Chapter Text

Prologue 1890, August

Clementine Skipworth might have been a fool but she wasn’t a dimwit. She didn’t go along with strange men at night, she knew that much. It was just that a lot of weird shenanigans had happened.

It had been another smoky day as she made her way to the factory. For a fourteen year old, she was still small enough to reach the nooks and corners the fabric dust collected in, causing the machine to clog. For a sweeper, she was already senior in age at fourteen, having worked the job five years. Most of the kids were younger than her, 11 perhaps.

Could it be that she was growing slow, by the ripe age of 14? Either way, as she was under the machine, she hadn’t noticed the weight coming onto her before it was too late. It swiftly pressed against the floor tiles, suffocating. She felt something inside her snap.

She had passed out for a while just due to not being able to breathe.

As they had finally backfired the machine — losing a lot of good wool — she had been dragged out by her legs. It was unsure if the kids thought she was already dead, as someone took her shoes and never returned them. She had swelled maybe twice her size in the middle of her ribcage, but despite this, Mary claimed she had been out a minute at most.

She had been out of work for three days, when the manager let her know that she was laid off. Her recovery would simply be too long for them to pay for her rent and food. Those five years of earnings had melted into the wool they lost, when they had to untangle her from the machine.

As a St. Giles resident, she was born with not many options. The orphanage told her she was old enough to earn her keep. Which was true, but she was hurting all over too much to bend at all. So she went asking around for her father. When she found him in The Rookery, he just asked her for money.

The poorhouse told her that she should be working, as well. The swelling had gotten a little down, and all she had was terrible bruising all around her chest. But she wasn’t going to show them that, if they were inclined to believe that she was just lazy. She couldn’t lift her arms, not bend over, barely could she take deep breaths.

But she could walk.

There weren't many options in London. She hadn’t ever left the city.

So she walked. She walked north west. The green moors were beautiful. She grew hungry.

The weather changed, it grew windy.

She took cover in the castle ruins, and could only hear the deafening hurl of winds against the stones. And as night came, she saw the emerging light under the ruins, and a loud, deafening hum of something unnatural emerged as she approached. The first time in her life she was ready to accept death's embrace.

That’s why, when Professor Fig found her, she left with him. Not because she was an idiot or anything of the sort.

 Summer 1891

Sebastian 1891, May

“Denied”, Ominis sighed.

He threw the letter onto the coffee table, circled by arm chairs.

That good-for-nothing Headmaster Black. He denied them staying in Hogwarts for the summer holidays. And of course, the denial came on the absolute last day of the school year.

“He said Hogwarts isn’t an orphanage”, Ominis hissed.

“That damned Black”, Sebastian cursed under his breath. His fingers began tapping the arm rest again.

Clementine seemed unbothered by all this. She rested her head on the arm chair’s back rest, bob cut hair slicked backwards, letting the bright sun draw patterns on her face through the diagonal muntin windows. Her summer plans were nonexistent. 

“Does he need money?” She asked, opening one eye. In the sun, her dark irises’ got a slight warm hue.

“It’s not about the money”, Ominis said, “I tried.”

So the Black just hated their guts regardless. Just like the Gaunts. Just like Anne, his own twin. He must have been born faulty. It was useless. Every time Sebastian thought about even going to Feldcroft, alone, he got a physical pain through his body. So he tried very hard to not think about it.

Skippy would have given him up, if not for Ominis. She hadn’t understood at all what he went through, what Anne meant for him. She didn’t understand he HAD to keep trying to find a solution to keep his sister alive, no matter the risk, because she was his family, his only family. Skippy didn’t have a family of her own, so of course she didn’t understand a thing about loyalty to your real family, not just those monsters and abusers connected by blood, but your real, beloved family.

She finally opened both of her eyes and peeled herself from the backrest.

“I know a few places we could stay.”

She knew some about struggle. Despite having turned an blind eye to the apparent evilness of – most – goblins, she had persevered to fight until the end. Until victory. She had told them about the last fight against Ranrok, however her storytelling qualities were never too detailed.

