Chapter Text
Evening settled over Hogwarts Castle like velvet drawn across a mirror. The Slytherin common room though, adorned in deep greens and blacks, felt alive with its usual indulgence, its students draped across sofas and gathered in small circles of idle talk as though the hour itself existed only for their comfort.
Among them sat Sebastian Sallow.
He occupied a leather sofa alongside two of his fellow fifth-years, claiming the space with an ease that bordered on ownership.
The first day of term had already passed and strangely it lingered. Not just with him, but also the two seated beside him as well.
"I still can't believe that girl beat you in Professor Hecat's class."
Imelda Reyes spoke first, her tone edged with amusement as she brought the morning's spectacle back to life.
Sebastian did not so much as flinch. Instead, he smiled— unbothered and almost amused with himself.
"I know, right?" he said lightly, leaning back into the sofa. "I can't imagine what would've happened if Hecat had paired her with Leander. That smug little kitten wouldn't have lasted a minute. It would've been an exceptional show."
"Your tendency to underestimate things will bring you to an unfortunate end one day, Sebastian."
Ominis Gaunt, who had been idly turning his wand between his fingers, spoke at last.
Sebastian spared him a glance. There it was, that familiar note of restraint and caution that seemed to follow his childhood friend wherever he went. Treading through his words like something learned too early.
Today, it only widened Sebastian's smile.
Because the memory remained far too vivid to regret. The sharp crack of deflected magic. The fleeting second where realization came too late.
And then— impact!
He himself had been unceremoniously thrown off balance before an entire class. A quiet laugh escaped him at the recollection, an unusual thing for one so often called Hogwarts' finest duelist.
"Come now, Ominis," Sebastian said, his tone lilting with something dangerously close to delight. "Don't you think she deserves that proper Hogwarts welcome? She is new, after all."
"I think you've given her more than enough attention already," Imelda replied with a dismissive flick of her hand. "She had her moment last night with that dramatic entrance. As if being sorted in fifth year wasn't spectacle enough."
Sebastian hummed softly, resting his chin against his knuckles as his gaze drifting toward the dark waters of the Black Lake beyond the window.
The new fifth-year.
The entire school had spoken of little else even before the term began. It was unheard for someone to arrive so late into their Hogwarts education. So its quite natural for curiosity to followed her wherever she went.
And Sebastian Sallow had always been the one who drawn to things worth uncovering the most.
Perhaps that's why the rest of his day had felt... More alive.
Even after being bested in front of an audience.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to her—to the girl with auburn strands catching sunlight, to the quiet composure she carried, to something in her magic that had not quite like anything he had encountered before.
There had been a moment that told him something beneath the surface of her spellwork did not belong to mere skill.
And their brief exchange after class had been just as perplexing in its restraint. She had not lingered, had not boasted of how exceedingly well she had performed, nor even seemed particularly pleased when he had offered both praise and the limited access to Crossed Wands.
That, more than anything, held his attention.
So consumed was he by the thought that he failed to notice the slight shift beside him.
Because Ominis, as he ever was, never needed clear sight to recognize it. He heard it in the lilt of Sebastian's voice. There was a particular cadence to it, one Ominis had come to know far too well over the years.
The sound of a smile. Not the harmless sort.
The one that surfaced when something had captured Sebastian's interest completely, when curiosity sharpened into something more reckless.
He heard this many times before.
Late evenings spent chasing answers that never wished to be found. Quiet insistence dressed as certainty. Hope so bright and stubborn, worn thinner with each failed attempt until it dulled into something hollow and painful to watch.
It always began like this. Soft and certain. Almost harmless and it settled beneath Sebastian's tone now— subtle perhaps to anyone else. But to Ominis, it was unmistakable.
"What is her name again?" Imelda asked, almost absentmindedly.
"Astrid Wilder."
Ominis answered before Sebastian could, his voice sounded steady though something in it felt firmer than necessary, as though the name itself carried weight.
"Astrid Wilder," Sebastian repeated softly.
The name settled easily on his tongue. His smile, this time, softened and thoughtful .
"...What a name."