Chapter Text
✦ 25th December 1891 ✦
At what point do you accept the truth of an unwanted reality? When introspection begins only to serve as a vice. When you’ve lost so much, what brings colour back to life?
Phoebe still had not decided, and she wasn’t sure this was the appropriate moment to contemplate philosophies of existence as she stared at her unrecognisable reflection in the mirror.
Standing with shoulders rolled back, just looking at herself, while in the complete solitude of the Ravenclaw girl’s bathroom. Immaculate and decorated in an elegant dress that did not belong to her.
Bashfully, Phoebe yanked the glove higher up her arm.
Instead of having her hair wildly thrown into an updo, it was neatly gathered with some wavy strands pulled loose at the front – since that was apparently fashionable in London (courtesy of Sophronia’s work). Her mother’s old decorative clip, which had been passed down for generations held it all together. Light blush powdered her cheeks, and some of Samantha’s cosmetics were nabbed to add a touch of rouge to her lips. It was, by far, the most Phoebe had ever been preened.
In anticipation for the ball, Mrs Dale, the family’s matriarch, keenly sent Samantha at least ten gowns. Some new to Samantha’s taste, some old from the estate’s extensive wardrobe. All were irrefutably gorgeous.
Once Samantha selected hers, the rest were given to Phoebe to pick from, since she was not going to spend the little money she inherited from Professor Fig on such extravagance she would likely only wear once.
The gown Phoebe selected was stunning. Midnight blue, akin to the hues of her house. The corseted bodice was simple, but a velvet white ribbon laid around the middle, adding some moderate detail. She wore no necklace, and the square neckline swung low enough to reveal her collarbones. Short, puffed, chiffon sleeves loosely veiled over her shoulders, and long white gloves covered her arms. The silk skirt fell from the waist and cascaded to the ground in a graceful flow.
It was perfect. Chosen for how it concealed her back. She bore scars from the struggles in her fifth year that she didn’t want anyone to see.
Surely, Phoebe thought, I will never be this lavish again.
Self-consciously she dusted down the skirt, which was pooling on the floor like liquid dusk, as the reflection made her feel unprecedently overwrought in her own skin.
As a child, she fantasised about what it would be like to attend a real ball while wearing a beautiful dress and dancing the night away with her friends. The masquerades and debutantes in books enchanted her, and the crushing reality that she would not have one of her own caused some tears that her parents rolled their eyes at.
But here she was, actually attending a ball. The Muggle Phoebe from her past life would have been jumping for joy.
Even still, she sighed unevenly. The reality was far more daunting than her adolescent self ever anticipated. And sadly, she grieved that her mother could not see her in a dress like this…
SLAM.
Samantha shot into the bathroom, opening and slamming the door against the inside wall with a mighty sound.
“Bloody hell!” Phoebe yelped, clutching her chest and watching her fellow Ravenclaw breeze into the bathroom. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry.” Samantha tittered. Then, her eyes expanded as she surveyed the entirety of Phoebe. “Oh, don’t you look fantastic!”
“You’re joking.” Phoebe dismissed, looking down awkwardly at herself, fussing over how the sleeves fell on her arms again. Samantha walked over and pinched the fabric of the skirt, admiring the material. “I don’t compare to how beautiful you look.”
Samantha, who was from an all-wizarding family with a prominent reputation and ample practice in attending formal events, unsurprisingly looked flawless in her gown. Like Phoebe, she was in a fine dress, but her skirt and bodice sported a much lighter, powder blue, and did not have any sleeves. Just velvet straps. Her hair was up in her usual style, but more strands were tucked away behind an ornate headpiece with a feather from a magnificent beast, no doubt, protruding from the clip. The gloves appeared far more sophisticated on her, and the colours complimented her complexion greatly.
“You’re so sweet.” Samantha cooed, continuing to flatten out the back of Phoebe’s dress. “I always loved this one, but it never suited me. Greengrass is going to faint when he sees you.”
Samantha’s comment reignited Phoebe’s trembling, and she had to regain control of her breathing. The night she had been dreaming about for the best part of three weeks had finally arrived, and there was a high chance she would throw up before she even exited the bathroom.
“As will Weasley when he beholds you,” Phoebe returned teasingly, swallowing down some bile threatening its way up.
“Stop it,” Samantha goaded despite her lip tugging up against her will.
“Never. Anyway, are you ready to head down?”
“Do Nifflers like shiny things? Obviously – that’s why I came in here in the first place!”
Phoebe grinned, “and Merry Christmas to you, too, Sam.”
With that, Samantha cheerily returned the seasonal greeting and hooked her arm through Phoebe’s to lead her out of the bathroom.
✦
✦ Twelve days earlier, 13th December 1891 ✦
GOBLIN ATTACK IN WALES - MINISTRY STILL REFUSE TO CONFIRM OFFICIAL INVESTIGATION
“Bebe,” Sophronia gasped and held up the Daily Prophet article to the air.
“Let me see,” Phoebe leaned over concernedly. At the same time, two brooms and a Snitch whizzed overhead. A gust of wind followed to whip up their scarves, but she barely noticed as she read the newspaper.
Goblins stormed another hamlet in Wales last night, causing several witches and wizards to be sent to St Mungo’s.
Officials are calling it the worst attack since Ranrok’s Loyalists attempted to take Feldcroft, a wizarding hamlet in Scotland close to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The reasons for the attack are currently unknown, but some experts are suggesting the ever-deepening rifts between goblinkind and wizardkind are a result of Ranrok’s demise. While not all goblins agreed with his methods, his death has been cited as “the last straw” after hundreds of years of oppression.
One Muggle has thought to have died in the chaos, while one wizard is being treated for an unknown yet deadly curse. The Daily Prophet is still seeking confirmation.
The Auror Office has not commented on the matter, only referring to wider safety precautions that all witches and wizards “must take in these troubled times.”
A hand whacked Phoebe on the back of the head, so much so, she went headfirst into Sophronia’s shoulder besides her.
“Ouch!” Phoebe bellowed while glaring and rubbing her forehead.
“Will you two stop reading the paper and watch,” Samantha reproved with her arms crossed, jutting a hand to the pitch, “you just missed Connie flying over!”
“She’s been flying over every two minutes, and you’ve probably given me a bruise!” Phoebe pointed to her head, “a week before the ball!”
“Oh, stop whinging, you’ve been so dramatic recently. You won’t. Soph can sort it if you do, anyway.”
Phoebe badgered Sophronia, who was still nose deep in reading the article. Upon hearing her roommate’s worrying, she whipped out her wand and performed a simple healing charm that probably wasn’t necessary.
They had secured ideal seats for the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match – right in the middle of the frontmost benches of the western stand. Fresh snow coated the pitch below, and there was perfect visibility from the clear sky. Hues of muted green, rich brown and chalk white painted the wintery morning landscape.
Sophronia, Phoebe and Samantha huddled together clutching Ravenclaw flags, while Amit sat behind with some fifth years. They were without some of their friends, since Ominis was sitting in the Hufflepuff stands to be with Poppy. Sebastian was probably there too, with the Gryffindors, most likely. The Gryffindors seemed to prefer Hufflepuff, while all other Slytherins were supporting Ravenclaw. They were the snakes’ ‘second house’, after all.
Whilst Phoebe and Samantha continued their bickering, the crowd lifted in a crescendo of overjoyed cheers just as Mauve Molina and Hector Fawley performed a brilliant play, scoring ten points for Ravenclaw. Launching a Quaffle right through Samuel Greengrass’ tight defences. Andrew Larson flew around with them to celebrate.
Anyway, that’s how Everett described it via his commentating. Phoebe was too focused on berating Samantha.
“But why are you so on edge?” Samantha asked, “you should be watching Greengrass!”
“Because!” Phoebe practically snatched the newspaper from Sophronia and struck a finger to the article, “I think this is far more important.”
“What is it?” Amit tilted over Samantha and squinted at the text, “Oh – yes, I saw that. Awful stuff. Never seems to end, does it?”
“Thank you, Amit,” Phoebe said pointedly, before looking at Samantha. “He’s right, it’s never ending. It’s yet another consequence from what happened last year, so excuse me for being interested.”
Samantha flinched, “come on, Pheebs… it’s not like tha-”
“What, me defeating Ranrok didn’t cause this? It literally says it does. In plain English.”
As a result of Phoebe’s plunge into fame in recent months, she had begun unexpectedly squabbling with Samantha. Not catastrophically, but it was clear her best friend was sore about the constant attention given to her. Now that the whole school knew that she was going to the ball with Samuel, the ogling became so incessant, that she couldn’t pass through the halls without being eagerly accosted.
Samantha was always supportive of Phoebe, but even Phoebe could understand how difficult it must be for her best friend to be shoved aside whenever they were together. Anyone that approached them wanted to speak only to the Hero of Hogwarts who was now attending the ball with the esteemed Head Boy.
Ravenclaws sat on a spectrum. Some – like Phoebe – loathed being venerated, while others sought it out. Samantha would be much better suited for the spotlight, but that wasn’t the reality.
Elsewhere, there were mixed reactions to Phoebe and Samuel’s pairing. Some were thrilled, including the professors, while others were sceptical, especially because of Ernie Greengrass’ fall from grace. Phoebe was not a Muggle, so many didn’t bat an eyelid, but the lines were certainly blurred for others. Especially from some notable purebloods…
Regardless, as time marched on, Phoebe found herself looking forward to the Yule Ball with Samuel. Her younger self would have been pinching her arm to check she wasn’t dreaming about going with, perhaps, the most sought-after boy in seventh year.
Samantha then appeared apologetic for her reaction, knowing how much the goblin threat meant to Phoebe. She scanned over the text, “oh… why do you think they’re still not investigating if it’s this bad?”
“Because half the Auror Office are here assessing the school,” Sophronia inserted. Her eyes trailing Constance who, once again, flew overhead chasing the Snitch.
“No, I think they are investigating,” Phoebe stated, sitting back and crossing her arms broodingly, “they’re just not in Wales.”
As Sophronia said, half of the Auror Office was there, at Hogwarts, sitting in the faculty stand on the opposite side of the pitch. With each passing day, Phoebe grew more dubious of why they were really here.
Trying to pay little heed to it, she resumed watching the game with the attack in Wales on the back of her mind. Though, every so often, her eyes flickered to the Hufflepuff Keeper, and smiled internally. Each time she did, he caught her and would give her a not so discreet wave in front of the packed-out stands.
Phoebe always waved back blushingly.
“I’m sorry, Pheebs,” Samantha suddenly said while planting a hand on Phoebe’s arm, “I don’t know why I did that - I think the mock exams are getting to me. I didn’t really hurt your head, did I?”
Not able to remain vexed at Samantha for long (even though it definitely wasn’t because of mock exams), Phoebe averted her attention from the pitch and put her hand over her friend’s, “no, I’m fine. But let’s stop this. You know I hate the attention. Look, I’m meeting Natty after, but shall we go to Hogsmeade later? We can go to Honeyduke’s.”
Phoebe was meeting Natty for wandless magic lessons, and Natty was proving to be a fantastic teacher.
Samantha smiled and nodded sweetly, “I would like that very much.”
So, they reclined back into their seats, satisfied. Phoebe glanced at the Hufflepuff Keeper once more and couldn’t quite believe he liked her enough to ask her to the Yule Ball.
Phoebe was so staunchly dedicated to her promise to her father, that she convinced herself he was the one. As whimsical as that was.
Even if she knew, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be while one particular person continued to be the paramount subject of her every thought.
✦
✦ Present day, 25th December 1891 ✦
“Stop!”
“Stay still for a second.”
“Bleurgh, it feels awful!”
“Stop whinging and it’ll be over quicker!”
Samantha turned the handle of the sixth year Ravenclaw girl’s dorm and the sounds of Constance and Sophronia’s squabbling suddenly became deafening.
“Blimey, what’s going on?” Phoebe questioned after following Samantha inside.
Their dorm – which was usually pristine (because of Samantha, Sophronia and the dutiful house-elves) – was a pigsty. Clothes were flung over every surface, several hairbrushes and hairpins were strewn on the desks, as well as various cosmetics that each girl shared while getting ready.
Well, all of them except Constance.
“I said, stop prodding me!” Constance wriggled out of Sophronia’s grasp.
“It’s how it works,” Sophronia caterwauled with a brush laden with blush for Constance’s cheeks.
Constance and Sophronia were also sporting house colours with their get-ups. Sophronia was in a beautiful pale, ash-blue gown with puffy sleeves and lace detailing. A blue ribbon in her pinned-up hair. Not wanting to wear a dress, Constance wore a dark blue dress suit with her short hair free from any adornments.
Sophronia turned to the other girls, “Connie is insistent she doesn’t need anything on.”
“I don’t.”
“But it’s Sam’s nice stuff!”
“I don’t need it; I just want to go.” Constance said impatiently. Phoebe hedged her bets that she already consumed Garreth’s dance-some-more potion. She was positively jittery.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you got this far, Soph,” Samantha snickered, “trying to look presentable for the boys, are we?”
“Don’t you start.”
Despite Constance and Sophronia agreeing to go to the ball together, Professor Black decreed that only a witch and wizard may be partnered for the dances. Everett and Amit had been distinctly unlucky in finding witches to go with them, so they struck up a deal with their housemates to be external ‘companions’.
“Connie looks pretty enough without it,” Phoebe added as she plopped herself on the armchair after shovelling the pile of clothes off it. It was a miracle that no stray garments found themselves tossed in the direction of the roaring fireplace during the chaos.
Samantha gasped at that, “Pheebs, get up! You’ll crease the silk!” She wafted a reluctantly obliging Phoebe up from the seat, “and do you mean we all need it but Connie?”
“No,” Phoebe tutted, “but what’s the point of wearing it if you don’t want to?”
“Thank you, Phee,” Constance stuck her tongue out at Sophronia, “glad someone see’s sense.”
Sophronia jutted her elbow out, but Constance caught it playfully. They looked at each other mirthfully before they burst into a fit of giggles, as they usually would, clasping their hands together and rocking jubilantly.
While they were having their moment, Samantha turned to Phoebe and stepped forward to place a caring hand on her shoulder, “are you feeling all right?”
Phoebe nodded quickly, “I just want to get the dance out of the way.”
“Is that all?”
Phoebe gave Samantha an exasperated but humorous look as she headed for the desk by the window, “you know it’s not.”
Flora croaked inquisitively as Phoebe approached. She stroked her toad under the chin before picking up the vial beside Samantha’s Asphodel. She unplugged the lid which was attached to a pipette.
“Oh – we should bring Flora with us!” Constance then cooed, parting from Sophronia and darting to the desk. She held out her palm for Flora to jump in before twirling around the room.
“Can’t believe you get to dance with Flora, but we can’t officially.” Sophronia rolled her eyes and air quoted, “bloody school rules.”
“Doesn’t stop me!” Constance said, sauntering towards Sophronia and pulling her hands over with her free one. There, they laughed while waltzing with Flora now planted on Constance’s shoulder.
Phoebe giggled with them while smelling the vial’s contents. It was another one of Garreth’s brews – a calming draught.
“I can’t believe you’re actually taking that.” Samantha hugged herself and grimaced.
Phoebe shrugged while holding the pipette above her mouth and letting a couple of bitter drops land on her tongue. That’s all she needed – she didn’t want to be so calm she was a zombie.
“You need to have more faith in Weasley,” Phoebe said, putting the lid back on the vial, “anyway, I’ve already tried it. I know it works.”
“Are you really sure?” Sophronia overheard. She broke away from the dance to hurry over.
“It does,” Phoebe replied while holding out the vial questioningly.
Mutedly, Sophronia nodded gratefully and also consumed a drop.
At that, Samantha pulled a face, then shook her head, “all right – give me some.”
Phoebe didn’t realise how nervous her peers also were.
Observing Phoebe some more, Samantha swallowed and passed the vial back. She sympathised with an exhale, “you could still talk to him.”
Phoebe shook her head before Samantha had even finished, placing the potion back on the desk, “no, I’m good. It’s fine how it is. He needs a happy night. Trust me, I’ll just make it worse.”
Samantha frowned, “but-”
“Right – can we go?!” Constance burst out, now stomping towards Phoebe and Samantha and flinging her arms around feverishly.
“All right!” Sophronia groaned lightly, “but please, if you’re going to be so rowdy, take some calming draught as well.”
“Not a chance,” Constance grinned brazenly.
With that, she bolted out the door, with her dormmates hastily following behind.
Samantha tried to enquire once more, but Phoebe diverted away from the subject. Anyway, she wanted everyone to have a good night, and no one deserved it more than her, Sebastian and Ominis. Considering what the trio now knew.
✦
✦ Eleven days earlier, 14th December 1891 ✦
Unfortunately, despite an excellent performance from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff won the Quidditch match. Thus, the next day, the badgers were in high spirits as they went into their classes. The eagles… less so.
Though, it was difficult to be sorrowful at this time of year. Now that a healthy layer of snow coated the Highlands, the merriment of the Christmas season had seized both students and professors alike. Even though mock exams were imminent, it was impossible to ignore the highly anticipated Yule Ball quickly approaching.
However, Professor Binns was certainly and inadvertently trying to conquer that excitement.
“While we are not going to dive into magical theories, there is a crossover between wizarding historical origins and the structure of spells,” the ghostly professor lectured, “as we know, magic is drawn from somewhere else – a realm untapped. Incantations are the key to unlocking the potential to use spells, which is the crux of all wizarding history. On this island, particularly, incantations were once constructed using Celtic languages and this worked perfectly well for some time. As you would have read, this was until Greek and Latin variants were adopted in European magical communities. That very simple change was pivotal. It shaped the very world we live in - well the one you all live in. So, here, we are going to discuss why European wizards elected to use these languages, and why we no longer use ancient Celtic variants. Of course, wizarding society was quite different a thousand years ago…”
Half of the class weren’t listening and, instead, were silently chatting. Phoebe and Ominis included, but only because they had dutifully read this chapter before the lesson. Professor Binns had a knack for reciting directly from the source material, so they didn’t need to be so attentive.
This was regardless of Henry ‘Harry’ Potter sitting at the back of the classroom observing. He gave Phoebe an impish wave on her way in, but even he was drifting off in his chair - evidently sorely reminded of his days as a student in Professor Binns’ class. Several times he jolted up to catch his falling glasses and to smooth out his unkempt black hair.
Professor Binns seemed unphased by this, unlike other teachers who were on their best behaviour for the Ministry.
Still, it confused Phoebe as to why an Auror was observing a school lesson. But, that wasn’t what was consuming her mind at that moment.
“You’ve truly done it?” Phoebe whispered to Ominis with her fists clenched animatedly.
They were at the back corner of the classroom, so she was not so worried about others eavesdropping.
Ominis beamed and leaned in, “Truly.”
“How did it happen?!”
“We went to Honeyduke’s after the match. I asked her in the gardens-”
“Sam and I went to Honeyduke’s, we didn’t see you!”
“Well, we weren’t there for long…”
Phoebe suppressed a shrill squeak, “I’m so happy for you! Poppy must be delighted.”
“You’ll have to ask her about that – but she definitely agreed to come with me.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Phoebe teased, elbowing him, “I knew she’d say yes.”
Finally, Ominis took the dive and asked Poppy to the ball. It was some of the best news since Garreth asked Samantha. Phoebe’s world became rosy as her excitement for the Yule Ball flourished with each passing day.
Ominis smiled and leaned back over his work. He dipped his quill in an ink pot as if he was actually taking notes. Resting his head on a fist, he sighed slowly.
Phoebe’s brow scrunched as she watched her friend. Over time, she had learned to read the subtle clues that Ominis was stewing over something. To the trained eye, his smile faintly waned.
“What else are you thinking about?” She questioned in a hushed voice, “are you not happy?”
“Unequivocally. I’m really happy,” Ominis replied quickly. He opened his mouth several times while Professor Binns began rambling about ancient druids. “I just still feel guilty about being happy.”
Phoebe frowned, “if I said that to you, you’d tell me off.”
A fleeting and knowing expression graced his face, “I know, but I can’t help it.”
There was a pause between them before Phoebe uttered, “Anne would want you to do this. You know that, right?”
Ominis pursed his lips while his finger tapped on the quill. Distinctly, it appeared as though he was observing Sebastian and Nellie Oggspire sharing a desk ahead of them (they too were speaking quietly about something other than schoolwork), when he replied, “I know, but there’s still several things weighing upon my mind.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened, “they’ve not found someone, have they?”
They being Ominis’s parents seeking a pureblood match for him.
“No,” he shook his head, “I can’t really put it into words coherently, but I’m worried about Sebastian again.”
Phoebe’s heart dropped as she peered down to Sebastian the same moment Nellie pushed his arm mischievously. You wouldn’t think anything ever went wrong for him by the way he elbowed her back.
“Why?”
“He’s been sneaking out again. I think he’s still hiding things from me. It could be nothing, but after everything… I can’t help but be suspicious.”
“He’s not going to the Undercroft?”
“No.”
“Feldcroft?”
“Possibly.”
“Well - have you asked him about it?”
“I have – he just tells me not to worry.”
“Maybe it is nothing.” She mused, “he knows how calamitous his previous actions were, I doubt he’s doing anything as destructive.”
But as she said that, she realised how naïve it probably sounded. She was always trusting of Sebastian. Ominis certainly thought too trusting.
“Maybe.” Ominis mumbled. After that, he shuddered as if eradicating a dark thought before he tilted his head, “there’s no point theorising. It’s probably fine, as you say. Anyway, how are you feeling?”
“In what way?”
“What other way could I possibly be asking?”
She snorted, “simultaneously excited and dreading it.”
“And Greengrass?”
Phoebe blushed. They were being quiet, but she hoped no one was keenly listening in.
“Good, it’s all good,” she muttered, “still a bit shocked about what happened to his brother.”
Ominis nodded understandingly, “I know. I am still sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought you knew just because everyone still talks about it. Or he would have mentioned it, at least.”
“It’s not your fault, and it’s certainly not a bad thing. I don’t think so, anyway. I just hope I’m not causing more trouble.”
Samuel had never mentioned that aspect of his brother to Phoebe. She was set on waiting for him to tell her outright.
“Well, if he says this partnership protects us, then perhaps we should believe him for now. We’ve received no wrath from the Blacks since, nor anything from my parents.” Ominis then shuffled awkwardly, “and… as long as you’re happy, that is all that matters.”
Phoebe smiled smally and patted his arm thrice, “I am happy, Ominis. I promise.”
Ominis smiled back before saying, “good. And so am I – I mean that.”
“Good, indeed. Anyway, there’s too much to get excited about to feel sad. Now that you and I have secured partners. Less can be said for certain others.”
“I think I know who you’re talking about,” Ominis chuckled lightly, surely also thinking about Everett and Amit. Everett was too terrified to ask Imelda, and Amit… well, there was no news of him asking anyone.
Phoebe glanced down at the class. Professor Binns was ambling towards the wing, still unaware of the lack of attention on him, including from the snoozing Auror. He passed the front desk, and Phoebe’s eyes caught the back of Sebastian’s head again.
“Has Sebastian asked anyone else yet?” She asked pryingly.
