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A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 20: "Devil's Guts"

[AO3]

Floriography: Parasite

Summary: The Keepers are *actually* teachers, and Halloween with the Helm of Urtkot.

An excerpt is under the cut as usual; the full fic is located in the AO3 link above!

Long before the sun rose, she opened the grandiose double doors to the Map Chamber. The two professors slid into their frames as if they were alerted to a visitor.

“Ah, Artemis. What a pleasant surprise,” greeted Professor Rackham.

“I presume you’re here regarding our previous discussion,” said Professor Rookwood.

Artemis nodded. Yesterday’s discoveries in Feldcroft hastened her need to learn as much as she could. It was clear they wanted her, at least partially, as a hunting dog. If the size of those drills were anything to go by, they were digging for something big.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We have come to a decision. With provisions, we will teach you how to hone your ancient magic.”

Artemis’ thumb subtly rubbed her scar. “Provisions, sir?”

“Yes,” started Professor Rookwood. “First, is that we decide which questions we will answer. Not to say we won’t in time, but it will depend on your trials. Second, what is taught here is to be kept between us.”

“The sole exception would be Professor Fig. There is an importance of a guiding hand,” added Professor Rackham. “Finally, we will expand on what you already know. Until you progress further in the trials, we will not teach you anything that is wholly new. Do you accept these conditions?”

It wasn’t as much as she’d like, but she’d take it. She was patient enough.

“Yes, sir.”

The professors nodded, and she was glad portraits could not read minds. She was going to take some creative liberty in comparing their teachings, the book’s contents and Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Good. I believe we should start with seeing what you can do.”

Professor Rackham waved his hand as the floor shook. The pointillistic stars lifted from their pooled map and formed a statuesque shape. Artemis whipped out her wand and had a hand on her legside bag.

“Do not worry; it will move and attack but won’t hurt you. After all, stars are a million miles away from us.”

“Percival…” deadpanned Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham chuckled. “Use both ancient magic and regular spells – I’d like to see it. Begin.”

For a statue made of pointillistic stars it moved abhorrently fast. She felt the arcane coolness wash through her as she dodged the sword sings and landed more than ten feet away silently. Silvery petals flitted as she brought forth the tempest. In this arena, she could see clearly how blips of ancient magic existed in the very air that surrounded her and how they wove together at the tip of her wand as it interwove with her standard spells. The oil paintings remained silent as she flung spell after spell with practiced footing.

When the stars returned to the black pool underneath, she looked back toward the portraits. Her heartrate was elevated, but her breathing was relaxed.

“Well. I daresay that was… impressive,” said Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham stroked his beard. “Allow me to confirm a theory. When was the first time you saw the silvery petals?”

“When I cast Protego,” answered Artemis.

“In what circumstance?”

“Ranrok’s troll tried to crush a boy in Hogsmeade.”

“I see,” said Professor Rackham. “You mentioned my ancient magic shimmered like stars before.”

“Yes, is that tied to our individual cores?” Artemis asked.

“Niamh is going to adore you,” commented Professor Rookwood.

“Correct. To start, our magical cores are different even among wizardkind. We weren’t able to research as thoroughly as Charles would’ve liked, but people like us have a few specific requirements for our magic to manifest.” Professor Rackham counted off his fingers. “A longer gestational period, a specific mixture of blood, and a powerful catalyst. The first is because we can naturally access the foundational levels of magic – latent or active. That is why when we use the same incantations and wand movements as others, the effects are slightly different. More diverse. We surmised this ability means that it takes double the time for the magical core to develop. This allows us to, for the lack of better term, soak up ancient magic around us and channel it into our spells.”

“The second,” said Professor Rookwood as he pulled out parchment, “is a specific mixture of blood. It is a theory, mind you… this ability only seemed to surface within half-bloods. Unless you would like to provide contrasting data?”

“I – frankly I don’t know my blood status, sir,” answered Artemis honestly. “Both my parents were magical, but status never came up in discussion.”

If true, then Artemis learned something new about her own lineage. She wondered who was which… not that it mattered in the end.

Professor Rookwood tutted. “Pity. I could’ve added to my notes.”

“Charles,” admonished Professor Rackham quietly. “Now, the most important – the catalyst. The gestation period, the blood – those are just the foundations. What our core needs to activate is an emotional trigger so the foundations can take root. Something profound, and it must be before the person turns sixteen.”

Artemis raised her hand out of habit. “So, there’s a chance there have been others like me, or, like us, within the past four hundred years? Just, they didn’t experience the catalyst?”

