Chapter Text
When Anne Sallow imagined the day she turned twenty-four, she came up with a simple dream.
She would be in a dress of the richest emerald green, sitting at a table with the most mouthwatering dinner spread she could imagine. There would be a three-tier cake, a small group of her dearest friends, and a wave of presents coming her way.
It would be a good day. When it was over, she would return to a life where she was healthy, accomplished, and alive.
Of course, reality took a bit of a different turn.
The night before their birthday, Anne Sallow spent hours hunched over her desk. A span of velvet cloth—one that glinted green in the light—was littered over its surface. She sewed silver buttons along the length of the coat, embroidered its edges with scales, and tried not to think too much of life and how differently it turned out.
The first spasm hit when Anne began working on the buttonholes.
She dug her fingers into her thighs as the painful tremors washed up and down her body. Anne would ride it out. She had become proficient at the skill of gritting her teeth and bearing the pain, taking gasping breaths as she forced her mind to think of other things.
But something about tonight's tremors demanded her attention. Pain, like needles and hot irons, clawed at her ribs and stomach. A twist of agony ripped a sob from Anne’s throat. An ill-timed spasm brought her crashing onto the floor, twisting and pulling at her organs until she barely registered the sight of Sebastian peeling the chair from her collapsed form.
Ominis was there a moment later. Potions were poured down her throat. Green Healing spells lit up her darkened room. She wanted to protest, wanted to tell Sebastian not to look at her desk, that the coat was a birthday surprise. It didn't matter now: through ringing ears and blurred vision, Anne watched her brother clinging to Ominis’ every word. St. Mungo's, he was saying, mouth set in a firm line. This feels different. We can’t treat her here.
But it's our birthday, Sebastian protested weakly, hand curling around Anne's.
She couldn’t remember the last time her brother sounded so young.
Anne Sallow did not imagine that she would have to spend her twenty-fourth birthday bundled onto the back of a Thestral-drawn carriage. She didn't think she would be looking up at painfully bright lights and an army of white-robed Healers, all muttering over her barely-conscious form. One of them mumbled something about putting her to sleep. A nurse appeared with a Potion. Anne struggled to sit up, searching the room for Sebastian and Ominis.
There, just behind the crush of bodies, were Sebastian’s wide brown eyes. The mirror to hers. Ominis had his hand on his forearm, murmuring something under his breath.
As the potion was poured down her throat, Anne lifted a shaking hand. Sebastian lifted his. The world went dark, the Healers’ voices faded, and the clock struck twelve.
Sebastian Sallow turned twenty-four in the cold halls of Saint Mungo's. Anne Sallow turned twenty-four under a dozen wands, a thin green sheet, and bright, unfeeling lamplight.
Later, Sebastian would make his way into Anne's room with a sleepy Ominis trailing just a few paces behind. In silence, Sebastian straightened her chair, levitated her scattered things into place, and murmured a Charm that sent her sheets carefully rearranging themselves on the bed. The coat sat unfinished on Anne's desk. He spent a moment running his hands over the careful embroidery, the serpentine buttons, and the unfinished line of buttonholes just beside them.
“Sebastian?” Ominis called.
He lifted his head. “Yeah?”
Ominis was leaning against the door, muffling a yawn into the back of his hand. “Will you be watching Anne at the hospital tonight, or shall I?”
Sebastian watched him. He stared at the coat, at its unfinished buttonholes. A row of neatly-arranged books and journals sat over Anne's desk, and he plucked the pastel green work journal from its place.
“...it'd be my shift, anyway, so you might as well get some rest,” Ominis was saying. His voice sounded distant. Soft. “But it's your birthday, so she might want you there when she wakes…”
Sebastian thought of birthdays. He thought of sisters, and unfinished presents, and folders on elusive criminals that held the answers and told him nothing all at once.
“Sebastian?” Ominis called again.
“You go.” He slung the coat over his shoulders, tugging the garment into place. “There's something else I need to deal with tonight.”
Ominis straightened. “What something ?” he asked. “What could be more important than this?”
Sebastian moved out of the room without a word, slipping into his room and ignoring Ominis’ calls. A quick Locking Charm held the door firmly in place. He lit his lamp, sat at his desk, and got to work.
As Sebastian read, he thought of birthdays. Of sisters. He thought of the remnants of his fractured family, of the last person he loved, and how he needed to do something— now— to make sure they were never broken apart again.
Of all the things Allegra expected to find in her darkened hallways at six in the morning, Sebastian Sallow was not one of them.
She'd been half asleep, still shaking off the last remnants of her dreams. It was a nice one: something about starry eyes, and hard-won smiles, and fleeting kisses shared after stolen lunchtimes together in her yard. Allegra liked that dream. She would have gladly stayed in that dream forever.
Cat, however, had different ideas. She woke Allegra up by diving her paws straight into her stomach, pelting her cheeks in kisses, and barking straight in her ear.
In Dog, that translated to: Walk me, lest I piss on your imported Egyptian rug.
So there Allegra was, sleepily pulling a coat over her dress, as Cat made a beeline for the door. Her sleep-addled mind failed to notice the dishevelled shadow sitting at her counter. It was rather busy stealing one of her cakes from its tin.
“Oh, good. You're already dressed.”
Allegra yelped. She whipped out her wand, pointed it at the shadows, and flattened herself against the nearest wall.
Cat, the little traitor, only wagged her tail.
Sebastian held up his hands. A few crumbs were smeared by the corner of his mouth. He looked a mess: bags under his eyes, shirt untucked, fingers splattered with ink and pencil lead. His fox-like grin, however, was as impeccable as always, brightening his shadowed face.
“Sebastian!” Allegra cried. She lowered her wand, laying a hand over her chest. “ Pezzo di merda ! You scared the soul out of me.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Your wards let me in. I swear I didn't steal anything.”
