Turnabout is Fair Play
They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't have come: Her, especially: A muggleborn Gryffindor standing in Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium was sure to have the Slytherin founder thrashing in his blasted grave. The air suffocated them, threatening to crush them under its thick, oppressive weight, demanding the trio to turn back. The ominous halls goaded them at every turn with the flash of shadows dancing in the torchlight, the faint hiss haunting them as they solved puzzle after puzzle in order to move forward.
Everything has a cost and these three should've known this place would demand recompense for their entry into it's hallowed halls. Salazar Slytherin only ever did settle debts in blood. With each failure of the intricate puzzles, enchanted snakes lunged and sank their teeth into Samarra's arms to make their disappointment known. By the time they'd reached the final hall, Samarra's skin was littered with wounds that refused to heal. The puckered flesh had begun to swell, blood dripping to the floor, mocking her failure. Stinging pain spiked through her arms with every move, taunting her again, "What's the matter, little Gryffindor? You're not afraid, are you?"
Ominis had been right. Ever the voice of reason, he had tried to call Samarra and Sebastian off the chase, but reckless, stupid, and ever hopeful, they charged ahead further into the Scriptorium not without fear, but certainly without caution. The possibility to find a cure for Anne and to find answers for Aunt Noctua was a temptation to easy to give into: all of the potential rewards crushed nearly all the risks for Sebastian.
But not to Ominis. Samarra's heart swelled full of regret at how he shook in fear at the revelation that his beloved Aunt's remains lay littered across the floor in this wretched room. She could barely look at him as the door of tortured faces loomed, demanding they sate its blood price. What Sebastian dared ask of her was impossible: He knew full well what Ominis had experienced at the hands of his family and yet he still wanted her to ask Ominis to do the same- No. The very thought conjured a pit of despair in her stomach, threatening to empty the remains of her last meal upon the floor.
Take a deep breath. Good. Now another. The panic in her chest subsided slightly as she focused on her breathing, strengthening her renewed resolve. Her shoulders had to carry the weight of what they must do; She was the reason they were here. She convinced Ominis to divulge the location of the Scriptorium: not Sebastian. . . her. She who lit the braziers unlocking the damned vault, who dragged her friends into more danger where they could very likely die. Despite Sebastian being a driving force of why the trio found themselves in this abominable situation, it didn't matter. Samarra was supposed to know better, to choose which battles to fight, which rules to break. What is the point of bravery if it puts those you care about in danger? What was the point of the pursuit of knowledge if you don't survive to share it. And loyalty? What is loyalty when you've wrought your friends certain death? Everything had a cost. Magic and knowledge was certainly no different. Sebastian and Ominis would not face the consequences for her carelessness: for her mistake. The price of getting them out was something Samarra would shoulder, no one else. Least of all, Ominis.
Someone was screaming. A bloodcurdling screech that lifted her hair on end and ripped her throat raw. Oh god. It's me. The scene unfolded before her own eyes, seeming to have sent her spiraling from her body in some manner of preserving her sanity. Her form shook and trembled in a struggle to stay on her feet, Ominis had turned away from the nightmarish landscape before him, eyes scrunched shut, hands covering his ears at the end of the hall, and Sebastian-
The sharp and burning pain wracked her body, jolting her back into reality. No longer could she hide away from what was happening to her: skin aflame with unseen sparks, legs buckling, as she slowly lost the battle to remain upright. The cool stone did nothing to alleviate the feeling of a thousand coals beneath her skin. Her head overwhelmed with the thunderous roar of her heartbeat, black spots swam across her vision as ripple upon ripple of agony hurtled through every one of her nerves as she writhed on the floor.
What she couldn't see was the swirl of red that crackled around her like perverse lightning. For a painful moment, Sebastian was grateful Ominis was blind but he wished he was also deaf. While he could be spared the expression of wide eyed agony that streaked across Samarra's face as she gritted her teeth, he wouldn't be protected from her attempt to quell the shrill wailing that fought to escape her lips.
