ‘follow’ and so on.

Now however, he laid his wand in the floor directly in front of him, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He could feel his magic as it ran through his body, distributed evenly in all of his muscles and bones. But he didn’t need his magic there, and instead he focused on pulling it all in and drawing it towards his core. It took him a very long time, but slowly, brick by brick, he felt his magic pool around in his core, his heart. It was uncomfortable, not exactly painful, but it left the rest of his body feeling sluggish, tired.

He focused on his magic, and smiled at shape it eventually took. He should have known, given his Animagus form, but the snake coiled inside him gave no indication as to rise. It was curled up in a tight ball, twisted into itself, a creature made of himself and magic, all that made Sebastian who he was: his shame, his pride, memories, pain, laughter, ambition.

He tried to force his magic to move, to direct the creature in the direction he wanted it to, to bend it to his will, but the creature refused to move, and seemed rather irritated when he kept mentally poking it. This carried on for the next couple of minutes, with his magic growing ever restless inside him and Sebastian himself growing irritated.

However, an idea occurred to him, and instead of pushing or pulling his magic, he tried to get his own mind into the snake. It was a weird, confusing feeling that made his head hurt, trying to force his own consciousness into his magic and infuse it with feelings. The whole process made it hard to think and he felt as though he was trying to push a knife into a shifting block of sand.

Eventually, he felt the snake move, his magic core itself given form, and Sebastian smiled as he felt the creature slither up his throat. He extended his right hand towards the pumpkin, reaching out with his magic at the same moment the snake started curling around his shoulder, then carefully moving towards his extended fingers.

He thought of the spider in the forbidden forest, of the venom that dripped from its maw. Pictures of spiders, snakes, jellyfish and wasps came into his mind. He thought of the vial of poisons professor Sharp had shown them in class one day, of the time Garreth Weasley had gotten one of the worst cases of food poising in his life, thought of how the Halloween decorations seemed to rot after the holiday was over, of the flies that surrounded the pumpkins and the acrid smell that came from the kitchens when something had clearly spoiled and gone bad.

The snake was coiled at his arm now, eyes fixed on the pumpkin and ready to strike, to inflict venom to its target. But then something went wrong, and he yelped in pain as he retreated his arm, clutching it with his good one as he felt his magic rapidly returning to his body.

Picking up his wand from the floor, he stumbled his way towards the door of the undercroft and tried to convince himself that it had simply been his magic having a bad reaction towards a new spell and not something else, because for a dreadful moment, he hadn’t felt a snake inside him and poised at his arm, but rather a completely different creature, one that had far too many legs for his liking.

…

Sebastian entered his magical history class to discover Natsai Onai and Garreth Weasley playing exploding snap with a group of students he didn’t recognize and a Hufflepuff girl he vaguely remembered as Adelaide Oakes. He watched in delight as the card Garreth was holding suddenly exploded, leaving a dark, ashy trace on his fingers and earning a yelp from some of the other students. Upon seeing him, Natsai waved him over and he made his way across the classroom to sit down in the small circle they had formed.

“Who’s winning” He asked as he squeezed himself between Garreth and a Ravenclaw girl.

“Natsai”

“Well, she’s not going to be winning much longer, now that I’m here.”

“Bring it on sallow.”

The game carried on, with him winning most of the rounds from there on, but Natsai still kept one step ahead of him. At some point, he began noticing Adelaide kept casting fleeing looks across the classroom. She seemed uncomfortable about something, and for some reason he couldn’t name, it set him slightly on edge.

“What’s wrong?” Garreth finally asked her.

“I was trying to…”

“You’ve been staring at the board as if it held the answers to mysteries of the universe.” He cut her mid explanation.

A few moments of silence that were cut abruptly when a Ravenclaw student burned her fingers from one of the cards.

“It’s probably nothing,” She began at last.  “But professor Binns is usually never late to his classes.”

“That’s it?”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, if he’s not here, then it works better for us.”

“For once, I agree with flame head over here.” Was his own response, earning him an annoyed glare from the Gryffindor at his right.

“Screw you, sallow.” Was Weasley’s response, but he decided to let it slide.

“Besides, isn’t there a rule that allows us to leave if he’s late or something?” He asked as he picked up another card for himself.

“Yes, but..” Natsai began.

“Garreth, stop pushing me.” And that was Adelaide.

“I believe it only applies if there’s an emergency…” Natsai finally concluded.

He drowned out the rest of the conversation and instead focused on the game, sparing enough time to focus on the classroom and the various students that remained and hadn’t bailed class. There were a couple of girls braiding each other’s hair in the far corner next to the door and Amit Thakkar was sitting close to the window while furiously scribbling something in his notebook, despite it being midday.

Professor Binns never showed up for the lesson, and although they were later informed there had been a surprise staff meeting regarding some budget problems, Sebastian couldn’t help but feel like there was something else going on. He didn’t like it.

