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As the three Slytherins stepped out of the scriptorium, Amalthea’s body was still pulsing with pain. She had pushed past it, assured her friends she was fine, perhaps more for their sake than hers. When she had looked up into Sebastian’s face from the ground, she had seen concern, a hint of regret and maybe some fear. And so she had promised she was fine.
Now as the three of them stood in front of the common room, Amalthea was barely aware of what they were saying. Ominis was talking fast, frantic, but she couldn’t hear him.
The aftermath of the pain was still coursing through her body, making every muscle feel stretched and sore and every bone ache. Her head was pounding. She felt weak. Ominis was making Sebastian promise he would leave the dark arts behind and he was promising. She thought she might have murmured a promise, too.
“Amalthea? Are you sure you’re okay?” Ominis asked. She lifted her head, eyes widening slightly.
His head was turned in her direction. Sebastian was looking at her, too. There was that look on his face: fearful and concerned. She knew if she admitted how rattled she was now, it would upset him. It would upset the both of them, and it could even give them more reason to bicker with each other. She took a breath.
Her voice was lower than usual. She loathed to admit it, but she knew she sounded distant. She sounded unlike herself. “I’m okay. Thank you. I … think I’m going to take a bath now. Goodnight.”
“Amalthea?” Sebastian tried, frowning. The frown struck her somehow, but she was unsure why. He made a reach for her arm and she flinched involuntarily. The movement shocked them both.
“I’ll see you both later,” she insisted, “Goodnight.”
— — —
The hot water eventually began to soothe the ache in her body. Gradually, she began to relax in the bath. She idly toyed with the bubbles resting just on top of the water as she tried to think about something besides what had happened. The scriptorium. The spell book. That somewhat concerning entry by Slytherin himself mentioning a creature. However, the memory of the pain sat at the forefront of her mind. She continued to circle back to it.
Her eyes closed and she saw Sebastian Sallow standing mere feet from her, wand at the ready, asking her, “Are you ready?”
She knew in her heart that Sebastian wished her no ill will. She knew he was only single - minded in his search for Anne’s cure, and that single - mindedness was the reason he was able to cast such a curse. It was not malicious; He did not desire to hurt her. He only desired to get into that room, and he’d do anything to do so.
But he had done it. And although logically she knew that he would never hurt her out of malice, although she had told him very firmly that he must cast it on her, the thought still made her tremble.
She thought of his sad face watching her, unable to truly regret what he’d done but wishing he hadn’t had to do so and crushed at her sudden instinctual fear of his touch, and it made her sick.
Amalthea’s eyes opened and she glared across the mountain of bubbles. “It’s done with,” she murmured, “best to let it go now. It’s done.”
She had more important things to worry about. Lodgok had yet to send word to her about whether or not Ranrok had accepted the helm. The second trial would surely be upon her soon. Every time she stepped into Hogsmeade, she was sure she felt Rookwood’s eyes and ears turned in her direction, keeping up with her every move. She had to learn what her enemies were doing and why it involved this Ancient Magic business. There was no time to dwell on a curse.
Even one as painful as that.
For the first time since her first night at Hogwarts, Amalthea found pondering these topics hard to come by. Normally they were the only things on her mind. It struck her as ironic that Sebastian Sallow’s curse had pushed them all to the back burner.
With a groan, Amalthea took a breath and dipped her head underneath the water. The lack of senses made her feel safer. She could hardly hear when the door creaked open and a tentative, hesitant voice began to call her name.
The sound was distorted under the water. “Amalthea? Are you in here?”
She broke through the water with a gasp and began to wipe at her face. The voice now sounded more startled, and familiar. “Amalthea? Are you all right?”
“Sebastian?” she asked incredulously. “This is the girl’s bathroom, what are you doing?”
She couldn’t see him. He was still at the doorway, barely peaked through the door as if he was afraid of actually coming in, somewhere bound between respecting the girl’s privacy and concerned for her.