Ominis, knowing what happened the previous week, just shrugged, “not to my knowledge.”
Phoebe nodded mutedly. She put her forehead on her fist and gleamed down at her parchment. Hearing that, awfully, made her feel better.
Phoebe reckoned that since she was with Samuel, Sebastian might not even go to the Yule Ball with anyone. That would be very like him. He wouldn’t be the type to feel embarrassed for not having a partner.
“Forgive me,” Ominis then added, pulling his lips in a thin line while he contemplated something, “out of all the reasons to not speak to Sebastian, is this one truly necessary?”
Phoebe was almost annoyed by that comment, but she saw the logic in it rather quickly, “no, but he’s the one being avoidant.”
“Yes, and I get there have been further fractures since last year, but even I can’t keep up with you both anymore.”
“I am unfortunately the same,” she sighed, “but we’re friends still, I just don’t know why it’s so odd now.”
“You don’t?” Ominis’ face fell into a moue.
“Well, Sebastian struggles with opposition. Perhaps this is his new way of navigating it. Rather than lashing out, wouldn’t you say?”
Ominis hmphed and shook his head smally, going to write something on his parchment, “possibly.”
Phoebe frowned at that but didn’t inquire further; Professor Binns was now asking questions.
Perhaps she was being foolish, but she couldn’t see any other reason as to why Sebastian was being so distant with her. Perhaps she struck a nerve when she mentioned his actions over the summer again. But even she had gotten over how he denounced Samuel. So why hadn’t he?
He couldn’t possibly be upset that she said no to going with him as friends. That would be absurd.
Not paying anymore heed to that thought – because it was Christmas, and you had to be happy this time of year – she forced a smile and shot her arm into the air to answer a question about Arthur’s magical knights.
Though, in true Professor Binns fashion, he barely acknowledged her answer.
✦
At midday, Phoebe, Samantha, Sophronia and Constance made their way to the Great Hall from some lunch.
Still decked out with Christmas decorations, the Hall was exceptionally festive and notably very busy. The four houses’ benches were almost full despite it only being ten past the hour. This was because Hogwarts was now sharing its halls not only with Ministry of Magic officials, but also representatives from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.
A few days before, a cohort of professors, some notable students and the Head Boys and Girls from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived at the castle. There were only around ten new students in total, and while the Triwizard Tournament was not being reinstated, they also could not pass up the chance to participate in one of the most well-loved traditions.
The new schools brought interesting dynamics with them. Since there were only a handful of students, they were not required to join lessons, and they rarely mingled with the wider student body outside of the seventh years. They even slept outside the castle in the magical modes of transport that brought them there.
However, news of Phoebe’s deed had evidently travelled overseas. Several times, she noticed students from Beauxbatons ogling at her, and even through the door of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as she practiced spellcasting.
“C’était magnifique!” Beauxbaton’s Head Girl once zealously called across the Transfiguration courtyard when Phoebe performed Crinus Muto on Poppy’s eyebrows, turning them bright green. A rudimentary spell, but Poppy was grinning widely at the praise as if it was for her new look, while Samantha rolled her eyes at yet another spotlight on Phoebe.
“You’re lucky Gaunt can’t see you,” Leander had grimaced while Eric Northcott snigg*red, which earnt a chide from Poppy.
Interestingly, Phoebe did not receive such a warm reception from the Durmstrang students. In fact, they wholly ignored her as if she didn’t exist.
As the girls approached a free spot on the Ravenclaw table, they detected Natty talking to Beauxbatons’ Head Boy on the Gryffindor table. A seventh-year wizard with mousy brown hair and narrow hazel eyes. He was dressed in their pale blue, sleek uniform – cape and hat and all. Since the moment he arrived at Hogwarts and joined for the very first feast, he had been unwaveringly interested in Natty, and was apparently unperturbed by having Leander’s eyes burn constantly into the back of his head.
It wasn’t only Natty that the new students took a shining to. With Durmstrang, their star Quidditch player – a boy named Ari – immediately asked Imelda to the ball, smitten by her prowess on a broom. Similarly, Asterius was apparently attending with the school’s Head Girl. A pureblood, haughty witch hailing from Norway. A match made in heaven, Phoebe internally sneered.
“Natty might have secured a partner by the end of lunch,” Phoebe observed with a grin as she sat down on the bench. Samantha slipped in beside her while Constance and Sophronia sat opposite. “A petit ami, perhaps?”
“Undoubtedly,” Sophronia chirped, planting her chin in her hands and dreamily looking over, “he’s rather handsome as well.”
“Is he?” Constance squinted at the boy.
“He is,” Samantha agreed, “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked her yet.”
“Merlin… what is it about new people that gets everyone in a frenzy? No offence, Pheebs.”
“No offence taken,” Phoebe said.
“Edie is going with one of the Durmstrang boys as well. I’ve never seen her so obsessed with something other than her books.”
“Is she?!” Sophronia gawked. “You never told me that!”
“It’s not that big of a deal. And, not so surprisingly, Lucan and Audrey are going together-,” Constance could barely finish her sentence as there were collective squeals of joy, “- as friends!”
“Good for them,” Sophronia swayed blissfully, “isn’t this so riveting! It’s Christmas, everyone is in high spirits and we’re all going to have a fabulous time before the holiday break!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Phoebe grinned. Sophronia was right, this was perhaps the most enchanting Hogwarts had ever been.
However, as they were merrily riling each other up, a low voice abruptly interrupted.
“Hello, Dale.”
Constance and Sophronia’s eyes widened as Phoebe and Samantha turned around to behold Titus Nott standing above them. With his arms behind his back, his mouth was curved into a thin smile as he beheld only Samantha.
“Hello, Nott,” Samantha said pleasantly. Glancing at her friends, silently inquisitive, then facing Titus fully. Since Phoebe and Sophronia expressed their concerns with him, she had reeled back speaking to him as often.
“Glad I found you here. May I steal a moment of your time?” He asked her, jerking his head back and making a strand of his raven-black hair fall out of place and over his glasses. For a moment, Phoebe understood why so many believed him handsome, even if that was a transient thought. He was the type of person to be attractive at first glance, but less so the longer you knew him…
And, Phoebe thought, it was bold of him to act so naturally around her and her friends after he bore witness to Asterius castigating her in fifth year. And did nothing to stop it.
“Yes, s-sure,” Samantha replied rapidly and stood up from the bench as she followed him in walking over to a spot before the headmaster’s podium.
“She knows what he’s about to do, right?” Sophronia asked as she and Constance leaned over the table to watch.
“Without a doubt,” Phoebe responded, attempting to inconspicuously observe them just as they began talking.
She could have given them privacy, but she was far too interested in seeing how Titus would take being turned down.
“Does anyone know an eavesdropping spell?” Constance said.
“No,” Phoebe and Sophronia mumbled regretfully, eyes transfixed on the front of the Hall.
The conversation between Samantha and Titus was short, and throughout, his small smile dropped until he was scowling. Phoebe was sure he had rarely been rejected by a girl at Hogwarts.
He seemed to say some things that bothered Samantha, who’s face also went slack. Then, as quickly as she left the table, she headed back for the Ravenclaws, looking particularly embarrassed. Titus scoffing while watching her leave.
“What happened?” Phoebe asked when Samantha sat down and stared into her lap.
“He asked me to the ball,” Samantha responded quietly.
“Obviously! Did you tell him about...?” Sophronia asked.
“Yes.”
“And… how did he take it?”
“Well… he thinks Weasley is an idiot.” Samantha murmured glumly, “said, ‘you’re going with the court jester’?”
Phoebe gasped, “what a horrible thing to say.”
“Yeah!” Constance added, “Weasley is certainly insane, like a mad scientist or something, but not an idiot!”
“Not helping, Connie,” Sophronia warned.
At that very moment, Garreth’s voice hollered over the lunch chatter. They all lifted their heads like meerkats as he entered the Great Hall and approached a group of fifth years by the doors. Pointing to his pockets encouragingly while they collectively shook their heads.
Then, on his way out Titus passed by and sneered at Garreth with clear venom. Making sure the Weasley saw.
Garreth watched Titus leave with a puzzled expression, before shrugging indifferently to himself and scanning the Hall. He immediately saw the Ravenclaw girls looking, so he gave them a wave and bounced over.
“Oh great, Merlin,” Samantha groaned and put her head in her hands, “why does this have to happen to me?”
“Oh, now you don’t like the attention?” Phoebe couldn’t help but say.
“Shut up,” Samantha replied feebly, which made Phoebe instantly feel bad.
“Afternoon, Ravenclaws,” Garreth greeted, nodding to them with hands on his hips, “Honeyball, Dagworth, Franklin… and last but certainly not least – Dale!”
At that, Samantha lifted her head to give Garreth a paltry but endearing smile. One she would have never given him before he asked her to the ball, “Hello, Weasley.”
Garreth grinned back before pointing behind with a thumb, “say, do any of you know what’s wrong with Nott?” He scoffed, remembering what just happened, “the wizard was glaring at me.”
“No!” Samantha responded so quickly, the rest of the Ravenclaw girls didn’t have a chance to not look suspicious.
Garreth didn’t seem to notice, “oh, maybe it’s from Quidditch. Did I knock into him particularly hard last week?”
“No! No, you didn’t. I think he’s getting worried about the ball, like everyone else.”
“He is?” Garreth snorted, “notorious rake, Titus Nott? Surely he’s already got a partner.”
The Ravenclaw girls pulled faces and attempted to nonchalantly add food to their plates. It was a winter spread – mostly meat, vegetables and stodgy foods.
“Something tells me he hasn’t…” Samantha murmured under her breath before turning to face Garreth fully with a pleasant expression, “are you joining us for lunch?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Garreth stretched, “I’m working.”
Samantha angled her head in question, “working?”
Garreth smirked and patted his robes, “on my shop.”
At that, Phoebe raised her eyebrows and turned around elatedly, “you’re actually doing it?”
“Of course I am, and you all look like you could do with some of these…” Garreth dug his hands into his robe pockets and removed several small vials, counting them in his palm, “I have calming draught, dance-some-more, something to change your hair colour…” his pockets were seemingly endless, as even more potions were removed and deposited on the table, “… something to bolster your immune system so you’re not ill on the day… elixir to induce euphoria… invisibility potion for the younger years barred from attending… cure for boils, wait, where is it… ah! And some Girding to keep your energy up the whole night!”
Samantha’s jaw was loose as she looked on incredulously at the now dozens of potions littering the table. Clinking and rolling into each other, “how long have you been brewing these?”
“Not that long,” Garreth said proudly, “just a couple of months.”
“You’ve not been revising for mocks!?”
“This is my revision.”
“Great golden gobstones… how can you be sure they work?”
“Oh, believe me, they work. Honeyball here has tested them.”
“You have?!” Samantha gawked at Phoebe. She appeared suddenly angry, definitely because she thought that testing Garreth’s concoctions was a death sentence. After Professor Black was stuck with a high-pitched voice for a week (as a result of Phoebe’s meddling when she was walking the halls disguised as the headmaster), Samantha had always been sceptical.
Phoebe nodded simply, “I have. They do work. Well, the one’s I tried anyway. I didn’t try the cure for boils, for example. I wasn’t going to force boils on myself for the sake of experimenting.”
Keeping her promise, Phoebe became a potion-testing guinea pig, because it was the very least she could do to repay Garreth some more for helping her find a burn-removing potion for Isidora’s portrait (and for the debacle with Professor Black that she was responsible for). The previous week, she tested out his newest concoction - the hair changing potion. It certainly worked in giving her bright, unnatural red hair. Thankfully, she brewed her own counter remedy to ensure it didn’t stick and kept some in reserve just in case it went awry for anyone else.
But she trusted Garreth. He was a potioneering genius, that was clear.
Down the table, Hector Fawley, who was visibly eavesdropping while having lunch with Mauve Molina, raised an eyebrow, “dance-some-more? How much?”
“A galleon, good sir.” Garreth responded.
Hector smirked and fished into his pocket and flipped a galleon Garreth’s way. He caught it with ease and sent to potion into Hector’s hands with the flick of his wand.
“You’re insane,” Mauve mumbled to Hector, but even she had a slither of a smile on her cheeks. He just guffawed – he was Flamboyant Fawley after all.
“I’ll take the calming draught,” Phoebe then said. She could certainly use it for the dance with Samuel. The mere thought of it made her feel sick.
“Of course, but I don’t have many in stock, that one is two galleons,” Garreth tilted his head.
“Can I give it to you later? My money is in my dorm.”
“For my test subject, of course.”
“Deal then,” Phoebe said, shaking hands with Garreth, “I’ll find you at dinner.”
“All right – I’ll take a dance-some-more.” Constance requested after she had been staring at one of the vials intently.
“Here you go,” Garreth chuckled, “and, of course, you all know I’m able to brew a working Amortentia, if anyone is desperate for a loving partner.”
Sophronia clenched her teeth awkwardly, “think I’m all good.”
“I might need one to get through the night with you…” Samantha joked under her breath.
“What was that, Dale?” Garreth cupped his ear.
“Nothing!”
“Very well. I know someone who doesn’t need one,” Garreth jerked his head backwards. To the Gryffindor table, and to Natty, “young love, eh?”
“I bet my wand they’ll be betrothed by next week.” Constance reckoned.
“Not if her mother as a say in it.”
They all subtly looked over. Natty certainly seemed smitten with this boy. Her eyes never flitted away from his, and her cheeks were rosy.
“Do you reckon he’d move to Scotland for-?”
Suddenly, there was a commotion by the doors with the hammering of boots on stone. Phoebe glanced over only to find Nellie bounding into the Hall, darting straight for the Gryffindor table with a wide grin plastered on her face.
She skidded to a halt by the group adjacent to Natty comprising of Cressida Blume, Lenora Everleigh, Charlotte Morrison and Adelaide Oakes, slipping herself into the benches.
“What’s happened?!” Adelaide asked impatiently as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff girls struck their necks in to listen.
Nellie swayed giddily, beaming to all of her friends and clenching her fists close to her chest as she burst out, “Sebastian asked me to the ball!”
Phoebe’s face dropped, as did her stomach.
So no one could see, she speedily turned back around to face her food. She stared into the plate as her rapidly thundering heartbeat drowned out the squeals of excitement coming from the girls on the Gryffindor table.
“Godric’s heart,” Garreth whispered to Samantha, “I thought Sallow was going to ask-”
“Shh!” Samantha hissed, flapping an arm to quieten him.
As Adelaide, Cressida, Lenora and Charlotte eagerly asked Nellie a million questions about how it happened, Samantha, Constance and Sophronia watched Phoebe with concern. They were clearly still listening to the exchange, but Phoebe just couldn’t.
It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did, but hearing Nellie gush about Sebastian made her desperately ill. Was this normal? She was going with Samuel Greengrass; she should be happy. Her disappointment was rooted in selfishness, and a futile, unfounded jealously. Because, at the end of the day, she rejected Sebastian. He was allowed to do what he wanted.
“Are they going as friends?” Phoebe exploded. The curiosity was far too powerful. She had to know.
Samantha looked away from the Gryffindor table while her eyebrows knotted considerately, “I don’t think so, Pheebs.”
Phoebe nodded quickly and shovelled some food in her mouth, just to do something, “good for them,” she muffled between bites.
To make matters even worse, Sebastian entered the Hall. Phoebe sullenly peered up from her plate with stuffed cheeks. He didn’t look at any table, he just beelined for the Slytherins and sat with Imelda, Nerida and the Durmstrang Quidditch star.
Imelda asked him something while indicating at the Gryffindor table. Sebastian glanced up in the same direction as a shadow of his Sallow smirk graced his face. Nodding.
Phoebe stopped chewing as the food began to taste like soil in her mouth. This was awful. The way he looked over in Nellie’s direction with some felicity. The way he didn’t ask her as friends. The way he asked Phoebe as friends. It was sickening, and she should have seen this coming.
Since Nellie was in the same area as the Ravenclaws, Phoebe saw Sebastian’s eyes flicker and scan the room.
She diverted her head away again lest she met his gaze, fearing she would melt into a sad puddle that Groundskeeper Moon would have to mop off the stone.
“I’m going to get the story from the source,” Garreth said, rubbing his hands together, “maybe he’ll need dance-some-more… or even some Girding! See you later.”
With that, Garreth skipped off in the direction of the Slytherin table, and the Ravenclaw girls were left alone once more.
Samantha, Constance and Sophronia continued to observe Phoebe in silence. Phoebe looked up and pouted in question. Their faces were gloomy like they were witnessing a funeral.
“What?” Phoebe asked with feigned confusion.
“You know what. Are you all right?” Samantha queried softly. She knew that Sebastian asked Phoebe to the ball as friends, and how complicated things were between them, even without know everything he had done to confound Phoebe’s life. Constance and Sophronia weren’t blind to it either.
“Yes, why would I not be?” Phoebe responded, and glanced around at the suspicious faces, “come on, I’m going with Samuel. How could I not be all right?”
“Yes, but…”
“I told him to ask Nellie,” Phoebe then revealed, trying to shrug apathetically, “they’ve liked each other since third year, have they not?”
“I-I don’t know, honestly,” Sophronia muttered, appearing particularly puzzled by Phoebe’s reaction, “I didn’t think they were that close anymore. Unlike you two.”
“Well, Sebastian and I aren’t that close anymore either. Seriously, I’m fine, and this is a good thing for him. He deserves to be happy.”
“You’re an idiot, you know?” Samantha groaned. Her tone was teasing, but Phoebe sensed it was also genuine.
And perhaps she was an idiot, as she miserably tried to swallow another mouthful of potatoes.
✦
“Still up for Hogsmeade at the weekend?”
“I certainly am,” Phoebe replied with a shy smile. Unknowingly twirling her foot on the floor.
“Great,” Samuel Greengrass mirrored beamed, “I’ll meet you at the Bell Tower at six?”
Phoebe nodded, “sounds good to me.”
With that, Samuel lowered his head at Phoebe courteously, almost bowing like a regency gentleman, and headed further into Central Hall. Off to a Herbology lesson with Professor Garlick.
When he was firmly turned away, Phoebe had to stifle the stupid smile still plastered on her face followed by the rising mortification of such a surprise encounter. He had just caught her after lunch to ask her to Hogsmeade at the weekend for dinner and carousing. It astonished her, but she thought it would make for a splendid evening.
See, it’s nice with Samuel!
Though, Phoebe still sighed solemnly as she also turned to walk to her next lesson.
There, she managed to convince herself that nothing was wrong. She was still happy and excited for the Yule Ball. Even if Sebastian was going with Nellie.
Her stomach dropped again.
No - it was fine. So fine. She told him to do it. She had nothing to be upset about. Especially not when she agreed to go with Samuel before Sebastian even had a chance to ask her. If she were to be upset, she only had herself to blame.
If anything, she should be happy for him.
She whistled calmingly to herself the whole walk and as she climbed the steps to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Trundling through the door, she was met with a busy classroom. Filled with both students and a Ministry official sitting at the back that Phoebe didn’t recognise. Most of the desks were taken up by her housemates and the Slytherins. Unsurprisingly, Philip Parkinson and Violet McDowell, the only confirmed romantic coupling in their year, turned around and leered at her.
In a remarkable turn of events, since Samuel asked her to the ball, the purebloods had stopped calling her ‘mudblood’ and seemed to just glare in her direction. Even the bumbling idiots Harry Engels and Silas Faber in the year below – Philip’s minions.
Phoebe pulled a smug face, hoping it infuriated them as she scanned the classroom again. Ominis was already sitting beside Constance, and Samantha was with Amit, which meant she had to find a new desk partner.
Unfortunately, most of the seats were occupied, apart from a space at the very back of the classroom.
Phoebe cursed the universe. Of course it was the desk with Sebastian.
“Afternoon,” she said as she sat down on the bench, acting as if nothing was awry in her world.
Sebastian did a very good job at hiding how surprised he was to see her. He had been staring straight ahead, seemingly lost in his head. Though, when he saw Phoebe, he smiled meekly and uncomfortably, “Hello.”
Phoebe smiled and wordlessly began removing her textbook and quill from her bag. They hadn’t spoken much since he asked her to the ball, but that was because Sebastian had been avoidant. It was nothing new, so, she elected to wait until he struck up conversation with her.
Sebastian read this on her immediately, but she wasn’t quite expecting him to ask, “Phoebe, are you all right?”
How many more times would she hear that question?
Phoebe looked up from her bag sheepishly with wide eyes, “I-uh. Yes, I am. Are you?”
“No, I mean, I’m sorry,” Sebastian was tapping his foot which made his body bob as if he were frazzled. He inhaled sharply, leaned forward and lowered his voice, “I wanted to tell you I was going to ask Oggspire to the ball. I just didn’t find you in time.”
Phoebe frowned as if it didn’t bother her, “why are you sorry for that?”
“I…,” Sebastian stuttered, “I thought you would want to know in advance.”
She shook her head, “you don’t need to run anything by me. You’re your own person.”
“Fair enough.” He recoiled, still with a mildly befuddled expression. “Are we all right, though?”
She put her book bag on the floor, “you tell me.”
“Yes, then yes, we are,” he replied somewhat agitatedly, “I just didn’t want you to think ill of me, since I asked you first.”
“Yes, as friends,” Phoebe repeated his words from the week before. Again, curiosity got the better of her, as she swallowed and asked, “are you going with Nellie as friends?”
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. A long moment.
Then, he said plainly, “I guess… it’s like how you and Greengrass are.”
Phoebe understood then. Her choices made this happen. She forced a smile and nodded, “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Sebastian said slowly, but he didn’t smile back. Though, he didn’t have a chance to say anything else as Professor Hecat emerged from her office to commence the lesson.
Phoebe and Sebastian didn’t speak again after that. There wasn’t anything else to say.
✦
✦ Present day, 25th December 1891 ✦
The common room was vacant lest for some sour younger years that weren’t invited. The upper years had already made their way down to the Great Hall. The Ravenclaw girls - they surmised - were fashionably late.
As they descended the steps of Ravenclaw Tower, Samantha was recounting the sequence of events for the night, hooking arms with Phoebe while Sophronia and Constance were tittering in hushed voices ahead. Constance was still noticeably fidgety, bopping down the steps.
“So, about halfway through the song, others will join in, so the attention won’t be on just you and Greengrass for long,” Samantha delineated, “I’ll drag Weasley out as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe replied sincerely. “It’s actually the aftermath that I’m becoming worried about.”
“What, the mingling part?”
“Yes,” Phoebe scoffed, “what am I meant to say to them? They’re practically all important magical folk. What do I talk about?”
“Oh, that’s the easy part. Just talk about yourself, and they’ll lap it up. Those lot are all slightly self-centred, just tell them a story and they’ll bounce of it.”
“But all my stories are practically Muggle stories.”
“Yeah, well, they’re still good stories. I’d still tell them. Otherwise just talk about Summoner’s Court, or even something about the goblins. Maybe that nice goblin you and Amit met! Lodgok, was it?”
Phoebe shuffled awkwardly, “if you say so.”
Any mention of Lodgok still pierced her right in the gut.
Samantha suspired loudly, “I’m still so jealous – I’ll be stuck with Weasley all night.”