Allegra sighed. She flicked her wand, coaxing the lamps around them to life.
“I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?” Allegra waved him toward the parlour, watching with no small amount of concern as Sebastian all but collapsed into the nearest chair.
Sebastian sank further into his seat. He pressed a hand to his brow, running his fingers through unkempt hair.
“Anne's had another episode.”
“Oh. Today, of all days? I'm so sorry.”
“But that's not why I'm here.” Sebastian sat upright, fixing Allegra with a sharp gaze. “I've learnt something about Rookwood. I combed over his file, and I think I know where we can start looking.”
“Looking?” Allegra echoed. “For what?”
“Answers. Rookwood. Everything .” He rose, pacing tight circles around the parlour. “If we leave now, we can be back before nightfall. What do you say?”
Allegra blinked. “Well, sure, but—”
“Excellent.” Sebastian whirled and began marching out of the parlour. Dumbstruck, Allegra followed. “I knew you’d be the right person to ask. Just a thought: how good were you at Defence?” He let out a little snicker. “I hope that attack on Montclair Vault wasn't too indicative of your skills.”
“Merlin, Sebastian, slow down. lWhat are you on about? ” Allegra reached out and took him by the wrist. “I don't know about you, but I like being at least briefed before I'm sent to gamble with my life.”
Sebastian chuckled. “It’s hardly anything as dramatic as that. I told you: we're going to get answers.”
“Yes, but where ?”
His foxy grin grew wolfish. “Ever been to the Forbidden Forest?”
As a blind man, Ominis had one sense he trusted over all others:
Instinct.
And today, something felt distinctly out of place.
He started his shift at St. Mungo's with an uncomfortable prickle at the back of his neck. It wasn't just the usual feeling of discomfort brought about by Anne's curse: something felt wrong, and Ominis wanted to know what.
He remembered the late night, the thick tension, the way Sebastian had felt so strangely far away. Ominis—who was no stable sleeper himself—woke for his shift at the ungodly hour of five and heard Sebastian moving about in his room. He was tempted to kick Sebastian off his desk and tell him to sleep, for the love of Merlin, and try to make the most of a horrible birthday for the sake of his sister.
But Ominis knew how Sebastian got after every episode.
So he didn’t knock. He dressed in his uniform, walked out of the flat, and left it simmering in silence.
The Intensive Care Ward was not a place Ominis liked to visit. It was deathly silent and Charmed to rest at a temperature just above freezing. What was worse, perhaps, was the Ward’s scent: blood and mingling potions, metal and soap, all poorly hidden under a peppermint-scented fog. Ominis found his way to Anne’s room at a swift pace. The less time he spent in those halls, the better.
“Anne?” He called softly, tapping his wand against the wall. “I’ve brought you something.”
A ragged, bubbling breath met his call. “A present?”
When Ominis took her hand in his, it hung limp, as if she could barely muster the energy to carry her own weight.
“Not much of a present,” Ominis admitted. He pressed his wand to her wrist. Her heartbeat was slow, her breaths coming at an almost laboured pace. “But a very appropriate one, I think.”
Every vital his wand picked up came with a dozen warnings. Every breath she took seemed to take a monumental amount of effort. The chart clipped to the edge of her bed claimed that Anne had been plied with extra-strength Wiggenweld, and one note read that the nurse had dipped into the Hospital’s limited stocks of Elixir of Soothing to allow her some form of relief.
It hadn’t seemed like any of it had worked. Ominis helped Anne sit up. He did so slowly, wondering if dread was a visible thing. Would she see it in his eyes? He turned his face away from her direction and hoped it was enough to hide the fear rising in his chest.
This was the worst she’d ever been.
He settled across from her on the bed, opening the box he’d brought with him. Its contents weren’t glamorous: there was a pair of forks and a small apple-and-almond cream cake, which was soft and spongy and absolutely not recommended for a recovering patient.
“You’ll have to eat it all, you know, to help me destroy the evidence,” Ominis teased. “I’m not supposed to give you anything like this.”
“Beautiful,” Anne rasped. “Is it…my favourite…flavour?”
A wheeze rattled from her lungs with each word. Ominis tried to keep the smile on his face. “It’s apple and almond, yes.”
“Help me…have a taste.”
As he spooned a small portion of cake into her mouth, Ominis thought of the Anne Sallow he knew. Anne was the woman who liked her peace. She loved to disappear on the weekends to read alone by the Black Lake and look fondly back at Hogwarts. As difficult as he had been, Anne was the girl who made it a point to visit her Uncle every week for dinner. She was Anne. Their Anne.
Ominis offered her another spoonful. A clammy hand pushed his away.
“No more,” she whispered.
“It’s your favourite,” Ominis coaxed.
A wheezing, gargling breath. “No more.”
And now she was Anne, who couldn’t bear to finish a slice of cake.
Unfair couldn’t even describe the half of it.
“Seb…” Anne sucked in a breath. “...he’s coming?”
Ominis didn’t have the words to explain. He wasn’t sure she had it in her to understand.
So instead of telling her the truth, Ominis helped her down onto her back. He tucked the blanket up to her chin, smoothed her hair, and said,
“He’s on his way.”
Anne sighed in content. Her fingers closed limply over his, and Ominis took a seat by her side. The patients on his rounds could wait a few more minutes. He needed to be here. If Sebastian couldn’t bear the sight of his sister like this, then Ominis would bear it for him.
He thought she’d fallen asleep a few moments later: her breathing had evened and the room was left in silence. As Ominis stood, a hand suddenly closed over his sleeve.
“Tell him…it’s not worth it…” Anne said softly.
Ominis raised his brows. “What isn’t worth it?”