“You’ve been in here for over an hour. I wanted to see if you were … What are you doing in here, anyway?” His voice was so hesitant that in any other situation, she would have thought it was funny. She would have teased him. Currently, she was mildly annoyed.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked, with a slight splash of the water. She was pushing soaked hair out of her face.
“I see. Oh, I mean— I don’t see, I just mean that I—“
“I know what you meant, Sebastian,” she said with a sigh.
She heard the door open just a little more. He must have shuffled in a little further. “I just wanted to see that you were all right after … Everything.”
Her eyes closed. There was that worry laced in his voice again. As hesitant and nervous as it was, it was there. He was concerned for her, and she wanted desperately to be able to put him at ease. She wanted to shield him from it, promise him it was all okay, she was okay. And yet the echoes of pain still seemed to haunt her. The very memory made her shiver.
“I’m fine, Sebastian.” She sounded short with him and cursed herself for it. It wasn’t his fault. He had done what he’d had to do to get them out of there. They would still be trapped if he hadn’t done it.
There was a brief pause. And then Sebastian asked, “May I come in?”
Her eyes opened. “What? No, Sebastian, I’m bathing! Go back to the common room.”
“I just feel like we should talk about what happened. Amalthea, I need you to know—“
“Sebastian, I am fine. Please let me finish my bath.”
She was more determined than ever to stay here, even though the bath water had turned lukewarm and she was no more comforted than she had been when she had gotten in. She stared hard at the bit of the room that he could easily turn the corner from to stand in, as if waiting for him to come in anyway.
He was quiet. She thought she could hear the rustle of his robes as he folded and unfolded his arms, moved them about helplessly. She thought she could hear the soft shuffling of his feet against stone. “It’s late,” he said softly, “You should come to the common room to sleep soon. You should rest.”
“I will,” she said, sighing. “But right now I want to finish my bath. Can you just leave now, please? Go to bed, Sebastian. You should rest just as much as I should. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Another beat of silence. Sebastian said, “Okay. Goodnight, Amalthea.” He sounded defeated. She cursed herself again.
“Goodnight, Sebastian.”
Receding footsteps and then the door closed again, leaving her in silence. She closed her eyes and sank back into the water with a groan. Tomorrow she would have to face him. She would be settled down by then, and this entire ordeal would just be some vague memory. Slytherin’s scriptorium would be some forgotten room to her. She would never look upon it again, and the memory of what had taken place would slip to the back of her mind.
She only stayed in the bathroom long enough to be sure Sebastian wouldn’t be waiting for her in the common room, and then she dressed and went to bed.
— — —
“I can’t believe you blew up another cauldron,” Sebastian said to Garreth Weasley as the group of students wandered out of Potions class. “Professor Sharp is going to use your entrails for his next potion.”
“It was a minor miscalculation,” Garreth replied, seemingly unfazed.
“Minor miscalculation? You got purple goo all over the ceiling,” Amalthea pointed out, wrinkling her nose.
“That smell’s going to linger for weeks,” added Ominis.
“Just a little heavy on the mongrel fur is all. It needs to be one and a half clumps instead of two.” Garreth sounded far too confident for someone who had spent the past three Potions classes making some sort of mess. “Then I’ll have it right.”
“Mm. Sharp’s going to start with your ears, I think,” Sebastian mused.
There was soft giggling from the group as they all stopped by the fountain in Central Hall. It was, as usual, bustling with students going to and from their classes. Amalthea stood amongst her friends and listened as they bickered.
“You lot have no confidence,” Garreth said. “Right. Well, I’ll see you three later. If I’m late to my aunt’s class one more time, she’ll be writing to my parents for sure.”
As they said their goodbyes, a quiet fell over the three remaining Slytherins. Amalthea felt a weight dangling over the three of them.
Things hadn’t quite been the same since the night in the scriptorium. The pain that had gone through Amalthea had felt unbearable. It had lingered for days after, in all her joints and muscles. Ominis had fretted over her and pointed out that a trip to the hospital wing might be in order, but it was decided against. After all, how could they explain to the nurse that she had been hit with an unforgivable curse? It was out of the question.
