Chapter Text
“We have class in 10! What’s so important that you have to go all the way back?”
“I’ll be back!”
Of all things to forget, you forgot to take your potions.
You had it coming, you supposed. All those late nights spent studying, exploring the castle or sneaking out of it, you told yourself you’d take your potions when you’re back from whatever excursion. Then, when you were done and returned to your room, you hurled yourself upon your bed and muttered that you’d take them first thing in the morning.
You got complacent, and now it’s all catching up to you.
A searing ache in your abdomen reminded you of your mistake. If you don't make it in time, the ache will spread all over. Should that happen, if pain took over and everything got burned out of your system, well.
Your life as you knew it would be over.
“Excuse me— Sorry—“ You said as you weaved through throngs of students hurrying to their next class, climbing up the stairs two at a time and down again as you sped towards your dorm.
If you were quick, it would take you two minutes to get to the dorms, then another two for the trip back. That meant you had around six minutes to get to your room, down those potions, apply the suppressant creams, and run back out.
Easy. Nothing you couldn’t do. You’ve beaten odds better than that.
You muttered the password in front of the dungeon walls— ‘aspiration’, this week— and tapped your foot as you watched a large snake come out of the stone floor. Its body, made of silver with emeralds as its eyes, slithered on the wall in response, slowly forming an arch.
“Come on, Soren,” you said. You were ninety percent sure that the serpent guardian— Ssshs as he was called by the Gaunts, or Soren, after Ominis translated his name for you and Sebastian’s benefit— was taking his time now, with how he was crawling across the wall.
Of course he was. That damned snake only ever behaved when there was a Gaunt around.
As soon as the doorway appeared, you dashed through it and down the long spiral staircase that led to the common room.
When you saw the common room for the first time, you stood right at the centre of it, gazing in awe as Professor Slughorn extolled the virtues and the students of his beloved house. A dormitory submerged in water, stained glass windows, a shallow pool next to the base of the staircase with a mermaid as its central feature— the sheer opulence of your house dormitory was nothing you had seen before.
Now, however, a year after your transfer, the sheer size of the common room and its branching halls that mimicked a snake’s nest were nothing but a nuisance. Especially now.
Through the foyer, past the fireplace and the landing, and up the stairs that led to the alpha wing.
The floor opened up once you were on top of the staircase. An empty lounge greeted you, everyone else off to their own classes. If it were evening time, alphas of different years would be sitting here, talking or studying.
Slytherin had a disproportionate amount of alphas. The ratio wasn’t as skewed as Gryffindor, but still enough to warrant a dedicated space for them, similar to how all beta wings had their own lounge as well.
Up another flight of stairs, run to fifth door on the right, channel his magic while turning the door knob because the Gaunts warded their door—
Your robe caught onto the handle when you ran in. “Dammit!” You yelped, and yanked your robe off the handle, slamming the door shut.
Your voice, a crisp tenor a mere few seconds ago, reverted. It was higher pitched. Sweeter. Feminine.
Back to your real voice.
Time was running out. If you reverted back to your original body now, it’d take you more than a few minutes to get back to the Potions classroom.
Crossing the room in a few strides, you flicked your hand and opened your trunk that sat at the foot of your bed. Your potions and supplements were stored beneath the fake bottom of your trunk; weeks worth of prescribed potions, creams, and pills in nondescript containers were crammed there, lined neatly upon the dark velvet.
The first one you took was the potion that made you run all the way back in the first place, buried underneath your omega supplements and suppressants. You arranged your supplies in that specific way as a safety precaution: in the event that someone suspected your behaviour and dug through your things, they would first see the omega supplements, assume you were hiding your secondary gender, and look no further.
The potion you took was a Polyjuice variant; it temporarily morphed your body into what you would’ve looked like if you were born male. You always found it ironic that the potion, your soul distilled into an elixir, was a pale blue reminiscent of lightning strikes cast via ancient magic. You should’ve tasted like ozone, like storm clouds, but the sweetness that permeated your mouth said otherwise.
You slotted the now empty phial back into where it laid, and reached for your suppressants—
Wait.
A phial was gone. Or, rather, now that you looked at it, a phial from each set was gone.
This cannot be happening now, of all times.
No. You’re just scaring yourself. You had to be.
Your mind whirled as you stripped and smeared suppressant cream all over your pulse points. Did you vanish the phials after taking them one night? Taken an extra set with you and stuffed them into one of your robe pockets? Or left them buried somewhere within your trunk? No, that can’t be possible. You took inventory of your things two days ago when everyone was asleep.
Or at least, your traitorous mind supplied, you were sure that everyone was asleep.