“My parents will never let me. Not without someone they deem adequate”, Ominis shook his head. And they didn’t deem anyone adequate, Sebastian knew that much. They wouldn’t have minded Professor Fig, and he would have been one of the few professors that could have considered helping them, due to Clementine’s predicament.

But Professor Fig, unfortunately, had passed away. He hadn’t realized that Fig, as her mentor, was possibly the closest to a family she might’ve had. He felt a tinge of warmth towards Clementine again, despite having felt deeply betrayed by her intentions. In one way, they were in the same boat now. On more even ground. A boat on dry ground. Not doing very well.

Clementine opened her mouth to ask further questions, but Sebastian chose to interrupt.

“Not without adult supervision”, he scowled. Unbelievable. After all they’ve been through, they’re still children? He was the oldest in his household now. In the old days, that would have been enough. What in Merlin’s name did a bloke have to do, to decide about his own life?

Clementine mulled over what they had said.

"What about Three Broomsticks?”
Clearly someone had not been paying attention.

“The issue is not the place, but the people”, Ominis said.

“Isn’t Sirona adequate and adult?”

“My parents do not like the establishment.”

Clementine sighed in frustration and closed her eyes again.

“I think you should ask Professor Weasley for help. I think she has a soft spot for you”, Ominis suggested.

“Doesn’t your father specifically hate Professor Weasley?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, well. I can manage one summer”, Ominis said, but Sebastian could see his jaw muscles tighten with stress. He would manage, sure, but never without a price paid.

“We’d go somewhere without Ominis?” She sounded surprised, like she caught up with what they were talking just there.

“You both need to stay somewhere, don’t you?”

There was a pregnant pause. Clementine stared at Sebastian wide-eyed and in disbelief. Sebastian shifted into a more comfortable position, but it was hard to find any.

“So?” Ominis asked for some clarification on what they were thinking. “Clementine?” He asked again.

“Yes, I suppose we do”, she said begrudgingly.
She hated Sebastian, still.

“I will go ask her right now”, she said and made her way from the sun towards the shadows of the castle. There wasn’t any spring in her steps.

When she was out of ear-sight, Ominis spoke out quietly.
“She’s more distraught than she lets on. I hope you can look out for her.”

“I will try”, he nodded. It was not just Professor Weasley, who had a soft spot for her. Ever since what happened in the scriptorium, Ominis seemed to have taken a strange liking to her. Stronger liking than he usually took to anyone.

Sebastian didn’t mind. He had his own reasons for sticking to her side. He wasn’t sure why she kept around, when she hated him so much. But it seemed she liked Ominis more than she hated Sebastian.

She hadn’t said what happened to Solomon to anyone. She let him tell people, and mused in only if needed – truly only if ushered by Ominis. He had told a tale that was reminiscent of the truth. They went dungeon diving. Monsters attacked. Solomon died protecting them.

Solomon didn’t deserve to have the reputation of a protective uncle, but it was easier for others to believe, it seemed. At least it had always been hard for people who didn’t know him all that well to believe what a piece of shit he was. It was possible the whole world but his own family and the neighbours knew him as a hero. Becoming an alleged hero in his passing was the one favour he could do to Sebastian now.

If anyone disagreed, they kept it to themselves. Even Clementine. Although each time the topic came around he could feel her eyes boring into her. And not just feel. She wouldn’t turn her eyes away. As if to mock him. To say, what did I tell you. The same cold eyes she had had, as he had killed Solomon in front of her. He had been trying to hurt her. It was impossible to explain to her it had been a final rebuttal before Solomon shredded every hope he ever had to pieces, Clementine along with it. Yes, he knew Clementine could handle taking a hit of a spell or two, but she didn’t know Solomon. It had been a reflex.

Yes, he had been angry too. Who wouldn’t have been in his position? But it wasn’t because of vengeance he struck out. But the hard part wasn’t what happened to Solomon. Solomon had it coming, everyone knew.

But how to explain Anne leaving? He didn’t know what she had said to the professors, if anything. Ronen and Weasley refused to elaborate in any other way than “Your sister loves you very much, but right now, you need to focus on other things in your life”.