…

(The ribcage groans as I pull it open. Drowning out the screams becomes easy after the first few minutes, for future attempts use a leather gag instead of pouch. The fifth and six left ribs suffer greater damage than the rest, probably earlier injuries. I bash through them with a hammer and continue on. There’s significant damage to the manubrium. Left clavicle has been severed in two pieces, should remove later. The operation has been ongoing for 23 hours, out of which the patient screamed himself hoarse after the first 14. See later attempts for the removal of the vocal cords. Pliers are useful, but a scalpel is more recommended for the severing of the muscles around the throat.)

Out of all of the bloody and gruesome passages held within the book, there was one that disturbed him above the rest. Near the end of the book, about 20 pages before the writings stopped, there was a small story, although it felt more like a confession. It was a number of accounts, all from different authors, regarding a series of live operations performed on muggle patients.

He had found the page one night in the Slytherin common room and had almost emptied his stomach at the contents he read there. The accounts seemed to have been written into several different pieces of paper that were later crudely pasted to the book. There was no indication that the writers had been wizards, but at some point a pattern began to emerge, and he recognized some of the body pieces taken as ingredients for a dark ritual.

(There’s a satisfying sound as my scissor cuts through the tendons of the arm, the wet sound of an elastic band snapping, coupled with the blood that leaks from all around me. I slowly pull another strand of the red fiber, slowly cutting right in the middle, the iron of my instrument tainted a bright scarlet red.

Pushing the blade deeper, I feel the telltale sign of bone, and shove the scissor between two of the muscles, not cutting them but separating them as I make my way towards my price. The idiot hasn’t stopped screaming, begging, pleading, and I silence his newest efforts by harshly pulling the metal out and slicing through two of his arm muscles at once.

Finally, I reach the Ulna, and smile victorious as I grab my splitting hammer and position it just above the bone. I bring it down with a victorious grin as I feel the hard white bone split beneath the force. He starts screaming again, and I once again bring the hammer down.)

Sebastian hadn’t read them all, he didn’t think he could, because despite the magical implications of a ritual that required this amount of ingredients, something in him recoiled at what was written in the book. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of spell possibly require for the body parts to be harvested while the victim was still alive.

He vaguely hoped that it was all a sort of prank, a very devious and disturbing prank meant to traumatize whoever opened the book, maybe as a sort of defense system. He didn’t believe it. No, some deep part of himself knew that everything that had been written in this book was true.

(Patient: Female, 23

Removals: Heart and both lungs

Surgery lasted 4 hours. No unexpected results, and both organs were safely secured and stored. The body has been properly disposed off, and it is not likely to cause any further problems.

Final notes: It is convenient to replace the scalpels, as the process significantly speeds up with a new one. No further comments.)

He never showed it to anyone. When he had arrived the first night, he had temporarily considered the possibility of letting Ominis know about his new reading material and, if the book itself proved itself to be too dangerous, maybe even handing it off to a teacher. But it was those last few pages that stooped him. He couldn’t let anyone else witness this.  

He didn’t sleep well the next couple of nights.

…

Sebastian purposely waited for his uncle to leave on an errand before he went to visit his sister. Those last few passages on the book had taken a toll on him, and he wanted to avoid a confrontation with his uncle. He had a distinct but irrational fear that the old man would be able to smell the dark magic off him.

The thought of seeing his sister again cheered him up though, and he made a quick stop at Honeydukes to buy her a couple of chocolate frogs with some left-over money he had from a bet he made against Leander Prewett last week. It had been painfully easy to scam him out of his money.

Feldcroft was just as he remembered. It had been a couple of weeks since he last came, too caught up in his search for a cure and schoolwork. The warm evening breeze flowed softly through the little town square, where a couple of vendors had set up shop and were displaying a wide array of potions and magical plants. Stray cats roamed his hometown, and he could smell the appetizing scent of freshly baked bread coming from one of the houses.

Opening the door to his own house silently, he spotted his sister reading at the kitchen table with her back towards the door. Grinning at the opportunity, he slowly crept forward until he stood unnoticed above her.

“Surprise!”

Watching his sister nearly jump out of her skin gave him that deep sense of satisfaction that one can only get after getting one over their sibling, and he smiled as she turned around to face him. Even though she looked ruffled from his stunt, her eyes shone as he embraced her in a warm hug.

“Merlin’s beard… Sebastian,… you nearly gave me a…” However, she didn’t get a chance to finish, because a coughing fit took control of her, a raspy, dry sound escaping her lips, her body convulsing in small movements.

“Anne!”

“I’m okay, its nothing” She failed to assure him as he helped her sit back down.

“It’s not nothing… here, let me get you some water.”

He handed her a glass full of water, one which she eagerly took. “I’m fine Sebastian, you just startled me.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he sat down next to her.

“Good, but I would feel better if my dearly beloved brother would stop fussing over me.” She seemed to have regained control of her body and smiled as she asked.  “Tell me about school, how’s everything going over there?”