“If anything, Weasley is a fantastic way into any conversation.” Phoebe countered, contemplating dragging them with her to act as buffers whenever she had to talk to any Ministry official. Samantha’s quick wit and Garreth’s apt for storytelling would fill the holes she had for popular wizarding culture and high society. After all, they were two pureblood wizards accustomed to magical milieu – and the good kind, in Phoebe’s eyes.
Finally, they made it to the Grand Staircase. Fancy shoes clipped on the steps as they descended. The closer they reached the bottom, the louder it became with a chorus of voices. Students were loitering by the base of the stairs in busy clusters; their conversations echoing through the tall chamber, all eagerly awaiting the night of their lives. Professors were littered amongst, channelling them into queues in front of the reception hall.
“I didn’t realise how late we really were.” Sophronia said with a strained voice.
Constance jostled her, “they’re only just letting them in.”
“We barely made it in time!”
“That’s an exaggeration and you know it.”
“Oh, and you would have been content in making Bebe late for her grand opening?”
“We’re not late and she hasn’t missed it. Merlin, you worry too much.”
Thus ensued some quarrelling between the pair that Phoebe found herself amused by until she remembered where she was. She resumed gnawing at her lip in anxiety at the sheer number of students before her. She dreaded how she would have felt without the calming draught. Thank Merlin for Garreth Weasley.
Her hands trembled some more as she picked up her dress to descend the final staircase; arm still locked with Samantha’s. She felt her friend’s hand give hers a squeeze of reassurance. It was a solace to know their own bickering had finally come to an end.
As a distraction, Phoebe observed their peers below. In one group, Charlotte Morrison and Cressida Blume were talking to each other, all in rich, variegated velvet dresses. Alongside them was Leander Prewett with his (neglected) partner, Lenora Everleigh, both in Gryffindor red.
Eric Northcott and Sacharissa Tugwood stood awkwardly while they conversed with the pairings of Magnus Sorensson and Adelaide Oakes, and Nerida Roberts and Andrew Larson. All sporting their house colours. The other Ravenclaw housemates, Everett, Amit and Duncan Hobhouse (who was partnered with Astoria Crickett) were near the bottom impatiently waiting for the girls, pointing irritably at the big grandfather clock in the corner.
The seventh years were also in their own huddles. Hector Fawley and Mauve Molina were laughing and swaying flirtatiously. Titus Nott - who had chosen to go with a Slytherin named Jessica McMahon when Samantha turned him down - chatted to Imelda Reyes and the Durmstrang Quidditch star in sleek black robes. Nearby, Philip Parkinson and Violet McDowell kept to themselves, muttering to each other coquettishly.
They were all there – ready for the big night and acting as if it was not some massive ordeal.
Because most of them don’t have to kick-off the dance.
Then, while Constance and Sophronia had ambled ahead, and were now on the ground floor with Amit and Everett, Phoebe’s eyes found more familiar faces amongst the crowd.
At the base of the stairs, Nellie, decorated in a blushed pink dress, was talking to Poppy. Her hair was half up and curled, and she appeared particularly radiant, which was unsurprising.
However, Phoebe was captivated by Poppy and her pale green gown. Heavy and velvety, the colours made her glow. Her hair was sleek in an updo, contrasted to how she would usually wear it. Phoebe wondered earlier if she would have gone for yellow, since it suited her so much, but green was remarkably apt.
And, of course, they were standing beside their partners. Sebastian and Ominis.
Sebastian stood side-on while he spoke to Ominis. His arms were crossed, and he appeared to be in the middle of telling a story – his body swaying animatedly – while Ominis held his blinking wand up gracefully.
God, help me… the sight of Sebastian forcefully snatched the air right out of Phoebe’s lungs. The calming draught suddenly and utterly obsolete.
This was the first time Phoebe had seen Sebastian so dressed up. He was wearing a black matching dress suit with, curiously, a midnight blue bowtie and waistcoat. While looking completely effortless, as usual, his smart clothes were still no match for his naturally striking appearance.
Ominis, expectedly, was classically elegant and dashing; his etherealism clearer than ever. He, similarly, wore an all-black suit but with a deep yellow tie.
But Sebastian made Phoebe falter entirely.
As if sensing eyes on him, Sebastian casually glanced towards the stairs. Towards Phoebe.
Their eyes met instantly. Time slowed.
In what felt like an eon, Sebastian’s expression transformed while his eyes scanned down her body. Features tempering as his eyes lowered, before returning to meet her with a transfixed, intense gaze.
He swallowed slowly and ignored whatever Ominis said. Even when Nellie turned to get his attention, Ominis attempted to tap him on the shoulder to get him to respond.
But Sebastian never replied; not seeming to notice or care. He remained beholding Phoebe like he had never seen her before.
And for Phoebe, nothing else mattered. There could be a thousand eyes on them, but she didn’t see any of them as she let herself smile at garnering Sebastian’s undivided attention.
Even when Samuel Greengrass appeared from the crowd to stand in front of him.
✦
✦ Nine days earlier, 16th December 1891 ✦
“Phoebe, you’re here.” Sebastian remarked, smiling widely. It turned into an arrogant smirk as he smugly stood in the nucleus of the vast chamber situated in the very depths of Feldcroft’s catacomb. Crossing his arms and nodding to the dozen Inferi circling him, he said, “isn’t this incredible!”
“Sebastian-” Phoebe breathed out, gaping in panic from the chamber’s entrance.
“I told you; the relic really is the answer!” Sebastian took a couple of steps forward in Phoebe’s direction, shaking his hands in enthusiasm. To her horror, the Inferi around him also stepped two paces closer, and she recoiled back in fright. In one hand, the Dark relic was planted firmly in his palm. Across the room, Slytherin's spellbook was also there, laying open on a pedestal. “We've been trying to reverse the Dark Magic that cursed Anne, but… this will allow me to control it. Just as I can control the Inferi. Together, we can save everyone who suffers at the hand of darkness.”
Phoebe watched the relic in Sebastian’s hand. What was once a glass prism composed of three skeletal Inferi was now a melting heap. Trickling down in between his fingers like goo. Still, he held it as if his life depended on it.
Phoebe knew what was about to happen. She had relived this day far too many times.
“Put it down,” Phoebe commanded, stepping dauntlessly into the chamber. Her wand was now drawn and pointed at the relic. With a jerk of her head, she softened her voice to placate Sebastian, “get rid of it and we’ll leave. Together. There are other ways to save Anne.”
Sebastian stared at her for a moment, then took another step forward. His Inferi disciples followed.
“Oh – like the ancient magic that you refuse to wield?”
Phoebe froze, her wand arm trembling as she was locked under Sebastian’s critical gaze.
“What scares you about it?” Sebastian’s voice turned hushed and cutting, “what frightens you about holding the power to save people?”
“It’s not like that-”
“I’m merely taking matters into my own hands,” Sebastian shook the molten relic casually. “You think I’m going to destroy this when it’s given me power to control curses? Control Inferi? Unlike you, I understand the consequences of being powerless. With this, I can be so formidable, no one can stop me.”
“Stop it.” Phoebe pleaded. “You don’t really mean that.”
“I don’t?” Sebastian asked with lethal calmness. He raised the relic to the air, and Phoebe watched as it slithered back through his fingers to reform itself.
Silently, Sebastian tapped the side of the relic which caused all the light in the room to be sucked into his palm. The once blazing sconces extinguished, the walls and floor disappeared, plunging them into total darkness. Only the witch, wizard, the huddle of Inferi, and the eerie silence in the surrounding void remained.
“This relic doesn’t just have the power to save Anne, but anyone who was wronged by Rookwood. By Ranrok. It could destroy the rest of his Lot and the Ashwinders terrorising the country. It can make me infinitely more powerful than any wizard in existence. I could alter the very fabric of this world.”
Phoebe stiffened her wand arm, “there’s a price to pay for dancing with the Dark Arts, Sebastian.”
“Yet there isn’t a price for your magic.”
Phoebe stilled again. This was her reckoning, she understood.
“You don’t know that.”
“Well, what’s the price for not using ancient magic?” Sebastian asked simply.
Phoebe watched him, unable to speak.
“You don’t know? I’ll show you.”
Like an oil lamp alighting, the void surrounding them suddenly burst with pools of light as Sebastian snapped his fingers.
Phoebe recoiled in fear.
Bodies. Everywhere. Lifeless and motionless, spread across the ground like dolls.
George Osric. Miriam. Lodgok. Solomon. Professor Fig. Mother.
There were some she didn’t recognise at first – particularly the man and the woman with dark brunette hair lying side by side. The woman had a smattering of freckles on her vacant face, while the man wild and wavy locks and sunken eyes.
Though, she only had to glance at those features for a moment to realise she recognised them on other, familiar faces.
“This is because of you.” Sebastian stated – his arms outstretched, “this is because you refused to accept the reason why you were chosen.”
Phoebe shook her head, clenching her teeth as tears welled in her eyes, “no.”
She couldn’t look at them. All the empty eyes staring into oblivion. All eyes that had been alive and happy once upon a time. Almost all she had witnessed their deaths firsthand.
She dropped her wand arm heavily.
“Look at them.” Sebastian demanded.
Phoebe began crying as she averted her eyes upwards to stare into the blackness above her, “…no.”
“Do it.”
“No, please. I-I can’t.”
“LOOK AT THEM.”
Phoebe’s head snapped back down. To her horror, all the bodies on the floor had moved.
Instead of lying still, each of their heads were now raised and staring at her. Their eyes glowing blue like the Inferi that continued to follow Sebastian.
Accusing.
“They all could have been saved,” Sebastian said, taking several steps towards her, “if you had just tapped into that part of yourself that you’re so afraid of.”
“I didn’t know how to save them, Sebastian.” Phoebe croaked. “I still don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t!”
Preternaturally, Sebastian had closed the distance between them. The relic and his wand seemingly missing. He appeared to unnaturally tower over her, like an elongated shadow. His features stretched and unnatural.
Behind him, the bodies arose, standing to joining the Inferi and forming a circle around Phoebe and Sebastian.
“You would be the most powerful witch alive. Perhaps who ever lived.” Sebastian uttered, “it can happen if you just listen to me.”
There was nowhere else to look apart from directly as Sebastian, lest she meet eyes with the ghosts surrounding them.
“I don’t want that.” She whispered.
Sebastian tilted her chin up to face him fully. His eyes weren’t the same as those she knew so well. Nothing like the woods behind her home. They were murky and dark, and his touch searingly hot, “it doesn’t matter what you want. You were chosen for this. If you don’t admit that, then I might have to force your hand.”
Phoebe stared up at Sebastian as his hands felt as though they were slipping away, “what am I meant to do?”
His face went dark.
“You already know.”
A hole in the ground opened. Phoebe fell.
Dwindling in the distance, as if standing on a glass floor, were Sebastian, the Inferi and the ghosts. Merely watching her plummet with emotionless expressions.
Phoebe twisted. Her arms and legs splayed as she shot through the dark void like a cannonball.
Falling and falling and falling. There was a rumbling of wings following her. She looked back and saw nothing there.
The rumbling hastened. Something invisible was following her. But where was her wand? It was not in her hand anymore.
Snapping and roaring. It was getting close. Heat flared on her back and split her skin like the ground in a blazing drought.
The void shattered. She plummeted down to the earth, to the English countryside.
Another deafening roar.
She screamed.
✦
Gasping and spluttering, Phoebe awoke screaming.
She shot up in bed clutching at her chest. Thrashing the covers off her, she found that she was covered in a thick layer of sweat and coiled in her own pyjamas.
“Pheebs,” Samantha’s hushed and concerned voice called up from the bottom bunk, “are you all right?”
The curtains stirred from Constance and Sophronia’s bunks.
Catching her breath, Phoebe rasped, “yes,” she turned around in the bed and dangled her legs over the edge, “I’m fine, it just a nightmare. I-I’m going up there for a bit.”
The bunks curtains closed again across the room. This was nothing new.
Samantha yawned and recoiled into her bed, “all right. Let me know if you need me.”
Phoebe quietly thanked and apologised to Samantha while putting on a robe and slippers. Quiet as a mouse, she crept out of the dorm and plodded up the stairs to the common room.
It was deathly silent there, with only pale orbs of magical light for the Yule season weakly illuminating the room. Even the Grey Lady wasn’t idling; the one being who usually roamed the halls whenever Phoebe had a nightmare. This time, she was well and truly alone.
Phoebe didn’t mind that. In fact, she wanted some solitude after such a dream. It had been a while since Sebastian appeared in her nightmares, especially in one so harrowing.
She knew it wasn’t because of anything sinister to do with him – just her mind torturing her by reminding her of what happened in Feldcroft’s catacomb every time she thought she had escaped it.
But no, it wasn’t Sebastian that unsettled her - it was the bodies. How she was forced to look at them. The number she had already seen by the tender age of seventeen was regrettable indeed.
Casting Lumos, Phoebe read one of the grandfather clocks: ten past five in the morning. Lessons would begin in just four hours, but she was not tired anymore. She had all this adrenaline, and a guilty conscience.
So, she left the common room.
✦
As presumed, Phoebe was alone in the Undercroft. She almost expected Sebastian to be lurking there, since Ominis mentioned that he had been sneaking out again. But, no, he wasn’t.
Phoebe wasted no time in heading for the back of the chamber, past the triptych and the pensieve, all the way to where she had hidden her ancient magic research. She rummaged until she found the enchanted bag and wrenched it out. Murmuring the incantations, she transfigured the plant pots into blackboards again, while she dumped all of her notes and Isidora’s diaries on a table nearby.
Back in her element, Phoebe retraced her steps from when she last delved into her research. Particularly in following the trail of thought that Isidora was removing emotions associated with pain, rather than the pain itself. This was documented in several notes describing her treatment of Black Death patients, then finally her own father.
Each time Phoebe spotted something of interest, she jotted it down in her own journal. Though, this was sparse. The only conclusions she reached were that Isidora wasn’t concerned with physical pain since her father suffered from grief. To her, physical and mental suffering were concurring.
As she flicked through the notes again, Phoebe forget how despairingly hopeless she had become by reading these accounts, and why she had been putting it off. They offered her very little insight, and proved that perhaps, she needed to do the one thing she dreaded the most if she failed to revive Isidora’s portrait – practice removing pain on live subjects.
The thought made her shudder. How could she do such a thing? It would be difficult to find a willing participant, and even if she did, Phoebe wasn’t sure she had the guts to enact it. Of course, she’d love to try, but her conscience surpassed that urge.
Trying not to be too discouraged, she picked up the next notebook. Though, she wasn’t feeling particularly excited about this text either. She had read it before, and it mostly comprised of mundane daily activities. Even some numbered shopping lists.
Even still, there was nothing better to do, so Phoebe flicked through. With her other hand, she picked up her wand and whipped it to bring her book bag closer to her. She needed some more blank parchment for her notetaking.
However, as soon as she lifted her wand, a glinting caught her eye. From the spine of the notebook.
Phoebe stilled and stared down.
Speechless. What she was looking at were traces of ancient magic. Wisps of blue twirling and rising upwards, attracted to her wand.
With a gasp, she sat up straighter and pressed the wand to the paper. Sure enough, the pages illuminated with soft, pale light. Flickering like starlight.
It had been so long since Phoebe had seen ancient magic, tears of wonder brimmed in her eyes.
It was unbelievable. Never had she seen traces around Isidora’s notes, especially not ones appearing solely by having a wand present.
The closer she examined them; she realised the traces weren’t formlessly emanating from the pages - they were stemming from specific spots. Some on the current passage, some suppressed by a stack of parchment, dimly shining like rays of sunlight through a curtain.
Tracing her wand over the current page, Phoebe couldn’t help but let a laugh escape when the tendrils of magic circled the word ‘Under’.
Like her life depended on it, Phoebe sifted through the entire notebook, searching for words highlighted by the blue glow. Each time, she jotted them down on a piece of parchment. Some were words, some were numbers.
When she was certain she had collected all pieces of information, she scanned the other notes laid out in front of her with her wand, just in case. Though, it seemed this notebook was the only enchanted item.
So, Phoebe rearranged the words, testing out sentences, treating it like a puzzle in a Keeper’s trial, until she deciphered proses that made most sense.
After spending the best part of an hour pondering, Phoebe hastily stood. Breathing heavily with a sweat laden brow, she stared down at the notebook before her. At parchment covered in wet ink and scrawled text.
To the house on the beach under the cliff. Behind the portrait. Knowledge stored.
A message and a set of coordinates.
In disbelief, Phoebe gaped at the messy ink. Unable to believe that she had decoded such an enigma spontaneously.
Thinking she had somehow made it up with an exhausted mind, she retraced her steps several times. Each reaping the exact same result.
Without a map, she couldn’t work out the coordinates, but that would be no strenuous task when one has access to Hogwarts’ library. Maybe she could ask Amit to help her again.
“Isidora, you brilliant, frustrating, genius.” Phoebe huffed with tears welling up in her eyes. The repository below the school wasn’t the final piece of Isidora’s elaborate story. There was another, where knowledge was stored. Not power.
This message was for her. Only her. A fellow ancient magic wielder.
Perhaps it was the fatigue, but she was injected with fresh inspiration.
Hurriedly and excitedly, Phoebe scrambled for the bag and hauled out some more parchment. She slammed it on the table, sat back down, and wrote a letter she wasn’t sure would reach the recipient. But she had to try.
✦
Anne,
I might be able to actually help you. With the right magic. I’m working something out.
Please tell me where you are. I will make this right.
Phoebe
✦
✦ Present day, 25th December 1891 ✦
“Break a leg,” Samantha whispered to Phoebe as she let go of her arm and departed to follow Constance and Sophronia. A simpering smile still on her face the whole way down.
There, she was greeted by Garreth, who was dressed in something… interesting. Though, he was unphased by how he appeared as he gawked up in admiration at his partner.
Even from where Phoebe was, she could hear Samantha hiss, “what in Godric Gryffindor’s name are you wearing? Pinch me, is it 1791?”
“Dress robes,” Garreth said innocently, roused from his staring to pull warily at his frilly, burgundy, lace-lined garments, “a Weasley tradition.”
Samantha uttered something sharp before joining arms with him and disappearing into the crowd with their other Ravenclaw housemates, shooting Phoebe one more reassuring nod.
Phoebe echoed it, then returned to scene before her. Readying herself for the first moment she was dreading.
In front of Sebastian and Ominis, Samuel was waiting for her. Standing with his hands behind his back with a genuinely luminous smile.
It wasn’t a surprise that Samuel looked handsome. Dressed in a classic black dress-suit with a Hufflepuff gold tie and waistcoat, he was the picture of a perfect wizarding gentlemen.
However, Phoebe was distracted. Sebastian was still there. Watching her intently and carefully from behind Samuel. As still as a Muggle statue.
By this point, Poppy had noticed Phoebe, and shared a giddy look with her while whispering something to Ominis. Ominis stopped trying to get Sebastian’s attention and raised his eyebrows in response. His wand began blinking faster.
Nellie glanced over for less than a second before diverting to talk at an unawares Poppy.
This night wasn’t for agonising over minutiae in their body language, it was for having a good time. So, Phoebe quickly shook her head away to give Samuel her undivided attention as she descended the stairs. Acutely aware of her posture while she took each step with careful precision to prevent any chance of a debasing trip and tumble.
When on the final step, she stopped before Samuel with a thundering heart and bated breath.
“Phoebe Honeyball,” Samuel said in a sweet voice. Only for her, in a room where all eyes were now on them. He reached out an open palm, flashing another warm smile, “you look wonderful.”
Hoping Sophronia’s cosmetics were masking her rapidly reddening cheeks, Phoebe returned a genuinely joyful simper.
“You look rather handsome yourself.” She replied, placing her gloved hand in his.
He lifted it to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back.
So proper, so polite, and so obvious to all watching. With her friends surrounding them, including Sebastian, she exhaled a bashful cackle in rising mortification. It wasn’t very ladylike, and she was so grateful her father and Emma didn’t see that.
Samuel chuckled too, but with more steadiness as he led her down from the final step and through the crowd which parted eagerly for them.
“Good evening,” Phoebe said to Sebastian, Ominis, Poppy and Nellie on their way past.
Only Ominis, Poppy and Nellie returned the greeting. The former two much more gleefully than the latter.
Sighing regretfully at how awkward that was, Phoebe hooked her arm in Samuel’s as he leant down blithely, “did you come this late to make a grand entrance?”
“No!” Phoebe blurted, now truly embarrassed, “is that how it appeared?”
“Of course not, I was joking. You’re right on time actually,” he said, apologising graciously to the groups of students they had to weave through.
Finally, after much wading and acknowledging intrigued peers, they reached the very front of the reception hall, where some professors were beginning to usher students into the Great Hall. There could not be an introductory dance without a crowd to watch them.
Professor Garlick was by one corner with a clipboard, talking to Nancy Abbott and her partner, the seventh year Ravenclaw, Mahendra Pehlwaan. Natty with the smitten Beauxbatons Head Boy and Edie Dagworth with Durmstrang’s Head Boy were also there. And, unfortunately, Asterius with Durmstrang’s Head Girl, along with two other Beauxbatons students waiting.
These were the six pairs chosen to commence the ball.
“Ah, Master Greengrass and Miss Honeyball!” Professor Garlick shined, calling them over with a hand. She was wearing a lovely dress – sage green with ivy detailing. Her hair still in long plaits, just without the hat. “Last but certainly not least.”
“Apologies, professor.” Samuel said contritely.
“No need for apologies.” Professor Garlick waved the extended hand before directing them to the huddle.
There, Phoebe and Samuel greeted the other pairs. After some awkward curtsies exchanged with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, and avoiding a glaring Asterius altogether, Phoebe darted for Natty for a cheery embrace, who appeared equally as relieved to see her. Dressed in a regal looking cream dress with her pinned up with a feather, much like Samantha, Natty certainly looked magnificent.
“If I realised saying yes to Emile meant I had to participate in this, I would have thought twice.” Natty whispered. Emile was standing nearby while chatting to the Beauxbatons Head Girl in hushed French. Though, that didn’t stop him stealing looks at Natty.
“You’re telling me,” Phoebe snorted, “at least you’re a good dancer.”
“Thanks, but you’ve practiced with Greengrass, have you not? We haven’t.”
“Sounds like you needed one of Garreth’s calming draughts.”
Natty laughed, “if only you told me earlier that they actually work.”
During their conversation, more students filtered into the Hall, including many of their friends. Phoebe and Natty gave them all a frivolous wave.
Even Sebastian, Ominis, Nellie and Poppy, but it was only after then, when Sebastian returned the faintest of waves and a lingering gaze, did the calming draught seem to cease working completely.
✦
“Are you ready?” Samuel asked Phoebe. His voice was quiet and soothing. That was clearly intentional.
And it didn’t help.
Phoebe stared straight ahead at the large wooden doors to the Great Hall engraved with each house mascot. As she once did when she first arrived at the school. When Professor Fig introduced her to Professor Black after their ordeal at Gringotts.
Now, over two years later, she was there again. Staring at the space in between Professor Weasley and Professor Garlick listening for the cue that all the students were ready for the ball to begin.