First it felt like betrayal, but Anne had always been the softer of the two. She had been conciliatory, peace-keeping and kind to every form of life. Of course she would be taken aback to him showing such violence, even if it was to protect. So Ominis had later reasoned. Sebastian realized he would be fine if Anne hated him, as long as she got better. It was a trade off he would make again, even knowing the outcome.

But Skippy holding a grudge over this far too shallow, she had no personal stakes in the outcome of his family.

“– But I don’t know if she will keep it together, knowing where she thinks I belong”, Sebastian finally said to Ominis.

It was rare to see Ominis take a pause to think what he would say. He always had a say, even if he was stuttering while saying it.

“I – I think she needs a little kindness now.”

“Alright”, he said, in disbelief if this was his parting advice. But as he was the one last person that was on his side, what else could he do but agree. Even if he didn’t. What other things in life, he had nothing going on for him. A summer away from his last friend Ominis, Sebastian might as well have been dead.

“Maybe I can visit, if things get worked out”, Ominis said. He had a small wistful smile. The sun's warm ray had reached his hand.

Clementine 1891, June

Professor Weasley had always been nothing but kind to her. It hurt to remember, she was just that, kind. She would have preferred not to receive any more help from her – everything she had done for her was already crucial to her survival, the room of requirement, Deek’s help.

She had needed a lot of help in the beginning.

After Fig had died, she had gone through his office. Through his belongings. Not taking anything, just reading his journals.

He had continued to write to Miriam, even after her passing. It was far too personal for her to read, but after they both were dead, personal had lost its meaning. She wasn’t crossing his privacy, since he no longer had any. In his letters, he was missing Miriam, heartbreakingly so, even though the exact depth was beyond her comprehension. Especially because both of their cursive handwriting were difficult to read.

She did miss Fig. But it was not like the bond Fig seemed to have with Miriam. There was a world of connection between two adults that she had never witnessed. At most, she had seen contractual connections, responsibility or drunken words whispered to one another, not souls-deep friendship and mutual love.

Going through his archives she found mentions of herself. It was the strangest to see yourself through someone else's eyes when it was not presented to you. She remembered Fig describing Sebastian as a “troubled one”, but seeing those exact words used on her was… As if she was seeing herself form away from her body. Like a ghost. His words were kind, empathetic and recognized how much help she needed. And he was earnest in helping her.

Yet… The feeling of being distant from herself didn’t leave her. This summer, she would’ve preferred to be alone.

She would’ve already gone to see London, but Professor Weasley had kindly reminded her that underage magic unsupervised around muggles would get her arrested, and worst case scenario, prohibited from using magic ever again. She would not be able to not use magic, she just couldn't, now that she had been granted such power. And if one was banned from magic usage, and was caught using it, it could mean severer punishment. Perhaps even Azkaban.

She had not realized they were both teetering this close to a prison sentence with Sebastian. How come she’d come so close?

Such a troubled young one.

She and Sebastian had both taken upon renting rooms from Three Broomsticks. Just like Ominis had advised. She had enough money to pay for both of them, so she did, despite Sebastian’s complaints. He insisted on paying her back, much to her annoyance. She had enough money. Must he always be so prideful?

She didn’t understand how they settled for this – she was of age of consent already and she sure as hell had not consented to this. The catch had been she was to assist Professor Weasley here and there. While Sebastian assisted Hecat. Sebastian sure needed a tough old woman like Hecat to reprimand him, but she didn’t need anything but space.

Today, Professor Weasley insisted that she was to study a little during summer, to keep up with classmates. Not just tend the gardens as she had mostly done alongside Natsai so far.

Gardening had been good for her.

Although she wouldn’t call gardening her passion, it was relaxing to have her hands down in the dirt for a day and see the seeds take life. Making life happen by little things… And with just some slight help of magic. When tending plants, she could almost feel herself readjusting to her body and the present.

Miriam had liked gardening. Fig had left Clementine some books, including a book of Miriam’s. She wasn’t angry that the rest of Fig’s property went to an unknown distant relative that had barely known the man. Through the belongings the said relative could build a meaningful connection with someone they didn’t even know. They could probably use knowing Fig, who wouldn’t.