Sebastian noticed how frail she seemed. It hadn’t been more than a month since he last saw her, but his sister was painfully thin, and her eyes seemed to have sunken in even more. Her skin had taken on an ashy tone, and the more he looked, the more it seemed like the color itself was being drained from her.

“I have so much to tell you, but I don’t want to spoil everything so it’s ready for you when you return to Hogwarts.” When, not if, never if. Because those two letters represented a possibility he wasn’t yet ready to accept.

“How’s Ominis?” She asked, changing the subject.

“I’m doing fine, thank you.” He responded with feign indignation. She laughed slightly at this.

“I get letters from you almost every day, but I don’t hear from him that often.”

A slight moment of silence, one she clearly picked up on.

“…He’s fine, you know. Usual.”

“Sebastian… what did you do?”

“Would you believe me if I told you you’re the second person to accuse me of that this week?” At her unimpressed look, he carried on. “Nothing… nothing that bad.”

Anne held his gaze for a moment before leaning forward and softly punching him in the arm.

“Hey! What was that for?” He asked as he pulled away. “You know, you still have one hell of a left hook.”

“Do you remember how we used to fight when we were children over who got the last sugar quills?” Was her random answer.

“Yes, what does that have to do…?”

“We would get into massive arguments over pointless things, but we always made up.” She carried on like she hadn’t hear him. “Ominis is like a brother to us, so don’t fight over something that’s not worth it.”

“It’s not like that…” He began.

“I once saw you wrestle a street dog because he had stolen your waffle, I know you. And I know Ominis. You two can be like a married couple sometimes.”

Those last words hit him in a different way, and he was unable to keep the red out of his face at the mental image it painted. He quickly turned his face away before his sister could notice his slight blushing.

“Anyway.” He said suddenly. “Enough with Ominis, come with me, I want to show you something.”

Grabbing Anne by the arm, he guided her down a path that led towards the forest next to Feldcroft. Once deep enough, they found a small clearing they used to play at when they were kids. In there, he took a few steps away from her and slowly transformed into his Animagus form.

Anne was delighted at the sight before her, but she did take a couple of moments scolding him for not inviting her to his transformation process, slightly upset that they did not become animagi together. The feeling, however, was shortly lived, and she sat down in the grass as he let her run her fingers over his scales.

She had been fascinated at the way his new body moved, and he had secretly laughed when she had tried to pick him off the ground, only to fail miserably. At her indignant glare, he simply stuck out his biforked tongue at her.

Over the course of the years, on many occasions, Sebastian had been told that he was the spitting image of his father, his uncle’s older brother. He had vague memories about his parents, but the ones he had were happy, warm. From what he knew, he owed most of his physical appearance to his father’s side of the family. He knew he was tall for his age, that his shoulders were wider and his arms bigger than those of his classmates. It was only now however, as he shifted back to his human form and stood beside his twin sister that he realized just how thin she really was. The curse seemed to have stunt her growth, and the happiness from moments ago seemed to fade as he once again took in just how deplorable she looked.

“Almost forgot, I bought you these.” He told her as he handed her a small bag full of packages of chocolate frogs, which she took eagerly. “Come on, lets head back before Solomon comes back.”

On the way back, he told her about his classes, about crossed wands, of the new potion he had brew in Professor Sharp’s class the other day, of the 10-page essay he was supposed to write for next Monday, and so on. He left out all of his discoveries in the cave, as well as the mysterious book he was slowly becoming obsessed with. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, and deep down, he knew that the contents held within those pages would be more than enough to warrant her distrust and unease, if not her outright hatred of the thing.

Their conversation ended abruptly when they came out of the forest and Sebastian was left staring directly into the disapproving gaze of his uncle.

Solomon Sallow had never really warmed up to him, even after years of him being Sebastian’s guardian. The feeling was mutual, and he mentally groaned as they closed the last couple of steps towards their home. Forcing a small smile into his face, he walked up to his uncle.

“Sebastian, I didn’t know you dropped by.” Was his greeting.

“Don’t worry uncle, I was already leaving.”

“Why the hurry? How’s everything going at school?”

“Same as always.”

The three of them stood somewhat awkwardly at the entrance to their house, and while Sebastian was itching to get of there and put as much distance between himself and Solomon as possible, he thought that would have been something akin to running away.

“Actually, I wanted your opinion on something.”

“Well then, what’s going on?”

Feelings for the man aside, his uncle had been a very renowned auror and was probably far more versed on the subject that what he was. Sure, by that point he had read every book in the library on the topic, but nothing beats firsthand experience.

“I was reading about spell creation, and had this idea…”

“No.” Was his immediate and firm answer, a scowl already replacing his previous expression.

“You didn’t even hear what it was.”

In all honesty, he really didn’t want to tell his uncle about his new, poisonous spell, but it had been so long since they did anything together, and despite the tensions that often arose in his house, he was still family. Additionally, it felt like a much safer topic than I found a creepy and disturbing dark magic book in an abandoned cave and would like your help deciphering it. Priceless as it may have been, he also didn’t want to see his uncle’s reaction to finding out his nephew could transform into a snake, a creature known for being affiliated with dark wizards.