Unable to speak, Phoebe just nodded with false vim.
Since Samuel was Head Boy of Hogwarts, the hosting school, he was chosen to enter the Great Hall first. By being his partner, that meant Phoebe also had to be front and centre. So, there she stood. Beside him at the head of the formation, with Nancy and Mahendra directly behind.
Now she wished she had downed the whole bloody vial of calming draught. How was this more daunting than facing Dark wizards?
“Are you sure?” Samuel sounded a lot more concerned now.
“Yes,” Phoebe strained out. If she returned to reality for too long, she feared she might faint, “excited.”
“Ah – okay... You know if you’re not, you can back out-”
“Ahem,” Professor Weasley, dressed in a more elegant version of her usual clothes, interrupted by clasping her hands together. She glanced between Phoebe, Samuel and the rest of them, but apparently didn’t notice how pale Phoebe had become, “it’s almost time to go in. Ordinarily, the champions would be the ones to initiate the ball. Obviously, there are no ‘champions’ without the tournament, so that’s why you Heads have been selected to represent the schools. This is a mighty honour, and I hope you and your partners have learnt the dance by now… but remember, have fun. Be glad you have no dangerous tasks to complete after tonight!”
With that, Professor Ronen stuck his head through a gap in the doors and declared, “we’re ready.”
“Right!” Professor Weasley nodded to Ronen, who disappeared again, and then spoke to the students before her, “time to shine! Get in formation.”
Phoebe’s heart threatened to burst from her chest as she straightened her back and gripped onto Samuel’s forearm with vigour.
She must have been shaking, because Samuel placed his hand over hers resting and whispered, “don’t fret. If you get stuck, just let me know.”
Afraid she would break, Phoebe just looked up at him gratefully, as the mighty doors to the Great Hall opened.
Phoebe had an out of body experience. As if she wasn’t in control of her legs, she was thrust forward. Clutching onto Samuel like her life depended on it as they paraded into the Hall to sprightly music.
Desperately, she wanted to stare straight ahead, but the sight of the Hall was impossible to ignore. The walls were decked in sparkling silver frost, with countless garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry bewitched ceiling. The house tables had vanished; instead, there were dozens of smaller, lantern-lit ones to the wings, mostly obscured by the hundreds of students lining the ballroom-style dancefloor in the centre. At the front of the Hall, enchanted musical instruments controlled by Deek swayed and played jauntily.
It was magical.
There were no cheers for the ‘champions’ entering, only polite, continuous applause as they watched the twelve witches and wizards enter in a procession. It was all in the style and customs of the Triwizard Tournament that took place a hundred years before. The professors, including the Ministry officials, stood and watched them from the stage at the front.
For a moment, Phoebe worried a spell had been casted on her. It all sounded miles away as if she was in a bubble while she continued marching forwards without faltering. Even when she glanced around the room, she couldn’t decipher anyone’s faces clearly. It was a complete blur, which only served to make her so nauseous, she had to control her breathing.
As rehearsed, when they reached the centre, the pairs dispersed. Reluctantly, Phoebe let go of Samuel’s supportive arm to walk alone to her position.
That’s when she felt overly exposed without her particularly tall partner to hide behind. Being tall herself, she feared she now stuck out considerably more than the other girls behind her. Not to mention Asterius she had a couple of inches on, too.
Still, Phoebe intently stared straight ahead with a stoic expression, leading the girls in parallel to the boys, until she found her spot.
Then, she turned inward to face Samuel, who was now a couple of metres away. In doing so, she could see the clouded faces of all their peers keenly watching in the crowd. Heads flitting between each of the dancers while the music petered out.
This wasn’t life threatening in any way, but her body was reacting as if it was. That dreaded rift opened to reveal some of the dark abyss within her, and she had to stifle away the panic. She couldn’t even bring herself to look to Natty down the line for support, lest she crumble.
Suddenly, she thought of how Professor Fig wasn’t there to cheer her on. He would have relished in the jollity of the Yule Ball.
Oh, how she wished it was Sebastian in front of her. Like at Crossed Wands, he could calm her down. He knew exactly how. And where was he? Phoebe hadn’t seen his silhouette in the blurred crowd, and she would recognise it anywhere.
Though, Samuel was certainly trying, as he pulled another beaming smile at her. Raising his eyebrows encouragingly, which was almost enough for her to hold it together. If she could face Ranrok, was what a little dance in front of everyone she knew? It would be a terrible thing to do to let Samuel down at the last second.
Deek raised his arms like a conductor. A few melodic notes lifted as the enchanted instruments began playing the song they had been rehearsing to for weeks.
Still in a haze, Phoebe curtsied in sync with the girls down the line to her left, while the boys opposite bowed. After, they all stepped forward.
One step, two step, three in tune with the song. They met in the centre – their left hands pressed together as they circled around each other, then parting to twirl solitarily, before returning to join the middle.
There, Phoebe placed her hand on Samuel’s shoulder while he rested his on her waist. With measure, he spun her in a circle to ensue the main dance, and to her relief, she still remembered the sequence.
So, along with the others, they waltzed through each other like figures in a music box. The whole time, Samuel watched her with cordial intrigue.
They had practiced together several times, so it wasn’t the first instance she had been held by Samuel like this. Yet, under the starlit bewitched ceiling, in their fancy clothes, and in front of all their peers, it felt distinctly novel. Suddenly, it felt far too intimate. She couldn’t help but shily avert her eyes away from his, even if that unfortunately meant looking at Asterius Black.
“I thought for a moment you were going to flee,” Samuel murmured mirthfully during a loud point in the song, causing Phoebe to finally regard him fully.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she lightly laughed it off.
“I know that,” he said, lifting his arm up to twirl her, “but you never struck me as someone with stage fright.”
“People can surprise you.”
“Indeed. But one constant I know is that you’d still be the prettiest in the room, even if you were only here for a brief moment.”
Phoebe felt her skin burn at that. She looked away again, but Samuel chuckled lowly, thinking it was because he had succeeded in complimenting her.
It certainly flattered her, but she couldn’t help wishing no one heard, which was an awful thing to think.
“Thank you,” she muttered timorously, “that’s a considerable comment coming from you.”
“Not at all,” Samuel blushed himself, “it pales in comparison to what you deserve.”
Then, the dancefloor began filling as they reached the middle part of the song, which meant the other students could enter.
Phoebe was immediately thankful for this. Finally, she could melt into the crowd and actually have a splendid time, which already started to occur the second she spotted a favourite pair join.
On the other side, Samantha had quickly hauled Garreth out, as she promised. He was somewhat clumsy, but he didn’t hesitate for long to place his hand at her hip. Samantha slapped it higher, so it rested on her lower back instead, before turning her scolding scowl into a cheesy grin. Phoebe let out a cheery giggle at how Garreth’s eyes shone while he beheld his partner.
Samuel noticed and leaned in to see in Phoebe’s line of sight, “Dale and Weasley are a fine pairing.”
“They are,” Phoebe said moonily.
“It took a while to convince Titus of that,” Samuel groaned.
“Well, I know for a fact Sam and Nott would not be well matched. Think he was always barking up the wrong tree.”
“You may be right,” Samuel mused while something caught his eye. He nodded to behind Phoebe, “what do you think to Gaunt and Sweeting?”
As they twirled, Samuel let Phoebe catch a glimpse of Ominis and Poppy, who had just joined the fray.
Phoebe knew Ominis was a spectacular dancer, but she wasn’t expecting Poppy to match him so effortlessly. Even with their stark height difference, they moved flawlessly with each other. Though, it was challenging not to appreciate their dazzling faces. Especially Poppy’s, who couldn’t take her eyes off Ominis.
It was everything Phoebe knew they both deserved.
“I’d say they’re perfectly matched.”
“More than us?” Samuel teased with a raised eyebrow.
Phoebe hid her balk, “you tell me.”
“I don’t need to say, you already know the answer.”
She giggled as they proceeded to the last section of the dance. Now, most of the student body (including some professors) were frolicking away, making it rather cramped on the dancefloor. Notably, Sophronia was nearby with Amit, which meant Everett and Constance were somewhere. Leander and Lenora were dangerously close to Natty and Emile, while Philip and Violet rather rudely bumped into the muggleborn seventh year pairing of Gryffindor Quidditch star Camilla Booth and the Hufflepuff Wade Williams. Asterius and his Durmstrang partner clearly enjoyed that spectacle, along with Harry and Silas from the year below.
Despite this, the Hall was filled with merriment. Now, it truly seemed like the balls in Phoebe’s stories.
At last, Phoebe was slipping into having a very good time. The hard part was over, and now she could relax into the song she knew all too well, subconsciously going through the sequences with Samuel. She would have to converse with the Ministry over drinks after, but she was imbued with revitalised confidence. It would all be okay. Maybe she was cut out for this life, after all.
Just as she closed her eyes to tilt her head back happily - to live in the moment - something roused her from that daze.
Phoebe caught a scent of something unmistakable wafting by. A rich scent of a forest, yet also the ash of a hearth. Both the freshness you can only sense in the open air, and the cosiness of a home. It was a yearning for the thrilling and the familiar. Like melancholia, it didn’t closely relate to anything specific, but also something unquestionably exact… to her.
One scent she didn’t disclose when in the Slytherin common room.
Snapping her eyes open, Phoebe immediately caught a glimpse of Sebastian. He had joined the dance with Nellie.
If Phoebe never recognised that scent, she would have missed him slipping past her – his back to her back – as the final formation embarked.
She caught his gaze on her instantly as their pairings danced alongside each other. She almost snorted at the absurdity that was Sebastian watching her curiously while he had Nellie in his arms. And she was in Samuel’s.
But he didn’t seem to care. It was as if he was actively trying to get her attention. Somehow, neither Nellie nor Samuel seemed to notice. They were still too consumed with the grandeur of the Yule Ball, and their own partners.
Once more, Phoebe found his gaze and with her eyes, she subtly tried to ask him why he was staring. When she did, she wasn’t expecting his returning expression to be so stark. Like a carefully calculating assassin.
Something about it made her stomach leap. She had to glance away several times to make it not seem suspicious, smiling back up at Samuel affably, until it was impossible to not check if Sebastian was still watching. Intermittently, she investigated just to see if it was because he was upset, or if he needed help, just as she wished he could have helped her earlier.
With what they now knew about Anne, Phoebe was sure that was why he was acting so peculiar.
One final time, she caught his eye, and she was surprised to find his expression wholly different. It wasn’t until she saw the one raised eyebrow, the slight curl of his lip and the familiar tilt of his head, did she realise it wasn’t because he was upset.
He was playing with her.
An impish atmosphere befell them. Like it was a game, she suddenly became jovial at how he was unabashedly trying to get her attention. Like he often would in lessons when she was reserved or dismayed.
It was dangerous, considering who they had in front of them, but they smiled. A knowing one they had shared countless times before. Just for each other.
Suddenly, Samuel spun Phoebe intensely, along with everyone else, as the music built to a climax. There was light-hearted laughter in the room as the fast-paced finale was performed by the students, until the song ceased with one final, quick note.
The Hall erupted in cheers. Immediately, some loud bangs sounded as flying sparks and banners cascaded from the ceiling. Somehow the chamber was even more festive, just as they could all do whatever they wanted, now that the formalities were over.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Samuel breathlessly declared with a grin, grabbing Phoebe by the hand.
“O-okay,” Phoebe stammered at the sudden gesture. Instinctually she began to look over her shoulder. Back to Sebastian.
She caught a glimpse of him facing a jolly Nellie, but still very much twisted in Phoebe’s direction.
Phoebe, a second, thought he was closer than before. Maybe Sebastian wanted to go to her, but she was already being whisked away by Samuel to the front of the Hall before she could consider it with any real depth.
✦
✦ Six days earlier, 19th December 1891 ✦
The Three Broomsticks was teeming with people that Saturday afternoon. Following Phoebe and Samuel through the front doors was a flurry of snow. For the past few days, the heavy snowfall showed no signs of stopping, and the Highlands were covered in an even thicker white blanket than Phoebe thought possible.
Right on time for a merry Christmas.
“Thank Merlin for the Three Broomsticks,” Samuel huffed cheerily as he dramatically shivered and removed his Hufflepuff scarf.
“You can always count on Sirona’s for some warm respite,” Phoebe tittered as she also uncurled her own house scarf.
This was Phoebe and Samuel’s first ‘date’, as Poppy called it teasingly. As much as Phoebe wanted to renounce that out of sheer mortification, it couldn’t really be called anything else. He asked her there because he was interested in her, and wanted to converse some more before they attended the Yule Ball as a pair. Also, apparently, to celebrate the end of mock exam season.
Suddenly, it all made her feel much older as a result. One day she was a bright-eyed girl entering a magical boarding school for the first time, the next she was seventeen, an adult witch meeting with a noble wizard to ensure herself a stable future. Soon, she would have to be wearing corsets, she internally abhorred.
“What’s your drink of choice?” Samuel asked her as they approached the bar, “it’s on me.”
Phoebe simpered, “just a Butterbeer, please.”
“Of course,” he nodded and turned back around with Phoebe following.
“Ah, Phoebe!” Sirona exulted with outstretched arms, “welcome back. And Samuel, it’s good to see you both.”
“Hi Sirona,” Phoebe and Samuel both greeted, resting on the bar, as Phoebe added, “how have you been?”
“Fine, fine, nothing new to report,” the landlady replied, throwing a tea towel over her shoulder, “just finishing up serving Sebastian and Nellie here.”
Phoebe stilled. Slowly, she leaned forward and peered past Samuel, only to find Sebastian and Nellie also standing at the bar. How she didn’t see them on the way in, she had no idea.
Nellie appeared pleasantly surprised at Phoebe and Samuel’s entrance, yet Sebastian was a startled deer. Phoebe was sure her expression matched when she witnessed Peeves for the first time down in the restricted section.
Samuel seemingly didn’t notice either, as he said, “ah, hello! Sorry, didn’t see you there. Also coming for a well-deserved Butterbeer in this Baltic weather?”
“We certainly are!” Nellie beamed up at the Head Boy with a raised Butterbeer in hand. She also smiled between him, Phoebe and Sebastian, “appears we all had the same idea.”
“Indeed,” Samuel nodded before extending a hand out to Nellie, “also, I must give my congratulations! I always believed you two suited each other.”
Phoebe thought she did a stellar job acting undisturbed by Samuel’s comment. It was likely he was just being nice, but it choked her enough that she had to chew on her lip as she forced an agreeing nod.
“Thank you!” Nellie said gleefully, and Sebastian also smiled, which was just another punch to the gut. Though, it made Phoebe happy it was not as wide as Nellie’s, “likewise with you two.”
“Thanks,” Samuel said and grinned at Phoebe, who also had to thank Nellie.
Perhaps Nellie and Samuel were right, Phoebe lamented.
For a brief second, Phoebe and Sebastian shared a look, in which they gave each other a paltry smile. For appearances. Though, it lasted too long, and created an awkward pause.
“Anyway, we should find a seat,” Sebastian declared suddenly, clearing his throat and picking up his Butterbeer, “see you, both.”
“See you,” Phoebe and Samuel said in unison while the pair headed towards the back of the establishment. They found a bench and a table, and Nellie sat on the same side as Sebastian.
Phoebe darted her head away, unable to watch them any longer. When she did, Sirona was surveying her with narrowed eyes. Sirona was always particularly observant of her patrons.
“So, what can I get you both?” Sirona asked slowly, electing not to mention it, and Phoebe was eternally grateful.
“Two Butterbeers, please,” Samuel said.
When they had their drinks, Phoebe requested they sit upstairs because ‘heat rises’, neglecting to say it was because she couldn’t bear to be anywhere near the Slytherin and Gryffindor on their own ‘date’ downstairs.
Thus, they found a quaint table in a quiet corner of a landing that was only shared with two other small groups of villagers.
“Are you and Sallow all right with each other?” Samuel queried as he pulled out a seat for Phoebe.
“Of course we are!” Phoebe exclaimed, appreciatively sitting down, “why would we not be?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel inhaled as he sat in his own chair, clutching his Butterbeer and squinting at her, “Sirona also seemed confused by how little you two talked just then. I thought you were good friends? You were once inseparable, as I recall. Never did I see you without Sallow and Gaunt last year.”
“Oh, I can assure you Sebastian and I are just fine.” Phoebe fretted, wafting her free hand, “that was nothing, I saw him the other day. Guess we just didn’t have anything else to say!”
Samuel pursed his lips and acquiesced, “fair enough. Anyway, cheers!”
Phoebe lifted her Butterbeer to meet Samuel’s in the middle, “cheers!” She returned and took a hearty sip. It was sweet and delicious as usual.
“So,” Phoebe added once she wiped the foam off her upper lip, “when is the placement?”
Samuel Greengrass, being the overachiever and networker he was, had already secured a work experience placement at the Ministry of Magic. It was to be a two-week trial in the Minister’s office, and if he succeeded, a role would be granted when he graduated Hogwarts.
As if that wasn’t already guaranteed.
“January, would you believe it,” he said, “the Minister’s favourite Quidditch team is competing in February, so they had to bring it forward.”
“Well, at least it won’t get in the way of your N.E.W.T.s. Oh, it’ll be so exciting! To see what they’ll be working on… the Ministry has always been so elusive to me. Seems nothing like the Muggle government.”
In that witches could participate and vote, notably.
“Believe me, I don’t think I’ll be seeing the enthralling parts. It’ll be mostly office based.”
“Oh – so… what will you actually be doing then?”
“I imagine it’ll be all the boring stuff the Minister’s staffers can’t be bothered to do. Lots of errand running, letter sorting, appeasing the howlers from disgruntled officials, apparating around on ‘business’, whatever that entails.”
Phoebe frowned into her Butterbeer, “so you’re not allowed to do anything? Can they not get their letters themselves?”
“I’m sure they could, but that’s not the point. It’s not about the work, necessarily. I’ll get to see how it all functions at the very centre of magical, political power, and I can foster relations with those with influence.”
“Oh,” she nodded thoughtfully, “that does sound valuable. Political. Still, I think I’d prefer getting stuck into something meaty. Even if it’s at a desk.”
“I know you would,” Samuel huffed with a smile, “that’s why they need more people like you there. I imagine once I actually get a role, I can get ‘stuck in’, as you say,” he pursed his lips as he regarded Phoebe ruminatively. Leaning back, he tapped on the side of his Butterbeer glass, “speaking of which, where do you want to be after Hogwarts?”
Phoebe raised her eyebrows and glanced to the ceiling in thought. It was a topic she had stewed over ever since she arrived at Hogwarts. Her wishes were both clear and foggy, depending on what part of her future she deliberated on.
“Truthfully, it depends on my father.” Phoebe said, “I want to be where he is so I can find some help for his health condition and to give him a better life. I can only do that if I work in something that can allow that. I suppose the Ministry makes the most sense.”
“That’s what you have to do, what do you want to do?”
Phoebe opened and closed her mouth, channelling her confuddled thoughts into words. Embarrassedly, she admitted, “I don’t know. In truth, I spent my whole life hoping I wouldn’t have to work in the local factory when I turned fifteen. Back then, it was inevitable. But now that I have the opportunity to do anything, I’m frozen with choice. I don’t know how my marks and feats can be used, where I’d go, or if anyone will take me on. Given… who I am.”
“Considering all you’ve done; you’d struggle to not get a place in the Ministry.”
“Rubbish.”
“I’m being serious! Which department wouldn’t want to say they have the Hero of Hogwarts working for them? Especially the Auror Office. They’d snap you up in a second – I’ve seen the way Officer Crickerly regards you.”
Phoebe shook her head, “but I don’t want to be an Auror.”
“Understandable, given what you’ve been through. What about the Department of Mysteries?”
A career as an Unspeakable could be interesting. Researching ancient magic like Miriam…
Still, she shrugged, “honestly, I just want to contribute to something meaningful, like solving this goblin issue that I worsened. Or helping Muggles and muggleborns. Finding out ways life can just be better.”
Samuel’s face had a shadow of a moue, “Phoebe, you didn’t worsen the goblin issue. It was already festering for decades.”
Phoebe wafted a hand and sipped her Butterbeer, “either way, it remains an issue, and it seems as though no one is truly listening. Very few efforts have been put into discovering what they want and how it can be solved, do you know what I mean?”
Samuel sat back in his chair and smirked, “I think I know exactly what you mean.”
“Well, it all only matters if I make a good impression at the Yule Ball first.”
“And that you will,” Samuel said, and it touched Phoebe just how much he seemed to believe in her abilities. Perhaps he didn’t see her as merely an amusing muggleborn to mess around with. Like Titus. He envisioned her an ambitious future.
She smiled, and realised she was having a nice time also thinking about what she could be after Hogwarts.
✦
Upon returning to her dorm, Phoebe felt light and airy. It was almost ten o’clock, meaning she and Samuel had spent nearly five hours together just chatting. Primarily about the workings of the Ministry of Magic.
He walked her back to Hogwarts and bid her goodnight at the Grand Staircase. It was a remarkably sweet meeting, and she felt like her future was in safe hands with him. Her promise to her father would surely be kept if she could preserve Samuel’s interest in her. Maybe he could be healed and moved to the seaside within the year of her leaving Hogwarts…
And she was thankful Samuel departed without trying to make a move on her.
Each of her roommates’ bunks were drawn, apart from Samantha’s. She was with Garreth earlier on their own ‘date’. Phoebe suppressed a sniff not able to believe proud prefect Samantha Dale was out later than her.
Ambling over to the desk to greet Flora, who was not yet asleep, Phoebe noticed some letters in the perch with the barn owl sitting atop it.
Once Flora was happy, Phoebe sifted through them. Most were for her dormmates, but there were two for her. One was from her father, while the other was attached to a heavy parcel wrapped in newspaper. Muggle newspaper dated from October, curiously. She picked it out and casted Lumos minima.
It was only when she opened it did she realise who it was from. Almost choking out a gasp, Phoebe quickly read its contents.
Phoebe,
You nor Sebastian can help me. Nothing can be done, and that’s okay. Not everything can be solved. I’ve come to terms with this.
That’s why I’ve made the final decision to leave indefinitely.
Don’t come looking for me. Owls will no longer be able to reach my location, so don’t try. Just know I’m safe, and my condition has somewhat stabilised for the foreseeable. It’s a blessing I won’t take lightly.
I know you’ll be angry, but I just can’t bear coming back. It will kill me if I do.
It’s best you forget about me. This is the last and only time I’ll contact you to reiterate this. Don’t think ill of me for saying so – I’m still ever so grateful for your friendship. Despite it all, I think you came into our lives at the perfect time. I just wish we could have spent more time together under different circ*mstances.
Tell Sebastian I’m sorry, and I still love him.
Take care,
Anne
P.S. your book is enclosed. Thank you for lending it to me – I really enjoyed it.
Phoebe re-read the letter several times. Even by the final time, she still couldn’t believe it. Since the summer, she held out hope that Anne would come around and return. Especially after Phoebe’s own hopeful letter. Then they would all be okay.
With tears in her eyes, Phoebe clawed at the newspaper and unwrapped the book she once lent Anne. Emma. A Muggle book she loved.