Oh Merlin. I don’t have time to think about this, you cursed internally as you buttoned up your shirt, tucking the hem into your trousers. Despite masquerading as an alpha for over a year by now, wearing your mask more often than not, you still felt off. Dissonant. The mask was necessary, yes, but…
You gave yourself a once over through a conjured mirror. A slim boy of above average height with sharp eyes, just on the cusp of being a man, stared back.
You were already seen as an unconventional alpha: under average build for an alpha; displaying no territorial instincts, subtle or overt; lacking a dominant aura that your roommates exuded— it was a miracle that no one questioned your behaviour. Until now.
The mess that was your fifth year must’ve distracted your mystery thief. Between being hunted by Ranrok, Rookwood and Harlow, your nigh impossible survival every time overshadowed your odd quirks and kept your secret safe. With Ranrok now gone, however, everything else that once went unnoticed became more apparent.
Throwing your school tie around your neck, you looped the cotton fabric around and redid the knots, fastening it with a tug. A noose around your neck was what it was. It was only a matter of time before the culprit came forward, pulled on your cotton chain and choked the truth out of you.
Please don’t let them be stolen, was one of your last few thoughts you had before you slipped on your loafers and rushed out, running all the way back to the Potions classroom. They have to be in my trunk or pockets somewhere.
They have to be.
—
“Ah! So there’s our resident Slytherin champion! I was wondering where you’ve run off to this time.”
You rubbed the back of your neck as you walked into the classroom, smiling at Professor Slughorn while ignoring the frown Sebastian directed your way. “No random adventures, professor. Just forgot my essay.”
Weaving between classmates that were milling about and getting their ingredients, you went to the back of the classroom where your potions partner was waiting. Just as you were about to pass by the fourth row, a hand darted out— Sebastian’s, from the veins on the back of his hand— and grabbed you.
“Hey,” Sebastian said as he yanked you back. A few thin brown strands of his hair drifted down from his head when he inclined his chin to scan your features, draping on his forehead and over his furrowed brow. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” you replied, wincing as Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not lying! I forgot to take my potions, that’s all.”
It wasn’t a lie. You did run back to take your potions, but Sebastian was under the impression that those potions were some sort of nutrient supplement that would help build the bulk that alphas in general had, that you happened to lack.
“Let him go, Sebastian,” Ominis interjected, his hands moving in practiced motions as he ground the root of asphodel in a mortar. “He can take care of himself. We—”
A hiss, soft but like thunder rumbling in a distance, caught your attention amidst the chatter and clatter of the classroom. Your gaze flicked up, darting towards the source.
Twin pairs of dark brown eyes bored into you. Gleaming under the dungeon lighting, those browns bled red, locking you in place.
Tom Marvolo Gaunt, and Tom Marcius Gaunt. The Gaunt twins. The other Gaunt alphas.
You once asked Ominis about them after watching them hold court within the Slytherin common room. He hadn’t said much other than a mention that they were of the main line, and were halfbloods. Marvolo, Ominis said, was the older twin, while Marcius was the younger.
“Must be odd, sharing the same name,” you commented then, watching Marcius laugh as he threw an arm around Lestrange’s shoulder while Marvolo spoke to Black in hushed tones. Ominis merely leaned back and sighed, his face tilted towards the cavernous ceiling of the common room. Dim lights from the chandeliers cast shadows upon his pupilless pale green eyes, a reminder that even blind, he noticed everything.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
There definitely was some complex history between them that you didn’t understand, from what you could glean from his guarded words alone. Ominis warned you to keep your head down and avoid catching their attention, going so far as to drag you by your arm and trapping you in the undercroft until you promised him that you would not, under any circumstances, approach them.
“Promise me,” you remembered the tight grip on your arms, his nails digging into your robes, “you do not want to come under their purview. They will eat you alive.”
You hadn’t understood then. But now, with their gazes locked onto yours, you were starting to see why.
The impulse to focus on either one of them, return their stare—
A tight squeeze on your hand snapped you out of your daze. What was that?
“We’ll talk to you later,” Ominis said as Sebastian’s fingers curled and uncurled around your wrist, grounding you. He only let you go after another squeeze, his fingertips grazing your skin before his hand fell to his side.
“Diggory is waiting for you.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
Slinking away while Sebastian shot a charming smile at Slughorn who chided them for chatting too long, you hurried towards the very back of the classroom and set your belongings down on a high stool right next to Cedric’s. The table was already set, the mise en place meticulously done courtesy of your partner.
“Sorry, sorry. I kept you waiting, didn’t I?”
“It’s alright,” Cedric paused his work and smiled at you, and for a moment when he dipped his head, you forgot to breathe as a strand of his dark blond fell over his left eye. You were no stranger to good looking alphas— Slytherin had a bunch of them; your roommates all had their charm— but Cedric. Something about him drew you in, the warmth in his bright grey irises whenever the corner of his eyes crinkled perhaps.