Salazar Slytherin seemed satisfied with their sacrifice, the faces of tortured souls sloughed to the floor in an undignified heap to reveal an open study. Silence. Beautiful, uninterrupted silence graced her ears as she lie on the stone, desperately trying to control her gasping breaths, to regain some semblance of dignity. The boys would be lost in guilt if the evidence of her physical pain wasn't tucked neatly away. Glassy eyes locked onto Noctua Gaunt's remains and her throat tightened, breathing became extraordinarily harder as tears threatened to fall at the sight of her friend's favored aunt. How afraid she must have been, locked in here alone with no one to comfort her. No one to save her. Even if there was nothing in this Scriptorium to help Anne, at least Ominis would be able to lay Noctua to rest. It was worth it. It had to be
Her sweat soaked through her robes, leaving her vulnerable to the chill that seeped into her skin from her place on the floor. Spots danced in her vision as her eyes fluttered shut, a deep breath, 1. . . 2. . . 3. . .1 . .2. . 3. . .You're alright. It's alright. She didn't hear their voices for a moment, all other sound drowned out by the buzz in her ears.
"Are you alright? Mara? I'm sorry-" Sebastian's grief-stricken voice sounds so distant. So faint. As though all his resolve leeched out of him as the door fell away. Her mind had barely fought off the haze when she sat up from the floor, that persistent chill having settled in the depth of her bones, a hollowness. She wondered if it would make itself at home there.
"Hmm? I'm alright-We need to keep moving." A brief nod in her direction and Sebastian darted off through the door before she was even on her feet. The Cruciatus Curse was everything wizards whispered about. How could Ominis' own parents have subjected him to this? Images of young Ominis flashed against the inside of her eyelids: a mere sweet boy refusing the power of the lash, only to be flayed himself until he yielded and performed as demanded: Innocents murdered as his innocence died. Should the elder Gaunts paths ever cross her own, her wand would not stay sheathed. A debt remained that only blood would pay, a lesson she'd learned from their own ancestor this very night.
"You're lying again," Ominis appeared at her back like a wraith in the shadows, his voice little more than a whisper into her ear. So lost in her mind, the soft red glow of his wand went unnoticed as he approached her. If Samarra had been of right mind and sharp eye, she'd have seen how his rage boiled beneath his skin and would've taken his hand to call him back from the fury that nipped at his heels. But alas, one rescue was all the frail young woman could manage this night.
His fingers bit into the palm of his unoccupied hand, lip curling at the sight of Sebastian turning his back on the injured girl who wobbled unsteadily on her feet. How could Sebastian have done this to her without care or concern? Why was he delving further into the Scriptorium instead of ensuring she was alright after accepting an unforgivable curse willingly to save them?
A heavy sigh, a frustrated shake of her head, voice tinged with bitterness despite the laugh that escaped her "Nothing gets past you, does it Ominis"
"You shouldn't have had to-"
"I would do it again, Ominis," voice quiet, as her shoulders sagged under the admission, under the truth. "We should go before he finds some other trouble that we cannot escape."
She barely remembered the trip back to her dorm, muscle memory puppeteering her through the ever changing scenery of Hogwarts. Ominis and Sebastian had offered to escort her back, but truthfully, she couldn't bear their presence or their scrutiny no longer. It was obvious, the pair despised the idea of leaving her to her own devices, but even they were quite shaken by all that had transpired. Their desperation for distance gave her the opportunity to escape. As she ascended the steps away from the Slytherin Common Room, the sightless, yet needling gaze of Ominis Gaunt pinned her between her shoulder blades with knowing intensity like some prized moth . Her feet dutifully carried her to Gryffindor tower in an effort to escape the worry and guilt in her friends expressions.
Warmth surrounded her as she'd settled into bed, the soft snores of her roommates reduced to white noise in the background. Though exhausted and try as she might, sleep flitted out of reach like a golden snitch, mind running too wild for sleep's claim to take hold. Only one thing could calm a racing mind such as this.
Careful not to wake the others, she donned her shoes and made her way back out into the castle, dodging prefects and nosy portraits alike under the disillusionment charm. It wasn't until she'd flown out of the North Hogsmeade floo that she realized she was still wearing her bedclothes, now stained with floo powder. Too late to turn back now She'd have to give anyone who crossed her path a good thrashing while wearing linen trousers, wonderful.