Sebastian had to know. Flora croaked concernedly as Phoebe scrawled a letter requesting him to meet, and gave it to the owl on the perch, before sprinting out of the dorm. Anne’s letter in her pocket.
✦
The iron-gated door clanged as Phoebe sprinted into the Undercroft. It was dim, but she spied a shadow pacing near the back, so she made a beeline for it. Sebastian must have also dashed there upon reading her letter.
But, as she approached, she realised it wasn’t Sebastian at all. It was Ominis anxiously wandering back and forth in the gloom.
Phoebe stumbled as she slowed down, “Ominis?” She called out, and her voice echoed as he turned to face her. His wand began blinking red, “what are you doing here?”
“Phoebe, I- what?” He staggered for a moment. Then, he sighed and clenched his jaw. In barely a whisper, he said, “I think I know why you’re here, actually.”
Phoebe panted as she stalked towards him, shaking her head in puzzlement at that, but she couldn’t help blurting out her news.
“Anne wrote to me,” she declared, fishing out the letter and extending her arm to hand it to Ominis, “she said-”
“I know what she said,” Ominis despairingly interjected without taking the letter, which caused Phoebe to halt completely, “she told me.”
Phoebe stared at Ominis in disbelief, her arm still out, “what do you mean? What did she tell you?”
“The same as what is in your letter,” Ominis sniffled. His voice was strained as if he had been crying, “she said she would write to you. That she is never coming back.”
“But, but…” Phoebe’s arm finally dropped as she looked at Ominis in despondency. She truly couldn’t believe this was really happening, “she can’t. She’s ill and alone, out there. God knows where. We can’t let this happen.”
Ominis shook his head, “she’s not alone. She’s with people.”
Phoebe recoiled in confusion, “with who? She didn’t mention that in my letter.”
“She did in mine. We don’t need to worry that she’s not tended to. I’ve been assured she is.”
Phoebe was speechless for a moment. None of this made sense. Why would Anne disappear like this? Wishing to be gone without trace. She said she loved Sebastian still. Her only remaining family. Even if he killed Solomon, it didn’t add up that Anne wanted to live the rest of her shortened life without her twin. The person she came into the world with. Is this truly what she wanted?
And how did Ominis know so much?
Then, it clicked in Phoebe’s mind. The pieces of the puzzle which were Ominis’ words – here and in previous conversations – fell into place to complete the picture.
Phoebe scowled and in steady voice, she said, “you know where she is.”
Ominis was just as still as Phoebe, standing a metre away in brooding silence. He seemed to be weighing up whether to speak or not.
To Phoebe, this was the real test of their friendship. If Ominis was going to lie to her now, then she knew how he truly felt about her. If he trusted her at all.
“Somewhat,” he finally admitted.
Phoebe’s eye began to sting, “how long have you known?”
“Not long. A few weeks at most.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know her exact whereabouts, just that she’s not in the country.”
“Do you know roughly?”
“I have guesses based on certain words in her letters, but I don’t know for sure.”
“She’s been writing to you for weeks…” Phoebe scoffed, “and how long were you going to keep this a secret?”
Ominis was quiet again, so Phoebe stepped forward and shook Anne’s letter in her hands, “you’re not going to tell Sebastian how long you’ve known, are you?”
“Don’t,” he says in a sibilate. It was a short warning, but Phoebe ignored it.
“He should know. It’s his sister.”
“And I’m honouring his sister’s wishes to not be found,” Ominis said sternly, “Anne doesn’t trust Sebastian. She knows what he did to me to find her over the summer. She says he can’t know.”
“And what about you?” Phoebe whispered in an angry snarl, “do you think he doesn’t deserve to know?”
Ominis was silent again. That was enough of an answer.
“What about me?” Phoebe then asked. Her tone was more pitiful than she hoped, as if she were pleading for Ominis’ acceptance again, like in their fifth year, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Ominis knew he upset her even without her wobble, and in total contrast to how he acted with her when they first met, he tempered his voice, “I wanted to tell you, Phoebe, I really did. I just didn’t know if you would tell Sebastian.”
“I thought we promised not to keep secrets from each other.” She said, realising how she was just as bad as Ominis, as she tried to not look at where her ancient magic research was resting. She wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it until she found the coordinates in Isidora’s puzzle. But at least she was planning to tell them. At some point. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“Things are complicated between you and Sebastian. I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard from Anne, but she asked me not to. I also didn’t know if you would go to him immediately without a second thought,” Ominis said in a strained voice.
“Do you even know me?!”
“This could break him completely if we’re not careful.”
“It’ll break him more to hear you were hiding it from him,” Phoebe seethed in newfound rage, “you and Anne are treating him like a child. I even have for far too long, but he’s not. He’s more than capable of taking responsibility for his actions and not spiralling like he did in the summer. We made the choice not to send him to Azkaban. To rekindle our friendships instead on the basis of forgiveness. Under the condition that he would change. We should be helping him, yet we’re here discussing whether he should know vital information about his own family.”
“Sebastian murdered Solomon,” Ominis countered, baring his teeth so much that air slipped through, akin to a Parseltongue hiss, “his family. He used all three Unforgivable Curses and drove Anne away in her condition.”
“Sebastian only killed Solomon to protect me,” Phoebe practically shouted, “he saved me. He saved Anne from that goblin. Saved us from perishing in the scriptorium, and we continue to treat him like a monster for it.”
The other night, she realised her nightmares about Sebastian and the catacomb were a message to herself. For the longest time, she fretted that her oldest friend at Hogwarts was a bad person. A Dark wizard in the making. But throughout it all, she neglected the truth – that Sebastian was just a boy who just wanted to save his sister. Not only that, but his friend that his uncle had attacked so violently, she was incapacitated on the floor.
“You felt the gashes on my back. Healed them,” Phoebe continued, stalking forwards and articulating passionately with her hands, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if he didn’t take such ultimatums, who knows what would have happened to us. Solomon had no qualms attacking not only me, but his own nephew. His family, as you say. Sebastian was cornered and did what he thought he needed to save us.”
“Phoebe…” Ominis shook his head, unable to find the words he was seeking.
“Sebastian wronged you. I know he did, and I can’t begin to imagine how Anne feels, but we can’t keep punishing him like this when we said he would have the chance to make things right. Now that Anne won’t return, he needs us. We can’t proclaim we’re his friends as we did in your common room if we treat him like this. It’s not fair.”
Phoebe was out of breath by the end of her impassioned speech. She was close to tears as she watched Ominis. Hoping and pleading with the universe to let him hear her reason. That this wouldn’t break the friendship they had all been fighting to win back.
She wouldn’t be able to bear it if this irrevocably shattered everything again, no matter how complicated the trio’s relationships had become.
“I don’t know how you keep doing it, but… I-I think I can understand where you’re coming from,” Ominis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He stewed on Phoebe’s words, before he hung his head low, “perhaps I have still been holding a grudge against him. It is wrong of me to proclaim friendship only to subvert him. I still want to be his friend, but I just… I want them both to be happy, and that can only happen if we oblige Anne’s wishes. I hope, one day, Sebastian will see that.”
“We don’t need to wait, I think the day is already here,” Phoebe said staunchly, “he needs to know. We can’t be gatekeepers of his life.”
Ominis nodded slowly, “yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll tell him. He’s out at the moment, so when he gets back I will… he’s with Oggspire, you know-”
“I know.” Phoebe swallowed, not wanting to think about that, “Ominis, I’m sorry if I’ve given you reason to distrust me. Are we all right?”
“No, I understand now I was wrong to not tell you sooner. I’m sorry.”
At that, Phoebe ran and embraced Ominis. Desperately needing his comfort. She hated their conflicts, especially when she relied on him more than anyone else. For a moment, she worried she was losing him.
Though, she didn’t know, but Ominis also depended on Phoebe the most.
“We cannot begin to see each other as adversaries. We’re what matters,” Ominis continued as he squeezed her shoulders while her head rested on his chest, “I just hope we can get through this.”
“Anne won’t be gone forever,” Phoebe declared in a bout of optimism, “you’re right, she needs her time and space, then she will come back.”
Ominis exhaled shakily, and the elongated pause made her transient hopefulness seem juvenile.
Reality hit her again. She was too late. The fear of her own ability meant she might not have the chance to try to remove Anne’s curse. She let down Anne, Sebastian and Ominis, and she would hold onto that forever.
Because of her, another loved one will die.
Before Ominis could respond, Phoebe pulled away.
“I’m going to head to bed,” she said, backing away so Ominis couldn’t hear her breathlessness. The ringing in her ears started, “are you okay if I go?”
She knew she could cry in front of Ominis, but she desperately needed to be alone. The guilt seized her like an iron fist around her chest, and she feared she wouldn’t be a good confidant to him in her current state.
As understanding as ever, Ominis nodded lowly, “of course. Send me an owl if you need me.”
✦
Phoebe reviled that she was crying so uncontrollably as she passed through Hogwarts’ halls. This was the worst thing to happen since Professor Fig’s death, and she couldn’t return to her dorm. Her roommates didn’t know Anne was missing, and she was too exhausted to conjure a good reason for her sour mood.
After sneaking past some prefects, Phoebe slipped through the doors out to the Flying Class Lawn. She decided she needed a walk to calm down. The winter air could quell the overwhelming fire rumbling in the pit of her stomach.
Wrapping her arms around herself, clutching at her body, Phoebe lowered her head and let the sobs out louder now the wind concealed them. Pitifully, she staggered down the path, still somewhat shrouded by the Disillusionment Charm in case any professors or Ministry officials were lurking. The last thing she needed were more questions about why she was leaving the castle practically in the wee hours of the night.
“Oh, Anne…” she let tumble out in a blubber as she walked past the broom cupboard. For fleeting moment, she considered stealing a broom to fly somewhere else, far away from the castle and its inhabitants. Maybe she’d stumble upon Isidora’s ‘house on the beach’ and would magically find Anne there and the cure for her curse.
She decided against it, however, as she trundled further up the path, her boots crunching on fresh snow, towards the Beasts classroom. It was an illogical thought.
The self-hatred really developed when she left Hogwarts’ grounds to head towards the forest, deep into the treeline. The Disillusionment Charm finally wore off as her concentration slipped.
All this waiting and research and tip toeing around ancient magic was for nothing. She was naïve when she last spoke to the Keepers. She should have demanded they tell her all they knew. Because, realistically, what would they have done? They had already shown her the repository, and they were paintings. They couldn’t stop her if she were to go back down to that enormous sphere of pain. Maybe that’s all she needed. To absorb its power….
Phoebe shook her head and pressed her fingers to her eyes as she stood atop a hill before a clearing. Gritting her teeth, she loudly cursed herself for all she had done, and for all she hadn’t.
Then, when her lungs burned from the expulsion of her dark thoughts, she let her arms hang by her sides, and she pried her heavy eyes open.
In a moonbeam, Phoebe beheld Noctua Gaunt’s grave. Despite the snowfall earlier, the sky that night had miraculously cleared, and she could make out the engravings on the headstone. An epitaph once carved out by Sebastian.
Noctua Gaunt
2nd May 1868 - October 1885
Beloved aunt
Snow thickly coated the ground, but Phoebe knew the frozen grass underneath now covered the grave completely. Enough time had passed since they recovered Noctua’s remains from Slytherin’s scriptorium, and Ominis laid her to rest here.
Phoebe couldn’t have saved Noctua Gaunt, but she couldn’t help picturing what Anne’s grave might look like. Would it be a simple headstone laid next to her parents in Carlisle? It was likely, now that she clearly, to Phoebe, wanted a quiet death.
You let her down.
Another blubber escaped Phoebe’s lips as she hung her head low. At least she knew she was right - that the black dog of death would be at her heel forever.
Just as Phoebe was contemplating how she would explain her dishevelled appearance to her dormmates, something stirred in the woods.
Phoebe’s head shot up out of her hands fearfully to where the sound originated. Hastily, she thrusted her hand in her pocket to withdraw her wand.
Behind the treeline, it was as black as oblivion, and she couldn’t discern anything.
Slowly, she stood defensively with her wand outstretched, willing her ancient magic pool in her fingertips, and hoping it wasn’t an Ashwinder lurking.
However, the crunching continued, until a large, white shape formed; stomping into the moonlight. With each step, it was clear it was no witch or wizard, but a beast. A familiar one at that.
“Highwing,” Phoebe uttered, lowering her wand arm instantly as she beheld the magnificent Hippogriff Poppy once saved from a poacher camp, “what are you doing up at this time?”
Highwing squawked in return. Her wings were flat against her body, but Phoebe still bowed to make sure the Hippogriff was comfortable with her presence. It had been a long while since she last saw them.
Carefully, Phoebe approached Highwing and gave her some hearty pats on the neck as a greeting, to which she leaned in for her beak to also get a scratch. Phoebe obliged and found herself smiling at the simple charm of the encounter. Despite the towering, and to others, intimidating presence of the beast, the atmosphere was suddenly calming.
“How did you know I was here?” Phoebe asked, “was it my pathetic sobbing?”
Highwing vibrated, so Phoebe took that as a ‘yes’. Then, Highwing shook Phoebe’s hand off and bowed her head, lowering her body into a stoop.
Phoebe stepped back, puzzled, “what are you doing?”
Highwing shrieked and flapped her wings slightly, dropping herself even more.
Then, Phoebe understood, “seriously? Well, if you’re offering. I’ve nothing better to do.”
At that, Phoebe gently clambered up Highwing’s side and planted herself firmly on the Hippogriff’s back. Weaving her fingers through the thick feathers, she held on tightly as they cantered through the clearing and took flight. Leaving Noctua to her rest.
Phoebe had not flown in such a long time. Now she was an upper year, and had proved herself on a broom, it was no longer mandatory to take flying lessons. But, she had forgotten just how exhilarating it was to fly on the back of a magnificent beast. Unbridled and free.
While they soared over the Forbidden Forest, Phoebe flung her head back and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. The bitter air nipping at her face dried any tears still set on her cheeks. Without a scarf or proper coat, it was severely cold, but she welcomed the bite. Her body had become too hot with her festering guilt, and under the half-moon, she finally felt alive.
And that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?
For a while, Highwing seemingly flew around aimlessly, taking Phoebe on a tour around the Highlands. She remembered many of the sights and hamlets from her time searching for Keepers’ trials and Isidora’s secret offices. Here, she viewed it all like it was a dollhouse, and she was just an observer from above. As if none of what happened below really mattered, and she was the master of her own fate.
Highwing didn’t let that fantasy last, because suddenly, she dived. Phoebe flung herself forward to hold on firmly as they descended below a treeline of a forest several miles from Hogwarts. She caught a glimpse of the distant castle’s warm light before it disappeared behind a mass of dark branches.
In a stretch, Highwing landed and galloped to a halt, circling some trees until she stopped completely, ruffling her feathered wings and stomping on the snow-laden ground.
“Thanks, Highwing. I needed that,” Phoebe said as she dismounted. Her boots crushed loudly under the crisp forest floor, “are you going to leave me stranded here, or can I have a little walk?”
Highwing flung her head and squawked, heavily curling her legs under herself as she dropped to the ground. She rolled sideways, as if lying in the snow was akin to being in a feather-stuffed bed.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Phoebe chuckled, “I’ll tell Poppy if you leave without me.”
Highwing purred gleefully and Phoebe wholeheartedly believed she wouldn’t have to be employing her rudimentary apparating magic that night.
So, she casted lumos and took a walk. Slowly, through the unknown forest. She didn’t know why Highwing decided to land here of all places – it was utterly unremarkable – but she enjoyed the isolation. The true solitude, away from everything.
It was tricky to keep the demons from resurfacing, however. With each step into the darkness, the internal abyss that was her grief and guilt ruptured and puckered at the seams. Phoebe accepted it – her soul would be affected for a long while as a result of this.
So, she stewed on her thoughts for an unaccountable amount of time as she trundled through the unfamiliar forest.
That was before she was, once again, interrupted.
“Ouch!” Phoebe yelped as her foot stubbed into something unforgivably hard. She doubled over, clutching at her boot, which was freezing to the touch.
When she was on the ground, while cursing the throbbing in her toes, her wand’s light caught sight of what harmed her.
A mere book bag.
Frowning, Phoebe bobbed forwards to get a better look. It was soft brown leather, like all those at Hogwarts, and packed with tomes. Interestingly, a beaten-up broom, certainly from the broom cupboard, laid beside it, propped up against a tree.
Curiously, Phoebe opened the book bag. No one was around, so she felt safe in her snooping. It was clearly a students’, but who would be out this far? Apart from her, of course.
Inside, there were three textbooks. Restricted section texts.
Goosebumps flared on Phoebe’s arms as she removed them. Piled on top of each other, she read the titles.
The Book of Spells, Moste Potente Potions, and Inside the mind of a Cursebreaker: lessons learnt in the sky and field.
No books on the Dark Arts.
Phoebe stuffed them back into the bag and shot to stand up, swivelling in a circle to see if the owner was nearby.
Alas, they were not, but she had an inkling of who it belonged to.
All thoughts of doom washed away as she stalked forwards, wand outstretched, to scour the darkness for the wizard sharing the same obscure woods with her.
She didn’t see any person, but she definitely saw something out the corner of her eye.
In the distance, a ghostly glow coruscated. Effulgently weaving through the trees. It almost looked like traces of ancient magic by its paleness. Surely it wasn’t, but it was undoubtedly magic.
With no inhibitions, because she was unquestionably a Ravenclaw, Phoebe advanced on the spectre. Stumbling over twigs and troughs obscured by the snow and intertwining through the forest. Hoping she wasn’t straying too far from Highwing.
It was further away than expected, and during the time she spent clambering for the light, it ebbed in and out of view several times, until it disappeared just as Phoebe reached a glade.
She stopped still.
Before her, suspended in moonlight, was a pond. A little body of water glittering in the feeble light, surrounded by densely packed trees of pine and ash.
And most notably, a herd of Thestrals.
Immediately, Phoebe extinguished her light, plunging her world into darkness. The dozen or so tenebrific beasts milled in leisure, despite the abrupt entrance of the young witch.
The last time Phoebe had seen Thestrals was when she was atop the Astronomy Tower with Ominis. When several flew over the Forbidden Forest. However, she hadn’t been this close to one since she was with Sebastian.
As before, Phoebe was infused with a sense of peace by the nostalgic scene before her. Gazing upon these beasts, which were so often associated with tragedy, always made her tranquil. Especially as they grazed by the bank with three foals frolicking between their parents. The adults had their heads raised in her general direction but were undisturbed. She had witnessed death, so she was worthy.
Phoebe smiled wistfully, before realising that this herd weren’t the only guests.
Once again, she spied the spectre she had been following in her peripheral vision. Slowly, as to not spook it, Phoebe turned her head.
It was a Thestral. Luminescent. As bright as daylight.
Enveloped in brilliant light, the unearthly beast treaded towards her silently.
Phoebe was rooted to the spot, entranced. Effectively, it was a spirit, the opposite of the herd across the pond. Aimlessly wandering its own world.
Speechless, Phoebe respectfully observed while it plodded right in front of her. As it passed, she inhaled the raw magic radiating from it. Vitalising and tremendous.
Eyes following, she watched the crepuscular being tread further into the clearing. Unaware of the witch admiring it.
That’s when Phoebe realised she and the Thestrals were not alone. There was a wizard amongst them. Standing by a tree several metres away.
Phoebe stilled when she beheld him.
It was Sebastian. One hand on the tree that obscured half of his body, leaning forward and looking at her as if she were a ghost.
Phoebe had her suspicions about who the book bag belonged to, but she still wasn’t prepared to find Sebastian all the way out there. Especially not when she had seen him so jovial in the Three Broomsticks earlier that day.
Phoebe was frozen, wide-eyed and jaw ajar as the spectral Thestral cantered towards Sebastian. Stopping beside him and swaying its head.
By its maker.
So, this is where Sebastian was going all those nights he was sneaking away from his dorm. All those times he was worrying Ominis. He was seeking solitude, and this is where he found his patronus.
A Thestral, Phoebe thought as her lip curled up in wonder, how fitting.
Phoebe adored her patronus – a bloodhound. An unwaveringly loyal and curious dog renowned for seeking out lost Muggles. But it didn’t compare to Sebastian’s.
And here she was, by chance, witnessing Sebastian and his spectacular patronus, with yet another tear surging down her cheek.
“Sebastian,” she choked out, “what are you doing here?”
Sebastian was silent, as if he was struck wordless. In the murkiness, his dark features were masked almost completely, but Phoebe could still discern his surprise.
It was a dream. It had to be. Yet, Phoebe knew it wasn’t. Her dreams were too often plagued by the macabre; torturous manifestations of her worst decisions and failures.
But the sight before her was beautiful. It reminded her of the time Sebastian brought her to observe another herd of Thestrals during their fifth year. Where they divulged the fates of their parents, and when they realised Phoebe became a witch the same day Anne was cursed. The summer solstice.
They had been watching each other in disbelief for what felt like an eon. Sebastian was still quiet, so Phoebe spoke again.
“You’ve got your patronus,” she stated, once again revering the stunning embodiment of a Thestral that stood loyally by Sebastian’s side, “I told Ominis that it would be a snake, but this is… remarkably well suited.”
At that, Sebastian emerged from behind the tree to stand in the glade. Closer to his spectral guardian. He still didn’t utter a word.
“I’m happy for you,” she added, but the reality of what she had learned just an hour earlier struck her and plunged her into horrendous sorrow. And, unfortunately, Sebastian had to know, and would have to share the despair.
She hoped this would be the last time.
“Sebastian,” she enunciated to the clearing. The herd of Thestrals all lifted their heads as tears rampaged down her cheeks, “Anne isn’t coming back.”
Sebastian was unmoving. In the dimness, she couldn’t make out any minutia in facial expressions, but she did see his arms go rigid by his side.
“I am so, utterly sorry to tell you this, but she said she doesn’t want to be found,” Phoebe continued, “she’s safe somewhere, but asked us not to look for her.”
Fishing in her pocket for Anne’s letter, Phoebe retrieved it. Silently conjuring depulso, she transported it right into Sebastian’s outstretched hands.
Unfurling the crumpled paper, he read the letter under the light of his patronus that now illuminated his face. The whole prose of Anne asking not to be found, and that she was safe. Asking Phoebe to tell Sebastian she still loved him.
Phoebe’s heart broke watching Sebastian go through the emotions she did just mere hours earlier. This was his twin. The relationship he corrupted. Yet, when Phoebe observed him, she saw no fault in the man across the glade.
If Anne could see the progress he made, perhaps she wouldn’t have made such an ultimatum.
“You know, sometimes I wish we could just fly away from here,” Phoebe snorted a short laugh, “on Highwing,” she jerked her head back, “or maybe a Thestral, to some unvisited land where we pretend we have never known pain.”
She knew that wasn’t possible, but it was nice to think about.
Sebastian’s head lifted from the letter. Even with the light of the patronus, she couldn’t tell if he was upset or angry. Both, she imagined.
Sebastian remained mute. She understood. She had no siblings, but the agony of this reality must be unbearable.