Regardless, she had been turning the pages in Miriam’s garden book. Not reading – she often fell asleep before making any progress. But still, to initiate that gardening was lesser than studying? Miriam, who had such a bright mind to figure out ancient magic’s lure before the rest of the bright minds at Hogwarts, seemed to think highly of gardening. It had to be good for oneself.

Professor Weasley insisted on the importance of studying. She had arranged for her niece to tutor her. She had assumed it was more of a co-study session. Probably relaxed. At least she wouldn’t expect anything serious out of Garreth. He would probably want to know what unprohibited plants they were nurturing.

Clementine arrived, wearing common witch clothes out of respect to the household. In case that was important. The Weasleys’ whereabouts reminded her of the hamlets nearby Hogwarts. Cosy. Not too well off in other aspects than familiar love.

“Good morning, Clementine”, she was greeted by Garreth’s mother. She had wide jaw with a plump body. Seemed like all of them had the trademark red hair, even if they had different hues. And plenty of freckles.

“Good morning, Mrs. Weasley”, she nodded, not happy about having to have woken up on this good morning. Sebastian would get up much later to go to the forest with Hecat later. Not just sit around like her. She wasn’t dumb, she understood why it was the case. Sebastian read enough as is, she on the other hand needed to do more. But at this point, it was clear that would never be her strength. Why not just do what she was already good at?

Garreth jogged down stairs.

“Morning Skipworth!”

He hogged a piece of bread made by her mother’s magic. On the free hand, Mrs. Weasley pinched his sons cheek, while making kissy sounds. Garreth flushed in embarrassment. On Mrs. Weasleys other hand, she had her magic wand pointed at different things. She had a lot going on – dishes getting done, jumpers getting knitted. But as she pointed at the tea kettle with her wand, something went off.

Oh for–” Her curses were covered by the noise of something falling down upstairs.

“What did you do, Garreth!” She reprimanded, before even seeing what the noise was about.

“It wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t me!”

This sounded more like the homes Clementine had seen, even if she herself had never lived in a family unit.

Mrs. Weasley stomped upstairs, yelling at Garreth.
“You two get to studying. I need to fix this!”

A door slammed behind her. There were hectic steps, before something more tedious in one place. A mess to clean up, most likely.

“It’s gonna take a while. Father’s going to get sorted once he’s back”, Garreth grimaced. He took another piece of bread, not making any attempt to share food. Did he not realize that to be fed and housed by their parents was already a privilege not many had?

“Did you bring a cauldron?” He asked.

“I thought we were to study history”, despite feeling utterly disinterested, she was already halfway from pulling her history book out. Clearly, with no offering of food he was not interested in being buddies without business.

“Yes, but my cauldron melted and mum refuses to let me borrow hers. That’s also the reason why mum didn’t let me join the trip my siblings and Father went on.”

“Sadly, I don’t. Sorry I couldn’t be of use.” Well, even if she had it with her, it would mean it would be lost forever if borrowed to Garreth. Even if he didn’t destroy it, he had the habit of never returning things. She had lost at least 3 quills to him.

“Well, Matilda promised to buy me a new one, if I tutor you – I mean Deputy Headmistress Weasley, of course.”

“Right”, she nodded with a sly smile. Being bribed into the position made him motivated. Of course. She didn’t mind Garreth, but she had deduced Garreth wasn’t too interested in making friends with her. He was quite preoccupied with his existing circle of people and his personal shenanigans. In the beginning, she had been keen on getting in everyone's good graces, but the desire to do that had diminished. She just liked to be useful, sometimes. Or at least had been.

"And what if I don’t learn anything?” She was testing the waters. Maybe she could just leave. Have a day off. Go see some unicorns. Or burn some spiders.

“Don’t be a downer, of course you’ll learn”, he took it as if she was self-conscious.

She sighed.

“We should probably start from the founding of Hogwarts. They always ask some questions related to the founders”, Garreth said.

“How about we start from this moment and go backwards?” Too familiar with Slytherin founder, she suggested instead.

“Curious! And innovative. We should try that.”

They flipped to the end of their study books. The book that was published in 1880. It was not recent enough to get to the present day.