And so she had bore the pain, nursed it herself as best she could with hot baths and herbs. She ignored it as best she could. When her friends asked her about it, she assured them she was better. She was fine. After several days, the aching began to subside. All that was left was the memory, and that came almost as acutely as the pain itself. It kept her up at night. It even distracted her from all her other problems.
She could feel some great rift between herself and Sebastian. She had been distant with him since that night, avoided being alone with him when she could, and was awfully polite but never open with him. She could tell it was tearing him up, but she didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t know what to do with how she felt about him.
“Well,” Ominis said, “I have some Herbology homework to do still. I’ll catch up to you at dinner?”
Amalthea felt some dread piling in the pit of her stomach. She smiled. “Okay, Ominis. See you then.”
“I’ll see you later, Ominis,” Sebastian said.
They watched their friend wander towards the greenhouses in silence. Neither spoke; Neither moved a muscle. Amalthea pressed her lips together, flashed a slight smile, and said, “I’d better get going. I’ll see you later.”
Sebastian stepped forward. “Amalthea, wait.”
She froze. The dread in her stomach seemed to swell. She turned to him again. “Yes, Sebastian?”
“I … I wanted to talk to you.” He seemed to be struggling. She felt bad about the entire thing, blamed herself. Why couldn’t she just move past the issue?
“We are talking, Sebastian, right now,” she replied, voice level. It was devoid of much sincerity. She must have seemed cold to him. She thought she sounded cold.
“No! No, I mean— I mean really talk, Amalthea. Really talk. We haven’t— You and I have not … Will you meet me in the Undercroft tonight?”
The question seemed to have taken a lot of built up courage. His fists were balled. His eyes were narrowed. He raised his chin. Amalthea could see the determination there. She swallowed hard.
“I don’t know, Sebastian. I have a lot of work to catch up on: assignments from Professor Sharp and Professor Garlick, and I have my own research I need to be doing. Now may not be the best time.” Her head tilted, she continued to sound polite, but always distant. Always apart.
Sebastian’s eyes became more desperate. He was good at that, she thought. “Amalthea, please. I need to— We need to talk, will you just please meet me tonight?”
She regretted looking into his face. There she saw all the sadness and pain that had come with this strange distance between the two of them. She could tell it was upsetting him. And she knew it was not a cold shoulder he deserved. He had not done anything with the intention to be cruel. And now he was staring at her with those sad eyes, pleading with her to speak to him.
A few second years walked by and looked at them curiously.
She was thinking about what a bad idea it all was even as she said, “All right, Sebastian. I’ll meet you tonight.”
The relief in his eyes was palpable. He had seen a glimmer of hope in her answer. His shoulders relaxed some of the built tension and he exhaled a breath he had apparently been holding. “Thank you, Amalthea.”
She offered a weak smile. “See you later,” she whispered, and hurried away.
— — —
Dinner was mostly uneventful, with the highlight being a wizard’s chess victory against Grace Pinch - Smedley. Amalthea was able to distract herself from the looming night ahead of her. She went back to the common room, and instead of getting ready for bed, she lingered by the tall windows and stared out at the aquatic life. Eventually, the students in the room dwindled until it was only her. She hadn’t seen Sebastian since dinner and suspected he had gone to the Undercroft already. He was waiting for her.
She wondered briefly if she could simply not show up. He would perhaps be upset, but she could make some excuse up. She got caught up in a conversation and couldn’t get away. She suddenly got ill and had to go straight to bed. Professor Fig unexpectedly called upon her. None of these lies felt good enough, nor did they feel right to her. She couldn’t just let him sit and wait in the chill of the Undercroft after avoiding him for so long.
Finally, when the last student had gone to bed, Amalthea got up from her chair and made her way out of the Slytherin common room. The walk to the Undercroft felt more like the trek to the gallows. What would Sebastian say to her? She desperately wanted things to go back to normal. She wanted some semblance of comfort between the two of them again. In truth, Amalthea missed him.