“...too dangerous, shouldn’t mess about with…” she yawned, and her touch dropped away. “Unspeakable…men…”
The next sound he heard from Anne was a gurgling snore. Mind reeling, Ominis found himself dazedly clocking out for lunch. This day called for a proper break, he thought. A break spent in a warm garden with a dog asleep at his feet, a cup of sugary coffee in his hands, and the feeling of Allegra’s lips pressing briefly against his cheek in welcome.
Gods, he needed her today.
When he landed on her doorstep, Ominis waited for the sound of her hurried footsteps. He waited for Cat’s excited bark. He waited, especially, for the sound of his name in her delighted voice.
None of it came.
The house was silent. Empty. There was no lingering smell of coffee or breakfast, no stray scent of laundry hanging on the wire.
And the whispering, nagging feeling in his gut began to scream.
In the heart of the Forbidden Forest, three figures were huddled closely together under a thick canopy of trees. One held his wand aloft, casting pale Lumos light. The other, silently sore about the undergrowth staining her skirts, was carefully undoing glowing wards carved into a series of tree trunks. It had taken a lot of work to get here. After days spent in the DMLE’s library and bent over his desk, Sebastian was certain he’d found it: an Ashwinder base, one they’d never gotten official permission to explore.
It was a very good place to start.
Allegra worked slowly. Carefully. Every time a sound echoed from the other side, she and Sebastian flattened themselves against the Forest floor. They couldn’t risk exposure; there was too much on the line.
As the wards slowly slipped free, the edges of a camp fizzled into view. There were tents, stolen carts parked in a pile, and hastily-constructed watchtowers. Once Allegra had torn a hole in the wards large enough to squeeze through, they settled behind the closest bit of foliage, scanning the horizon.
“What’s the plan then, Auror Sallow?” Allegra asked.
Sebastian swept his gaze over the camp. “See that tent in the middle, the great big one?” he pointed to it with the tip of his wand. “I guarantee whoever’s running this place is in there.”
“What, you mean Rookwood?”
“Not likely. He’ll have people managing other parts of the gang,” Sebastian explained. “We find whoever’s in charge, get them to do a little talking, and then leave. Quietly, of course.”
Allegra pursed her lips. “How are we supposed to know who’s in charge?”
“We ask,” Sebastian said. “We threaten. We charm. Honestly, there are dozens of methods at our disposal.”
“And we’re just—” she gestured vaguely toward the camp. “ — going, I suppose?”
“Yes.” Sebastian flashed her a grin. “We’re just going.”
She hesitated. Sebastian, pausing, raised an expectant brow.
“Sebastian?” Allegra called softly. She held her wand tightly between her hands. “A question, if I may?”
“‘Course.”
“Shouldn’t we have left a note? A Patronus?”
“What for?”
“I just can’t help but think that we should have told Ominis.”
"Ominis ?” Sebastian scoffed. “He’d Curse us himself before ever allowing anything like this.”
“But he’s part of this,” she insisted. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Sebastian paced furiously along the undergrowth. “It would take ages to convince him to do anything even remotely dangerous, no matter what the purpose. He’s too— righteous. Too convinced he’s the only one capable of determining what the right things are.”
“Anne doesn’t have that kind of time,” Sebastian finished, dropping his gaze to the ground. “ I don’t have the time to wait around for research and relics and Ominis.
“Promise me,” he said. “Swear that if we don’t find anything here today, you won’t tell Ominis anything, either. Not yet.”
Allegra swallowed. “It just doesn’t seem right.”
Sebastian took her by the shoulders. “If Ominis finds out, there’ll be hell. Anne’s in too much pain to deal with that. So—please, Allegra. If not for me, then for her.”
Allegra sighed. “I swear.”
For a good long while, Ominis Gaunt stood outside the door to Sebastian’s room.
He stood there with his feet hovering just above the threshold. He stood there, waiting, wondering if this was a line he needed to cross. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a different sort of situation, one he didn’t need to be so worried about.
But his instinct was telling him otherwise, and instinct was all Ominis had.
He crossed the threshold.
Sebastian's room smelled like ink, parchment, deep leather, and pine. His desk was stuffed full of paper. As Ominis ran his hands over the stacks of parchment, the nagging feeling in his gut grew louder. This was a lot of work. A lot of work, indeed, for a man who wasn't even doing cases anymore. A wave of frustration joined the nagging feeling pulling at his gut. He cast a hasty Legere Tactus and began running his fingers over every sheet, every corner, ever leatherbound spine until—
ROOKWOOD, V.
Ominis tugged at the sheet. It was wedged between a thin book, which Ominis opened to find the start of their consolidated notes.
As he read, however, he found that his copy wasn't quite up to date.
He read about the plan. Executed by the twins—and Allegra—without him. He read through Sebastian's barely intelligible notes on this Rookwood fellow and how Anne had seen him in her dreams and how, most of all, they had done it without him.
The words began to blur together under Ominis’ fingertips. They’d found all this out without him. Planned and executed and done it all without so much as a word of consultation his way. He knew, right from the start, that there were some things he would never be able to do, but this was a different kind of sting.
They were supposed to be in this together.
And as Ominis read through the rest of Sebastian’s weathered, ink-heavy journal, his whereabouts became less of a mystery. The words swam rapidly around in his mind. Rookwood. Ashwinders. Gang. Forbidden Forest. Criminals at Large.
Ominis snapped the book shut.
“Idiot,” he spat.
Over the rooftops of Saint Mungo’s, a Charmed paper crane furiously flapped its tiny wings. It bore a very important message: Ominis Gaunt would have to take an emergency leave, effective immediately. Some things couldn’t wait.
And his foolhardy best friend was, apparently, one of them.