Smelling the rich scent of the trees and looking back over to the quietly observing Thestrals, Phoebe knew she had overstayed her welcome.
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said finally, not hiding the pain in her voice, “for Anne, and because we can both see Thestrals.”
Another pause. Just say it.
“There’s always a seat at my table for you.” She then said. And she meant it.
There was no mistaking how Sebastian’s head lifted at that, and how his patronus stirred.
“Ominis will be there when you return tonight,” Phoebe sighed, turning back to the forest, back in the direction of Highwing, and returned Sebastian to his solitude.
✦
✦ Present day, 23rd December 1891 ✦
“You and Mister Greengrass were rather splendid out there,” Venusia Crickerly, the Head of the Auror office said, swirling her glass of port casually.
“I do believe that was Miss Honeyball’s debut into wizarding society, of sorts,” Eulalie Trout, the not-so discreet Unspeakable, added, “for those that still care about all that.”
“Nonsense – her debut would have been when she became known to the world as the Hero of Hogwarts.”
“Hm,” Eulalie tapped her lip in thought before peering down through her eccentric glasses, “Miss Honeyball, what do you regard as more of a debut?”
Phoebe glanced between the witches with a raised eyebrow, almost missing her cue to speak. This was perhaps the sixth conversation she had been forced to endure without the supervision of Professor Weasley and Hecat. The exceptional excitement of the Yule Ball was surely waning the longer she was separated from her friends to discuss wizarding politics and current affairs with those that didn’t care so much for her response. All topics she loved, but it was Christmas – could she not discuss this with Samantha or Ominis or someone else while dancing?
Because Phoebe was effectively regarded as an ingenue in a group of older witches and wizards with extensive life experience, she was rarely permitted to speak. When she tried, she was often talked over or disregarded, until the topic of her feat came up, then she had to re-tell the tale all over again.
At least this conversation didn’t involve her having to justify her distinctly Muggle upbringing, like with the Durmstrang Headmaster. It was some mercy that Ervin Sapping, the scary Ministry official that attempted legilimency on her, was mysteriously missing. He didn’t seem the type for parties, to be fair.
“Well,” Phoebe cleared her throat, “it depends on what criteria debuting requires.”
“It’s your first formal entrance into society,” Venusia described, “a way to present yourself to the public for the first time. Which, in my humble opinion, your profile in the Daily Prophet last year certainly did just that.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t her first appearance,” Eulalie tutted, “coming out requires a reception. There was no reception for that article.”
“Is this regarded as other witches’ debuts?” Phoebe questioned.
“Many of the witches here already had their debuts.” Eulalie said, “at parties while at home, as is often customary. Do Muggles not have them?”
Phoebe went to speak and quickly shut her mouth. Of course, rich Muggles held elaborate receptions for the debuts of their children. She read as much in Little Women. But no one in her village had one; there was no point. If she were to still be there, she would have turned fifteen with the expectation that she would go out to work and contribute to the family. Like Emma currently does.
There was little use for young girls in her sphere of the world to have coming out parties – they weren’t going to be ladies.
It was obvious to Phoebe why she shouldn’t disclose that about her past. Being Muggle was hard enough, but a poor Muggle? If they couldn’t tell from her Daily Prophet profile, then she wasn’t going to remind them.
“They do, but I came here before I had a chance to have my own.” She lied. “So, I guess this is my ‘official’ one, of sorts. Though, I do agree with Miss Crickerly – I felt the most observed after my name was printed in the newspaper.”
Venusia smirked victoriously while Eulalie just sighed in defeat. Phoebe knew there were rivalries in the Ministry, much like at Hogwarts, but it was interesting to see how they all operated in person.
“So,” Eulalie began, crossing her arms over her bright purple robes. Phoebe knew what the Unspeakable wanted to discuss, and she braced herself for it, “how did you find that chamber-?”
“Apologies for interrupting,” Samuel interjected as he poked his head in between Phoebe and Venusia. “May I steal Miss Honeyball?”
Phoebe’s skin heated through her glove as Samuel gently held her elbow; already guiding her away from the conversation. She was silently thankful she didn’t have to be grilled about Ranrok – she already had three drinks, and her cognitive abilities were beginning to wane in place of bold creativity, which would not be helpful in this case.
Though, she knew she couldn’t escape questioning forever. One day, she would be examined, and she had to be ready.
Venusia and Eulalie appeared irritated at the intrusion at first, before relenting in letting Samuel take Phoebe away. After bidding her farewell, they quickly huddled together to whisper something to each other.
Phoebe desperately wanted to overhear, but Samuel had moved his hand from her elbow to her back and was leaning down to whisper.
“Sorry to keep dragging you here, there and everywhere,” he said, “but your presence was requested.”
“Again?” Phoebe tried not to groan, “who is it now?”
All Phoebe wanted was to be with her friends. Up on the dais, where the professors usually sat at feasts, she looked out at the festive Great Hall with a pout on her face.
Nearby was Samantha, Garreth, Constance, Sophronia, Amit, Everett, Leander and Lenora in a group by one of the candlelit tables on the floor. Drinks in hand, they were laughing and chatting. Some were dancing to the merry music, while others were having hushed conversations.
Out on the dancefloor, Natty and Emile were slow dancing, gazing into each other’s eyes. As were Nerida Roberts and Andrew Larson, but with much less infatuation. In complete contrast, the Gryffindor ‘friends’ duo of Lucan Brattleby and Audrey Dagworth were spinning in speedy circles, gleefully giggling with toothy grins. Mauve and Hector were similarly jovial, certainly because he also consumed some dance-some-more.
It all looked like so much fun. It was probably a solace she couldn’t spy Sebastian and Ominis amongst the dense crowd, then she’d be truly despondent about being up there.
“The headmaster, Mister Potter, Professor Juniper… and-” Samuel said.
“But I’ve already spoken to them.”
“And someone from the Ministry I’d like you to meet.”
Phoebe pulled a befuddled face. Yes, there were even more members of the Ministry there – invited by the headmaster – but did she have to meet them all?
Like a petulant child, she was practically dragged to the other side of the stage to a huddle of people, tightly standing shoulder to shoulder with large glasses of wizarding sherry in their hands.
Samuel could see her frustration and vanishing concentration, so he added, “this will be the last one, I promise. But you’ll be glad of it after. Think of it like a symposium for now.”
“If you say so. I just want to see everyone else.”
“Soon, soon.” Samuel whispered before straightening at the huddle and enunciating, “evening all.”
The wizards parted and beamed upon seeing Samuel, allowing him and Phoebe entry to their little circle comprising of all the people Samuel mentioned, and…
Remarkably, Ominis and Poppy were there. Phoebe tried to not look surprised, but when were they pulled up here?
“Good evening, and Merry Christmas,” Phoebe said, sharing a jolly smile of acknowledgement with Poppy – who appeared just as displaced as Phoebe – before nodding to each of the wizards. Most returned the gesture, apart from Professor Black, who always seemed to sneer at her.
Oh, how thankful she was that Asterius was not there. Not when she, Samuel and Ominis were in such close proximity.
Ominis, mercifully, was in no danger by being partnered with Poppy. While she wouldn’t be the Gaunt’s preference, she was undoubtedly pure-blooded.
At Phoebe’s entrance, Ominis’ straight and stoic face eased just a tad. She wished she could be there to pat him thrice on the arm. She knew he hated conversations with wizards who only saw him as a Gaunt.
“Good evening, Miss Honeyball,” Ominis returned, “glad you decided to join us.”
Using her surname so they don’t see how close they are. Smart.
Phoebe beamed, internally enjoying the feigned cordiality, “as am I, Master Gaunt. Miss Sweeting.”
Finally, friendly faces.
“Phoebe, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to,” Samuel gestured to a man standing opposite, next to Poppy. “This is Professor Cromwell. Of the Ministry.”
Phoebe’s eyebrows rose in shock as she regarded the man.
Professor Colin Cromwell. An official in the Auror Office and the head of the new Research Unit. A wizard at the very heart of the Ministry, with connections to the Minister, and leaders of magical governments across Europe.
And, most importantly, he stanchly defended Phoebe’s status in a Daily Prophet article when she did not receive an Order of Merlin.
“Ah!” Professor Cromwell grinned and bowed politely to Phoebe. “If it isn’t the witch herself. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He was a tall and lanky man, even taller than Ominis. In a fine brown suit and a lopsided bowler hat on top of his sleek grey hair. He must have been firmly in his forties, by the small collection of wrinkles on his long, bird-like face. He looked like a London gentleman with his fashionable moustache.
“Oh, I know who you are, sir. The pleasure is all mine,” Phoebe returned, “I must thank you for your kind words about me.”
Professor Cromwell waved his arm dismissively, “it was no matter, what I said I believe to be true. You must get this all the time, but what you did to save the school was truly extraordinary. You rarely see guts like it.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe blushed. Somehow, this praise of her title was vastly superior. Samuel, Poppy and Ominis was similarly grinning at it. Henry Potter nodded thoughtfully, while Professor Juniper seemed expressionless.
Professor Black lightly groaned, but Phoebe barely noticed it. A probing thought seized her.
“I apologise, but I must ask. Are you related to the Cromwells, such as Thomas and Oliver?”
As soon as Phoebe asked, she was surrounded by confused faces. Even Poppy’s smile dropped as she asked, “who?”
That’s when Phoebe realised the error of her ways. She mentioned Muggles in front of certain wizards who loathed them. Cromwell might have defended her as a muggleborn, but he might also despise Muggles. Even ones as prominent as them. Quickly, she tried to detract from her comment, “I-I mean, that’s probably absurd. It's likely a coincidence-”
“A fellow historian!” Cromwell grinned and interrupted her, “from my knowledge, the Cromwells diverted into two households hundreds of years ago. Two brothers: one a wizard, one a Squib. I descend from the wizard, and the figures you speak of are of the other brother.” Cromwell glanced at the vacant faces of the group, “she’s referring to men who drastically altered the course of Muggle history. Ever heard of the English civil war or the English Reformation?”
“I know of both, of course.” Henry Potter said, impishly smiling at Phoebe.
“As do I,” Professor Black added haughtily.
“So, Oliver Cromwell knew of magic?!” Phoebe asked.
“Unlikely the former Lord Protector knew. But Thomas? There wasn’t as much of a separation between Muggles and wizardkind when the Tudors were in power. That all changed by Oliver’s time, a hundred or so years later.”
“Thank Merlin for that,” Professor Black said under his breath.
“Must have been an enthralling time in wizarding-Muggle relations,” Samuel pondered.
“Well, it is still certainly captivating to know there was such a possibility.” Phoebe gleamed at Cromwell, “it is a wonder to think about how different it was in those times.”
“Yes… my, such a curious mind you have,” Cromwell mused, tapping a finger on his sherry, “I hear from Professor Juniper here that your O.W.L. results exceeded even Outstanding. Remarkable for how little time you’ve been at Hogwarts.”
“Brightest witch of her age, they say,” Potter chimed in.
“I expect your N.E.W.T.s will tell a similar story of your brightness, if they say that in addition to being the hero you are. I hope to continue hearing of your feats, Miss Honeyball.” Cromwell added, and Phoebe tried not to grin stupidly at the praise. She regretted ever being rude to Samuel for bringing her over.
Even Ominis was smiling brightly.
“I can assure you, Professor, there will be no more impudence from Miss Honeyball.” Professor Black interposed, “her days of parading around the country with goblins and certain careless wizards are over.” He subtly glared down at Phoebe, “she’s the picture of a genteel witch now, aren’t you?”
Phoebe shrugged, “that depends on what is expected of me. It seems to change daily, but I do aspire to be a gentlemanly witch.”
Both Samuel and Ominis snorted at that, which was quickly masked as coughing while Professor Black boiled between them.
“Anyway, we have much more distinguished talent here at Hogwarts,” Professor Black continued, “you already know of Master Greengrass, but take Master Gaunt here, for example. He ranks first in his year – four places higher than Miss Honeyball.”
Ominis ceased coughing and straightened his back.
“Ah, yes,” Professor Cromwell’s voice tempered, and his face lost its previous jollity, “I’m sure you also have an exalted future ahead. As Gaunts often do.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ominis replied. His face hardening.
“I’m sure he’s heading to greatness, just like his brother,” Professor Black remarked, “even Marvolo didn’t grace the top ten table.”
Phoebe suppressed her grimace. She had never met Marvolo Gaunt, but she hated him.
Professor Cromwell similarly seemed perturbed by the mention of Marvolo. Ominis’ older brother was apparently prominent in wizarding high society, so Cromwell was probably well acquainted with him. Unfortunately, by the looks of it.
“I wonder why,” Cromwell said, with an expression like he was tasting something sour, “regardless of exam results, you lot still find your way to status.”
“Soon the Gaunts will be taking over the Ministry. Once Master Gaunt here joins, they’ll assemble an army,” Henry Potter bellowed a laugh.
“I’m sure they’ve wanted that for some time,” Professor Cromwell added with a sidelong look at Ominis.
Phoebe looked at Ominis as it sadly clicked in her head. He might be a pureblood wizard but is also a Gaunt. His connection to Salazar Slytherin and his ability to speak Parseltongue meant he might as well sh*t gold to some families. But, to others, he is effectively a spawn of evil. The Gaunt’s odious reputation was founded in reality, but Ominis couldn’t be more unlike his family, yet he can’t escape the association. Ominis knew it too as he took the jokes silently.
“Now, would that be so bad?” Black proposed. “A permanent government of the right wizards?”
“Terribly bad, sir,” Phoebe blurted, unable to stand the turn the conversation took. Politeness was lost as soon as they lumped Ominis in with his heinous family, “what about hard fought democracy? That would be revert us back to the sordid days of subjugation. I doubt many would agree, and surely not all the Gaunts. A-and others.”
Professor Black was horrified at her outburst, and she recoiled her body somewhat from him, and further into Samuel, “Manners, Miss Honeyball! Know your place and when to speak. This is not a matter for you,” he scoffed, before turning back to Cromwell, Juniper and Potter, “anyway, I dare say Spavin is getting soft in his old age. Letting all sorts of rabble into his inner circle. Not you Cromwell, of course. Perhaps a unified government of the most prominent wizarding families might provide the iron fist to solve the ever- mounting issues facing wizardkind. Even a coalition to inform him. I daren’t give Muggles too much credit, but something akin to their House of Lords, say. You would like that, wouldn’t you Master Gaunt?” He turned to Ominis, “you’d certainly want to partake. Solidify our great families’ influence over matters of importance?”
By prominent, he certainly meant pure. Samuel subtly peered down concernedly at Phoebe, as she seethed. She looked between Professor Black and Ominis, who was growing visibly more uncomfortable as time progressed. Poppy could sense it too, as she clutched onto his arm tightly, eyes narrowed at the headmaster.
The day when Ominis could became a Sallow couldn’t come sooner.
“I’m sure my family will attempt such endeavours, regardless of my input. It’s not like our families don’t already have influence, as you put it,” Ominis said with calm sternness and with a not-so subtle underlayer of scorn. “Now, if you excuse me, Miss Sweeting and I are overdue a dance. Good night to you all.”
With that, Ominis curtly bowed to the group and led Poppy away gently. His wand lifting and blinking. Poppy, nodded, too, and flashed an apologetic look Phoebe’s way for leaving her with these men.
“Very well,” Professor Black said, seemingly unknowing of how he upset Ominis, “good night.”
Samuel patted Ominis on his shoulder on his way out. Phoebe desperately wanted to also pat him thrice to comfort him as she usually would. But she worried how it might cause trouble later if Black or the other Ministry officials saw. They all knew Marvolo…
“Anyway, thoughts? What about you, Master Greengrass?” Professor Black asked when Ominis and Poppy were gone. Phoebe watched the pair walk to the dancefloor and embrace each other for another waltz. It was reassuring to see their smiles return.
But where was Sebastian? She wondered as she looked out to crowd.
“You know me, sir,” Samuel said confidently, “I’ll be getting involved regardless.”
Professor Black hmphed, but he appeared satisfied with that answer.
“By your accomplishments as headmaster, I’m sure overseeing the Ministry would be no skin off your back,” Henry Potter said, lightly snorting into his drink. Professor Juniper stifled a smile as Phoebe reluctantly returned to the conversation.
Professor Black didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm, either, “you’re too kind. Anyway, that was all discourse, nothing of true substance. Though, I do think there is some merit to such a system. Will you propose elements to the Minister, Cromwell?”
“I’ll ensure it’s conveyed to him, one way or another,” Cromwell bowed lightly, before he returned to regarding Phoebe, “so, Miss Honeyball, tell me, what are your interests? Do any extend beyond history?”
Phoebe’s face brightened at that. With a small glance to Samuel, who was smiling encouragingly, she told Professor Cromwell her interests. From history to researching magical theories. Even her thoughts about goblinkind. A great improvement to her mood followed, even if Professor Black remained sneering.
✦
After another half an hour conversing, Phoebe finally found an opening to depart the stage. Giving Samuel a little wave, she left him to speak with Professor Cromwell, Henry Potter and Professor Juniper. Mercifully, Professor Black left the conversation to speak with the Durmstrang headmaster shortly after his dreadful pureblood government proposal.
Not giving anyone on the stage eye contact in case they called her for another conversation, Phoebe practically sprinted for the stairs and descended into the fray that was the students partying on the floor.
Immediately, she was flanked by her dormmates and Garreth, who surely had been waiting for this moment to yank her further into the crowd.
“Great Merlin, Pheebs,” Samantha exclaimed when they were firmly away from the front of the Hall and had found a quiet table to the wings, “you were there for ages.”
“Two hours, to be exact,” Sophronia said, “it’s almost 9 o’clock! How could they keep you for that long?”
“Almost half the ball!” Garreth added with a smirk; he enjoyed adding something to the curious Ravenclaws’ questioning.
“You looked like a proper socialite up there,” Constance added, jumping up and down. “What did they talk to you about, anyway? Tell us!”
So many questions, but Phoebe could put up with it for her friends.
She snorted at Constance’s comment then disclosed, “what we expected - my upbringing, what Muggles do, what happened with Ranrok. Nothing particularly exciting, except I met one of the Minister’s advisors.”
“Which one?!” Samantha’s eyes widened in flourishing wonder.
“Colin Cromwell – the new Research Unit head.”
“The one who spoke out in defence of you?”
“The very same.”
“Wow,” Samantha exhaled in awe.
“That is rather exciting,” Sophronia said.
“It was thrilling, in all honesty, but I’m sure not it was as exciting as it must have been down here.” Phoebe said, rubbing her cheeks, which were sore from all the polite smiling.
“Too true – you look like you need a dance,” Constance grinned like a demon and grabbed Sophronia’s hand, “as do you.”
Sophronia looked mortified, “you know the rules, Connie.”
“Live a little!” Constance swayed Sophronia’s hand. Clearly, the dance-some-more wasn’t wearing off anytime soon, “let’s go!”
Sophronia squealed in equal parts joy and chagrin as Constance pulled her along and weaved through the crowd. Soon enough, they disappeared through the bodies, only for the tops of their heads to reemerge on the dancefloor.
“Gallopin’ gargoyles,” Garreth watched them, amazed, “good job Black can’t see from where he is.”
“Who do you suppose he’s talking to, though?” Samantha asked, “an Auror?”
Samantha had a keen interest in working with the Ministry after Hogwarts – specifically Wizengamot, which was part of the Auror Office.
“You should go up there,” Phoebe nodded to Samantha and Garreth, “I’m sure Officer Crickerly would enjoy your company. Your father knows her, does he not?”
Samantha looked to Garreth, and both seemed like they were interested in the prospect. But Samantha furrowed her brow worriedly and turned back to Phoebe, “I- I mean, we could, but are you-?”
“I’ll be fine, go ahead. I’m so parched need a drink and I can find Natty or someone… surely Amit and Everett will need some entertainment since they’re partnerless.”
Samantha and Garreth shared a nod in agreement before giddily bounding over to the dais. Phoebe watched them depart, mutedly overjoyed that this would curb some more of the jealousy Samantha harboured for Phoebe being in the spotlight. They could all get their ‘ins’ here. Everyone wins.
Phoebe sighed. Finally, she was alone for the first time that day. Her mouth needn’t be curved upwards, so she wasted no time in heading for the drinks table to quench her ever-growing thirst before she could be intercepted again. Her straight face probably helped in scaring people away.
To the wing, in the very far corner near the enormous Christmas tree, was a food and drinks table lined with a small number of students. A hearty display of small plates, canapes and cauldrons full of an assortment of liquids for the partygoers. Scanning the spread with her finger, Phoebe spied a large cauldron full of a peach-coloured drink. Above it floated a piece of parchment with the words ‘punch with red currant rum’.
“That’ll do,” Phoebe murmured to herself as she picked up a fancy crystal glass and poured herself some with a magical ladle.
She downed half the glass in one chug. It was intensely sweet with a small kick from the rum.
Looking down into the glass, she swirled the pink drink with orange peel floating in it. It definitely helped the thirst, so she went to take a second swing.
Then, a male form came into her peripheral vision.
“Trying to get drunk, are we?”
Phoebe glanced over at Sebastian sheepishly. He had a small smirk on his face as he added, “must be a struggle getting through the evening with Greengrass.”
“That was unnecessary, Sebastian.” Phoebe retorted, downing the rest of the punch. “I’m just parched.”
“Clearly.” Sebastian nodded to the empty glass.
Scoffing, she poured another, nodding to the cauldron to see if Sebastian wanted one. He refused with the shake of his head.
Though, with what she now knew about Anne, and despite being exhausted from her mingling, Phoebe couldn’t bear being distant with Sebastian anymore. In fact, she hadn’t truly spoken to him since she saw him in the forest, and that was wrong.
“How are you doing?” She asked sincerely.
“I’m fine,” he responded quickly, knowing what she was referring to, “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m grateful you and Ominis told me, but I’m trying to have a good time tonight.”
“I can understand that,” she nodded, pulling a thin smile and taking another swig.
“You looked like a Ministry official up there,” he jerked his head backwards towards the stage.
Phoebe hmphed, “Connie said I looked like a socialite.”
“Not with your disposition,” he said, before putting his hands up when Phoebe shot him a shocked glare, “that’s a good thing, before you counter.”
“Depends who you’re asking.” Phoebe shrugged, “I imagine being a socialite might be a rather nice way to spend your time. They’re rather pivotal, in many ways.”
“Hm,” Sebastian observed her with narrowed eyes, analysing, “it’s not for you though.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You deserve to be revered for your talents, not for having the gift of the gab and enjoying a drink. Anyone can do that,” he said, then lowered his voice, “and I think you’d loathe being in the shadow of someone else.”
Phoebe reluctantly let out a laugh before drinking some more, thinking of Isidora again, “honestly, I already am.”
“The Hero of Hogwarts is so humble.” Sebastian snickered lightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his head, “so, how was it, truly?”
“Truly? Mostly boring, but Samuel introduced me to the head of the Research Unit. He was… curious about my interests.”
“Was he now? I imagine he was enthralled.”
Phoebe sighed, “I do hope so.”
“I have no doubts,” Sebastian said, then dipped his head in understanding. “You must be so exhausted.”