But when she saw him, she was reminded of that brief moment where he had put all his energy into causing her pain: unimaginable pain, the worst torture. Even if she had simply been a means to an end, it did not change the fact that for that moment, Sebastian had to mean to hurt her.
She was in front of the entrance to the Undercroft before she knew it. She once again considered backing out. She could run back to the common room now and tell Sebastian something later. Anything to keep from whatever conversation was about to take place.
Frowning, and feeling a growing sickness in her stomach, she waved her wand over the entrance and stepped through.
The Undercroft was dimly lit. At first, she didn’t see anyone as she came into the large room. However, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a figure pacing in the center of the room. His arms were moving as if he were speaking but nothing was coming out. He didn’t notice her at first, and as she walked closer, she was able to better see his face. It was lined with worry, his eyes cast towards the floor.
She stopped several feet from him, unsure whether to speak or not. She was still somewhat hidden in the shadows. He was murmuring to himself. “I can do this. I just want to talk. Things have been— Oh! Amalthea! How long … How long have you been standing there?”
Amalthea jumped slightly as he spotted her. She folded her hands neatly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just coming in.”
“No! I mean, no, of course. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came.” He gave her an encouraging smile. She flashed one of her own, albeit smaller.
“Now, what … what did you want to talk about?”
The question hung over them both. She could see the wheels in Sebastian’s head turning.
“Right! Um, well. How shall I put this … I just don’t feel like you and I have really talked since— since that night. In the scriptorium.” He spoke slowly, deliberately but carefully.
Amalthea deflected before she could let herself think about it. “What are you talking about? I speak to you every day.” She made a sound like a laugh that was meant to be good natured, casual. It came out tense.
“But that isn’t really true, is it? You and I don’t speak anymore. Not without other people around, and even then it’s— It’s maddeningly polite, Amalthea. Even now, you won’t look at me! Please, tell me what I’ve done wrong.” He was letting his guard slip. He sounded desperate again.
Amalthea felt her chest hurting. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Sebastian,” she assured, but she still did not look at him directly.
“Then tell me what’s wrong! Amalthea, look at me. Please, just look at me.” He reached his hand out to her and she instinctively jerked away. Sebastian froze, and the frustration and desperation pooled over. “Ever since that night, you’ve acted different around me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian,” she said. It sounded cruel to her.
“I’m not being ridiculous, Amalthea! We don’t speak anymore—“
“That sn’t true!”
“You don’t even look at me anymore. And if you do, it’s never more than a second or two.”
“Sebastian, please, let’s not do this.” She didn’t mean to beg him. She didn’t mean to brush him off so easily. But it was necessary. She had to if she wanted to avoid what was quickly bubbling up in her. Night after restless night, unspoken words were all coming to a head now. If she was not careful, she’d spill. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Amalthea, please,” he copied, “we need to do this. If you would shout at me, I could take it. But I can’t take this silence! I can’t take being brushed aside and ignored.”
She looked away. “No one is brushing you aside, Sebastian. I’m—“
“You act like you’re afraid of me,” he accused.
“Because I am, Sebastian!” The words echoed against the Undercroft and bounced back at them. It felt damning. Sebastian went silent, surprised.
He stepped back. Amalthea looked at him now and saw the hurt in his eyes. The very thing he had been afraid of was true. And now they both knew it and understood it.
“Amalthea,” he whispered, “what I did in the scriptorium that night. I— I would never … I just mean—“
“You did what you had to, Sebastian,” she said in a breath. “I know you did. There was no other way. I know that in my mind, I do.” Her eyes closed. “But … When I look at you, all I can think about is the fact that you resolved to do it. To curse me with … with a pain like nothing I have ever felt. A pain you knew would be agonizing but still did it, and meant to cause it. When I look at you, all I can think about is you pointing your wand at me. I’m sorry. I know it’s foolish—“
“I didn’t say that,” Sebastian murmured.
“I know it’s unfair to you,” Amalthea went on. “But it’s all I can think about sometimes. That pain stayed with me for so long.”
