Sebastian never expected to see the Great Hall decked out in mourning. Black banners, somber and imposing, hung from the high ceiling. A place once vibrant, now solemn.
Professor Fig was dead, killed in the final battle against Ranrok and his Loyalists. The goblins had been defeated, the castle was safe once more, but, most importantly, Damien was safe.
Yet, Sebastian felt far from relieved.
The details of the battle were sparse. Scattered rumors, really. From what he could gather, a small group of professors had fought valiantly to stop the goblins from reaching the upper levels. Some said Damien had been taken - others, that he had been rescued at the last possible moment by Fig himself. No one seemed certain why Damien had been targeted, chalking it up to chance, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But Sebastian knew better. Damien wasn't some damsel in distress. He had to have been at the heart of it. Perhaps even leading the charge.
Sebastian just hadn't had the chance to ask him why. Because, to his immense frustration, he hadn't been able to find Damien anywhere since the night of the attack.
Damien had seemingly vanished from the castle's halls, and with every passing day, Sebastian's frustration grew.
And the more time that slipped by, the more Sebastian feared he'd lose the nerve - the momentum - to make things right with Damien. They needed to talk, and soon. What that conversation would look like, he had no idea.
He let out a sigh, only then noticing how violently he was bouncing his knee beneath the table. In fact, he was even jostling the first-year sitting beside him, who gave him a puzzled glance. Sebastian stilled his leg and folded his hands in his lap.
Professor Sharp had come back for him once it was over. To Sebastian's surprise, he hadn't told anyone about Sebastian's attempt to join the fight. No reprimands, no mentions of detention. Just a sharp look and a curt nod. Sebastian didn't know why Sharp had kept it quiet, but he wasn't about to question it.
Natty and Poppy hadn't been caught. According to Poppy, once they realized neither Damien nor Sebastian was in the library, they'd returned to the Great Hall, hoping Sebastian had succeeded. When neither of them showed, and Poppy and Natty realized that perhaps they were wrong, it was too late to search again. They had been spotted by Madam Scribner, who'd joined Professor Black in the Great Hall, forcing them to return to their places at their respective tables. Although it seemed like Poppy had wanted to ask him, she didn't pry for more information about Sebastian's whereabouts that night. Neither did Natty.
Sebastian was thankful for that. Explaining it all would've been humiliating.
Ominis hadn't needed to cover for him either; no one had noticed Sebastian was missing. Oddly, Ominis hadn't asked any questions either, not even a pointed remark about him ditching Natty and Poppy. That silence was uncharacteristic, but Sebastian appreciated it. There would be a time for explanations. Just... not yet.
Two days had passed since that terrible night.
Sebastian was still unsettled by everything that had happened, of course, but at least Damien was alive. Safe. Unharmed. Physically, at least.
Sebastian observed Damien now, seated alone at the Ravenclaw table. He appeared utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair was a tousled mess. He was still alarmingly beautiful.
But it hurt him to see Damien like this. Sebastian forced himself to look away, letting his eyes wander to the frosted windows. The wintry night added to the somber atmosphere. All the professors had assembled, occupying their positions at the front of the hall.
Professor Black stepped forward, raising his goblet as though beginning a toast. He cleared his throat. "Professor Eleazar Fig. I daresay he was a beloved professor to many of you. Certainly, a... long-standing colleague to his peers. A famed adventurer and renowned seeker of knowledge, he built a reputation..." Black paused, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't think of what to say. He found his words, and added, "... charging into the unknown, brazenly disregarding both discretion and safety. Providing, perhaps, a rather unfortunate lesson for us all."
Sebastian caught sight of Professor Ronen subtly wiping away a tear. Across from him, Professor Garlick stared down at the table, her expression distant, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
Black continued. "His devotion to adventure was rivaled only by his dedication to Hogwarts - and, of course, to his wife, Mari-Miriam, who we lost much too soon as well." He cleared his throat again, muttering something incoherent under his breath.
This speech was truly a travesty. Black was a proper fool.
Then, Professor Weasley, with a pained expression on her face, abruptly rose from her seat. She strode toward the pulpit. As she passed, Sebastian stole another glance at Damien. His eyes shimmered, full of unshed tears, and a deep crease furrowed his brow.