They moved slowly. Carefully. There was plenty of cover to be found, although the Ashwinders shifted so frequently through their patrol that it was hard to make steady progress.
Eventually, the tent rose high before them. A bulky man in yellow stood before it. As the man lifted a pipe to his lips, Sebastian jammed his wand into his spine and whispered, “Petrificus Totalus.”
Entering the tent was an easy thing after that. Cat, fur mud-stained and snout sooty, appeared beside them a moment later.
“Quiet, girl,” Allegra commanded, scratching her around the ears. “We’re being Quiet, now.”
Cat wagged her tail, flattened herself on her belly, and crawled over to the shadowed parts of the tent.
Useful things, dogs.
A masterful Extension Charm inside brought the Ashwinders enough space for overhead lights, a kitchen, and multiple tables stacked with parchment and clutter. They’d even set down wooden flooring, a fact that told Sebastian that this must be a semi-permanent base. For a moment, he and Allegra gaped at the sheer size of it all. There were floors. Three different levels constructed on rickety wooden platforms.
“You could do something about this, you know,” Allegra said softly. “If you call them here with your Patronus, this could be more than just a two-man mission.”
Sebastian’s Disillusionment wavered. For a split-second, he saw Allegra’s wide brown eyes staring back at him.
“Oh.” Allegra cleared her throat. “Can’t you…?”
“You think any of us can?”
“Oh,” she said again.
“We find who’s in charge,” Sebastian repeated firmly, more to himself than to Allegra. “We take them with us. And then we go.”
They moved forward, wincing with every creak drawn from the wood beneath their feet. As they rounded a corner, Sebastian nearly rammed into an Ashwinder in purple. His Stupefy flew wide. The Ashwinder gasped. Eyes wide behind her mask, she fumbled for her wand and turned heel, sucking in a breath to shout—
“Vita Vas!” Allegra hissed.
A heartbeat later—with barely a sound—a shiny new vase clattered to the floor. Sebastian let out a shaky sigh. He rolled it off to the side, watching it thump against the side of the tent.
“Well done,” he said. “Live Transfiguration? That’s impressive work.”
Allegra let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how long I can hold that,” she admitted, biting her lip. “And I don’t know how I feel about turning a woman into a vase.”
“Then we’d best get moving.”
As they passed another section of tarp and haphazard wooden structures, a series of footsteps rang from just behind them. Sebastian dove for the nearest cover. The barrels stank heavily of fish oil, but by Merlin, were they good cover. Cat and a panting Allegra settled in beside him. A sheen of sweat was resting on her brow. Her Disillusionment was wavering, and her grip around her wand was white-knuckled.
“I’m getting a little concerned, Mrs. Zhou,” a gravelly voice was saying. “Your scouting reports were due three days ago."
Shadows passed by their feet. Pressed against each other, Sebastian and Allegra peered through a gap in the barrels.
A woman, dressed in brilliant robes of grey and red, marched beside a hulking man. He was dressed in ill-fitting clothes and a bowler hat; she was wearing a stark white mask.
Allegra suddenly grabbed Sebastian’s arm and squeezed. Hard.
“Sebastian,” she whispered.
“Not now.”
“Sebastian, I— ”
“Shut up, Allegra!” he hissed.
“Tell Rookwood that I’m sorry, Harlow,” Zhou said, in a tone that said she wasn’t very sorry at all, “but I can barely move my scouts around. The Ministry’s changed up their patrols, and I can’t risk sending men any further until our contacts find the schedule.”
“We were meant to be moving the blasted thing months ago,” Harlow growled. “If we can’t make progress before the waters freeze over—”
“—then it’d be your own fault, letting the relic be stolen in the first place,” Zhou snapped. She laughed, dry and sharp. “And that mess you made of getting it back—how could Rookwood’s best almost lose to a bunch of grave-robbers?”
Harlow grabbed Zhou by the wrist. Whip-quick, she tore her arm from his grasp, hand flying to the wand at her hip. Harlowe’s own wand was in his grasp a moment later.
Harlow sneered. “You forgotten who you’re talking to, Zhou? Forgotten what’s at stake?”
Zhou raised her chin, but was otherwise silent. Harlowe tucked his wand back into his pocket. He looked almost disturbingly pleased with himself.
“Before winter,” Harlowe said, low and firm. “Give us what we need before winter, and we’ll make sure it’s a happy little Christmas for us all.”
Harlowe turned and made a beeline for the stairs. Allegra and Sebastian replaced their Disillusionments, flattening themselves against the stinking barrels of oil. The ground shook, the sound of Apparation filled the air, and the camp was quiet once more.
“It’s her we want,” Sebastian whispered.
Vaguely, he registered Allegra’s weak protest.
For a moment, it seemed like success was just within reach. Zhou began to pace toward them. Sebastian, slipping under a Disillusionment, crept up her, wand outstretched—
There was a clatter. A heavy thump. From overhead, Sebastian saw a small, purplish shape lean over the edge of the platform. The Ashwinder Allegra had Transfigured was swaying where she stood. Panting, the woman ripped off her mask, sucked in a breath, and shouted,
“Intruders!”
Zhou whirled. It only took a moment for her eyes to land over Sebastian’s crouched, shimmering form. In horrifyingly slow motion, she raised her wand, Sebastian readied his, and the force of her Depulso sent him sprawling across the ground. His back scraped harshly against the wooden floors. His head knocked against a tent pole.
Ouch, Sebastian thought.
Overhead, an alarm bell chimed. He watched with horror as a wave of red dots began closing over the Ashwinder base, spreading over its walls like bright red stars. A Dislocating spell. Apparation was now out of the question
“You’ve got precisely three seconds before I tear you to pieces,” Zhou said lowly. She levelled a kick at his chest. Sebastian, head still spinning, rolled out of the way. “Or before I let the Imperius do the talking for you.”