“Right, looks like the closest we can get is the election of Faris Spavin as the Minister of Magic.”

Clementine had skipped pages all the way to the epilogue. The author, Ernie Milliphut, had written a paragraph or two for the students in mind. She saw a familiar word in the mass of text, London. then fire. The great fire of London. She had heard the city burned, and having a burn like that was never not on the back of the citizens minds.

Using her finger as a pointer, she began reading quietly – although very loudly in her mind.

After the International Statute of Secrecy, it has become increasingly more important to have story books of Magical history for wizardkind. While muggles believe the Great Fire of London started from a bakery’s unsupervised fire, wizardkind must know the true and much real consequences of keeping a wild dragon in the cellar, to not repeat mistakes that took many innocent lives of people who cannot fight magic with magic.

“You went all the way back to the epilogue”, Garreth said. He eyed the page.

“Keeping a dragon in the cellar is ludicrous”, he laughed.

“Is some poor baker blamed for setting London in flames? When it was a dragon?”

“The bakery wasn’t real”, Garreth concluded, “But I guess this gives us a starting point. Let's refresh our knowledge of the statute of secrecy.”

It was something she had butted her head into in the beginning of summer, so perhaps it was good to read on it. To know which law to break.

“Might as well.”

Garreth had concluded the page from the index and they were on the same page again. She found herself hit with a wall of text and no pictures.

Garreth’s book was full of annotations and outlines. She glanced over at the marks.

"Don’t pay attention to the markings, I think the previous owner of the book just wanted to have fun at the next owner’s expense.”

That seemed to be the case. There were so many markings it was hard to see what would be the important key word in this mess. But if one let their eyes wonder, it mostly seemed like they had left out words that rhymed.

“What do you know about the Statute of Secrecy?” Garreth asked.

“That I can’t do magic in front of Muggles, or I’ll be send to Azkaban.”

“I hate when that happens”, he nodded, “Anything else?”

“It’s the same everywhere”, as the title of the page, International Statute of Secrecy implied. Since Garreth waited, she eyed the page some more.

“It was made in 1692.”

“Right. Before that there was no law.”

“So people could just do magic freely.”

“Wizards and muggles lived together.”

“Right.” That was beyond her comprehension.

“Do you know why they made the Statute of Secrecy?”

She stared at him with her dead expression, and he could see Garreth’s confidence on the subject fade slightly.

“There were plenty witch hunts in Europe”,

“Why did the muggles kill wizards?”

“I guess we can study the Witch Hunts next”, Garreth went back to the index.

It was going to be a long day of flipping pages. Not much to look forward to. She had to figure out something positive before she went insane.

One positive thing about the whole deal of living in Three Broomsticks was that with a set place, owls kept finding them efficiently. And one good thing about having to wake up earlier than Sebastian was that she received Ominis’ letter first. Ominis’ letter was written in a decorative script she found hard to read, so she didn’t really have the time to focus during the study day. But it wasn’t as important to read it first as it was important that Sebastian didn’t get to read it first.

Ominis 1891, June

Sebastian was a good writer. Eloquent with his words but precise enough, funny and sarcastic, always answered in a timely manner. As a kid, they had made up some code language, so they could message covertly as well. He reported on all important shenanigans, so he almost felt like he was there with him. Almost.

Professor Hecat has kept me busy. She is harsh as usual, but seems to believe that the training will be useful for my career, whichever it will be.
Strangely enough, Professor Hecat relayed me a message from Anne. She said she was doing better, although her long term health is still up to the stars. I still wish I could see her… But as I was trying to voice that, Hecat told me that is all Anne wished to say for now. I think I have to be content with this, as frustrated as I am.

He was glad. Anne had contacted him as well, just to let him know she was doing better. Nothing else. So perhaps contacting was a word too big. Regardless, It looked like the future was not entirely as hopeless for him as it had seemed in the beginning of the summer. They’d begin another year in Hogwarts, he, Sebastian and Clementine, and perhaps some time in the future, they could meet Anne as well.