It was annoying how Sebastian knew her so well.
Phoebe swallowed another mouthful while nodding her head vehemently in agreeance with a knitted brow, “indeed, I am. Glad to be all the way over here now.”
Again, it was probably a mix of the calming draught and the alcohol, but her usual curiosity was bolstered by artificial boldness.
“You and Oggspire look good together, might I add.” she lied, keen to just change the subject.
“Likewise, with you and Greengrass.” Sebastian countered in what sounded like a quip. “Though, not as good as we could have looked.”
Phoebe choked loudly.
“In what capacity?” Phoebe sniffed in shock as she covered her mouth with the drink to mask it. Perhaps Sebastian was drunk, and that’s why he was also being audacious. But he didn’t seem it. “Regardless, you had two years to say something like that to me.”
It was meant as a joke, but her tone was flatter than expected.
Sebastian inhaled a sharp breath. Phoebe was expecting him to say something else, but he failed to. He just stood there, watching her again with the same expression as when she was stood on the stairs earlier. One hand leaning on the table, a muscle in his jaw rippled from clenched teeth.
Phoebe felt the weight of his gaze, so she faced the punch bowl, stirring the contents of her drink casually just to do something. She dared turn her head after a breath of silence and gave him questioning a look, as if to ask, what do you want?
“Phoebe,” he uttered, as if he heard her mental question. “Meet me outside the East Hall exit in five minutes.”
Phoebe stilled, then shook her head in confusion.
“Just do it. Please.” Sebastian whispered, lingering to give her a frank look for a second longer, before turning on his heel. He waded through the masses of groups in the hall, disappearing from view.
Phoebe continued to look on in bewilderment.
Unbelievable.
Labouredly, she inhaled a deep, steadying breath, and downed the rest of her punch. Wiping her lips with a napkin, she spied a clock nearby, and impatiently waited for five minutes to pass.
✦
After the allocated time passed, and not a second more, Phoebe planted her glass on the table, said goodbye to Natty and Emile, and beelined for the Great Hall’s doors. Inconspicuously past Professor Weasley, Hecat and Ronen discipling some younger years who tried to sneak in with brightly coloured hair.
Feeling like she had escaped unnoticed, Phoebe ascended the steps out of the hall in mild haste, holding up the hem of her dress so she didn’t trip. At the top of the East Hall, she glanced around at her surroundings, which were now devoid of students.
Notably, the exit door was propped open by a pile of boxes. She sighed, knowing exactly why they were placed there.
Pulling up the sleeves of her gloves, she headed outside.
It was bitterly cold on the eastern terrace, and snow was still falling in a light flutter. If the wind’s bite was not so severe, she would have rejoiced at how festive the grounds looked. Especially because the only considerable light offered was pooling out from the windows of the Great Hall. Along the barriers of the enclosure were enchanted orbs of light, dancing like fairies. Distant, muffled music from the ball escaped into the winter air, ensuring that the jollity was still continuing inside.
Stepping further onto the terrace, Phoebe scanned her environment until she caught movement ten metres or so away down the wall.
“Over here.” Sebastian beckoned from around a corner.
Phoebe picked up her gown and ran over with a huff. Upon approaching, she found Sebastian hidden away in a small alcove carved into the castle walls. About a foot deep, and only several feet away from the Great Hall’s windows above.
Quickly, she ducked into it.
“Sebastian, why are we here?” Phoebe asked with a hint of irritation while catching her breath. She shivered away the cold and readjusted her gloves again with an inaudible grumble.
There was silence from Sebastian again, so, she glanced up.
It was only then, when she beheld him fully, that she realised how close they truly were.
Barely a foot apart. Backs pressed to the parallel walls of the alcove.
At the mere sight, Phoebe shrunk into the stone, making Sebastian tower over her. His eyes were hooded, and his expression soft. Though, his jaw was still clenched, and Phoebe had seen this face only once before.
“I didn’t think you’d actually follow me.” Sebastian uttered, equally as breathless.
Phoebe pursed her lips, “are you joking?”
“No, why would I be?”
“Well, when have I ever ignored your pleas for my presence?”
Sebastian quietened for a moment. That punched a wound Phoebe didn’t mean to strike.
“That… that’s part of the reason why I asked you here,” he then said faintly, “and because I need to tell you something I’ve been meaning to for a long time now.”
Phoebe swallowed; her mouth suddenly and impossibly dry.
“Yes?” She responded in a voice equally as soft, not knowing what else to answer with.
“It’s something I should have told you months ago. No, years ago.” Sebastian exhaled, his breath a cirrus in the wintery air. “Do you remember our conversation in the summer of our fourth year? On the bank before the Quidditch pitch.”
“Yes.” Phoebe repeated, her voice uncharacteristically wobbly, “we reconciled after our first dispute.”
The argument that followed Eric Northcott asking Phoebe to Hogsmeade as a date. When Sebastian called her overbearing.
Sebastian bit his lip regretfully, as if remembering what he said to her. She, unfortunately, carried that comment with her ever since. Faintly, she still believed it to be true.
“Yes, well,” he shuffled awkwardly before holding eye contact again, “do you remember I said to you, I had something on my mind? But Weasley and Dale interrupted before I could get it out?”
“I do remember.”
“Phoebe…” Sebastian breathed her name, as if letting it linger on his tongue. Savouring each syllable as though he had just learnt it.
He stayed like that for a few seconds, just beholding her. As if he’d never seen her before. His eyes searching for something in the way he had many times before.
But this time, as he returned his gaze to hers, he appeared as though he had found what he was looking for.
“What?” She breathed, the anticipation slowly killing her.
“Phoebe,” Sebastian repeated, inhaling as his irises bronzed, brightened by the orbs of starlight suspended nearby while he marvelled at her. “I’m in love with you.”
Oh.
Speechless. Utterly astounded. If Phoebe wasn’t staggered earlier, she certainly was now. Her feet were frozen, rooted to the spot like an ancient, unmoving willow.
All she could muster was to look back at Sebastian with a shocked expression.
Love? That’s why we’re here?
These were the last words she expected to come from his mouth.
“More than that. I am completely enchanted by you. Ever since you bested me in that duel- wait, no, sod that, ever since I first saw you enter the Great Hall to be Sorted.” Sebastian continued his confession with fiery conviction. “Everything about you was so fascinating. So incredibly fair and lovely. To this day, you are the most beautiful person I have ever known, in every sense of the word.”
“Sebastian…”
“I was enamoured further when I found out how magnificent you are. You knew almost nothing of magic, Phoebe, yet you sent my flying in that duel. Me! You mastered spells I spent years honing in a matter of weeks. You were, and are, the most brilliant witch I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.
“And I stand here, in front of you, as the absolute fool who took you for granted.” He placed his hands on his chest solemnly as his face contorted in a slither of pain, “you are right. I had every chance to confess my feelings for you. I sincerely wanted to, yet I let it fester until I completely squandered any respect you had for me. Both by my actions last year, and by allowing the perfect Head Boy to be your confidant when I failed you. I asked you to the Ball as friends, when that was not my true intention. I was a coward, but- but I’m tired of pretending as though you don’t mean everything to me.”
Sebastian’s eyes were becoming glassy, and his inclination on his words was getting stronger. Phoebe remained watching him with her jaw ajar. She couldn’t believe this was truly happening. To her!
Without realising, a rogue tear streamed down her cheek.
“Every moment we shared. Every lesson spent next to each other. Every Crossed Wands win. Every trip to Hogsmeade. Every adventure in Goblin territory. Every fight, and every quiet moment spent in the Undercroft together have been some of the best times in my life. I said it on the very first day we met, but I knew I had found my kindred spirit in you.
“I have never met anyone like you, that’s why there was never a doubt in my mind that I ever want to be without you. I loathe that I isolated you when you were at your lowest, and for making you think I did not care about our friendship. Quite the contrary - losing Anne has been the most devastating thing to happen to me, but losing you on top of that… that killed me.
“I know we may never be the same again now you know how I truly feel, but I could not let another day go by without telling you. I know I may not be someone worthy of you, but I hope I can prove that I can be.” Sebastian closed his eyes briefly as he continued with a prose he pointed out once before that his mother loved, “What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love.”
Sebastian’s cheeks were aflush as his eyes reopened. His chest heaved, completely out of breath from his impassioned confession.
This had to be another dream, Phoebe thought. A much crueller one than her nightmare.
“You used Byron to confess to me?” Phoebe whispered and smiled in disbelief. Quickly, she wiped the tear that fell, as if it never happened.
Sebastian mildly smiled at that, and bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, “yes, it seemed… right.”
Of course.
“Sebastian, I…” Phoebe stumbled. To compose herself, she put her hands on her chest and spoke truthfully, “I had no idea you felt like this. That deeply. Forgive me, but you have not always been so affectionate towards me. Not since…”
Sebastian knitted his brow and hesitated, “Phoebe, I am so incredibly sorry for my past actions. For what I did last year. Being around you made me so… congested with emotions that I couldn’t express. I was clouded by my search for Anne’s cure, and my confusion with who you were to me. I often did not know how to act, and I would get embarrassed by my behaviour. Especially after our kiss… you never deserved any of those outbursts, nor did you deserve me taking advantage of your abilities. I have many flaws, and I have done many terrible things. I apologise for them all profusely. I am trying my best to overcome them.”
Sebastian inched his body forward, closing the ever-dwindling gap between them. Phoebe’s breath hitched.
“You know, for some time, I was content with you never knowing about my fondness.” Sebastian lowered his head to regard Phoebe through his brow, “I had accepted you were moving on from our, moment. That I had lost you forever, until two events changed my perspective.
“First, when I saw you the other night. You emerged from the woods like an angel summoned by my yearning. It took some time before I realised you were real, not a figment of my imagination. That you were guided by my patronus - something conjured because of you. The final straw was seeing you walk down the stairs earlier,” Sebastian’s eyes flickered down Phoebe’s body, “and knowing you weren’t coming to me.”
A shaky breath escaped Phoebe’s lips at that. At the mere look Sebastian gave her. One of desire she daydreamed about witnessing. Yet, when it actually happened, she was struck speechless once more as butterflies stormed her stomach.
And his patronus…
“I would do anything if it meant you would just look at me like you feel the same way. Like I am also the object of your affections. Even if only for a second.” Sebastian sighed, examining her face once more, then locking coveting eyes. “If you just forget about Greengrass and everyone back in there.”
“And what about Oggspire?” Phoebe asked without thinking, “you truly expect me to forget we’re both here with other people?”
Sebastian shook his head solemnly, “I know it’s a futile fantasy. I created this predicament because I delayed confessing until it was too late. I only asked Oggspire because I squandered all my chances with you. I thought, by doing so, I was moving on as you were. But…” Sebastian’s breath fastened with encroaching rapture. His brow softening some more. “…you have the most breathtaking eyes, Phoebe. At this moment, I couldn’t care less about any of them. I don’t care how awful that is.”
Sebastian’s hand tentatively lifted, reaching upwards. Their gazes did not falter.
Phoebe hmphed, still entranced, “Ominis would kill us if he heard you say that.”
Instead of replying, Sebastian had other ideas.
Gently, Sebastian’s fingertips grazed Phoebe’s cheek. Warmth radiated across her icy skin. She almost collapsed against his touch as he moved a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear. All the while, his gaze never weakened, even when his fingers lingered near her jaw.
Phoebe made no efforts to swat him away, and she was unable to hate herself for it.
“Tell me, do you return my affections?” Sebastian asked delicately. “Or did I just confess to be spectacularly rejected by the Hero of Hogwarts?”
A small and indisposed smile crept onto her face.
“Wasn’t it obvious?” she said. “I kissed you back that night.”
A single laugh escaped his lips, “I had hope, but I could never be sure after what happened.”
Sebastian’s whole hand was now cupping Phoebe’s cheek. Despite herself, she instinctually leaned her head deeper into his palm. In this moment, no one else existed, nor mattered. She had not realised how ardently she longed to hear Sebastian say those words. For him to touch her tenderly. It was magnetic, just as she remembered.
“I returned your affections.” She admitted in a whisper, “that’s partly why I was so stung by your actions over the summer. But…” she swallowed and broke Sebastian’s gaze to stare down at her feet. She caught a glimpse of her goosebump covered biceps, and her silk dress rippling in the brisk wind. She couldn’t quite believe the situation she was in, so she murmured something that seemed the most rational, “I’m sorry to say I’m confused now. So much has changed, and I can’t overlook the fact we’re here with other partners. Maybe… maybe we should return to them. Talk about this in the morning before I go.”
Yet, Phoebe found herself reaching out her arm, advancing towards Sebastian’s hand still resting on her cheek. Her mouth saying one thing, while her body responded in a contradicting manner.
“You did?” A layer of shock plastered over Sebastian’s face; his lips slightly parted. Seemingly not registering anything after her admittance of feelings towards him.
“Yes, why do you sound so surprised?”
Her fingers found his wrist, and she curled them around his hand. In response, his thumb began lightly stroking her cheek.
“I don’t know. I just expected that if you had any affections for me, you would have lost them before the summer. I have no one to blame for that but myself.”
“I…” Phoebe shook her head smally, and her brow creased, unable to finish that thought as she sensed warmth by her side.
Sebastian’s other hand had reached over and his fingers began to curl around her free hand, enveloping her middle and forefinger. A request.
If the atmosphere didn’t feel heavy before, it certainly did then. All sounds drowned away like they had been plunged into the Black Lake.
“What are you thinking?” Sebastian whispered. His breath caressed her face.
Phoebe found herself huffing unconsciously again in incredulity, smiling like she was in an absurd dream where she was the brunt of some cruel joke, “about how serious this is. How sombre we’ve become. When did that change?”
“Serious?” Sebastian asked, co*cking his head to the side in sudden intrigue. Now, his fingers were coiled around all of Phoebe’s, gently stroking her palm in doting circles.
“Yes,” Phoebe nodded, finding herself deepening Sebastian’s hold on her. Removing his hand on her face, he lifted it and began playing with a stray curl of hair, admiring it as he did when comforting her after the third trial. “I miss the days where all we did was laugh.”
Saying that sent a stone plummeting through her stomach. The mere mention of the past always caused intrusive memories of the horrors they endured to crash through her mind.
She peeked down at their hands intertwined. Sebastian’s larger hand, dabbled with freckles, laced through her gloved fingers, cupping them entirely. What a sight it was.
Slowly, he moved his other hand around to hook under her chin, lifting her up to meet his eyes directly. For him to peer into hers.
She should’ve felt bad. Should have crumbled and ran back inside where it was safe. To her friends and to Samuel, who she envisioned a secure future with. Leaving then and there would have been the logical thing to do.
But truth be told, she had been waiting for this moment since she arrived at Hogwarts. And she wanted to see what Sebastian would do.
But it wasn’t going in the tender way she was expecting.
Out of nowhere, Sebastian’s hold on her chin fell and his fingers clasped around Phoebe’s hand in his. Next, she felt herself being hauled out of the alcove with astonishing speed. Breath was knocked out of her by the force as Sebastian pulled her back into the snowfall, further into the stone terrace. Amongst the floating orbs of twinkling lights.
“What are you-?” She began to question, but not quick enough for Sebastian to spin around and snatch her forwards. Right into his body.
Phoebe’s free hand was planted to his chest to thwart some of her fall as she looked up at him in surprise.
“We never got to have our own dance.” Sebastian declared. His face and signature smirk illuminated by the enchanted starlight. He swivelled her hand in his while his other snaked around her waist. “Everyone else got in our way.”
In that face, she caught a glimpse of the past. The one she often grieved, but it never failed to imbue her with euphoria.
“It’s not like we haven’t danced together before,” Phoebe jested, submitting completely to Sebastian’s idea. She snaked her other arm up to Sebastian’s shoulder and squeezed his hand in hers, “but since you asked so nicely…”
With that, Sebastian began leading as they danced to the music filtering out through the windows above. To something Ominis could surely play so wonderfully. Whirling in a swirl of snowflakes falling from the night sky above.
It was another jolly tune, so they re-enacted one of the dances Professor Weasley taught them in their lessons.
With each step, both Phoebe and Sebastian found themselves heartily laughing as their hair and clothes became snow dusted. Even Sebastian’s eyelashes had a coating, and she marvelled at just how beautiful he looked in that moment through the mirth.
There, Phoebe felt lighter than she had in months. She always knew it, but with Sebastian, she could be her true self. He was right – he knew the real Phoebe.
And she knew the real Sebastian. Loved him and his flaws and his striking brilliance. Admittedly, she always did.
“Do you really harbour no feelings for me anymore?” Sebastian then asked after a few minutes of dancing. His eyelids were low, but she could still see his eyes clearly. Full of flame yet also consumed with mounting apprehension for her response. He was so close; she could feel his breath warming her skin.
Phoebe’s laughter and jollity ceased, but not because she was despondent. On the contrary, she was intoxicated by the beauty of their encounter. Of the bliss she felt by just being near Sebastian, standing face-to-face, surrounded by music and the castle she had grown to call home.
Words failed her. The surge of emotion she experienced was overwhelming. Perhaps at a later date, she would blame it on how her ancient magic made her do reckless things, or just because of the amount she had to drink.
Because, in response, she tilted her head up.
Sebastian knew what she was doing the moment he saw the shift in her expression. He leaned in.
Meeting in the middle, and for the second time, Phoebe and Sebastian kissed.
It was such a familiar feeling. One that they both experienced only six months before. Yet, this was entirely different.
After everything they had endured, separately and together, they were not the same people. But that was fine, because somehow, they were more aligned than ever. It certainly didn’t erase the electricity Phoebe felt by having Sebastian’s lips pressed to hers again.
It was a sweet kiss. A singular but elongated one where they savoured the moment. One they both once thought impossible. Frozen in their dance embrace.
After, Phoebe pulled away a centimetre. Her breath mingled with Sebastian’s and his chest heaved below as if he had just emerged from a strenuous duel.
It felt right, but even despite her boldness, an underlayer of guilt trickled in as she gazed into Sebastian’s eyes - which still gleamed with fire.
“I’m sorry-,” she began to say, but she couldn’t finish.
Not wanting to hear another word, Sebastian pulled Phoebe in for another kiss. This time, his hands were cupping her jaw. His fingertips pressed into her skin, holding her there in front of him as if she might run away like before.
Only this time, Phoebe had no intention of ever leaving.
In response, she deepened the kiss and pressed her hands to Sebastian’s chest, gripping some of his dress-suit in balled fists. He hummed in reply, as if in relief, while his lips parted and invited more of her in.
Before, when they kissed in the Undercroft, it was tentative, but wholly investigative. At that point, neither knew what one was supposed to do when you were entwined with someone you desired. It was explorative, but cautious in many ways.
This time, hesitancy had been chucked into the Black Lake below. Instead, heedless curiosity succumbed, especially when Sebastian trailed his fingers across Phoebe’s hairline and into her hair, pressing his fingertips into her skin. His kiss was exceptionally hungry, like he had been starved of her.
It was another sensation that Phoebe had yet to experience, and the sounds from the castle were miles away as she lost all shyness to sigh audibly in response.
That was enough for Sebastian to also lose all his sense as his fingertips pressed into her scalp, trailing to the top of her neck. All the while, his thumb caressed her temple in a way that made her fade into him. Then, as Phoebe’s hands travelled up his chest, to his exposed neck, something switched in him.
Only briefly, Sebastian removed himself to glance over her shoulder. Then, he instantly resumed the embrace while pushing Phoebe backwards.
It didn’t register to her where they were going until she found her head and back gently pressed against a stone wall, with Sebastian cradling her protectively. Breath was knocked out of her momentarily as she readjusted to having his solid body pressed closer to her than he ever had been before. Now in the shelter of the alcove.
Sebastian’s hands trailed from her face, down her body until they found respite at her hips. His palms pushed into her bodice while she could feel the imprint of his fingers through the skirt on her skin.
Phoebe had never been touched anywhere on her body like that before, and the physical reaction was intuitive as she murmured into his mouth. She regretted to admit so, but she had fantasised about this moment too many times. Nonetheless, never did she realise how thrilling it was to be at the mercy of Sebastian’s intimate touch.
Something had been awoken in her as she coursed her hands up his chest and through his hair, caressing at first, before gently holding a fistful to steady herself against him. Sebastian groaned lightly in response as his tongue found its way through her parted lips.
Now that truly was a sensation she had never felt. And it was… exhilarating.
Every time Phoebe’s hands wandered – to his head, cheeks, neck, back, chest - Sebastian responded by pushing himself closer. Mapping her waist, back and hips eagerly with his hands. So much so, that Phoebe’s leg was parted to allow one of his in between. Neither really knew how it happened, and Sebastian didn’t seem to care - it was as if he was utterly lost in her.
It all occurred so seamlessly, that neither had anything else to do but voraciously embrace, which was getting more fervid by the minute.
A rational Phoebe might have worried about what was going to happen. About how far this could go. As knowledgeable as she was, she knew little of this area. But she wasn’t able to worry when being in Sebastian’s arms was the most perfect thing she had ever known.
Though, despite clearly fighting the urge to stay rooted to her, Sebastian parted from her lips. Phoebe almost cried at the loss of his heat on her, before she looked up into his bronze-flecked eyes. Seeing them this close, so full of longing for her, was enrapturing on a new level.
“Are you comfortable?” He uttered in a short breath, panting and looking at her like he was fighting demons by resisting an embrace, “with this?”
She knew Sebastian was only asking this out of compassion, but it made her embarrassed that she was doing something wrong. Conscious of the world around them again. And, mostly, her inexperience with this type of thing.
This was new to him as well, right?
“I’m comfortable,” she mumbled, “I just… I have never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t either.” He exhaled with a curl of his lip. It killed her as she mapped constellations in his freckles. “I’m just relishing having you here.”
Then, he dipped his head, but not towards her mouth. To her neck where he nuzzled his face and nipped at her skin. In response, she squeaked louder than she wanted to, and began giggling at how much it tickled.
Hearing Phoebe’s joyful laughter, Sebastian recoiled with a brazen grin, before he leaned in once more to kiss her, as if unable to resist when having her in front of him. Phoebe immediately reciprocated, and it didn’t take long for them to resume the passionate hold on each other.
She had no idea if this was what you were meant to do with another person, but again, she followed Sebastian’s lead, who seemed to have a better instinct than she did. All she truly comprehended was that she wanted to do this forever.
That was when Sebastian seemed to lose his reticence entirely.
At one point, Sebastian snaked his arms around her waist to plant a hand on the small of her back. Drawing her towards him, Phoebe arched her back instinctively while he tilted her head up with his other hand. Like that, all she could do was grip onto his shoulders to steady herself as he intensified the kiss.
Lips already parted, his tongue continued to explore, now curiously dancing with hers. She didn’t realise someone could be so captivating. She knew how it was to be intoxicated by his scents, or what it was like to admiringly watch him complete even the most mundane of tasks. Yet, she didn’t know how she would ever part from him if it was this good.
While he was kissing her, Sebastian audibly sighed a couple of times. A low rumbling from his throat as he lifted both of his hands to cup Phoebe’s face. Squashing her cheeks between his grasp, his brow knotted, until he parted from her an inch.