He readied his wand, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. Zhou’s eyes were flashing behind her mask. There was no viciousness in her stance, no aggression just waiting for a chance to fly. He saw something different. Something else.
Something familiar.
“Start talking,” Zhou said lowly.
For a moment, Sebastian faltered. His grip loosened around his wand. The set of her shoulders, the streaks of white in her hair, the way she was frowning…
“Merlin,” he breathed. “Don’t I know you?”
Her frown turned into a sneer. Zhou raised her wand. Sebastian crouched into a Duelling stance. As their wands swung—one downward toward a spell, the other upward to cast shields—a bark ripped through the air. There was a blink. A growl. A flash of brown fur. A moment later, Caterina was hanging from Zhou’s leg, holding fast as the witch screamed and tried desperately to shake her off.
Sebastian nearly whooped with glee. Dogs were such useful, useful things.
He struck first with a Stupefy. Zhou, despite the blood leaking profusely from her leg, caught it with a swift Protego. She met him for every spell. A shield for his Confringo. A dash to the side to avoid his Diffindo, a quick spin, a Stupefy in retaliation.
She moved, he realised, like an Auror.
From across the room, a Depulso caught the side of her face. Zhou yelped. She slid across the floor, blood flying from her leg. Sebastian saw his chance: with a whispered incantation, his Incarcerous held Zhou firmly in place. Allegra shouted an Expelliarmus: Sebastian fired a final Stupefy, and Zhou fell perfectly limp and silent.
“Alright, Sebastian?” Allegra panted. She’d broken cover and was now dabbing at the sweat on her brow. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t hold the Transfiguration spell any longer.”
He waved her protests away. “Doesn’t matter now. We’ve got a lot more on our hands.”
Footstep thudded from overhead. Ashwinders were about to fill this camp to the brim. Allegra caught Sebastian’s gaze. Cat, too, was looking expectantly at him. Her white snout was stained red at the corner.
“Is this the part where we Apparate?” Allegra asked, voice small.
Sebastian gestured to the red-dotted walls. “Not unless we disable that spell.”
“Well, then,” she said. “Is this the part where we run?”
He gestured to Zhou. “Not without what we came for.”
Allegra wrung her wand nervously between her hands. “What would you have me do?”
“Got any containers on you?”
“What sort?”
“Glass.”
Allegra shed one of her gloves. With a murmur and a twist of her wand, it turned into a glass vial, complete with tiny gold embellishments along the top.
“Right,” Sebastian said. He began to pace. They would find them now, any moment. There was no way their fight had gone unheard. “Are you any good at extracting memories?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, you’ll have to be.” Sebastian pointed his wand at a barrel, carefully levitating it toward the entrance. “Take her memories—as much as you can, and as quickly as you can. After that, we run.”
As footsteps thumped and panicked voices swelled, Sebastian sent a barrel to every corner of the room he could reach. Oil spilled and splattered. The room began to smell. It was about to smell much, much worse.
“And you?” Allegra asked.
He turned, giving her a loose, lazy smile. “I’ll hold them off.”
A shadow rounded the corner. Then another. Then another. An Ashwinder, dressed in black, levelled his wand toward Sebastian.
“There!” he shouted.
Sebastian counted two. Five. Six.
He stopped counting after that. From there, it only took a whispered incantation and a wave of his wand. A few Ashwinders began charging toward them, wands held aloft.
Light flashed. A fire roared. Flames rippled across the room, lapping greedily at the oil spilled over the floor. A witch screamed. Her coat was ablaze. Beside her, a man desperately cast Aguamenti on his boots, swearing as the fire nipped at his feet.
And it only took a moment before the magic started flying.
Allegra Chant wanted to admit one thing today, and one thing only:
She was not absolutely not built for this.
Allegra was built for climbing through caverns and squeezing through ruins. She was built for quick Transfigurations, hauling artefacts out of their hiding places, and running from whatever undead she’d disturbed with her motions. The worst Allegra had ever had to fight was a handful of rival Curse-Breakers.
Her hands quivered as she bent over Zhou’s limp body. Fire and magic were flying overhead. Cat was dancing anxiously around the room. Every once in a while, the ground shook, and Allegra looked up to see Sebastian with his shields up, bracing himself against the force of a spell.
Well. If he could work under pressure, she could, too.
Over the sound of screams and shouted Incantations, she carefully removed Zhou’s mask. Guilt tugged at the base of her stomach as she whispered, “Legilimens.”
Memories flashed: a small hut, a smaller boy, a girl still young enough to wear her skirt above her knees. A man, smiling and laughing in welcome. The Ministry’s walls, a DMLE badge pinned to a collar.
Allegra began pulling at her memories, following the guiding ebb and flow of her magic as she carefully deposited the shimmering white strands into a container. She’d found who the woman was: now she just needed to find something about Rookwood.
A man in fine, dark robes, standing in the shadows with a piece of parchment in hand. An agreement. A threat. Zhou, hand shaking, taking the man’s offered hand…
Allegra was ripped out of her concentration by Cat’s high-pitched bark. Something was coming at her, something in the air—was that a cabbage?
Oh, yes. It was a cabbage.
A cabbage with a row of very sharp, very pointy teeth—
“Protego !” Allegra shrieked, hurriedly scrambling away. The cabbage bounced off her shields. Cat dove for the vegetable, took it between her jaws, and began shaking it violently from side to side.
“Sorry!” Sebastian said, laughing. He was locked in a duel with a large man in an ugly yellow suit. “I don’t have eyes on the back of my head, you know!”