“Potentially, yes. There are many unknowns. I won’t ask of yours, but I can tell you, my catalyst… was seeing the most profound meteor storm and being completely swept in awe.”

She sucked in a breath. She knew exactly what hers was – the one-year mark when Leto and Kierston rescued her from the depths of limbo. It felt then, truly, that it was real, that they were there to stay, and she felt completely and utterly safe for the first time in years.

“The reason the catalyst is so important is because your instinctive ancient magic is tied to that trigger. Yours is, I dare say, something protective,” analysed Professor Rackham.

“The best defence is a good offense,” said Professor Rookwood.

“That tempest was a marvel, but you must learn how to control the power levels. I suggest practising by thinking of a single lightning bolt, and tempering the intensity. You will need both discipline and patience in yourself; it will not be resolved overnight. Now, I believe we’ve given you enough to digest for today. I suggest a bi-weekly visit; you will need to concentrate on your regular schooling as well,” said Professor Rackham.

“Wait, I have one more question, sir,” called out Artemis hurriedly as the portraits made to leave. She turned to Professor Rookwood. “It’s about the memory of Feldcroft. Were you able to wield ancient magic? Or did you augment Professor Rackham’s magic?”

The portraits exchanged a glance. Professor Rookwood sighed.

“I only tell you this because you’d piece it together on your own at this rate. Those of us who cannot see ancient magic cannot cast ancient magic out of nothing. But we can wield, and augment, existing pieces.”

Not ten minutes later, she sent out a letter to Professor Fig. An hour later, she sat in her designated arm chair within Professor Fig’s office with Nocturne in her lap. She spared no detail in what she’d discovered over the past two days.

Professor Fig fiddled with his scarf. “Intriguing. The fact there’s been a consistent Loyalists presence so close is disconcerting... as is the fact that it’s becoming more and more likely they’d repurposed existing ancient magic from somewhere. You did the right thing, to not engage them with Mr. Sallow.”

Artemis sighed as she sipped the warm chai. “Do you think it’s possible they’re… mining for more ancient magic? I can’t imagine the Keepers would leave ancient magic just lying about in the open.”

“Possibly. There is the matter of how they found out in the first place. With their generally reticent demeanour, I can’t imagine the Keepers left their findings in easily accessible places –”

“– Aside from Peeves,” they said in unison.

Artemis briefly smiled before her eyebrows furrowed. “Professor, is there anything we could do for Feldcroft? I just… Anne lives there and, well –”

“Considering Minister Spavin’s response about the dragon, I do not think we should bank on the front-line aurors,” said Professor Fig. “But perhaps I can call in a favour and see if patrols can be brought to the area. How is Miss Sallow?”

“She’s… unwell, but she’s trying. She’s agreed to Leto’s check-up; I’m currently waiting on his response,” answered Artemis.

The older wizard gave a small, comforting smile as he nodded. “And what about your friend? Richard Jackdaw, was it? He is helping clear up a murder case, yes?”

The grip around her cup tightened.

“Yes, but it going at a snail’s pace. It seems the Ministry is… reluctant, to release Ms. Thisbe. Citing her long stay in Azkaban and the danger she possesses to the community,” said Artemis, repeating Ms. Thistlewood’s latest missive. Nocturne’s tail swished.

“More like Azkaban made her dangerous,” sighed Professor Fig. “You’ll unfortunately find that, though there are plenty of good people that work at the Ministry – Leto, Kierston, and George to start – there are those that are not and only care for their self-interests.”

Artemis nodded as she sighed. Richard’s bones remained in the jewellery box inside her legside bag. She never parted with it; it was the safest place to keep ‘him’ until he came back. Nocturne’s and paper tongue licked her fingers.

“By the way, did you manage to meet Lodgok?”

“Not yet, sir. Sirona suggested I meet him on Halloween considering,” trailed off Artemis as she gestured to her hair. “Though, it may be best to go alone. He doesn’t trust wizards, and even with Sirona’s recommendation, he may not meet me. Especially with another person.”

Professor Fig looked at her with those English greys, and she could visualise the mental scales as he contemplated her suggestion.

“I presume this is what you would like to undertake during independent study?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Considering everything that is at stake… you will write to me if it will be longer?”

“Of course, sir,” answered Artemis.

Professor Fig gave a relieved smile. “Right. Now, I think it’s high time for breakfast. Then we can check on the lacewings for the Polyjuice.”