“Look, Sebastian, spell creation is very dangerous and not something to be messing around with, much less by someone your age.” He didn’t like the way he said ‘your age’, as if he was any less capable than some of the full grown wizards he had met in his life. It sounded like an insult, especially with the condescending voice that it was spoken with, and he was vaguely reminded of being scolded as a child after breaking one of his sister’s toys.

“I’m perfectly capable of pulling off something like this, and if you would just hear about what it’s supposed to do…”

“Do your teachers know about it?” Solomon interrupted him.

“No, but…”

“And why is that...?” And damn it, because his uncle wasn’t an idiot, merlin knows his life would be significantly easier if he was, but he wasn’t and could probably sense the guilt radiating off him.

“Because I don’t want to show it to anyone until its ready.” He lied at last. “But if you were to help me…”

“Forget about it Sebastian, my final answer is no. If you want to get yourself blown into pieces, that’s fine, but I won’t stand next to you while it happens.”

He turned to open the door behind him and carefully ushered Anne inside. “Come on sweetheart…”

His sister cast him one last look before being taken by another coughing fit and making her way inside.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He bitterly asked before he closed the door.

“I thought you were leaving.” And with those final words the door was closed in his face, and he was left bitterly standing there, anger and poison cursing through his veins.

…

The rain was pounding heavily against the school’s grand windows in the afternoon that Sebastian broke into the headmaster’s office.

After many long nights in the forbidden section, one of which had resulted in him falling asleep in one of the tables only to be discovered by the librarian the next day, Sebastian had begun developing the strange but very plausible theory that the author of the book, the mysterious ‘J. M.’ had actually been a student at Hogwarts.

There were several passages in the book that made reference to the school itself, and plenty anecdotes which seemed to have taken place in classrooms he knew. There was a page detailing the potions classrooms, and how the tables could be better arranged for maximizing space, as well as a crude drawing of what looked like the kitchens beneath the great hall. While there was always the possibility that those had been written by someone else and were later copied down, he was inclined to believe that was not the case. The way Hogwarts was described in the book was achingly familiar, the feeling and the senses and even the smells just seemed right. No, whoever had written this book had been a student just like himself, and for all he knew that person might very well still be alive.

There were some names mentioned throughout the book, few and far between, and most of them yielded no result when he tried to look them up in the Hogwarts library. There was one name he did recognize on those the book mentioned, and that was the one of Niamh Fitzgerald. She had been the headmistress of Hogwarts nearly 400 years ago, and her name popped up during the last chapter of the book with various degrees of frequency.

From what his research yielded, she had been a great woman, a natural leader, and had apparently helped establish many of the security protocols that were still being used to this very day. However, there was very little else on her on the library, and Miss Scribner, the old librarian, had to do a double check when he had asked her if she had any books on her.

There were a few mentions of her in various tomes about the history of Hogwarts, but nothing else that may have proven useful. That was, until he became aware that if Niamh had been a headmistress at the school, then there must have been a portrait of her in the headmaster’s office. And thus, he began brewing a plan in his mind.

Discovering the password to the headmaster’s office was painfully simple, and it did make him worry slightly at the level of security the school possessed. He had tailed professor Black all day, and using the disillusionment charm, had watched from a corner as the man utter the password: Toujours Pur.

He had scoffed at the obvious choice of password but skulked away smiling at the knowledge.

Sebastian had once saved Everett Clopton’s life when they were both in fourth year. The boy had been trying a reckless trick on his broom, soaring through the sky with glee, only for him to slip and plummet to the ground the next moment. The teacher hadn’t been around and Sebastian had reacted quickly and casted Arresto Momentum to slow down the boy’s fall. He had arrived at the ground shaken up but unscratched and promised Sebastian there and then that whatever he wanted from him, he could consider it done. It was good to have friends in your debt.

Yesterday, he had told Everett that he needed the headmaster out off his office for at least an hour, and the Ravenclaw boy had stared at him for a long minute before finally agreeing. He didn’t know how he had managed it, but at some point shortly before 5 in the afternoon professor Black had stormed out of his office with an annoyed expression on his face, never taking notice of Sebastian hidden in a corner outside the door, the disillusionment charm muffling his steps and rendering him invisible.

He waited for a moment to make sure the headmaster wasn’t coming back before letting the charm slip of him. Standing before the door, he loudly pronounced the password.

“Toujours Pur.”

He watched in awe as a spiraling staircase appeared on the place the statue had previously been, the circular steps slowly climbing up and out of his view. Moving quickly, he rushed up the steps towards the headmaster’s office.

He had already been in the office a great number of times, twice during this school year alone and at least half a dozen on the one before. On the few occasions when he was actually caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do, his teacher would usually deal with him, but there were enough incidents that required him to visit the headmaster himself, and so up the spiral staircase he went. He was getting better though, smarter and stronger, and while some of his teachers may have wrongly believed he had stopped in his pursuit of a cure, he was still going as strong as ever. He had just learned to stick to the shadows a lot more.