Allegra shimmied back toward Zhou, flattening a hand over her chest. “He’s enjoying this,” she whispered to Cat, whose snout was now stained in green and red. “We’re fighting for our lives in a stinky, burning tent, and he’s enjoying this.”
A worn Forest path, a map and parchment in her hands. Scouts coming back to consolidate their findings. The sight of a little girl asleep on the rug by a fire, falling asleep while she waited for Mum to come home…
Allegra flinched. Those memories felt painfully private.
A dark castle, walls covered in dust and cobwebs. Anxiety in Zhou’s chest. The man in his top hat and dark robes, spreading his hands as if he were giving the tour of a grand mansion instead of a dilapidated building. Zhou sitting down for dinner with masked men, all murmuring about power…
“Allegra!” Sebastian yelled. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Allegra saw him locked in arm-to-arm combat with a different Ashwinder. Sebastian was surrounded by unconscious bodies. “Any second now, please!”
He threw a punch. The Ashwinder he’d been fighting reeled from the impact, shook it off, and proceeded to level a kick between Sebastian’s legs.
Zhou, feet silent, peering into a room. A pale woman curled up on the floor. The man in the tophat—Rookwood—standing over her as she quivered and shook.
Like Anne. Allegra’s hands felt strangely cold as she deposited the memory into the vial.
Just behind him, a massive structure. An orb formed from twisted metal. The sound of low humming. Vibrations at her feet.
Rookwood touching his wand to the woman’s chest. Casting a spell that, strangely, gave off no light. No light at all…
Suddenly, jarringly, Allegra was ripped from the memory. She barely had enough capacity to register the pain that bloomed from the bottom of her skull as she was thrown backwards, a knee ramming into her chest—
Zhou was awake.
Allegra tried to scream, but Zhou slapped her hard across the face. She raised her wand: it was snatched from her grasp. Cat, howling, dove for Zhou’s arm, but was kicked away.
“What did you see?” Zhou spat. There was a wild, glazed look in her eyes. “You stupid, stupid girl! What did you see?”
Allegra twisted beneath her. She swung her leg up, driving the heel of her shoe into Zhou’s stomach and rolling away. The vial, the vial—where was the vial?
Something glittered and glinted, sitting just beside a small wall of flame. Allegra flung herself to her feet, sprinting as quickly as she could.
“Accio! ”
She yelped as she was pulled backward by the skirt. “Cat!” Allegra yelled. She pointed at the vial, scrambling to stay upright as the Summoning spell steadily dragged her backward. “Prendilo!”
Cat sprinted across the room and leapt over the flames. Allegra spun. She turned just in time to dodge Zhou’s punch, but the woman grabbed her by the front of her blouse. Allegra ripped herself free. Panting, she and Zhou circled each other. Her wand was held tightly in the other woman’s grip.
It was so, so very wrong to see it in another woman’s hands.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” Zhou said lowly. “If you meddle any further, you don’t know what a man like him can do.”
“I saw you,” Allegra said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian creeping silently past the flames, crouched low. “I saw who you are.”
“Don’t, girl.”
“Your children: do they know?”
Zhou raised Allegra’s wand. She held up her hands. “ You will not speak of them! ” she roared. “You will not speak of me.” Slowly, Zhou pulled the wand back. “And you will not leave here alive.”
Something red and black sparked at the end of her wand. That was a curse. Allegra had never before had to face anyone willing to use a curse.
She wondered how quickly she could move.
When the Reducto was cast, Allegra jumped out of the way, bracing herself for the hum of dark magic.
It never hit.
Off to the side, Sebastian let out a strangled cry.
There was a hole on the side of his coat. Zhou had turned around at the last second, and her wand was still sparking with the remnants of the curse. Ashwinders were peeling themselves from the floor, slowly shaking off Sebastian’s Stuns. Off to the side, Cat cowered by the corner, tail tucked between her legs, vial held between her teeth.
Allegra didn’t stop to think. She ran forward, flung her arms around Zhou, and made a desperate grab for her wand.
They struggled. They fought. Zhou wrenched a hand free, raised it, and delivered a blow to the side of Allegra’s neck. The air was knocked from her throat. Her grip fell loose. With a strangled cough, Allegra crashed to her knees, struggling to catch her breath.
And Sebastian—
Sebastian was still standing, limping over to Allegra’s side with a hand held tightly around his waist. He cast weak Stupefies, sending a few Ashwinders back into a nice, deep, sleep, but Allegra couldn’t miss the bright red pool of blood blooming over his side.
The Reducto had hit him, and their enemies were starting to wake up.
Zhou stomped down on Allegra’s stomach. The tip of her wand—her own wand, the wand she’d had for so long—dug painfully into her throat. In slow motion, Allegra saw Zhou whispering the incantation for a Reducto. An Ashwinder’s Flippendo sent Sebastian sprawling to his feet. He fell. He fell hard, and did not move again.
“Depulso!”
The world spun. Allegra was knocked backward, but so was Zhou, both women flung across the room. There was an Expelliarmus, and she watched, dazed, as her wand shot straight across the battlegrounds.
A shadow fell over her. A hand ran gently over the top of her hair. A gloved hand held her wand out, and:
“Is this yours?"
Allegra looked up. He was ringed in a halo of yellow light, cast by the dying flames around them. And oh, there they were, those starry-blue eyes. Allegra couldn’t help but gape.
“Ominis?” she blurted.
As he pulled Allegra to her feet, he pressed her wand into her palm, closing her fingers over it. “Can you fight?”
“Yes,” Allegra breathed, dazed.
“Where’s Sebastian?”
She swallowed. “Hit. A Reducto.”
Ominis hummed. “Lead me there.”
“Alright,” Allegra said. “Ominis, how did you find—?”
“Duck.”
“What?”
"Duck."