If only you didn’t have to masquerade as a male alpha. But then again, if you hadn't assumed the facade, you wouldn’t have gotten to know him, much less meet him.
“You okay? You look like you’ve been run over by a hippogriff.”
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
“Yeah!” You said as you shrugged off your outer robe and set it upon the stool behind you, blurting out the word before you made it any more awkward. “Yeah, don’t worry. Anything I can help with?”
Cedric, like the angel he was, the quintessential Hufflepuff, said nothing about your behaviour and merely continued, his gentle tone soothing your nerves. “Can you make the wormwood infusion? I’ll get the other ingredients ready.”
—
Working with Cedric was easy, comfortable. He was patient, and remained kind even when you were wary and defensive on your first few lessons as partners together. He had no reason to help you and look out for you, yet he did anyway. Like now.
“Your housemates are being weird; they keep looking our way,” Cedric whispered while reaching over to grab a clean cloth, his elbow nudging yours as he wiped the stains off his knife. “What’s going on?”
“My house? You mean Sebastian?”
“It’s not just Sallow. Look.”
You flicked your gaze up, keeping your head slightly bowed as if you were still focused on the preparations. Sebastian was indeed looking at you, muttering something to Ominis while watching you chop and cut a Valerian root.
To those that weren’t familiar with Ominis, he seemed as if he were merely listening with half an ear, humming and nodding here and there. But to you, Ominis was paying attention. The minute pauses, the slight flexing of his fingers while Sebastian spoke. Ominis absorbed every word uttered.
Sebastian’s attention shifted away from you and fixed it upon someone else. Curious, you followed his line of vision, and dipped your head to hide your grimace.
Three rows down, Malfoy was crushing the Sopophorous beans while Lestrange was talking to Nott who sat behind them, occasionally leaning back to peek at Nott and Black’s progress on their potion. On first look, nothing was amiss. They ran in the same circles, being purebloods who grew up together. Of course they would chat during class.
That was until Lestrange’s eyes darted towards you, murmuring something to the other three, and looked away with a slight twitch on the corner of his lips.
That had to be a coincidence.
Just as that thought crossed your mind, however, Black rested his knife upon his table and turned, catching the attention of the pair that sat a row down from you. You couldn’t make out their conversation, the hubbub around you masking Black’s words. But the subtle upward flick of his gaze, his focus switching from you to Cedric and back again, then turning back and reconvening with his friends said more than enough.
That was no coincidence.
If they, who were within the Gaunt twins’ close circle of friends, were talking about you under their breaths, then that meant—
You slowly straightened yourself and tilted your head from side to side, your eyes drifted towards the twins as you cracked your neck.
The Gaunts, the twins that Ominis told you never to approach, were indeed looking. Quick glances, but they were enough to force you to think about your past interactions with them.
Apart from class discussions and the occasional academic question, you avoided them like the plague.
Something in Ominis’ tone, the quiver in his voice when he grabbed you that one time while in the undercroft, forced you to pay attention and heed his warning. With his tongue, he unintentionally— or perhaps intentionally— sowed seeds of distrust within the bed of your imagination.
And now, as you watched Marcius’ lips move in a certain way— Parseltongue, again— those seeds that had sprouted over the course of the year budded and bloomed, watered by hushed whispers and nurtured by the dim lights that cast shadows all over the castle.
What in Merlin’s name did you do to arouse the interest of the diarchs of Slytherin?
It can’t be because of your ancient magic; you made sure not to reveal that particular detail to anyone, and you knew Sebastian wouldn’t betray you. You were a stellar duelist and a potential academic rival, yes, but those weren’t sufficient enough reasons to warrant their attention. To you, at least. House politics, then? Yet that sounded far-fetched as well; you barely had half of the connections they had, much less the social pull to stage a coup. So that couldn’t be it either.
Then, your breath hitched. Something within you tensed, then sunk all the way down to your stomach.
The missing phials.
No, no. They were simply somewhere in your pockets. Or trunk. Or you vanished it. They can’t possibly have taken it. They don’t know those phials exist in the first place.
But. What if?
A sudden weight on your shoulder snapped you out of your spiral. You flinched. You would’ve chopped off your finger if Cedric’s quick reflexes hadn’t kicked in.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, pulling his hand away from your wrist. “You’ve been all out of sorts today. Is there something going on?”
You opened your mouth to say no, but the gleam in his eyes then as he studied your features without blinking forced you to swallow your denial.
“Just tired,” you said and lowered your gaze, your attention fixed upon the roots on the chopping board. Cedric, you found, had the same eyes as Sebastian. Not the same color, no, but they were just as expressive, and horribly difficult to lie to. “There’s nothing wrong.”
