Chapter Text
Prologue
On the morning train ride to Hogwarts, Ominis Gaunt made haste to pull his friend aside, “Sebastian! Have you heard the news?”
“About the Lord?” Sebastian Sallow smirked as he settled into their, as yet, private compartment on the train.
Ominis’s unseeing eyes rolled, “Very funny, Sebastian. I meant the news about the new Fifth Year.”
Sebastian replied that he had not. Despite not seeing how his friend’s attention was focused on fixing his hair in the reflection of the window, Ominis could hear the disinterest in his voice and was determined to change it.
He smiled conspiratorially, “Well, it’s quite the scandalous story as it happens.”
“Oh,” Sebastian mumbled, beginning to pay more attention, “Should I be excited or concerned.”
“Hard to say for sure, only time will tell that.” Ominis began the tale, “A few days ago, I overheard a conversation between my father and Headmaster Black, during one of his visits. He revealed the identity of the new student.”
“I suppose you’re conflating overhearing with eavesdropping, as per usual.”
“Hardly, this time. My father’s voice, wroth as he was, carried throughout the whole house-it would scarcely be anyone’s fault but his own that he was overheard. In any case, the Headmaster revealed that the new student would be none other than his own daughter. A curious thing, since Lady Ursula Black had only one daughter 5 years hence, and it is obviously not her who will be attending Hogwarts this year.”
Sebastian paused, his brow furrowed in confusion. He knew that Headmaster Black had several children, most of whom were too young to attend Hogwarts. The only two that attended now were Sirius II, a third year now, and his younger brother Phineas (his father’s namesake) who would be sorted as a first year upon their arrival-no doubt into Slytherin. Even if Sebastian was ignorant of who his other children were, it was more than just curious that any daughter of the Headmaster would be attending Hogwarts as late as 5th year.
He was beginning to see Ominis’s point about the potential scandal afoot this year.
Sebastian’s eyebrows practically retreated into his hairline, “Then she is the Headmaster’s daughter by… someone else?”
Ominis nodded, “The Headmaster admitted to my father an affair begun almost a year before his marriage to the late mistress of House Black. A passing tryst, he claimed, a pretty girl to pass the time as he was obliged to wait until he was allowed to wed his true bride.”
“That, by itself, did not offend my father. He even agreed with Black that he ought to be allowed to seek pleasure as a healthy, young man. Why shouldn’t he be allowed some fun?”
Sebastian could tell by his friend’s tone of voice that he did not share the same sentiments as his father. Ominis continued,
“Then the Headmaster had to admit the true reason for such precautions around this ‘tryst,’ as he repeatedly called it. The pretty girl he'd amused himself with was a muggle.”
That took his friend aback, he almost couldn’t credit what his ears had heard, “Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black? The most outspokenly pureblood Slytherin since Salazar himself?”
“Don’t discredit my father and brothers.” Ominis added, allowing his best friend a few minutes to process the information.
There was a heavy sigh of disbelief, then a pause before Sebastian turned back to his friend. He prompted, “I imagine that's when he turned wroth, your father I mean?”
“In a quieter form, yes.” Ominis shifted uncomfortably.
Ominis recounted the explanations and, more importantly, the tone in which Headmaster Black detailed his so-called tryst. From what Ominis had heard, the Headmaster believed that muggles were beneath wizards and therefore it was only natural they be used at their leisure-especially as the girl had been uncommonly pretty. He even went so far as to say he’d been led to believe she was some other form of magical creature, perhaps Veela or something. The two friends agreed that he was probably misled to that belief by none other than himself, as a pitiful excuse for why he found himself attracted to someone he dubbed beneath him.
As far as the Headmaster was concerned, the only real trouble came when he’d gotten the girl with child. Ominis could barely contain his disgust at how the Headmaster opined at how he’d been forced by honor to provide for the girl and her bastard; how his only solace was in knowing the rest of the world and his wife were ignorant of his “suffering.”