Professor Weasley reached the pulpit and gently ushered Black aside. He shuffled backward with an awkward chuckle.
"Professor Fig represented the best of all of us," she began. "He could be deviously clever, possessed a brilliantly inquisitive mind, and was the most loyal of friends. But perhaps it was his remarkable courage for which we will all be forever indebted to him. If not for Professor Fig..." She trailed off, her voice catching. "Well, I can say with confidence that if not for him, many of us, let alone Hogwarts, would not be here today. Those who knew him best will agree that we must now honor him as only Hogwarts can - by wisely, resourcefully, justly, and bravely facing all that lies ahead."
She stepped away, her part said.
Damien's face crumpled as a tear rolled down his cheek. Sebastian's chest ached with the helpless wish to reach across the room and wipe it away.
Black returned to the pulpit, nodding soberly. He raised his goblet once more. "Ahem. To Professor Fig."
The professors rose in unison. The students followed, and so did Sebastian. Damien was the last to stand. Sebastian watched him closely - tears still clung to his lashes, but there, on his lips, was the softest smile. For the first time, perhaps, Damien understood just how deeply Professor Fig had been loved.
Damien had endured so much this year.
Sebastian wished he had shown him more kindness.
He would make it up to him somehow.
***
Sebastian left shortly after Professor Black's parting toast. He had been overwhelmed; the room felt too crowded, too full of emotion. Of course, he had wanted to speak with Damien, but it didn't feel like the right time. Instead, he had quietly slipped away.
He hadn't eaten much at dinner, so he found himself wandering back to the Great Hall an hour or so later in the hopes that there would be some leftover food to scrounge through. He was surprised to find Damien still seated, alone, at the Ravenclaw table, his head bowed.
Everyone else was gone. The Great Hall was cavernous and empty.
Sebastian stepped forward, and placed a gentle hand on Damien's shoulder.
Damien's head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm, until they landed on Sebastian. The tension in his face melted into something softer, more familiar. Wordlessly, he rose to his feet.
Sebastian was the first to speak. "Can't believe we lost Fig. I didn't know him as well as you did, but I know he was a good man. Glad Weasley spoke up for him. She honored him well. Fig will be well remembered."
He caught that Damien's eyes were welling up again. Perhaps he should change the subject.
"I wish the same could have been done for my uncle," he added quietly, realizing as the words fell from his lips that he actually meant it. A memorial would have provided some closure, at the very least. And Anne would have wanted it. "I wonder if there's a chance Anne would meet me."
Damien's gaze drifted downward. "Sebastian, I can't imagine what you and Anne are going through. Perhaps you'll hear from her soon."
"I hope so. I'll let you know." Sebastian didn't mean for that to sound so final. A silence followed, and Sebastian searched for something to fill it, to keep Damien anchored in the moment and not dwelling in his sorrow.
But Damien cut in instead. "Sebastian, there's something you should know. It's to do with Victor Rookwood."
Rookwood? Why would Damien mention him now? Had what he overheard been true?
"I heard a rumor that he confronted you outside of Ollivanders," Sebastian said aloud. "Sounds as if you faced quite a fight."
Damien nodded. "The rumors are true and I did, but it's not that. Just before Rookwood attacked, he uttered something familiar. The same words Anne heard before she was cursed: 'Children should be seen and not heard.'"
Sebastian froze, his jaw going slack. "Wait. What - what are you saying?"
"It wasn't one of Ranrok's Loyalists who cursed Anne. It was Rookwood. It was Rookwood all along."
Sebastian reeled. "This - this can't be," he stammered, fists tightening at his sides, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "It was the Loyalists. It's always been them. The night Anne was cursed, all she saw were goblins."
Damien pressed on, undeterred. "Once Rookwood allied with Ranrok, Isidora's estate became of interest to them both. That's why Rookwood was there the night Anne was cursed. He was working with Ranrok. When he saw your sister... well, he didn't want anyone to know..."
Still trying to wrap his mind around this terrible revelation, Sebastian cut Damien off without meaning to. "So he cursed her. And she's never been the same. So cruel. Rookwood deserved what he got. Thank you for telling me."