“It stayed with you?” Sebastian repeated. “Amalthea, how long did you—“
“And even when I thought it was subsiding, sometimes my body would just remember the pain and react again. Even now, it’s there in the back of my mind! And I know you’d never hurt me now, I know you only did it to get us out of there. I just need— I need time, Sebastian. I’m sorry.”
Her hands dropped at her sides and she looked at him. He still seemed so shocked by her words. She couldn’t blame him. After all, she had promised them she was well that next day and days after. Sebastian had believed her and, with plenty of convincing, so had Ominis, who knew what the curse felt like himself.
“There must be something I can do,” he insisted softly.
“There isn’t.” She shook her head.
He didn’t believe her. Perhaps he did not want to. Sebastian was one of the most stubborn people she had ever met. He did not willy - nilly decide something, but when he did, he was resolved in it and nothing could change his mind. It was what kept him searching for Anne’s cure. And now, Amalthea thought it was building in him again: he wanted her trust again and was sure there must be some way to earn it.
“Cast crucio on me,” he said suddenly.
Amalthea, who had been looking at an old suit of armor, twisted her head to stare at him.
“What?” she exclaimed, “Why would I do that?”
“Think about it,” he said, beginning to pace again. The wheels were turning once more. “We’ll be equal. I’ll fully understand what I did to you. You put yourself at my mercy and I cursed you— With consent, but horrid nonetheless. Now you can curse me. I’ll be at your mercy with consent. You and I will move on together.” He stopped and looked at her, wide eyed. Amalthea could see somewhere was fear at the thought, but beyond that was determination. If this was what would fix the damage done, he’d do it. For her. For them.
He was a strange boy, she thought, to go through so much for a girl he had only known a few months.
“Sebastian, I can’t do that,” she replied, crossing her arms.
He scoffed. “Of course you can! I’m telling you that you can, Amalthea. I want you to.”
“No, Sebastian, I mean I can’t. To cast one of these curses, I’d have to really mean it, right? I’d have to want to cause you harm, even in that moment. But … I don’t want to do that.” Even as she looked at him now, she knew she would not be able to go through with it. She would lose her nerve before she could. It was no use.
Several emotions flitted across his face. Frustration, sadness, guilt, relief, and something softer as well: affection.
“But if it could help—“
“It wouldn’t help and you know it. I have no desire to hurt you. I wouldn’t be able to cast it even if I thought it was a worthwhile idea, which I don’t, by the way.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You had a real reason to cast it. I know that. You were just getting us out of there.”
His shoulders fell. He could see that she was just as resolved not to cast it as he was resolved to find some solution. They had reached another road block. He would need to think about a solution.
She let her hands fall to her sides and looked away again. The Undercroft went quiet again. Somewhere, Amalthea could hear a drip.
“I can’t take this,” he murmured, looking far more heartbroken than she would have imagined, “just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Please.”
Amalthea wished for the hundredth time that she could forget the shocks of pain he had inflicted. She would give anything to wipe them from her memory and start anew with him. She had never felt so quickly connected to another person before. She had never felt understood and accepted the way she felt when she spoke with Sebastian. He had done so much for her. He had welcomed her to school, aided her whenever she needed it with little to no questions asked, and offered himself at her disposal at a moment’s notice. More than that, he had brought her in: he had let her into his world, into his Undercroft, into his Feldcroft, into his scriptorium. He had done all this because he trusted her fully and he wanted her there.
“But I don’t know, Sebastian,” she whispered.
“I can’t accept that,” he pressed. “I won’t accept it. You and I have come too far to come apart now, don’t you think? Look at what the two of us have accomplished together. The troll in Hogsmeade, the Crossed Wands championship, the goblins at Feldcroft and the triptych, even— even the scriptorium. We did that together. I can’t accept that our friendship ends now.”
He was correct. They had accomplished a lot together. Sometimes it felt like anything was possible with Sebastian. She almost imagined the two of them could break down Ranrok’s door and defeat him themselves. They complemented each other well. And he was right: they had worked together in the scriptorium. It had been agony, but it had been her choice. He had given her the choice and she had made it. When it came down to it, it wasn’t just that she knew she could never cast the curse on Sebastian. It was also that she trusted him enough to curse her.