While I’ve been working with Hecat, Deputy Headmistress Weasley has had Clementine do some extra-curriculums. She was quite frustrated, as she had seemed to fall in love with digging the mud with Natsai. I think they were trying to grow a whomping willow, along with some more aggressive stem Chinese chomping cabbages. While asking, Clementine denied knowing what a whomping willow was, and Natsai said she only focuses on good plants. I’ll let you be the judge of if these are whomping willow or dittany leaves.

So, that's what the leaves were. He smelled the dried leaf again. Dittany had a forestry fresh smell, perhaps even minty. Certainly, the leaf was dittany. Natsai was one good influence on Clementine.

Currently, Garreth has been tutoring her on the history of Magic. She seems to enjoy herself. In the evenings, she wants to tell me everything they studied. Garreth said this, Garreth said that. At this point, I think Garreth is tutoring me as well. Very effective Deputy Headmistress Weasley. Although, I’m not sure if it’s helping with Clementine’s writing. Not to sound doubtful, but I doubt they do any writing at all. You know Garreth, that hellion. Well, you can be the judge on her writing improvements, as well. She slipped in a note of her own in the envelope.

“OMINIS!” Ominis jolted up as his father slammed the door open.

“You’ve been holed up in your room the whole week. You need to start doing something other than just –”

“I was studying. I apologize, father”, he said and held the book unsuspiciously in such an angle his father could see he was indeed studying. It was a book like those Sebastian would read, dangerous, ancient, dusty. Something about bending others to your will in unsuspicious ways.

A magnifying glass, Oculectoria, stood on the table. It’s delicate magic noticed the abrupt ending and paused with the voice fading out.

Father stood silently and Ominis just knew he was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Alright. Study well. Tomorrow, we will be visiting you aunt”, he said.

He had seemed believable enough for now. Which was good, because he had truly been having the Oculectoria read out aloud, while the letter finished reading itself. A cacophony of sounds, but the only way he could do it at peace. But father would always have his way in the end, whether he obeyed his wishes or not.

He waited for his father to close the door and put the book under the lens again.

“Ah, where were we again”, the Oculectoria rambled, before catching up. He waited a bit more, and when he was sure his father was out of hearing range, he put Clementine’s note under the lens.

“What peculiar handwriting! The C has more sharpness to it than the writer’s wit!”

Oculectorias had a tendency to add context that was not even needed. But at least it provided some help on judging the progress of her writing practice: Not quite there yet.

After a long winded description on all the peculiarities of her handwriting, it read the text itself.

Come visit soon Lets get ice craem i can pay

He wished it would be very soon.

He pulled out some paper, one of his writing quills, and started dictating to it.

Clementine 1891, July

She had come into need of a bit of money after waging a lot of galleons on a surely jinxed game of cards. There’s no other way Garreth would have won so many times in a row. She could’ve just not paid, but that meant risking the integrity of their garden escapades with Natty, right as Poppy was about to visit. She wasn’t sure if telling Mrs. Onai was above Garreth. Besides, he had already burned through the kettle of his reward money kettle. The only thing to keep him from whining was to get him a new one, and with the money she lost to him, it would take him the whole summer to blow all of those kettles up.

Usually not having money had not been a problem. She would have simply put up camp in a field and eat scorched mongrel meat for breakfast had it not been that she had promised to pay for Sebastian’s upkeep as well. So she ought to do what she did best to get pocket change and go dungeon diving.

But it was not just about money. While the Weasleys had kept her busy, she was full of seeing their happy family life, up to her throat, so much so she might just vomit words of endearments like my hun sugarplum or darling diddums. She felt out of place. Even when Garreth was in trouble – and he was in trouble quite often – he wasn’t troubled like she was.

Studies stalled.

The garden was taken over by weeds Miriam’s book had no instructions on how to take care of. Gardening in the Room of Requirement had been much easier. It felt as if magic had faded away from her. Natsai took over most of the gardening. It had been long since she heard the wind of the ancient magic. She had to test it out, just to see if it was there, or she’d be better off kicking the bucket anyway.

It was the type of cave she had looted multiple times, but this one seemed to not have anyone touched it in years. Even the ones that had been abandoned so long that the last visitor's bones must have turned to dust… This one seemed to have zero dead bodies. Yet.