There weren't many assignments for her to take care of at the moment, but there was one request calling her name from the pages of her field guide. A request from a goblin in Hogsmeade involving his prized mooncalf stolen by poachers. Luckily for Garnuff, one of Samarra's favorite pastimes was thwarting poacher schemes and tonight was their unlucky night. Burning a little energy ought to drive the anxiety and unrest from her mind, and what could be better than striking some of the poacher ilk from the valley.
Like roaches in darkness, she'd found them swarming in the forest north of Hogsmeade. This excursion to reclaim "The Best Mooncalf in Hogwarts Valley," should've been a rather painless task, but what is existence without torment?
This camp was amongst the largest she'd seen with supplies piled high amongst multiple tents. A suspiciously large steel cage sat in the center of it, complete with a comically large lock. Several ranks of poachers milled around, including an Animagus and Executioner, the sneer of their masks glinted menacingly in the firelight.. Their slew of subordinates showing a modicum of intelligence for once, steering clear of the threatening pair. Fuck. That'll be a right pain in the arse, but who doesn't love a challenge
She lacked the sound mind to create a reliable plan but her feet made their own decision, leading her silently through the camp without a second thought. The disillusionment charm kept her form hidden from view as she came upon the large cage. As she moved closer, the silken coats and wide eyes of a dozen filthy mooncalves came into view. To her dismay, half the trapped herd had identical spotted markings to the missing pet. Should've downed a bottle of liquid luck before waltzing in here. At this rate, Ranrok wouldn't need to kill her, she'd simply perish falling off her broom making her way home.
The silent creep through the heart of a poacher camp to thin their numbers one by one through the use of petrificus totalis was second nature to her. The valley, full to the brim with the greedy bastards, gave her plenty of opportunity to practice stealthily foiling the poacher's plans. This confidence gave way to arrogance, or maybe her luck simply ran out, as a twig snapped underfoot, which was all it took for the whole mooncalf herd to lose their bloody minds. The sudden squalling of the prey animals caught the attention of every blasted poacher stalking the perimeter who immediately began drawing nearer.
"Did you hear that?"
"Probably the stupid beasts fucking about"
"Ought to go check it out either way. Boss been pissed off lately with that meddlesome whelp running around"
The voices neared closer, faster than Samarra anticipated, giving her little time to cast a quick alohamora on the cage lock before yanking the gate open, sending the panicked animals charging forth into the fray. As two incoming poacher rangers were distracted by the commotion, she slipped away from the cage and back towards the brush to obscure her from view.
"Oi, whoever's out there's gonna pay for that!" Good, they still hadn't spotted her yet. She might still have a chance to eliminate a few of them before facing them outright. Exhaustion clung to her bones and her joints ached. If she didn't manage to remain hidden, there was a good chance she wouldn't be leaving this camp tonight. Fighting the lead in her feet, she crept carefully back towards the outskirts of the camp, as one pair of guards scrambled off to wrangle their lost merchandise, while the others remained scouring the camp for any sign of an intruder.
"It's probably that stubborn brat from the school. Think boss'll give us a reward if we bring him her head?"
"Better yet, if we catch her, Ranrok will likely give us something too after all the trouble the little bitch has caused. "
A thud behind them as one of their guards collapses. Across the camp echoes a scream. Another thud, a cry lodged in this ones throat.
"You little bitch!" Blinding light flashes in the distance as an explosive barrel explodes between tents. The scarlet red of the poacher duelist's coat is consumed by the flame, his mask shattered in the mud.
She's so close. Somehow, she's culled nearly enough of the poacher's numbers to make it a fair fight. Unfortunately for her, the Animagus and the Executioner are still on the board, and she can only expend so much energy scurrying in the darkness. Judging by the wobble of her vision, Samarra is running out of time.
"Come out come out wherever you are you little runt." The Animagus' purple cloak billows in the night air, her head cocked as she listens, unnervingly similar to her animal form. Smoke from the explosion floats through the camp, casting a dark haze, threatening to choke her with the bitterness that hangs in the air.