If you had said those same words to Sebastian, Sebastian would’ve clicked his tongue, stayed your hand, and pestered you until you threw your hands up and confessed your inner turmoil. Mercifully, Cedric wasn’t like him in that regard.
“Look,” Cedric sighed, glancing at your side profile once more before grabbing a mortar and pestle, “I know we’re not exactly close but please— know that you can come to me, should you need anything.”
Somehow, Cedric’s words spurred the same tightness in your chest when you lied to Sebastian about promising to talk to the Keepers about using ancient magic to cure his twin sister.
You swallowed the ache and huffed, shoving the unwanted feelings back into the recesses of your mind. “You’re too nice, Cedric. Someone’s going to take advantage of you if you’re always like that.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think I’d mind, if it’s you.”
The edge of your knife met the chopping board with a loud thump.
“What— You— Urgh. Damn badger. Focus on grinding.”
—
The moment Potions ended, you quickly gathered your belongings and slipped out of the classroom before anyone could get in your way. Despite Cedric’s interruption, your mind couldn’t let go of the idea that the Gaunt twins had something to do with the missing phials. You suspected that was the case, but your gut cautioned that there was more to this.
Nothing was ever simple when Marvolo or Marcius, or both even, were involved.
But avoiding them and their attention this year was a feat unto itself. It was doable last year, as you shared a room with four others only— Sebastian, Ominis, Black, and Nott. Black and Nott kept to themselves and had predictable schedules, rarely deviating from their routine. Excluding classes and mealtimes, you would sometimes go for days without seeing them. It helped that they weren’t the nosy type; they never once questioned your absence post curfew or your odd behaviour.
You thought this arrangement of roommates would extend into sixth year and beyond, until Headmaster Black announced at the start of the year that due to the war over on the continent, Hogwarts would be hosting some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons transfers. Beauxbatons students stayed with Hufflepuffs, while Durmstrang students went with Slytherins; Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were exempted from hosting as their towers lack the space needed, their rooms already cramped enough.
Because of that arrangement, more students were crammed into one room. And your room, which had consisted of five students including yourself last year, now held nine.
You, Sebastian, Ominis, Black, Nott, the Gaunt twins, Malfoy, and Lestrange.
You had wondered how in Merlin’s name was the room still so spacious despite having nine students— all alphas, no less, which demanded even more space as alphas got territorial over personal space— until your eyes landed on Black, and the rest of your roommates.
Right. The headmaster must’ve discreetly expanded the Slytherin dormitories. An accidental benefit you would’ve enjoyed if it weren’t for the reality of having to share a room with four more wizards who you also happened to want to avoid.
As you pushed open the door that led to your room, needing a nap before this pounding in your head killed you, you sighed in relief when you noted you were the only one here again.
Sebastian and Marcius’ beds were the closest to the door; Sebastian on the left, Marcius on the right. You were tempted to simply crash on Sebastian’s bed and nap there, as you sometimes did, but you’d rather not have him shove you awake today.
Past their beds were two doors that led to en-suites, one on each side. It was no surprise that Malfoy and Lestrange chose the beds closest to the en-suites. Malfoy liked to take his time in the morning, and Lestrange, who often was the last one to wake, needed to be next to one so he could rush and be on time for breakfast.
You slowly trudged up the few steps that led further into the room. The remaining five beds were upon a raised floor, placed in a circle that conformed to the round, cavernous room. Right in the centre of it, which coincidentally faced the vestibule that led to the doorway, was Marvolo’s bed. To his right, was Black’s, then Nott’s. Yours was to Marvolo’s left, sandwiched between him and Ominis.
You toed off your loafers and collapsed onto your bed, your eyes staring at the dark wooden canopy above you.
Eight alphas. Six suspects. Two possible masterminds. One thief.
Sebastian and Ominis were ruled out of the list of suspects. Ominis wouldn’t go through your things, and Sebastian would’ve confronted you as soon as he determined what those phials contained.
It couldn’t be Black or Nott; they minded their own business and ignored you outside of mandatory classwork. It wasn’t Malfoy or Lestrange either; if they knew you were taking omega supplements, they would’ve confronted you immediately..
That left Marvolo and Marcius. To which, if one of them was the mastermind, it made the matter more complex. As brazen and direct as Marcius was, he wouldn’t have taken the phials himself as that would implicate him. Same goes as well for Marvolo. If Cedric was the quintessential Hufflepuff, then Marvolo was the same, but for Slytherin.
And yet, that didn’t seem plausible. How would they have known about the phials in the first place? How would anyone within this room know? Even if they were aware of their existence, your trunk was ladened with security wards, just like theirs. If someone had gone through your things, you would’ve known.
You closed your eyes and sighed, covering part of your face with the back of your hand.
If no one within this room was responsible, then who was? On top of that… Why?
Why have they not cornered me yet?