Sebastian’s confringo singed her hair but blew off the critter. It let out a shriek, but it died off along the flames. Her heart had skipped a beat. It was uncharacteristic of her to be scared.

“What were you doing?! That manticore could’ve sliced your head!” Sebastian seemed angry with her.

She realized she wasn’t even scared of the manticore or the possibility of having her neck pierced by a venomous spike. But what got her startled was the thought of being on the receiving end of Sebastian’s magic.

“Well, I didn’t know that was dangerous”, she said, with a click of tongue that put all that fear into being angry.

“It wasn’t obvious from the way it was aiming a spike towards your neck?”

“Average day for me”, she snarled.

Or so it used to be over the winter.

Things had calmed down a lot immediately after they secured the ancient magic reserve. But that didn’t stop her from encountering dangerous beasts and poachers from time to time until the summer. But since, she had only kept coming across bodies. There must have been something about the Hogwarts region or wizards themselves. Nobody seemed to fully disappear, just stay frozen in time. She was always left with a dozen hints on who the people might be. As if she was the one to tie the dead people’s unfinished business together. Why would she care?

She didn’t care about finishing unfinished business with Sebastian, either. She was just trying to pull through for Ominis’ sake, one way or another. But as days went by, a nagging thought had come to her head if she should even care about Ominis. Ominis just cared about Sebastian, his oldest friend.

Sebastian had caught her sneaking out at night. It could raise some questions – sure, she was sneaking out, but what was he doing then? Of course, to be a major pain in the ass, he insisted on coming with her. Lately, all he seemed to be doing was to tangle up her life. And they were entangled for good, now, for what seemed forever. Or at least until school ended. She was the only one who could keep him in check, so Ominis believed. But without her ancient magic, she was just some muggle.

He looked taken aback. Some feeling of guilt or shame crept into her.

“I’m sorry”, he said, half muttering.

Could people even change?

She had sacrificed mostly effort for Sebastian. Some potions, bruises and cuts, near death experiences – but again, just part of her everyday life. It was not as if she hadn’t fought inferi before Sebastian got it in his head to dive straight into dark forces. So she didn’t sacrifice that much. Most of all it had been an annoyance. She had been trying so hard to put it in his head no good would come out of dark magic, yet he had insisted she didn’t know it. That she didn’t know anything about it. She was just a muggle a few months ago. Her opinions were just based on surface level knowledge.

Regardless of how egoistical he had been, right now he had a lot going on. The one good thing of his life slowly slipping away. He hadn’t been able to do anything about it, no, he ruined it further. She hadn’t heard anything about Anne. She should be the one pitying him.

“No, really”, he said. “I’m glad you’re… in one piece.”

He patted her shoulders, a difficult attempt at closeness after everything they’ve gone through.

“If I die, it’ll be by beheading. I want to join the headless hunt”, she was barely joking.

“I got angry, because I was worried”, he said.

“That happens.” It was one of his key features.

“I apologize for that.”

“Mm.”

Sebastian waited.

She wanted to say sorry.

It was what she was supposed to do, now. Fig would encourage kindness towards friends, especially if they’ve truly acknowledged their mistakes. Ominis would think it was sensible. He would want to keep peace. Everyone else, too. Those damned Weasleys. Every fight always came back full circle to an apology. I’m so sorry, pudding. But every fibre of her being pushed against it. But that was the right thing to do. To establish connection by both admitting having done something wrong. She was going to say sorry, or something else to minimize the whole thing.

“You hate me”, she said, instead. It came right from her gut. That she had inserted herself into Sebastian and Ominis’ friendship was enough explanation. For her to be mingling with the society for so long meant there had to be something sinister at play. She had liked to be useful. But she was no longer interested.

Sebastian’s jaw dropped, but he seemed stunned. She must have hit the nail on the head.

“You hate me, secretly. For something I didn’t even do. Kind of a bogus reason to crucio someone, if you ask me”, she blurted out the honest words that had been lingering in her heart.

“Clementine, is this really the moment?”