Cactus

Garreth Weasley x Artemis Loreley (MC)

Summary: The last Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match ended, and now the after-party is on in the Gryffindor Tower.

Floriography for Cactus (Cactacae): Ardent Love. Burning with Love. Lust.

This was for the March NSFW prompt for the discord server writing event: "Getting (Un)Lucky Tonight". No cactus was harmed in this story whatsoever.

Tags: NSFW, Hogwarts 7th year, Gryffindor-Slytherin Relationship, hand jobs, plot what plot, drapery lions laughing at misery, Garreth POV Limited, inappropriate licking of green apple liqueur

Artemis is my MC in my long fic "A Bouquet of New Beginnings," but this is separate and not related to said story.

[AO3]//Word count: 2.2k

An echo of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch after-party climbed the spiral staircase.  A right hubbub of a - mostly - friendly rivalry, where drinks, song, and at least one miniature firework from Zonko’s had been unleashed. Garreth would usually be, and had been, in the heart of it – behind the makeshift counter handing out concoctions with his brewing partner.

“Are you sure it was fine for both of us to leave?” Artemis asked softly as she followed.

He would’ve sworn he’d climbed up the tower by himself if he wasn’t holding said brewing partner’s small, chilled hand tightly within his, their fingers interlaced like perfect puzzle pieces. The swish of her floor length green skirt drowned her soft treads.

“Don’t worry Snow,” said Garreth cheerfully, “We left plenty of stock for Lee and Sebastian to distribute while we grab more.”

“If they don’t drink it first.”

“They won’t.”

He made sure of that.

“Oh?”

She squeezed his hand; he squeezed back.

“Oh,” repeated Garreth.

The familiar door swung open and shut as the red and gold regalia revealed themselves, and Garreth regrettably let go of Artemis’ hand as he went straight toward his bed. The miniature cactus that she gifted him stood proudly on his bedside stand, and he gave the little guy a ghostly brush before he crouched to the floorboards. He snuck a glance toward her as he shovelled out a few crates worth of conspicuously brewed beverages. She was the lone presence of emerald green and silver; her forest green eyes were alight with curiosity as they travelled along the walls, the drapery, the ceiling, the desks, and now, down to him.

Their gazes met. She smiled; her cheeks tinted pink.

His stomach fluttered with butterflies just as intense as ever. He could die happy right then and there.

But instead of dying crouched on the floor like a sappy fool, Garreth stood as he pulled out an unlabelled bottle as he took one, two, three steps to close the distance. The top of her head barely reached his chin, her snow-white hair stood out brilliantly against the reddish-brown brick wall and the way her eyes lifted slowly to meet his made him question if they really needed to go back.

“Here, my newest brew,” said Garreth as he popped the bottle open.

“Oh, this smells lovely.” Artemis sniffed lightly. “Green apples?”

“Mhm. Go on, have a sip.”

She took the cool bottle, and her fingertips ghosted his knuckles in a subtle caress. His heart buzzed. Damned temptress.

“The first test?”

“Yep,” said Garreth.

Nope. He drank every disgusting version he managed to produce before landing on this one.

“You’re an awful liar, Garreth.”

The lamplight danced along her eyes; they crinkled softly around the edges.

He smiled like an idiot. “How do you know?”

She chuckled, soft and melodious.

“My lips are buttoned,” said Artemis as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a slow drink.

Her throat softly bobbed with a barely audible gulp. He could just see the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her lips – the same lips that could emit the most cutthroat of insults and words as sweet as molasses – as it licked off undoubtedly any remnants of the drink.

He swallowed for entirely different reasons that had his blood rushing southward.

“Tangy. I like the sugar granules,” commented Artemis as she gave the bottle back to him. “Not too sweet.”

Of course it wasn’t; he knew her tastes.

“Glad you like it. Want more?”

“Sure,” agreed Artemis warmly, “but after you have some.”

“Suit yourself,” said Garreth.

He didn’t move from his spot - nor did she - as they stood about a half-arm’s length apart and he brought the bottle to his own lips. He felt her gaze as he tipped the bottle excruciatingly slow, the green apple liqueur passed his lips in a tangy, light burn that filled his mouth. Particularly, she seemed focused along his neck, right where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once.

A thought – a brilliant, genius thought – crossed his mind.

He took another swig and watched as his favourite girl’s eyes moved with the bottle as the glass touched the nearest dresser. There was a moment, a delicious moment, where her eyes widened ever slightly just before his uplifted lips met hers. The surprised hum from her throat as her lips slightly parted was far more delectable than the drink, and yet it wouldn’t do for him to keep this drink to himself.

