Chapter Text
The wind whips Ainsley’s long dark brown hair back into her face, but she makes no effort to pin it back. Her deep green eyes and mind are too focused on the repetitive waves that crash on the sand. Even in the high height of August, she’s wrapped in a worn tartan blanket as the cool air of the ocean seeps into her bones, chilling her to her core. There is a vacant look in her eyes as she contemplates the past few months—the last year even.
Ainsley Macmillan. 16. Slytherin. Half-blood. Ancient Magic keeper. Hero of Hogwarts. Defeater of the Ashwinders. Master of the Highlands. The only child of Lisa Abbott-Macmillan and Rupert Macmillan. A young woman defined by others.
Ainsley looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if to show herself that she is her own person. She looks over the pale scar that runs over her right palm that had come from an Ashwinder poacher last winter. Natty and Poppy would tell her that her scars told her story, and each one showed how brave she was.
In reality, they made her feel…alone.
It was only two more weeks until her sixth year at Hogwarts was meant to start, and Ainsley wasn’t sure how she felt. She drifts her attention to the small cottage behind her with a heavy heart, her summer safe haven, as she grapples with her emotions. Professor Fig had bequeathed it to her in his will. Her heart clenches at the thought of the older man. Her adviser. Her mentor. Her…friend. Fig had been a rock to her as she navigated everything in a semi-new world. For fifteen years, she had been a squib. A child of two half-blooded researchers who sought treasures all over the world. Her parents were mildly relieved at her lack of magic. No waves of uncontrolled magic as she grew to disrupt their research or damage anything. Ainsley was privately tutored in various subjects to make it possible for her to build a life outside the wizarding world if she so chose, while her parents hunted down artifacts and ruins. It wasn’t a bad childhood. She had seen the world, which a lot of children couldn’t say. Her parents had loved her in their own way, but their research always came first. They worked closely with Fig at one point because he had been interested in a piece of tablet they had discovered in the dark woods of Russia. It’s why they entrusted her to Fig when the ancient magic manifested last Spring.
Now he was gone.
Sure, Ainsley had her parents, but they were Gods knows where, looking for Gods knows what…they wouldn’t be able to understand her pain or handle her grief. No one could.
It’s why Ainsley had been isolating herself here all summer. For a whole year, she had thrown herself into her studies, thrown herself into danger for the sake of others, and thrown her feelings out the window for the greater good. Here…at Fig’s cottage…no one needed her to be the hero.
Ainsley didn’t ask for this fate. She had been perfectly content being a squib. She was happily studying maths and sciences, astronomy and philosophy, whatever she could to make sure she could survive without magic, but Ranrok ruined that.
He ruined her comfortable life the minute he broke that first repository and awakened the old and dormant magic inside her.
The ancient magic surges in her bones as if to remind her that it’s still there, waiting, and she lets the tears run down her face. She had been avoiding using her magic all summer, after all, it had caused all of her pain.
The loss of Fig.
The countless near-death experiences.
The manipulation from Sebastian’s unending quest.
The questioning of her morals.
Ainsley wished it had gone away when she had sealed the final repository.
The gentle crashing of waves brings her back into the present. She pulls the blanket tighter around her as she tries to pull herself out of the darkness of her own mind.
Her friends had written; they were the best thing that ancient magic had given her.
Anne told her about all her and Sebastian’s adventures in London since moving in with a distant relative. She told her all about these experimental treatments at St. Mungo's that Soloman had initially rejected, and unsurprisingly, they seemed to be helping, which Ainsley was grateful for. Anne was lovely and deserved some sunshine after her last year.
Sebastian treated her with a coldness like she was the one who had done something wrong. She saved him from a trip to Azkaban, and he stopped speaking to her after their final talk in the Undercroft. No more funny quips in the halls; no more sarcastic jokes over essays. Silence.
Poppy told Ainsley all about her and her Gran’s research, and she had decided to go into Beast Preservation and Conservation. Ainsley wishes she could say she was surprised. She still remembers the look of joy on Poppy’s face when they found those three little Snidgets. Poppy had found her calling and was eager to be assisting Professor Howin in the coming year.
Natty had gone back home to Uganda to visit family since she and her mother needed some space from England. She was finally ready to run in the Savannah again with the comfort that had been brought her after that final fight with Harlow. She talked about all the scenery and food, and she wanted Ainsley to come to visit her…but Ainsley couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to bring a dark cloud over her friend’s joy.
Deek wrote to her about all her beasts and gave her detailed reports about their care. He was doing a wonderful job while she was away, but Ainsley didn’t expect anything else from the loyal house-elf.
A soft caw brings Ainsley out of her reverie, and she spots a familiar black owl fast approaching.
Ominis.
The bird clutches a letter in his talons, and Ainsley feels a familiar smile spread across her face as it drops the letter before hurrying away. Her fingers run over the Gaunt family seal before ripping it open. Ominis’ letters were always her favorite. He had been with his family most of the summer except for the month that he went to go visit Anne and Sebastian in London. His brothers, Marvolo and Daemon, had proven once again that torturing Muggles was a fun pastime for them, but now they were bringing in half-bloods to “up the stakes.” In one of his letters, Ominis said that he was happy Ainsley was so far away since she would have been the first one they went after since Marvolo knew how much she meant to his little brother.
Dearest Ainsley,
I can hardly believe this summer has come to an end. None too soon. My family is dreadful. Are you sure I can’t run away to you and the cottage for this last week? I look forward to seeing you in a few days. I’m glad that Professor Weasley has allowed us to return early to settle in. Truly, if she had said no, I think I would have shown up anyways. I cannot stand to be in this manor any longer; it feels suffocating here even if my family tends to ignore my existence.
I am ready for the comforting smell of the library, the gentle sounds of the lake against the windows, and the familiar cadence of you running through the halls and getting into all sorts of mischief. I just want to be…home. I miss you. I miss Natty and Poppy, friends I would have never thought I would have without you. I even miss Garreth and his mischief.
I hope you are doing well. Your last letter seemed…odd. Remember, you can always talk to me. I am here for you, always.
Your Friend,
Ominis
Ainsley frowns at his last line, Ominis was too perceptive for his own good. No doubt he would bring it up the minute he sees her in the Common room. She runs her fingers over swirls of Ominis’ signature with a smile. She missed him. She missed everyone. She was happy to be going back, but there was still a heavy feeling in her heart. This year, Fig wouldn’t be there to hold her hand, but her friends said they would be there for her and that she needn't feel alone. After all…
Ranrok was gone.
Rookwood was gone.
Harlow was gone.
The repository was safe.
Ainsley was safe.
Ainsley folds up Ominis’ letter as she stands, her eyes focusing back on the setting sun. The golden hue fills the sky, and she can’t help but smile as she clutches the letter close. This year was going to be normal, and she could actually be a student. Her days would be filled with potions, arithmancy, runes, astronomy, and whatever else she wanted. There weren’t any loyalists or poachers to chase to the coast and back.
She pulls the blanket tighter as she moves back toward the cottage.
It was going to be a normal year.