The office was just as he remembered, with stacks of papers piled neatly onto the main desks and a series of trinkets and odd objects lying around the room.

Wasting no time, he scanned the numerous portraits that hung from the immaculate walls. Most of them were sleeping, but a few of them sent him curious glances and, clearly deeming him not worth their time, simply carried on or went back to sleep.

He grinned victoriously once he spotted the portrait of the old woman. Her hair was pulled back on a neatly made braid across her head and her blue eyes were stuck on a book on her lap. She looked peaceful and took no notice of him when he stopped beside her place on the wall. He took in her old clothes the pearls braided around her hair for a moment more before calling for her.

“Professor Fitzgerald!”

She seemed startled by the calling of her name and turned to look at him with a curious glint in her eyes. He got the vague impression that no one had spoken to her in a very long time.

“Young man, can I help you?”

“My name’s Sebastian Sallow, and yes, I was hoping you could help me.” He told her as he pulled the book out of his robes, holding the precious object towards the portrait in the wall. Immediately after laying eyes upon it, her expression morphed into one of horror and shock.

“Where did you get that?” She demanded of him.

“You recognize it?” He asked her smugly. Apparently, that was not the correct choice of words, because an angry look spread over her face, so out of contrast with her previously peaceful and calm look.

“Listen to me boy, I don’t know where you found that book, but you must get rid of it.”

Once again, he didn’t like the way this older woman used the word ‘boy’, condescending and superior, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it, not when it became painfully obvious that the old headmistress clearly knew about the book.

“So, you do know it. The author was a student here, wasn’t he?” He playfully passed the object from one hand to the other, forcing himself not to react at her aggressive tone.

“He? Just what are you talking about?” She seemed taken back for a moment, before continuing. “Pay attention, the person who wrote that book is someone that should never be mentioned. You must get rid of it, now!”

“And if I don’t want to?” He asked darkly, pouring venom into his voice. Somewhere deep within himself, he felt something stir.

“You don’t understand the magic you are playing with; you have no way to do so, so please, get rid of the book.” She said the last past almost pleadingly, and there was a level of desperation to her tone that made him reconsider his approach so far.

“I will.” He lied. “As soon as you tell me what I need to know. Who wrote this?”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

The pleading tone was gone from her voice when she answered. “Do you even know what it is you’re holding in your hand?! The destruction it could unleash?!”

“All I know is that it seems to hold the answers that no one else is willing to give me.”

“Then those are questions that shouldn’t be answered.” She answered firmly.

“Is there anything at all…”

“Listen.” And there was a finality to this answer. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin high, looking every bit like the headmistress she had once been. “No matter what it tells you, that book is NOT your ally. It will manipulate you into freeing something that deserves to remain submerged.”

“Please, just listen, my sister is sick, and she needs…”

“I’m sorry about that, I truly am, but I won’t help you in pursing this, for that book is more likely to harm your sister than to help her.” Silence, then after a moment. “Young man, the wisest thing you could do now is burning that dammed book.”

“I won’t stop looking.”

She seemed to consider him for a moment, really take him in, and he got the distinct impression that she was no longer looking at him, but rather at the image of someone else. Her gaze was hard and cold when she finally met his eyes, and the violence in her voice spoke both to him and to the person she had remembered.

“Then you will burn with it.” And then she took a step into the picture and was gone, the answers disappearing with her.

…

Sebastian found himself in Hogsmeade, standing in front of Honeydukes, staring at his reflection outside the shop’s windows. He had broken the last of his quills while writing the other night and had made the trip with the intention of acquiring a couple of new ones, but inevitably found himself standing outside of the candy shop.

Steeping inside, he grabbed a package of glacial snowflakes from the shelves as well as two boxes of chocolate wands before grabbing a handful of blood-flavored lollipops for himself. Paying at the register and walking out of Hogsmeade towards the castle gave him plenty of time to think.

He had made it out of the headmaster’s office easy enough and had spent the next couple of hours in his dorm, replaying the scene at his mind and pondering his options.

The meeting with the former headmistress had been disastrous and he felt like another door had been slammed in his face. He couldn’t tell why he was so obsessed with cracking the secret behind the book, but it was his only lead, his last lead,towards any semblance of a cure. Without Slytherin’s scriptorium or any other clue that might point him in the right direction, trying to decipher the mysteries held within those pages seemed like his best shot.

He had, however, learned something very valuable from his discussion with professor Fitzgerald. During their entire conversation, there was anger and resentment on her features, all except for one moment. When he asked if the author had been a student there.

She hadn’t seemed surprised at the question, which only fomented his theory that the previous owner of the book had attended Hogwarts, but she had reacted when he uttered the word ‘he’. Her confusion had only lasted for a moment, but he had been paying keen attention to her reactions and had deducted perhaps the most valuable piece of information to be gained from the whole ordeal: The author had been a witch, not a wizard.