Despite also being part of the prestigious heritage Black had continually alluded to, the girl apparently showed no signs of sharing her father’s magic. Ominis quoted Black’s thoughts directly, “Despite that disappointment, it might’ve been for the better if it stayed that way. She could’ve stayed tucked away with her mother, out of sight and out of mind. No one of importance would have to know.”
That lasted only until a few weeks ago, apparently, when the girl had proved herself a witch before several muggles. At that point in the story, Headmaster Black had become quite dodgy in the details. The outcome was the more pressing issue. A member of the ministry was forced to intervene and erase memories in keeping with the Statute of Secrecy. The official had been only courteous enough, as Phineas Nigellus Black said, to agree to keeping the details under wraps as a favor to him. But the Headmaster was also given an ultimatum: Either take in his bastard to live in his house (in whatever capacity he chose) or to enroll her at Hogwarts where she might learn control of her abilities, both options were given with the explicit instruction to prevent further incident.
The more Sebastian heard about this story, the more he shared his friend’s pity of the girl and her mother. Unlike that of the majority of purebloods, in and out of Slytherin House, the two didn't believe in the supremacy of wizard kind over muggles. Ominis himself especially hated ignorant, blood purists who tormented muggles and muggleborns for their own amusement. Sebastian agreed wholeheartedly, and had no doubt that--as bad as he made the Headmaster sound in lamenting as if he were the victim of some great injustice--Ominis’s natural eloquence provided far more charity to the man than he ever deserved.
The two were in agreement that their Headmaster was the worst of both bigotry and hypocrisy.
“At the end, it turned out the only reason the Headmaster confided in my father was because he wished us to take in the girl under the pretense she was a distant cousin or something.”
Ominis did not have to tell his friend that the very proud and strict Lord Gaunt did not acquiesce to such a request, not even to a fellow pureblood and pedigreed wizard like Phineas Black himself. After all, the two men were not truly friends. It would be more accurate to say they shared some camaraderie in being men from two distinguished wizarding bloodlines. Even respect might’ve been too cushy a description, Ominis once told Sebastian, it was more likely they just enjoyed the prestige of being seen as close-knit with another famous name.
“How did he even think your father would allow such a thing? He’s certainly worse than Black when it comes to blood purity.”
“Obviously.” Ominis agreed, “In any case, he promptly threw the Headmaster out after he’d broached the idea. They haven’t spoken since.”
Sebastian sighed, “No doubt this whole thing will be felt by the rest of the school. Since when has the Headmaster ever needed a reason to make his moods and ill-temper everyone else’s problem?”
“Never.” Ominis replied, “You’ll note he could’ve just as easily made the same pretense he’d wished of us to take on and kept her in his own house, like the ministry suggested. But, I suspect, he thinks even a half-blood of his own get shouldn’t be around his precious, pureblooded children. ”
Sebastian saw the anger about to boil over in his friend. Feeling the need to distract him in some way, he asked, “Do you know what the girl’s name is? Or her mother’s?”
Ominis bristled, but Sebastian could tell it was more from a frustration at a lack of information rather than from his bubbling anger from before. Ominis never liked being devoid of information about a topic that sparked his interest. It was one of the traits he shared with Sebastian and which allowed them to become close friends. The boy confessed, “Unfortunately not. After that request, my father wasn’t interested in further discussion of the matter. And I, obviously, was not about to pull my father aside to ask about the conversation afterward.”
The entire time Ominis had been listening, Headmaster Black kept referring to his daughter as “the girl” or “the child” and not by any meaningful name. One could never accuse the man of excessive affection.
“Come to think of it, the Headmaster did mention the mother’s name briefly. Juliet.” Ominis sighed in disappointment, “although I suppose that doesn’t narrow it down any.”
Sebastian sat, absorbing the conversation into his mind for further speculation. Finally he said, “well, I suppose we’ll have to keep our ears open. I can’t deny I’m curious, in an academic sense, of course.”