Her eyes closed. “I know,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose this either.”
She did not see him, but she felt him shift a bit. She was sure she could sense that this relieved him somewhat. “I’d make an unbreakable vow to you right now if we had a witness. I’ll do it tomorrow if you want. Ominis will do it.”
“No,” she murmured, “I don’t want to drag Ominis into this. He thinks it’s all passed now and I don’t want to worry him. I don’t want to make him think about the scriptorium anymore.”
Thinking about their discovery of Ominis’ aunt in that dark place made her shiver. She would not bring this up to him again.
Sebastian made a small grunt of agreement. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Perhaps it will go away, with time,” she mumbled. “Just like the pain itself. I’ll forget it. My body will eventually forget it.”
“Ominis told me if I casted that curse, I’d regret it for the rest of my life,” Sebastian mused. She turned to stare at him now. He looked contemplative. “He was right, I think. But not for the reasons he might have assumed.” He looked at her and smiled. There was something pensive about it, and altogether sad. “An unforgivable curse may be some blot on my soul, but I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about that, honestly. But I’ll regret this: I’ll regret ever harming you. I feel nothing but disdain for myself when I think about it. You didn’t deserve that, Amalthea. And I’m sorry it had to be done, I wish we could have had another way.”
But there had been none. Crucio had been the only way out. Someone had to face it. Ominis was out of the question; he had not wanted to be there in the first place. It had been up to the two of them. It was always up to the two of them.
“When I went to check on you that night, Ominis told me I should give you space. I didn’t listen to him. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come into the bathroom like that.” His brows furrowed. He looked ashamed. “I wasn’t mindful of what I’d done to you that night, was I?”
Amalthea had tried not to think about it. She thought about how she could barely see him during those spasms of pain. He had asked her if she was all right but he had sounded surprised, as if he still didn’t realize what he had really done. And then the doors were open, and she was trying to mask her pain in order to press on. It had been a victory that night to him, and the weight of what he had done hit after. “No,” she whispered. “You weren’t.”
He nodded his head. “If I could do it over—“
“You would still have to curse me,” she pointed out.
“I would,” he agreed. As they both came to this conclusion, Amalthea felt strangely at peace. “But I would do it differently. I would get you out of there quicker. I could go back to the scriptorium whenever I wanted; I would take you away somewhere safe.”
Sebastian spoke genuinely. His voice was soft to her ears. She found herself imagining the scenario in her head now. She imagined the picture he was painting to her as clearly as if it were a memory.
“And I would keep you safe,” he continued. His words were little more than a whisper now. “I’d do anything you needed. I’d run your bath myself.”
She found herself smiling, only briefly. But he was serious, he was revisiting the night and thinking of exactly how he would do it over. She looked at him and saw the sincerity on his face.
“I should have,” he said, “and I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I am sorry, Amalthea. I’ll spend the rest of our time together trying to repair the damage if you’ll just—“ He swallowed hard. “If you’ll just give me the chance.”
Amalthea regarded the boy before her now, his eyes still sad and regretful, his heart still practically cut open to bleed in front of her if that’s what it would take. He would do anything. She knew that. Amalthea saw him again for what felt like the first time since that night. He was no monster. He was not cruel. He was not a victim, either. He was just a boy.
And he was a boy who cared very much for her.
She felt herself reach out to him. She was able to touch his hand without fear. She took it and squeezed.
“I would like that very much,” she whispered. Her smile was somewhat strained. “I don’t want to lose you either. You know that, right? You … Well, you may very well be the best friend I’ve ever had, Sebastian Sallow. We’ll make it through this just like we’ve made it through every other obstacle that’s been thrown at us.”
Sebastian was staring at their hands. The relief was once more palpable.
“You and I do make a very good team,” he whispered, and returned the squeeze with his own.
She smiled. “That we do.”