“You truly want this? Want me?” he muffled into her lips with true longing, as he slowed down just to appreciate their lips being so close. The warmth of their breath still mingling.
“Ardently,” she murmured back.
It was the easiest declaration she had ever made.
A breathless, single laugh of relief escaped his mouth. His eyes casted down to her neck again and he plunged his face into the nook. Passionately, he began kissing the sensitive parts her skin, until her head was thrown back, rested against the stone in bliss.
Eyes shut, she sighed into his touch, coursing her fingers through his hair again to reignite his need for her.
Perhaps it was her heightened senses because of how she was being touched, but Phoebe found her eyes opening again. In the distance, there were what sounded like footsteps. At first, they were mild, but after a while, it was clear they were approaching their position.
There was a light. Small at first, but it grew and grew, until it was obvious that it was a casted Lumos charm.
In realisation, Phoebe’s eyes widened in horror. Someone was coming, and their elongated shadow from the lights above came into view.
With a gasp, Phoebe, very much reluctantly, pushed Sebastian off her.
“Stop,” she whispered, still with her arms outstretched, attempting to put some distance between them.
Sebastian was breathless as he stumbled back, just outside the alcove, with his palms out turned in befuddlement.
He was about to speak, but he, too, spied the figure approaching them from behind. His head turned, and his back straightened in a way that sent chills through Phoebe.
“So, this is where you two got to.” The voice was a pompous snarl.
Professor Black.
Before Sebastian or Phoebe could explain themselves, Black had grabbed Sebastian fiercely by the collar. Yanking him from the alcove’s opening and further into the terrace.
Bile stuck in her throat; Phoebe swiftly followed them into the icy snowfall.
Black was not forgiving in the way he let go of Sebastian, pushing him forward so he tripped into the clearing. After, Black surveyed them both with scathing eyes. From their wild, pulled apart hair, to their dishevelled clothes. He sneered at Phoebe in particular.
“Why is it that I have found you both here, hiding in a shadowed corner, away from the ball?” Professor Black demanded.
Phoebe gulped and stared straight at the ground in overwhelming shame. Unable to look at neither the headmaster nor Sebastian.
“It was nothing, sir. Honeyball and I were just getting some air. It was getting rather stuffy up there.” Sebastian declared in her place. His voice was steady - he was always better suited in coming up with decent lies.
“Yes, you and Miss Honeyball certainly look flustered. Do not lie Master Sallow. Lying will get you a prompt expulsion.” Black turned from baring his teeth at Sebastian to Phoebe, “As will wandering around the grounds, unchaperoned, after hours.”
“She’s not unchaperoned – she’s with me.”
“Students don’t count.” The headmaster barked loudly
“I think they do, sir. I’m a full wizard.”
“Not at my school! While you’re at Hogwarts, you are merely a student.”
Phoebe’s eyes remained on the ground as she winced. How could she be so stupid? Staying out here in a dark corner with a boy when she wasn’t unknown at the dance. Someone was always going to realise they were both missing.
“If I’m not mistaken, I have just interrupted a folly of an amorous nature. Am I wrong?” Professor Black asked curtly with hands held behind his back.
“You’re wrong.” Sebastian continued to insist.
There was a pause, before Professor Black’s shoes appeared in Phoebe’s periphery. He lowered himself into her eyeline as he asked, “Miss Honeyball, am I wrong?”
The judgement in his tone pierced Phoebe. She knew whatever sounds were to come from her mouth would sound tremendously guilty. She toyed with how to say it in her mind but was unable to articulate them.
She shook her head smally to herself, while unable to look away from the stones under her feet, “we were getting air, as Sebastian said.”
“Lies.” Black inhaled a sharp breath, lifting his chin haughtily “Master Sallow. You are a reckless student, and an utter nuisance, but your parents were decent professors. This is why I cannot understand why you are acting this brash, stealing a witch away who is currently with someone else. Miss Honeyball is a young woman, Master Sallow. Do you intend to stain her reputation by marring her virtue? Did your parents not teach you manners?”
“Sir, you’ve got it all wrong, I was not-” Sebastian began protesting.
“Hush! This has been your final warning, Master Sallow. Don’t let me catch you again.”
Sebastian bit his lip. Even without seeing him, Phoebe knew he was livid.
“As for you, Miss Honeyball.” Black turned his attention to her and made a few more steps in her direction. “I am surprised to find you here. You are supposed to be in the ball, with your partner.”
Phoebe swallowed. The guilt was overwhelming. Samuel was a good and fair person, and here she was. Caught.
As a woman, how could she be so stupid?
“Miss Honeyball, you have the honour of Master Greengrass taking a shine to you. His family is of pure wizarding origins, and he has a bright future ahead of him. It should come as no surprise that it would be against his father’s wishes for him to be with someone of your blood status. A ‘muggleborn’. Despite this, Master Greengrass still wished to ask you to this ball - a place where he is meant to be impressing those who have his future in their hands. Yet, where are you? Not by his side. No, you are out here, impudently acting as though you are anything close to his status.”
Burning tears welling up in Phoebe’s eyes. Where she might have protested in any other situation, the regret of being caught was too devastating.
“It will serve you well to understand that you cannot embarrass our purest,” Black continued, “I know Muggles are more at ease with wickedness, but I cannot allow it at Hogwarts. Ultimately, you are a mudblood. Do not think your theatrics last year saves you from that reality.”
Against her wishes, a small weep escaped her lips. Tears were uncontrollably rolling down her face now, and any attempts at steadying her breathing were futile. She felt dirty. Unimportant.
“Sir, you can’t use that word.” Sebastian chastised with clear venom, “Phoebe’s blood has nothing to do with-”
“Master Sallow, you will go back to the ball now.” Professor Black wafted Sebastian away curtly, “I’ll follow with Miss Honeyball a few moments after as to not rouse any more suspicion.”
At that, Phoebe finally lifted her head to find Sebastian looking angrier than she had seen in a long while. His outraged expression deepened as he held Professor Black’s gaze for a few moments. But, after much internal deliberation, he reluctantly nodded. Phoebe was thankful he didn’t decide to make things worse like he did at the Slytherin party.
Clenching his jaw, Sebastian looked at Phoebe, his face softening with each passing moment beholding her. Though, it seared her now that she was impossibly remorseful. She diverted them to the ground again where she nodded smally to let him know he should go back inside.
Without uttering another word, she heard Sebastian’s footsteps fall into the distance. Down the whole terrace until the sound ceased completely, and she was alone with the headmaster.
Professor Black stood in front of her, and she pushed herself with all the courage she still had left to look at him.
“We will follow Master Sallow, momentarily.” He was standing straight, and his voice was as cold as the air. A dusting of snow coated his shoulders and black hair. “When we return, you will wipe those silly tears from your face, and you will go back without causing a scene. You will say I needed to speak to you about your marks in the recent mock exams. You will not mention this whole charade with Master Sallow, and…” the headmaster pondered something for a moment, “I’m feeling charitable, Miss Honeyball. I also will not mention it if you return to Master Greengrass and do your duty by being a good and quiet witch for him. You cannot embarrass him on a night like this. As much as I disagree with his decisions, there’s nothing I loathe more than those of pure blood being humiliated by your kind. Especially by witches. Thus, you will not cause any more issues for us after we go inside. Otherwise, I will make your life incredibly difficult. Is that understood?”
Phoebe was so tired of being commanded, but all she could do was nod. It was remarkably similar to the demand of his own nephew. She was back at square one.
“Do not make a mockery of this school, mudblood. It is a privilege to attend. If it weren’t for the current laws, I would have never let you join. Because of your little spectacle, I need a solid reason to get you gone. Continue to be a thorn in my side, and I may just start looking into loopholes to get rid of you. Tread carefully,” Black sniffed, re-adjusting his suit jacket.
That second blow to her blood status stung her already burning body. She feared her ancient magic was threatening to surface. She stood rigidly to stifle it down.
This was worse than any punishment at her Muggle school. She would have taken a caning over this.
Silently she sobbed in the freezing wind until Black commanded her to shush. Saying he loathed hearing the cries of witches. Then, he held open his pocket watch while pacing around, waiting for the right moment to leave.
✦
After some time passed in complete silence, while Phoebe smoothed out her dress and hair and wiped her tears away, Professor Black clasped his hands together loudly.
“Right, time to go back in.” Black announced, wafting his hand to Phoebe impatiently to get her to tail him. “Now, I hope never to hear of your impropriety again. Or of you, frankly. It will do you well to pay heed to my warning. Follow me.”
She had been standing so solidly still in the nipping breeze, she was practically frozen to the spot. Somehow, she managed to pry her feet from the ground to make her way back to the castle behind the headmaster.
Once inside the temperate halls, Black began conversing with Professor Sharp at the doorway to the Great Hall. Seeming to forget Phoebe was even walking with him. She wasted no time in rushing inside so she didn’t have to be in his odious presence anymore.
Re-entering the Great Hall, Phoebe sucked in a sharp, shivering breath as she scanned the still busy chamber. The ball had been going on for some time now, but it was showing no signs of petering out, despite the late hour. Above the Hall, scattered across the starry bewitched ceiling, ghosts were now dancing in unison. Mirroring the students below. It was a more beautiful scene than before, even with Peeves winding through, seeking out mayhem.
Casting her gaze down, Phoebe caught a glimpse of Samuel speaking to Titus near a drinks table at the far end of the chamber, near the stage. They were throwing their heads back laughing.
And, instantly, she felt horrendously guilt-ridden again.
Sebastian was unfortunately nowhere to be seen. Nellie was with her Gryffindor housemates and seemed to also be looking around the crowd for him. Ominis and Poppy were missing, too.
The only other option was facing Samuel, and after what she had just done, she knew she must not shy away. If she were not to embarrass him, she had to be a ‘good witch for him’.
She let herself get composed for a couple of seconds before forcing a smile and wading through the crowd.
When Phoebe finally reached Samuel and Titus, they were still in a jovial conversation.
“And then, he said-” Samuel was bent over, creasing, “’the fire is lit, but the cauldron is evidently empty’!”
Titus erupted in hilarity too. Must be some inside joke.
“Am I interrupting something?” Phoebe said, finding a spot in between them in the circle.
“Phoebe! Where have you been?” Samuel looked pleasantly surprised. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder. She tried not to wince at how wrong it felt, but he quickly recoiled when he felt how cold her skin was. “Merlin’s beard, you’re ice!”
“Sorry. Professor Black was speaking to me about my mock results just then.” She replied, using the lie the headmaster supplied her. All the while, she glanced around, longing to see Sebastian. She hoped he wasn’t hiding away. Perhaps she’d visit the Undercroft to check.
“Did he take you to a peak in the Highlands to tell you?” Samuel laughed, firmly placing his hand back on her again, rubbing her arm with vigour to add some warmth. She certainly was heating up, but mostly from the shame. “I hope for your sake the mock results were good?”
Don’t embarrass him, remember.
“They were, thankfully.” Another lie. “He wanted to let me know himself, apparently.”
“Sounds like they were more than good, then.” Titus interjected monotonally, taking a sip of his drink. Whisky, it looked like.
“Are you well, Phoebe?” Samuel squeezed her arm. “Are you catching a cold? You seem without energy all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine, honestly.” She faced Samuel, putting on her sweetest smile for him. His kind eyes squinted as he smiled back, not discerning her ingenuity.
“I’ll be getting ill from being around you both.” Titus scowled, wrinkling his nose.
“Apologies, dear friend. It’s not my fault Dale refused to be your partner tonight.” Samuel chuckled, as he took a swig of his own drink. His arm around Phoebe’s shoulder had now fallen to wrap around her waist. He was getting tipsy, and likely the whole room was too. Where she would have caught butterflies by where his hand sat before, her guts were now twisting in despair that they were not Sebastian’s. Oh, how she wished she could swat them away.
Hoping Sebastian couldn’t see, she didn’t even notice Samuel and Titus discussing Samantha as she gazed around the room.
Don’t embarrass him.
“If she wants to be with that cretin, she can.”
“Don’t be awful about Weasley. He’s good.” Samuel contended. “You should be happy with McMahon. She has liked you for a while. I reckon your mother likes her too, if you know what I mean.”
“Y es, well, I might just go and find her then. Leave you two to it.” Titus mockingly bowed his head and backed away, like how you would say farewell to royalty.
It caused Phoebe to return to the conversation, but now, without Titus as a buffer, she was well and truly alone with the person she wronged.
“Now Titus is gone, you can tell me how you really feel. If you’re ill, I’ll take you back up to Ravenclaw Tower.” Samuel uttered kindly.
At that moment, Professor Black came back into the Hall. Over Samuel’s shoulder, they caught eyes. The headmaster gave her a stern look, before heading into the crowd, disappearing from view. It was a warning.
Don’t embarrass him.
Maybe if she just got through this night, she could figure out a solution in the morning before she went home for the holidays. Perhaps gently distancing herself from Samuel then would work. But would that be long enough for Black to not deem it unembarrassing for Samuel? Probably not…
She shook her head, “thanks Samuel. But I’m honestly feeling grand. I could just do with not talking to anymore Ministry officials. I’m spent.”
Samuel let out a loud laugh. “Anything you want, we’ll do, Phoebe. With that, I think it’s time we get you another drink.” He gestured to the beverages laid out on the table in front, letting go of her waist. “What do you fancy?”
“A punch maybe,” Phoebe said, unsure if she could stomach anymore drink. “It’s moreish, that one.”
“I think it’s the rum, in all honesty.” Samuel tittered, grabbing a glass and pouring one out for her.
Phoebe tried her best not to down it in one big gulp just to quell the tension, and mirrored Samuel’s warm expression. But, she couldn’t stop the events preceding this conversation from playing over and over in her head.
“You should also be happy to know Professor Cromwell really took a shining to you,” Samuel gleamed, lifting his glass up, “says you’re truly one of the brightest witches he’s ever encountered.”
Phoebe balked, “he said that?”
“He did,” Samuel grinned and then leaned down to whisper, “you see, when you said you wanted to make a difference, I knew I had to request his attendance. He believes in many of the same ideals as you. I had an inkling you two would get along.”
Phoebe was staggered, “y-you arranged for this?”
“I know it was invasive, but I figured you would have gained from meeting one of your supporters. Especially one who could help you achieve what you want to do,” Samuel said, and then blushed, “and… I am fond of you, Phoebe. Selfishly, I would very much like to have you join me at the Ministry when you graduate. It will be odd not seeing you run through the halls when I do leave.”
Phoebe had been speechless many times that night, and this was a strong contender the piece of news that rendered her completely frozen. She watched him for a moment, amazed that he went to such lengths to provide her opportunities to succeed beyond Hogwarts. Using his connections when that’s a strength she lacked.
It was selfless, and Phoebe hated herself for what she had committed against someone so kind.
And, he did it because of his affections for her.
She really should end it now. If she was brave, she would have told him where her heart truly belonged. Nip it in the bud.
“Samuel?”
“Hm?” His skin still aflush.
But she couldn’t tell him. Not when his eyes were so bright and he had just confessed to doing something so altruistic. Could she upset the very person keeping Ominis at Hogwarts? End something that could result in her being expelled. Just as she finally felt like she belonged.
Not when she still believed her promise to her father might be hinged on Samuel’s interest in her. Not just his health, but his livelihood. She couldn’t envision a future where she could solely provide such a life for him. Somewhere with the sea and the sun. She didn’t know if she could achieve it without Samuel’s affections. Would he continue to help her and Ominis if she broke his heart, only to witness her embracing Sebastian the next week?
So much could be taken away with a snap of a finger.
Phoebe knew, she had well and truly ensnared herself. Complicated her own life to no end, when she had finally found the most simple and beautiful thing with Sebastian.
She would have to handle this delicately and slowly. A conversation for another day. When her head was clear.
“Thank you,” she whispered so faintly, she wasn’t sure he could hear, “that was exceptionally thoughtful.”
Samuel grinned, “no need. But, are you sure you’re well? You’ve been a constant shade of red this entire time. Did you catch a cold?”
Perhaps she’d go to hell for this, or whatever the wizarding equivalent was, but she shook her head quickly, “no. Nothing has happened. I’m just feeling this,” she lifted her glass, “I think.”
“Hm,” Samuel squinted, “are you sure? Was Black harsh to you when he… spoke to you, outside, of all places?”
“No!” Phoebe blurted before immediately tempering. She rubbed her temples – the same place Sebastian had caressed just moments before, “I-I think I do need to go to bed, actually. It has been a long night, I apologise.”
“Don’t apologise, I’ve put you under much duress. I’ll just let Fawley know and I’ll walk you up.”
“All right – I’ll wait by the doors.”
Phoebe planted the glass on the table and headed hastily for the reception hall, quickly saying goodnight to the professors and through the propped open doors out of the Great Hall. She didn’t seek out her friends to say goodnight. She feared she would burst into tears if she did.
Alone in the hallway, she paced just to do something. Staring down at the floor, picking at the skin on her lip and lamenting her choices. Particularly her continued lack of action.
Idiot, rang in her head, as well as worse.
But what was she going to do? She loved Sebastian, she really did. It’s all she wanted to think about. But so much had been placed on Samuel – primarily her and Ominis’ lives at Hogwarts. Her stupidity in trying to move on from Sebastian meant she was stuck under Samuel’s wing.
Suddenly, she was indescribably livid.
It was so, utterly unfair the wellbeing of wizards was hinged on her behaviour. Yes, because how dare she embarrass them by merely existing.
It was as if they were intent on impounding her - the purebloods. Caging her so she became toothless and tame. Not the Hero of Hogwarts, capable of thwarting powerful and dark goblins and wizards alike. They knew how little she truly understood of this world and its customs, and while it was not always malicious, they exploited her for it. Samuel included. She once thought herself a pawn, and she was right to think so. Ordered and commanded constantly
It began with Philip Parkinson, proliferated by Asterius and Professor Black, but it would end here. Come the new year, she would unravel that web. Free herself entirely.
By doing so, Ominis and Sebastian too.
Footsteps sounded from the door ahead. Phoebe turned just as a figure emerged from the shadows of the reception hall. Shoes echoed on stone as the person skidded to a halt.
Immediately recognising the silhouette, Phoebe halted to behold Sebastian.
“Sebastian,” she breathed incredulously. A smile tugging on her lips at the mere sight of him there. Exceptionally handsome, still in his dress suit with the matching blue tie and waistcoat. She didn’t notice before, but it was the exact same shade as her dress.
He stood at the end of the hall, his face soft and approachable. That alone was a comfort.
A piece of folded parchment was in his left hand. He began to lift it as he took a couple of steps towards her. Captivated once more, their gazes did not falter for each other.
Out of instinct, Phoebe was about to step forward too. Possibly to run into his arms, longing for his warmth, as he began to speak.
“Phoebe, I am so sorry I left-”
Then, he froze. His eyes departed from hers to look over her shoulder.
“There you are,” Samuel greeted her, planting a hand on her lower back. Rubbing it sweetly.
Phoebe seized up at the touch. Clenching her teeth as to not act visibly horrified.
No… this is all wrong.
Sebastian’s eyes trailed down to Samuel’s hand on her. His body stiffened and his eyes darkened as his left arm quickly hid the parchment behind his back.
“Ah, Sallow,” Samuel said cheerily, “did you and Oggspire skulk off for a while? I haven’t seen either of you the entire ball!”
Sebastian was rooted in shock for a moment, before he composed himself. He looked to Samuel when he tilted his head to the side and said, “something like that.”
Phoebe tried not to wince as Samuel chuckled loudly. Simultaneously, his hand snaked up her body to her upper back. His fingers resting the spot between her neck and shoulder, pulling her closer towards him.
“Well, Phoebe isn’t feeling too well, so I’m walking her back to Ravenclaw,” Samuel said and angled towards her, “are you ready to go?”
Phoebe was so utterly stunned by this situation, she went quiet. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Now, she had wronged both of them. She didn’t even have the chance to tell Sebastian the predicament she was in. What Professor Black told her.
Sebastian was holding himself, but Phoebe could see his clenched jaw and rigid stance. His shadowed eyes watching Samuel’s hand on her skin.
How she hadn’t swatted it away.
“Oh, you’re unwell, Phoebe?” Sebastian asked. His voice remarkably level.
It took all efforts not to shudder under his gaze. Unable to discern if her understood what was happening – of what Black demanded of her - Phoebe racked her brain for a way to convey it.
Mercifully, she was facing away from Samuel. He couldn’t see her face like Sebastian could, so she took a chance. A risky one.
Faintly and painfully, she shook her head just for Sebastian. Attempting to communicate that, right then, she couldn’t go to him.
“Just tired,” she followed with audibly.
A long pause followed.
“Is it too late for you?”
Sebastian’s follow up question shocked her. She stared with wide eyes. Obviously, it seemed like a compassionate question to anyone else, or even a joke at how it was only ten o’clock. But she knew what he meant. What his question was truly asking.
“No, not too late,” she said, “I just need some time to… resolve.”
I’m sorry, she then mouthed, and it broke her heart to do so.
To others, Sebastian’s expression would have appeared unchanged. But she knew him best. The pursing of his lips and the slight lowering of his head so his eyes plunged further into shadows were enough of a sign that she hurt him.
She was about to accept that miserable reality, until he spoke again.
“It has been a long night. Give yourself time.”
So, he understood.
She almost balked at that. Holding herself rigid, she gave him the faintest of smiles, but made sure her eyes conveyed how appreciative she was of his understanding.
“Sensible observation, Sallow. Anyway, let’s go, Phoebe,” Samuel said almost impatiently, nodding to Sebastian, “goodnight.”
Sebastian nodded too, “goodnight.”
Samuel then began leading Phoebe forward, towards the Grand Staircase, and past Sebastian still rooted to his position.
But, as Phoebe passed Sebastian, something was placed in her hand. Acting as discreet as possible, she hid it away in a clenched fist. Staring ahead while Sebastian’s footsteps disappeared into the Great Hall – back to the jollity and their friends – while Phoebe was led to the isolation of her dorms.
“Did he seem bothered to you?” Samuel asked her on their journey.
“No,” Phoebe lied, but this time, with conviction, “he seemed perfectly fine to me.”
It wasn’t until Phoebe bid Samuel goodnight at the top of Ravenclaw Tower (thankfully without an attempted kiss or similar), when she returned to her empty dorm, did she unfurl the parchment.
Hastily, she uncreased the crinkles while carefully spreading it out on the desk where Flora resided.
In astonishment, she stared down at its contents. It was no letter, but a sketch.
Phoebe, with Sebastian’s patronus. Surrounded by the forest. Enchanted so the spectral Thestral gazed at her from the paper. Detailed and marvellous, as always.
For the first time, there was note at the bottom. In fresh ink. It was the one thing she couldn’t pry her eyes from as she sat on her bunk until the wee hours of the night. Even when her dormmates had returned and resided to bed. Even when she was to board the Hogwarts Express in a matter of hours.
It read:
To my Phoebe, the most brilliant witch. The full moon on my darkest nights. The subject of my happiest memory. Ever your friend, Sebastian.
In that message, Phoebe found the answer to her question. Of what brought colour back to a life saturated with loss.
It was love.
