Chapter Text
“No!” Ominis shouted. “You two wanted to come down here. I refuse to do it. I won’t cast Crucio on either of you.”
“But Ominis…” Sebastian began, only to be interrupted.
“No, Sebastian, I won’t do it. I -” Ominis’ voice cracked “I can’t. Not again. Please. Please don’t make me do it again” he begs.
I stepped in before Sebastian could respond. “We won’t, Ominis. But I refuse to let us die here, either.”
In a desperate search for answers, Sebastian, Ominis and myself had entered the secret scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin. Sebastian’s twin sister, Anne, had been cursed almost a year ago, and it left her completely debilitated with pain. Despite his Uncle Solomon’s wishes, Sebastian was determined to seek out a cure for Anne. His search had lead us to the restricted section of the library, and now a secret ante-chamber of the Slytherin founder, known as the Scriptorium.
Ominis was weary from the start about entering, and tried to stop us, too. Despite his pleas, though, I’d managed to convince him. I reasoned that maybe it was a way to find out what had happened to his Aunt Noctua – someone he loved dearly.
Sadly, she had passed away in the Scriptorium. She was also seeking answers; answers that would hopefully lead the Gaunt family away from the Dark Arts.
Now, we stood in the shadow of her grave; Noctua had died because she came alone, and had no one to cast the Cruciatus curse on.
It was the only way to go forward – to get us out of this trap made by Salazar Slytherin.
“Will you at least teach us the curse?” Sebastian asked.
“No,” Ominis said sharply “Whatever you two do now, you do alone. I refuse to have any part in this.” Ominis walked away, and turned his back on us.
Sebastian gave an exasperated sigh, and turned back to me. I could see the fear in his eyes, but he grinned at me, nonetheless.
We walked towards the door before us. Carved in stone was the images of faces twisted in agony, and the word ‘Crucio’ carved in crooked letters beneath it.
“Look, I know the Cruciatus curse.” he confessed.
I raised an eyebrow at him, but I was not surprised. Unlike Ominis, Sebastian did not shy away from the Dark Arts. He saw them as the means to an end; a necessary evil.
“How?” I asked.
Ominis knew it because he had been forced by his family to learn it. They told him to cast it on a helpless muggle. When he refused, his parents cast it on him. When given the option again – cast it on someone else, or have it cast on him – he chose to cast it on the muggle. He never forgave himself for it. That’s why he was so reserved when it came to the Dark Arts.
“You were just a child,” I had told him “You had no choice.”
In response, Ominis gave a low, grave chuckle “You don’t understand, Violet. In order for the Unforgiveable Curses to work…you have to want to cast them. You have to mean them, to want to cause another living thing that much agony.”
I did not respond to that. Besides, I was a Ravenclaw. Forewarned is forearmed…right?
“I saw my Uncle cast it once. Either way, we have two options,” Sebastian says “I either cast it on you – or you cast it on me."
I looked again at the faces frozen in pain. The Cruciatus curse was said to cause pain on whoever it was cast upon – but not just any pain. It was supposed to be unbearable, beyond unbearable. It was rumoured that those who had suffered from it often begged for death - or turned to madness.
I looked at Sebastian. No. I could not do that to anyone. Especially him.
“I cannot cast it on you,” I said to him truthfully “but…given the circumstances I find myself in, I think I should learn it. I need all the protection I can get from Ranrok and Rookwood.”
I thought back to the first time I visited Hogsmeade. It had been ransacked by a berserk troll. After the troll attack, Rookwood had tried to confront me himself. The only reason he had not done anything to me then was because I had been in the Three Broomsticks…and Sebastian had been there, by my side.
“Ok then,” Sebastian nods “I’ll teach it to you.”
I hear Ominis snort in disgust, but I ignore him. We lived in dangerous times, I reasoned to myself.
Quickly, Sebastian taught me the basics of the of the curse. The wand movements, the words. Eventually, Sebastian turned to me. “Are you ready?” he asked, retrieving his wand from his Slytherin robe.
I looked again at the faces on the door, forever frozen in midscream. I could die here, the way Noctua Gaunt had, or I could suffer through some pain. My choice seemed obvious. I refused to die in some damp, dingy Slytherin pseudo-dungeon.
“Yes,” I said, putting on my brave face. “I’m ready.”
“Ok then” Sebastian raises his wand, and with a flick of his wrist, pointed it at me. “Crucio!”