Ominis pushed her down, whirling around and catching a flying Incendio with his shields. They shone white and bright and perfect, and Allegra took the chance to peer around him and Fire an Expelliarmus in response.
She stared. Awestruck felt like too gentle a word. Allegra barely managed to shake her reverie off enough to pull Ominis across the scorched battlefield, hand held tightly around his. With every spell that flew their way, Ominis raised a shield to deflect it. Each time, his wand flashed bright red. Each time, he caught the spell head-on. Perfectly.
Allegra felt her cheeks burn.
It was the absolute worst time in the world to be blushing.
“Can you give us some cover?” Ominis asked, when they’d finally reached Sebastian’s limp form. He knelt, hands dancing until his fingers ghosted over the gaping hole torn through his side. “I’m going to need a minute.”
With a Diffindo, she tore a plank from the wooden floor beneath, raised a shield to catch a Stinging Hex, and began to Transfigure the plank into a curved stone wall. It was old wood; it wasn’t too keen on giving up its current shape. Still, after a few more bursts of magic and twists of her wand, a short, stout wall was raised around them.
Cat appeared a moment later: muddy, soot-stained, and quivering from head to foot. Her tail was wagging furiously. She deposited the vial onto Allegra’s lap, and when Cat dove into her arms to shower her cheeks in doggy kisses, Allegra flung her arms around the bestest dog in the world and squealed in joy.
Ominis pressed his fingers to Sebastian’s neck. He began to cut off charred bits of his coat, wand dancing in a blur that only he could decipher.
“Are you awake, Sallow?” Ominis asked.
Sebastian stirred, mumbling something under his breath.
“This is going to hurt,” Ominis warned.
Allegra had to tear her eyes away. The Ashwinders were closing around their wooden trench. Steeling her nerves, she rose from cover, waved her wand, and cast the strongest Diffindo she could muster.
A horrifying shlick cut through the air. Allegra watched her magic rip through a man’s arm, watched with wide eyes as his severed flesh burst open and bubbled red. Something inside her felt shaken. Slowly, she lowered herself behind cover, ears ringing as she heard the Ashwinders outside cry out for their companion.
“The potion, Allegra.”
She lifted her head. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“In my pocket,” Ominis said through gritted teeth. He had opened Sebastian’s coat and shirt. A glowing thread was slowly creeping from his wand, but something was stopping it from going through his skin. “The sutures won’t take—he’s too swollen. I need you to pour some Wiggenweld on the wound.”
A loud, earth-shaking blast rose from behind their cover, sending splinters of wood flying in the air. Ominis braced an arm around Allegra’s shoulders.
“The Ashwinders—there’s still two left,” Allegra warned.
“ I’ll deal with them,” Ominis hissed. “Keep him awake, Allegra.”
He squeezed her shoulder, stood, and fired the most beautiful Leviosa Allegra had ever before seen in her life.
She shuffled forward on her knees. Allegra could barely stop her hands from shaking enough to uncork the Wiggenweld. As she bent over Sebsatian, she patted his cheek, hoping and praying for a response.
Sebastian stirred. “Mm,” he grunted. “Wheresafire? Wazzahurryabout?”
“Hold on, Sebastian. Just hold on.” Allegra tried not to gag at the sight of his wound. It was round, jagged, and swollen red around the edges. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tipped the bottle of Wiggenweld, let the liquid fall, and—
Sebastian screamed, twisting away from the bottle as if the Wiggenweld burnt. Allegra wildly emptied the rest of the bottle over his stomach. He groaned, said something like shit, and promptly collapsed.
Allegra stared.
“Sebastian?” she called.
She worriedly shook his shoulder. In response, Sebastian’s mouth lolled open.
“Ominis!” Allegra cried, tugging at his pant leg. “He’s fallen asleep—what do I do?”
She expected him to shout an incantation at her, to refresh her memory on the very useful properties of Rennervate.
Instead, Ominis swore, rolled up his sleeves, and slapped Sebastian clear across the face.
The silence that fell was almost legendary.
He jerked upright, sucking in a ragged breath. “ Ow-shit-fuck!” He roared. His glazed eyes gaped at Ominis in disbelief. “Did you just hit me?”
“It’s your own bloody fault!” Ominis yelled. “If you didn’t sneak off to do any of this nonsense—"
“You did! You hit me, you pasty bastard!”
“—and gotten yourself hurt—”
“What kind of a rotten Healer are you?”
“ —then I wouldn’t have had to hit you!”
They exploded into a cloud of yelling, swearing, and struggling. The battlefield had gone strangely quiet around them. When Allegra peered over the edge of their makeshift cover, a Stupefy bounced against the wood, sending her ducking down in alarm.
But it was only one Stupefy.
Allegra burst out of cover. She raised her wand, flicked it, and cast the last Stupefy of the day.
The final Ashwinder fell.
Allegra slid onto the floor beside Ominis, leaning heavily against their battered cover. Sebastian had gone quiet, eyes closed and mouth open. Perhaps he’d been drugged. Perhaps he’d finally collapsed from the pain and exhaustion of the day. Whatever the reason, Ominis was now working at the wound on his side, scowling as he whispered the incantations over his skin.
Allegra lay her hand on his knee. At that, Ominis softened, pausing in his motions.
“Is this the part where we go home?” she asked softly.
Ominis sighed. He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles.
“This is the part where we go home.”
In another life, the Sallow twins would have ended their birthday night in their own beds.
They would be drunk, of course, and full to bursting from all the sweet treats they’d gorged on for the day. The twins would be smiling. Laughing. Alive, and alright. Anne would tell her brother he loved her, and Sebastian would call her disgusting, and the day would have ended on a light, clear note.
This, however, was not that world.