His voice trembled. He... couldn't... think. Dammit! As the anger ebbed, something else took its place. Surprise.
"It wasn't a goblin," he said. It wasn't a goblin. "I suppose I owe you another apology. All this time I thought goblins were the enemy. But it was never that simple."
Damien's reply came soft, thoughtful. "Is anything ever simple?"
Sebastian paused, mulling over the question. "I suppose not," he murmured.
They stood there in silence for a few moments. Sebastian was lost for words, but he knew he would need to find a way to see Damien again. Eventually, he cleared his throat. He said, "Ominis said he's spoken with Anne. I wonder if she'll see me. I'll find out and send word when I know more."
Damien nodded. Sebastian took a step toward the door, but Damien clasped his arm and pulled him back. A tingling sensation spread down Sebastian's spine, washing him in warmth.
"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," Damien said, releasing his grip as quickly as he'd taken it.
Sebastian arched a brow. "Oh?"
Damien drew in a breath. "It's about Anne," he said at last. "I want to help you. I know I seemed hesitant before..." His words trailed off.
Sebastian leaned in closer, his eyes searching Damien's face. "You spoke with the Keepers?"
Damien's eyes flicked briefly to the floor, then back up. "Not exactly," he admitted. "I saw the Fourth Keeper's memories. I witnessed him... he murdered Isidora. For harnessing ancient magic to heal. It felt... wrong."
Sebastian blanched. "He murdered her?" he echoed.
Damien nodded gravely. "Yes. San Bakar, the Fourth Keeper, used the Killing Curse on her," he confirmed. "She was attacking them - the rest of the Keepers - but instead of attempting to subdue her first, he resorted to such a final and irreversible act. The others didn't seem to care. It was... deeply unsettling."
Sebastian stiffened. If Damien could be this shaken by a death that took place centuries ago - by someone he'd never truly known - then what must he think of him? Of the decisions Sebastian had made with his own wand? Why was Damien even here, still talking to him, still offering to help?
Sebastian swallowed his unease, choosing not to voice those thoughts. Instead he asked, "But if she's gone, and they're not willing, then who will teach you?"
A flicker of something fierce, something almost unnerving, crossed Damien's expression. "I believe I can teach myself," he declared. "I have somewhere to practice now."
"What do you mean?"
"Isidora was using a hidden repository beneath Hogwarts, where she channeled her magic and stored the pain of others," he explained. "She was healing students."
Sebastian's eyes went wide. "Students?" he repeated. "She healed students?"
"Yes, but don't get too excited. San Bakar seemed to think that when she healed them, she also stripped them of all emotion." He rubbed his forehead. "But I'm not so sure that's true. In one of the memories, he confronted a student walking out of the repository and she seemed fine. I'm not sure I trust San Bakar's memories. I need to investigate for myself."
Sebastian was, yet again, at a loss for words. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Why did you tell me all of this?"
Damien held Sebastian's gaze. "We're more alike than you know, Sebastian. And I - I suppose it's because... I trust you."
Sebastian stifled a shocked intake of breath. Of all the things Damien could have said, trust was the last he expected. After everything he'd done, Damien still believed in him. Why? How?
It felt like an eternity before Sebastian could find his voice. When he did, it was barely there. "What can I do to help you?"
"I don't know yet," Damien admitted. "But you're the only person I've told about opening the repository and using the ancient magic inside it. I don't think it's over for Anne. Not if we work together. I believe there's still a way to help her. Maybe even cure her. Together."
Sebastian was left utterly dumbfounded. Hope - real, dangerous, fragile hope - flared once more in his chest.
"Think about it, alright?" Damien finished.
Sebastian nodded, not sure if he had it in him to say anything more.
Damien looked down at his feet, then back up at Sebastian with a faint smile. "I'll see you around then?"
Sebastian offered another nod, but it felt feeble and inadequate. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, overwhelming his ability to say anything at all.
And then Damien turned and walked away.
Sebastian remained where he was, standing in the middle of the Great Hall, utterly gob-smacked, struggling to process everything that he had just learned.
Damien may not have forgiven Sebastian outright, no, but what he offered... well, it felt like something dangerously close to grace.