“Yes, there is a perverse fascination at how disgustingly wretched a single man can make himself to be.”
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The clip-clop of invisible hooves combined with pelting rain on the carriage should have been more soothing to Marion than it was. But air in the lonesome carriage was stuffy, since she had to keep the curtains closed during the ride and the uneven roads made the entire thing jump and jerk so she was never comfortable for very long-if at all.
She felt rather like a stowaway on ship, though less adventurous in spirit than the heroes of stories she’d read about. She was more unwilling. Though she could not narrow down a singular reason why as the carriage brought her to the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.
When she was little, much younger than Lucreztia, she’d dreamed of Hogwarts when her father mentioned it. She dreamed of the daily feasts with floating candles, of spells and potions she’d learn within the walls of the ancient school. It used to make her heart soar and take up space in her mind to the point that it was difficult to focus on her usual, muggle studies (as her father called them) like math and science. Her world was far too normal, she’d thought at the time, so such things would not stimulate her young mind.
But nowadays, she felt her life had become quite the opposite in the worst way possible. She was now too abnormal, too engrossed in mysterious forces she’d begun to realize she didn’t understand. It frightened her.
The wizard who’d cleaned up her mess in the restaurant had declared, Hogwarts is where she belongs. She must learn to control herself, before it’s too late.
Like the continuous rain and clip-clopping outside the carriage now, it should have been far more comforting than it was. Instead, it made her uneasy. Her father’s scowl at the judgment had not helped matters either. He didn’t want her there, and Marion was not sure anymore if she wanted to be there.
But, if the alternative was to remain with these abilities and surrender herself to the foreboding threat of before it’s too late, it made more sense to go somewhere that could teach her some control at least. If nothing else, she’d learn to prevent another outburst.
Perhaps it was the dishonesty she felt, in never telling Mama or Father about her practices. When she wanted to be a witch, she tried her best to practice by herself to make something (anything!) happen. It was often to no avail, but every now and then she could make a pen roll or a flower bloom sooner than expected. But none of these things she deemed “big enough” to prove herself.
The only thing she could ever boast was a subtle and sparse habit of knowing things she ought not to. Of being able to break from routines carved into her soul for years by her mother, only to find she was better off for it in one way or other. Instinct, was what Mama called it, she thought, and Tania only ever said that women have our "little ways' of knowing things when she showed me the tea leaves. But none of that was like to impress Father.
But in the restaurant, she’d proved herself a witch. Just in time to wonder if maybe she didn’t want to be one anymore, and long after Father had given up expecting her to be anything approaching her little sister’s talent. It seemed the unexpected nature of her abilities had somehow made Headmaster Black more disappointed than if she had just been born a “squib” as he called her.
One thing gave her comfort now, during the ride to the place she now feared instead of longed for, and she took it out of a beautiful, long box to admire it.
The wand had shown up just that morning, outside her bedroom window, when she’d woken up dreading the day ahead. The note attached gave no name, but only an ominous warning that had made her admiration of the thing somewhat dubious.
It looked nothing like her father’s elegant, black-laquered wand with the silver-wrought handle. Or was it iron? Marion often wondered. She’d never been allowed to touch it, and it sometimes looked to be enameled with steel. She decided silver, as Phineas Nigellus Black would never settle for mere steel on his wand.
Hers was a work of art. The handle was made of tumbled crystals, smooth and a beautiful array of colors. She recognized amethyst, rose quartz, and even moonstone. Of the others, she was uncertain, and had not the courage to ask her mother for help. The wood (also unidentifiable to her) was a light, smooth texture. The stones were embedded in the handle as though the wood had grown around to engulf them inside.
It seemed as though it were made for her, and perhaps it was. All she knew was that it made her arm feel as though a light vibration went through as she picked it up, enough to help her relax in spite of herself.
I ought to be more grateful for it, she thought, leaning her weary head against the jostling wall of the carriage.
It seems I will need all the help I can get.