"Yes come out little girl. We only want to play," it sounds unnatural coming from the executioner, too gruff and flat to taunt her, but too harsh to sound convincing. The slow drawl draws her hair up on end. The smog hindered her from effectively darting away from the dangerous pair. It was as if they were herding her towards each other, desperation prickled her spine, there was no easy escape out of the camp. She'd be caught before she made it. Her heart thudded heavily in her tightening chest as fear sank in its teeth, threatening to send her mind reeling. They'd string her up, make an example out of her. Flay her- Stop. Deep Breath. Think.
When in doubt, let the Chomping Cabbages out. Professor Garlick would be so proud. Samarra freed the little plants, sending them rolling into the camp like bombs. A telltale yip from the Animagus, nearly made the girl laugh sardonically. She could imagine the frightful poacher being nipped at the ankles by small furious little plants. With the old hag distracted, she could potentially take care of the Executioner.
Shadows flickered around her as the Animagus struggled to eliminate the ferocious little pests.
Arrogance, typically Sebastian's fatal flaw, had rubbed off on her. In her haste to drop the cabbages and make her escape, Samarra had lost sight of the Executioner. Too quickly did she try to turn and run, she missed the snare beneath her feet. Coarse rope tangled around her ankle, the rough cord burning into her ankle as she tumbled to the ground, wand falling out of her hand as she struggled to catch herself. A pair of filthy boots was all that remained in her line of sight. He was here.
The executioner laughed at the sight before him. The student was a tumble of dark hair and dark eyes that had barely contained malice hidden in their depths. Mud smeared across her face and stained the white of her bed clothes as she snarled and kicked at him. It was positively ridiculous that his camp had nearly been wiped out by some teenage lass.
"How about you watch what happens now, brat. You were coming here to save them weren't you? Looks like you failed," Wide eyes dart wildly in all directions, clearly seeking some way to escape her bindings. Her urgency bordered on helplessness, serving only to feed the hunger of the circling Animagus, now in wolf form. Leering at her as it sinks its teeth into a newly caught mooncalf, tearing the soft flesh of its throat with a horrifying squelch. Eyes scrunched shut, she turns away. Death does not frighten her, but the glint in the wolf's eyes as blood runs down its chin, does.
"Look it it! We're going to do that to each of your little friends." When did the Executioner get so close to her? His grotesquely thick fingers gripped her chin, bruising the soft skin of her cheeks, forcing her to look back at the scene before her. Her eyes bulged out of her head in surprise and horror at the lifeless heap the moon calf had been reduced to.
"Did you think we didn't know what the lot of you been up to? There are eyes everywhere you little wretch." His voice dropped lower, "That little Hufflepuff girl ought to be fun. She can watch us slaughter our catch every day before we skin them. Maybe that Gryffindor girl. She's made a bad habit sticking her nose where it don't belong. Or better yet, those Slytherin boys? We can torture the blind one, it'll be more fun to make the other one watch. Or we can switch that around. The blind one can listen to his friend scream! They'll all pay for helping you. We'll stain their little uniforms red with their blood. The wards of the school won't protect them. Doesn't that sound fun?"
The sick crunch of bone and wet chew of flesh stirred her stomach into a knot of nausea as the Animagus toyed with its prey. The fear that screamed in her veins gave way to desperation tinged with rage at the mention of her friends. Where was her wand? Where Where Where. Her hands frantically scoured the wet earth around her in the darkness and fog until her hand closed around the handle: familiarity grounded her in the face of the incoming spiral.
These poachers go too far. She would sooner flay them alive before they would have the opportunity to do all they spoke of. She would do anything, anything to ensure her friends safety. Blood rushed through her ears, the beat of her heart drowning out the taunting sound of his voice. She was only fettered by the handle of her wand flush against her palm, fingers clutching the warm wood that curved to fit her hand. Power thrumming through her veins, rolling fury in her bones held her focus. The world slowed around her as she moved with only one thought in her mind I can't let them hurt them, "Crucio!"
Blinding red light soared forth from her wand, encompassing the Executioner and dragging him to his knees. His screams pierced the crisp night air, echoing across the valley. Tearfully, he begged her to stop, begged her to yield, to have mercy. The insatiable need to make him suffer fanned into an unquelled inferno, a bloodlust only sated by a torturers flay. Something inside her very being fractured, whatever slithered forth was now unshackled. Drunk on the addictive flood of adrenaline, euphoric and dizzying as she watched with maniac delight as the bastard squirmed. So lost is she, in this swell of wrath and vengeance, the lupine shadow of the Animagus remained hidden in the darkness of her surroundings. It lunged, its growl of warning lost in the deafening cacophony of its partner's continuous screams.