It wasn’t exactly helpful towards discovering her identity, of course, but it did narrow his suspect pool in half.

His attention was drawn towards his bag full of school supplies and candy. He hated glacial snowflakes, thought they tasted like a foul combination of mud and tap water, but Ominis liked them, and he had bought them as a gift towards his best friend.

His latest’s argument with Ominis kept playing in the back of his head, nagging at him in an uncomfortable way and bitterly reminding him of the current state of their relationship.

He couldn’t quite put into words his relationship with his best friend. They’d been inseparable once, but that felt like a long time ago. His life was turned upside down the moment his sister was cursed, and he felt anger bubbling inside him at the thought of those responsible. He had never really liked goblins before the attack, a rocky relationship that was founded by the ensemble of dislike and distrust that seemed to seep from the Hogwarts student body. Now there was a cruel hatred inside him that jumped at the slightest chance of a confrontation with one.

When he was learning the unforgivable curses, the one he struggled the most with was the cruciatus curse. Controlling someone was simple, easy, like slipping a warm knife into butter. Death was also easy to administer, the couple of dead animals he had tested his new spell with were plentiful of proof for that. There was a thrill that came when casting the killing curse, the knowledge that he could end someone’s life with just two words, power and energy and life coursing through him as he wielded the power of death.

But it was different with crucio. He failed the first couple of tries and had taken a far longer time in managing to cast the fearsome spell. The book he had learned the curse from had instructed him to think of someone he hated, someone he’d want to see suffering. Someone’s whose torture he would enjoy. He’d thought of his uncle at first. He hated the man, and for a moment he could see himself as he wielded the dark spell, basking in its sweet power. But then he thought of his uncle’s face as it contorted in pain, of his broken gasps of pain, and the thought disappeared. He despised his uncle, but he didn’t think he could be able to cast the cruciatus curse against him.

Another face came to his mind then, the one responsible for his sister’s misery. He thought of Ranrok, of his sneering evil face as he stood victorious above his sister. He had no problem casting the curse against the mental image of the goblin and had laughed when he saw his face twisting in agony.

Learning the three unforgivable curses had granted him a power like never before, and he found himself thinking about them as he finally arrived back at Hogwarts.

When he had first picked up the book in the cave, a similar jolt of power had gone through him, vaguely reminding him of the first time he cast each of those dark spells. But there was distinct difference between them. The unforgivables felt like power, pure and raw it all their glory, like catching lightning in a bottle and drinking straight from it, feeling yourself alive in a perverse and wicked way unlike anything ever experienced before. Intoxicating, addicting and excessive.

Opening the book had felt like drinking from a bottle of rich wine that had long gone stale, you could still taste the flavor in it, but whatever was left was just a crude echo of its former glory. There had been something else in that book too, something sentient, and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had crawled inside him on that fateful night. Yes, the power of the book was also addicting, but in a completely different way. The unforgivable were addicting by their nature itself, they simply were that way, but the book felt deliberate, like it had been built with the intention of catching someone in it’s snare.

Steeping back into his common room felt like coming home. One of the perks of living underwater was that the living room always had that smell of wet dirt that came after the rain. It reminded him of the dark forest, and the long, cool nights in there.

Ominis was resting leisurely at one of the couches near the fireplace, running his fingers smoothly across the small ridges in the pages of the book. Sebastian had been fascinated with braille at first, with the way his best friend could read words by dots and lines. He had considered learning it once, just so he could impress Ominis with his skills, but eventually abandoned the idea.

Plopping down next to him, he stretched his arms over his head and rested both of his legs on a nearby table, then proceeded to put them down when scolded by his prefect.

“Here.” He said as he drooped the bag full of candy into his friend’s lap. The other looked up startled and rummaged through the bag until he pulled out one of the chocolate wands. Sebastian in turn, popped one of the blood lollipops into his mouth.

“What is this?” Ominis asked, a smug look in his face as he bit the tip of the wand.

“A peace offering.”

“Apology accepted.”

He arranged his body in a more comfortable position before he continued. “What are you reading?” He asked him, changing the subject, curiosity staining his tone.

“Medical cures for magical illnesses.”

He had read that book already, but had discarded it rather quickly after discovering it focused more on muggle diseases affecting wizards than on curses or hexes. He hadn’t given it another thought, but Ominis clearly considered it as worth his time. He watched as he went back to his reading, occasionally using one hand to bite into the candy.

“Wait, but that’s…”

“I stand by what I said about the scriptorium. It should remain off limits, but doesn’t mean I’ve given up on Anne.”

Silence rang out between the two of them, and the clamor from the common room seemed to fade around them.

“Thank you.” He said, because it was the only thing to say.

“Come on, don’t look so sorrowful.” Ominis said as he interrupted his brooding.

“Like you can tell what I look like.” He scoffed.

“I always know what you look like, benefits of being the smarter one.”

“You wish.”

“It’s not healthy to lie to yourself Sebastian.”