Sure, they were deep underground with spider webs blocking the view into some of the narrow pathways. But most of them were already burning.

“You hate me, because I took Anne’s place. Because I’m where Anne should be.” That’s what they all were thinking. Anne, someone beautiful and composed, was replaced by a street rat. Of course they would think she made it all go wrong, bringing disease along.

“That’s bollocks, Skippy.” It was far too light of an answer from Sebastian about anything that had to do with Anne. It wasn’t very believable, but he kept his face straight.

“You loathe me, because I couldn’t help her.” She had never matched expectations put on her. For Fig, she hadn’t even come close. He was dead before she even knew it. So much for her protecting her people. If he had the time to realize what happened to him, he would roll in his grave.

She had tried to help Anne, but an unrefined magic must have made things just worse. Anne didn’t like her. Obviously. She nicked her place, out of nowhere, and was frankly doing awfully with the power she was given. Anne would never have lost control. Anne didn’t get angry. Anne didn’t lose her cool. Anne would have never killed anyone, she would somehow have talked a Ranrok loyalist into submission.

Anne didn’t like Clementine. And since Sebastian cared mostly about her sister’s opinions, he didn’t like Clementine either. Hating her was the natural conclusion, showcased by what happened at the Scriptorium. She rarely liked to think of herself as naive, but she had been blind sighted by his hate.

“That doesn’t make me hate you!” He insisted on keeping his lie.

“So what did you think about, when you cursed me?” She leaned in, as menacingly as someone a head shorter would.

“I regret it. I wouldn’t set out a plan to torture my best friends –”, he was trying to brush the accusation off.

“Thinking ahead isn’t yer best suit –”
“That’s bold coming from you, when you were just almost killed–”
“– I’d say you didn’t plan, but it was a pleasant surprise”, she cut him off and crossed her arms, almost touching him. Had he gotten taller again? In normal settings, he would've teased her about her shortness, like they always did. They truly would pick her apart for anything. Being short was the one thing that was useful to her when she was a muggle, but even that was no good now.

“All I was trying to do back then was help my sister.” Desperate to reason with her, he reached for her shoulders.

“I know. You don’t care if I die in the process.” She was starting to not care either, but it was still a bit unfair.

“That's –” His eyes momentarily hazed over, “I know it was shocking. I get that you find it hard to trust me because of it. I didn’t know that I had it in me either. It caught me by surprise as well.” He softened his tone. His words felt practised. He had been thinking about it a lot.

She bit her lip and looked away.

“It was some of the worst times of my life in all ways. But Skippy, we’ve been friends this whole time. I – Do you really think I hate you after all this time? Just now I was trying to keep you alive.”

He touched her arm, reading into Clementine averting her eyes she was somehow swayed by his words.

“So, what did you think of when you cursed me?” She bored her eyes back at him, unbothered by him holding her shoulders.

“Clementine. Whatever it was, I’ve changed my mind. I was a knob head back then, I don’t wanna repeat the words of an idiot I used to be.”

"I need to know.”

“No, you really don’t”, Sebastian sighed. “I would never be able to hate you now, that's what you need to know.”

“I couldn’t help Anne.”

It was the final defence on how she was right.

“You hate me, because I couldn’t help Anne.” She repeated herself.

She had received so much due to the ancient magic. Quite literally her life, everything, yet it refused to fix things most important. She was greedy for a resolve on her old insecurities, on how meaningless her efforts truly were in the big picture of it all.

She felt numb. The crackles of fire faded away. On one hazy thought, she realized she felt away from her body again.

“Oh, Skippy”, his voice faltered as he pulled her into a hug. “You and Ominis are my only family now.”

Defeated, she let him do that. In his cradled arms, swaying slightly, she felt a primal sense of safety.

The duality of man. Ever since the dark magic artefact, the cave full of inferis and bad decisions, her eyes had opened to what kind of a person he was. Willing to do anything to get what he wanted. She had felt betrayed, even though the image betrayed was just her own doing.

She didn’t think people could change, but perhaps now she would not be on the losing side of the shtick. So, despite how bad taste Sebastian had left for her, they were each other's best friends this summer.