Razor sharp teeth connect with her shoulder, sinking deep into tender flesh as Samarra shrieked at the violation. The sheer force of the attack knocks into the damp earth. Despite the inordinate amount of blood pouring from her shoulder, the burn of the new wound is largely ignored as she scrambles to find her footing. The rush of battle propelled her forwards; she wouldn't last much longer.
A fatal mistake for the Animagus to not lunge for her wand arm. It was a mistake she would pay dearly for.
The baleful creature crouched in the distance, teeth bared, poised to lunge again, but like any cornered animal, Samarra, too, would fight even harder with nothing to lose. Ancient magic surged forth from the flick of her wand, a brilliant flash of white light draws down from the sky, connecting with the Animagus as it lunges towards her. The crack resounds across the space, echoing off the expanse of nearby mountains as it strikes black fur midflight. No traces of the woman's existence remained, she was but dust in the wind.
Her return to the earth is the last sight the Executioner ever sees. The clean slice of Diffindo sent him trailing after her as though possessed by Orpheus himself.
Eerie silence befell the camp, only broken by Samarra's ragged breathing. She had to catch Biscuit, only then would she allow herself rest. Her wounds remained forgotten, the sting masked by shock that would soon be unable to shield her from the damage to her shoulder.
Almost robotically, she roamed the desolate area, capturing all remaining mooncalves to release them in her vivarium. Biscuit lived up to her name, waltzing up to the girl with little fuss. That's likely how the poachers managed to steal her to begin with. Too good of a pet, that Biscuit.
A numbness solidified itself, a separation of mind and body as she trekked to the nearest floo taking her back to Hogsmeade. Fog clouded her mind as she wandered back towards where Garnuff was waiting near the bridge. The poor goblin flinched at her appearance and remained unnerved by Samarra's lack of concern for her well being.
A sight she certainly made, clad only in her, formerly white, linen bed clothes and her red coat, it was a miracle she'd not frozen to death in her misadventures. Scarlet wool flapped glumly in the breeze, having been torn open revealing her shredded shirt. While the wound wasn't actively bleeding, the amount of blood crusted to her skin was startling. Garnuff clearly horrified at the state of her and the multiple holes in her shoulder, hurried her towards the 3 Broomsticks.
"Sirona can help. She'll fix you up. Oh, dear." If only Samarra could bring herself to smile at his doting. How wonderfully glad was she that Biscuit could be returned to such a lovely goblin. She should give him toys for Biscuit. Yes that would do very well. She yielded to Garnuff's fussing, allowing him to herd her like a startled mooncalf towards the direction of safety.
The wee hours of the morning gifted a glorious sunrise that crested over the tops of the Hogsmeade shops. For the first time in 24 hours, Samarra experienced a stroke of luck, not one other soul roamed the streets of town. If anyone had seen the goblin and severely wounded student, the Daily Prophet would have a field day.
With a start, Samarra realized she was leaned against the counter inside the tavern. Sirona and Garnuff locked in a hushed exchange. No amount of straining would allow her to hear. The brief walk with Garnuff had been a blur, the memory of any of it escaped her.
This was ridiculous. She wanted her bed, needed the stench of explosive soot washed off of her, why was she in the tavern of all places. Samarra pushed off of her place at the bar, disgruntled and sore. The pair glanced up at her in genuine surprise, probably shocked the girl had any energy bottled in her at all.
"I'm going home-" The words tumbled out of her mouth in a jumble, the stubbornness of her statement lost in the sway of her step. Dark spots swam in her vision as she stumbled forward. If not for Sirona's capable arms, the young girl would've collapsed onto the floor.
"Easy now. I've got you," Sirona, a heaven sent woman, hugged her tight, despite the disgusting quantity of grime that covered her. Samarra found herself hard pressed to resist. When was the last time anyone embraced her with genuine care?
"but-"
"Rest easy, girl. You're safe."
Shoulders sagging, her eyes fluttered shut and she relented to the darkness that sought to claim her.