A bed had been set up beside Anne’s in Saint Mungo’s. There was a nurse tending to Sebastian’s wound. Another was pouring a potion down Anne’s throat. They were murmuring in concern, pointing out his battered spine and her too-slow heartbeat.
Ominis stepped into the room next to the twins’, healing supplies tucked under his arm. It still smelled horribly of Peppermint in the Intensive Care Ward, but there was another scent there: the faintest whiff of citrus.
“There you are,” Allegra called. There was an exhausted rasp in her voice. “Forgive me, Ominis, but is this part of the Hospital meant to smell this way?”
He chuckled. “It is, yes.”
“Why would anyone ever want anything to smell like this?”
“Because blood and guts make for a rather terrible perfume, don’t you think?”
There was a hum. “Point taken.”
He smiled, finding a place next to her on the bed. “Where does it hurt, Allegra?”
She laughed. “Only all over.”
He pressed his wand to her temple, channelling his focus as the diagnostics spell flowed down her body. Worry rippled down his spine. Both cheeks were slightly swollen from impact. There was a series of cuts dancing down her chest. A bruise was blooming on her throat, her rib, another on her lower back.
Ominis winced. “I think this one was my fault.”
Her touch ghosted over his fingers. “Better you than another one from that Zhou woman.” Allegra blew out a breath. “You called the Ministry, didn’t you? Whatever happened afterward?”
Ominis scowled. He flicked his wand to Summon his Healing supplies, gently patting around until he found his cotton and Wiggenweld.
“Robin wasn’t too happy about it, but he promised he’d be able to clean it all up,” he mumbled. “Sebastian’s got a lot to deal with the next time he comes into work. Chin up, please, darling.”
“Do you think it was a good idea to, well—” She cleared her throat. “Tell on him, so to speak?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ominis reached for another ball of cotton. When he poured Wiggenweld onto it, he shook the bottle with more violence than he intended. “He’s hasn’t been telling me anything , after all. And neither have you.” He scoffed. “I had to find out from his work journal. The Ministry , Allegra? How could you have been so—”
He cut himself off. Silence fell. Ominis moved to her other cheek, working with brisk movements.
“I’m sorry, Ominis.”
He paused.
He wasn't used to apologies flowing so freely.
“I thought Sebastian would have told you everything, but that’s a poor excuse, isn’t it?” Her touch landed on his cheek. “I wanted to help. I gave my word that I would. But I was afraid of what you’d think.”
“You were reckless,” Ominis said flatly.
A sigh. “There it is.”
“You put yourself in needless danger.”
“Go on, then. Get it out of your system.”
“You helped Sebastian put us all in needless danger. How many criminals are going to be after us now? What sort of—of—”
“Ominis Gaunt, lost for words? A first in history!”
He threw his hands up in frustration. “ — Pandora’s box did you just open? Honestly, you two never stop to think. ”
To his surprise, Allegra laughed. It was a sound like tiny bells, like summer chimes, like warmth. Her hand rested over his.
“I’m sorry I kept a secret from you,” Allegra said. “I’m sorry I helped make things worse.”
The mattress dipped, and he felt Allegra’s knee pressing against his.
“That was my mistake, and I wish I’d never made it,” she admitted. “But I’ll make up for it, if you’ll let me.”
Ominis scoffed. “What makes you so sure I will?”
She pinched his cheek. “You called me ‘darling.’”
A pause.
“I did not.”
“Oh, you certainly did.”
“I did not. Fetch me the Wiggenweld, I’m not finished being angry with you.”
A bright, bubbling laugh filled his ears. “You said, ‘chin up, please, darling.’ I didn’t know you had it in you to display affection!”
Ominis raised his brows. He reached down, fisted his hands in her skirts, and yanked her forward.
Allegra’s giggles silenced.
“I thought I was displaying affection just fine,” he said quietly, “or did I imagine all those days we spent together?” He smiled, lifting his touch to her waist. “Open your blouse for me. There’s something I have to tend to.”
“If you insist.”
He’d meant to tease, to taunt. But then came the sounds: fingers brushing over cloth. Buttons slipping free. Before Ominis could catch his breath, he felt the light, airy weight of her blouse resting over his hands.
“It’s open,” Allegra said.
Merlin. She made those words sound like sin.
Slowly, Ominis swept Wiggenweld over the cuts, daring to press harder, to imagine that it was his fingers tracing shapes on her chest.
“I would have done it for you, too,” Allegra whispered. “Whatever you asked me to do.”
“I would never have asked you to put yourself in danger for me, Allegra."
“I would, if it meant helping you.” She cupped his cheek. “I think I can handle myself.”
He raised a brow, then gestured vaguely over her form. “Can you?”
A light slap landed on his chest. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
Ominis laughed, bending to press his forehead against hers. He wanted to tell her a million things. Part of him wanted to yell at her some more; the other wanted to kiss her senseless and thank the Gods that she’d come out relatively unscathed.
So he did.
Allegra sighed into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He tangled his fingers into her hair, drinking in her taste, her sensations.
Allegra’s muffled whimper brushed against his lips as she and Ominis fell against the mattress. That was a sound he’d burn into his memory forever. Greedy hands and hungry mouths danced, desperate to run over bare skin, to drink in the sinful flavours of mint and citrus and heat.
It took a monumental effort to part from her lips.
“Never again,” Ominis breathed. She was so close. They were chest to chest, their limbs tangled, fingers buried in strands of soft locks. “If this is to be anything—if we are to be anything—then promise me you’ll never keep anything from me again.”
She kissed his forehead. The gesture was so tender it nearly made Ominis’ heart ache.
“Never again,” Allegra echoed softly. “I swear.”
“Do I have your word?”
She took his hand, flattening his palm just over her heartbeat.
“You have something more than that.”