He wanted to say some witty remark, to point out that even though Ominis was the one with the better grades, Sebastian wasn’t doing so bad himself either, and was actually better than him at DADA and potions, but he stopped. He considered everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, all of the events before that, as well the squirming sensation that came over his body whenever he was near the book, like something was crawling through his body. He thought of the boy in front of him, all that they were and would ever be, and perhaps even more in the future. Resolve tightened its grip around him as he made up his mind.

“There’s something you need to know.”

…

“Give me your wand.”

“What?” Was Ominis’s response. They were standing in their dorm, away from the noise of the common room, and Sebastian had cast a muffliato charm on the door and room as soon as he closed it behind them. “Why?”

“Well, id ask you to close your eyes, but that feels counterproductive.”

“Sebastian…”

“Trust me.”

Reluctantly, Ominis handed him his wand, and he carefully set it aside on his own night desk. He decided it would be best to start with the easiest of all his secrets and took a few steps back as he shifted into his snake form.

He didn’t know if his best friend would be able to understand him in this body, but in theory, it should work. He hadn’t tried speaking to another animal while in his Animagus form, but he knew that it was possible. Besides, when it came to snakes and Ominis, he felt that it was better to just get it done with, like ripping a painful bandage off. Quick and easy.

Speaking in his snake form was complicated, his tongue not having been made to pronounce human words, but eventually he got used to the feeling and turned his head towards his best friend.

“Ominis.”

The reaction was instantaneous. One moment Ominis was standing next to his bed, completely and utterly blind to the whole world, and then he was scrambling to reach for his wand. Hi whole demeanor had changed, and there was a panic to him the likes of which he had never seen before.

He grabbed blindly at the night desk, his fingers sweeping the wooden surface before they closed around on his wand. It was as if haring someone speak parseltongue had provoked something inside him, and he pointed his wand towards him once he had it in his hands.

“Sebastian?” And damn, he had only heard him speak parseltongue once before, but he was instantly mesmerized with the way those hissing sounds rolled off his tongue, and he was vaguely reminded of French.

“Its me.” He quickly hissed. “Its still me”

“What the bloody… for merlin’s beard!” The terror he had displayed was slowly leaking from his features, and he seemed far more annoyed than surprised.

“I became an Animagus.”

“I can see that.”

“Ominis, I didn’t know your sight had returned. Congratulations!” He told him sarcastically as he slithered closer to his best friend. Ominis gave him that look but made no move to retreat once he felt Sebastian sliding closer.

“And you can turn into a snake?”

“Surprise?”

Ominis had relied on leaning back against the bedframe, and he let himself fall onto the mattress gently. A couple of moments later, Sebastian climbed onto the bed and, still in his python form, curled up against him, resting some parts of his new body against the blonde’s chest.

“You’re heavy.” Ominis told him as he ran his hands delicately over his scaled body. His touch was gentle and soft, intimate in a way Anne’s hadn’t been and why is he thinking about his sister at this moment?

“Shut up.” Was his response, as he curled his gigantic head against the curve of the other one’s neck. It was warm there, and he was tempted to stay there for far longer than what he should have. Omins kept stroking his serpentine form, and he could picture himself there, sleeping, resting and oh, that feels really nice.

“So this was your big secret.” Ominis told him, parseltongue forcing his throat to make strange sounds.

“Yes and no … There’s more.”

He shifted back to his human form for this, disappointed to break the body contact from earlier. This was a discussion that needed to be had face to face, even though he was going to miss the sound of Ominis speaking parseltongue. He debated for a moment more, desperation to share his worries with someone clawing deep at him, because this was Ominis, and he could trust in him, but the thought of dragging his best friend down the twisted path he was on felt wrong somehow. He got the distinct feeling that whatever darkness he’d unleashed in this world was a sin, one that was his to bear alone.

Instead, looking into the eyes of the boy in front of him, his face calmed and relaxed despite the earlier shock, he found himself unable to hide the truth any longer. He wanted to keep this friendship with Ominis, to be able to be and laugh, and eat and breath as they were doing now. There was always the chance that this was it, the final mistake that caused the permanent rift between them, but if Sebastian kept it a secret and Ominis found out much later, especially by a third party, then all hopes of preserving their friendship would be lost.

And so, he told him everything.

From his transformation to a snake and the long process it entailed, to the book hidden in the dark cavern and the magical energy it had released into him, to the strange, crawling sensation that sometimes seemed to take control of his body. He told him of his attempts to craft a new spell, of his visit to Feldcroft and about breaking into the headmaster’s office, of his confrontation with a teacher that no longer was. He told him about his suspicions on the book, about the mysterious author and the power she had embedded within the tome itself, of the dark and twisted passages it contained and how something in him both recoiled and lit up at the feeling of darkness that oozed from the pages of the book like black ink.

When he was done, Ominis stared at him through those sightless eyes of his for a long, painful moment before he eventually responded.

“Sebastian, what the fuck?!”

He couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Over the course of the five years they’ve known each other, Sebastian had only heard Ominis curse during a handful of occasions. It was, as far as he was concerned, nearly impossible to break the boy’s decorum and sense of elegance. Those few occasions were few and far between, made just the more valuable by that fact alone.

It was as if a cloud had been lifted off him, for while Ominis sounded annoyed, he didn’t sound mad or worse, much worse – disappointed.

“Don’t laugh!”

“Can’t help it. Not my fault you decided today was the day you finally start speaking like the rest of us plebes.”

A small laugh escaped Ominis lips, and he seemed just as relieved to ease some sort of unseen tension off his shoulders.

“You’ve gotten yourself into quite a problem Sebastian” He finally said at last.

“I know.”

“So how are we going to get out?”

“I was – we?” He stopped mid-sentence.

“We’re a team, you and I. I’m not letting you suffer your way through this alone.” Not again went unsaid.

He wanted to say thank you, to throw himself over him and hug him, to show gratitude not only for understanding, but for listening as well. For staying. But he didn’t do any of those.

“So, what now?”

“Now?” Ominis asked him as he slipped out of the bed. Walking to his dresser, he pulled out a pair of pajamas and levitated them to his bed.  “We go to sleep. Its nearly quarter to midnight and we have history of magic first thing in the morning. We can deal with everything else tomorrow.”

Casting a quick tempus spell confirmed the other’s assumptions, and for the first time in a long time he felt his eyelids growing heavy. Keeping the secret of the book had been a weight on his shoulders, one that he was happy to let slide of his back, even if was just for one night. Ominis would no doubt demand to see the book tomorrow, but that was a headache for future Sebastian.

“Are you sure?” He asked him as he changed into his own set of pajamas, enjoying the change from his school uniform to soft and comfortable fabric.

“Positive.”

“Thank you.” He said at last, and the words felt powerful as they left his mouth. There was nothing else to say that night, noting more to be added. And they both fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing.

…

There was a scream, and Sebastian woke up to the sound of commotion coming from the common room. Looking around, he spotted Ominis waking up as well, looking dazzled, while his other two roommates were also making their way clumsily out of their bed. There were alarmed voices coming from somewhere down the hall, and he could make out the voice of his prefect barking orders outside their door, clearly struggling to be heard above all the noice.

Shaking the sleep off him, he didn’t bother to wait for somebody else to follow him, instead yanking the door open with more force than necessary. Outside there was chaos. Almost every single student was out of their dorm rooms and either standing by the door that led to their respective alcoves or trying to push past the small barrier of magic and staff members that had formed around them, with various degrees of success. He could see almost all of the teachers from school here, and immediately realized that whatever was going on was focused entirely on the Slytherin house.

“What’s going on?” Ominis asked him as he emerged from behind him, his hair still a mess and his clothes wrinkled from being yanked off from sleep but looking wide awake and alert. Behind him he could make out the shapes of one of the other boys he shared a room with, Johnson, trying to push his way past the two of them so he could look outside. Sebastian effortlessly threw him back towards their room and focused his attention back towards the mayhem.

Professor Sharp had appeared at some point and was trying to get his voice to be heard above the clamor. Aiming his wand at his throat and casting a spell he was too far away to hear, his voice rose above the rest when he spoke.

“Attention all students!”

Most heads snapped towards him, although one or two students kept arguing with the prefects. Sebastian instead took in the disheveled appearance of the normally so formal professor, the way he seemed slightly shaken up. Impossible to tell to the naked eye, but he was their head of house, so Sebastian knew how to read most of his expressions by now.

“Return to your dorms immediately!” He carried on. “You are not to leave your room until the situation has been sorted and take note that all attempts at indiscipline will be rightfully punished!”

Sebastian was just about ready to cast the disillusionment charm on himself and leave to explore to see what was going on when professor sharp caught sight of him. He must have sensed his intentions, because he briskly walked up to him before he had a chance to even pronounce the spell.

“Don’t even think about it mister Sallow!” He said in a tone that left no room for arguments.

“Professor, what’s going on?” He asked once he was standing in front of the man, having outmaneuvered the prefect that was now herding Ominis and the rest inside.

“Return to your rooms, the four of you.” He said as he pointed his wand in direction of the door that belonged to him. “Now!”

Seeing that the man was about to leave, he desperately pulled on his arm, keen to draw his attention. “I heard a scream, is someone hurt?”

He stopped dead in his track, and turned to study him under a new light, and where there had once been worry, now confusion and suspicion tainted his eyes. “What?”

“I can tell something bad is happening-”

“Sebastian.” He said, using his first name to get the younger’s full, undivided attention.  “No one screamed. Go back to sleep.”

“Professor, please.” And there must have been something in his tone, or his words from earlier, because when he laid his eyes upon him, Sebastian was suddenly sure that there was a debate raging out on his professor’s mind. A bet was being placed, one of which he was the center of, but he did not know the gamble or the game or the rules. He only knew that something was going on and that it was bad.

Professor Sharp had a moment more of deliberation before his answer came, cold and stern and final.

“A student has been murdered.”