Fingers tangled into her long, soft snow-white hair, gently pressing against her as he took hold of her hand, his slightly dry, burning fingers intertwined with her smooth, cool ones. One step, two step, and his beloved was pressed softly against the reddish-brown wall as he coaxed her mouth to open with a small, teasing swipe of his own tongue. The green apple liqueur spilled a thin line along her chin and undoubtedly down the smooth column of her neck as he pressed forward, any distance between them criminally negligent.

Her other hand slipped behind his back. What he would give to have her always holding him like this, desperately clinging to him like this.

Even when he heard her swallow, Garreth didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not when the little gasps that escaped her lips as he tugged her hair gently sounded better than any heavenly choir. Not when their lips parted, a single strand of silvery saliva connected them before he kissed the corner of her lip, his mouth slowly travelling down along the path of green apple and sugar granules. Not when she whimpered just right as his tongue licked its way to the hollow of her throat, and a gentle nip accompanied by his fingers combing languidly through her locks.

“The party –”

“– Can wait. Can’t let anyone see you like this,” murmured Garreth.

The music below wandered through the bottom crack of the door louder, but he couldn’t care less. His body burned for them both, his hands the device in which he delivered reverence upon her. Reticent to let go of the hand that gave and helped students, teachers, and the rest of the wizarding world, his grip tightened as he pressed against her, the linen they wore on their very persons seemed a travesty. Even his own bed, perhaps not a few feet away, was too far.

“Garreth.”

She would see him unravel with just the breathy whisper of his name as his lips grazed back up to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

“Hm?”

His fingers moved from her hair as he made the minimum requirement of room to slip his hand along the middle of her abdomen, her chest, and finally reached her blouse buttons.

One. Two. Three.

Slowly her luscious skin appeared before him, another canvas to map as his tongue glided down. He groaned as he created friction between the two, his own need burning hot as he tugged the blouse from her waistband.

“Garreth–” Artemis started, her voice breathy as her free hand coaxed his shirt hem out.

“– We’ll make it quick,” he whispered against her ear before he gave a little nip.

Her warm breath tickled the shell of his ear as she nodded minutely. His hand moved to squeeze her bum.

“Troublemaker,” murmured Artemis as her hand snuck in, her cool fingertips sent a shiver up his spine as they slowly slid under his waistband, taking an excruciatingly long time to move from the small of his back to his hip.

“You love it.”

Garreth fully moved his hand and gently lifted Artemis’ leg to wrap around his waist. Her hand popped the buttons of his trousers, and bless this woman as she freed him from his own prison.

“Always,” purred Artemis as her thumb swiped at his head, already leaking with a clear bead.

“Merlin Snow,” Garreth gasped out as his hand touched the pantyhose at her ankles. “How attached are you to these?

“Not at all.”

Merlin be damned this minx.

A low growl emitted as he pulled out his wand, and wordlessly vanished the offending cloth and her undergarments for good measure. “Good.”

Her leg was softer than any silk in his grip, of which he held so tight they’d leave marks. It kept him from utterly shattering as the snow-haired beauty circled his head with her thumb. She uttered a charm under her breath, and from her palm came the sensations of incredibly warm liquid that she spread down his shaft. His other hand let go of Artemis’ against the wall in favour of reaching within her skirt toward the apex of her thighs. Her now free hand shot out toward the back of his head, her fingers now entangled with his red locks as she beckoned him back into a kiss.

Incredibly hot and wet – so above, and so below.

“Damn,” he moaned as his finger sunk into her depths, and he swallowed her moan as his tongue tangled with hers.

His hips canted as her small hand pumped his cock in the rhythm he loved, and he returned the favour as he hooked his finger inside as he slid another. The hand around his cock stuttered even as the grip in his hair tightened, her back arched as her chest pressed against his. The haze that clouded his mind lightened ever so slightly even as he burned the sight of Artemis flushed in its place.

Their gasps mixed with the beautiful obscene sounds as his fingers work her open quickly in time with the music that flowed louder from under the door. Warmth pooled within him as he panted, her hand being entirely sinful as it alternated giving his head and his shaft attention. He slipped another in and flicked up inside; her head tilted back as she gasped, offering her neck has her fingers grasped tighter in his hair.

Her wrist twisted around his cock and he groaned as he sucked something delicious at the crux of her neck. The scent of her perfume mingled with the green apple liqueur peppered with sex in the air.

Delicious. Absolutely perfect.

“I- I’m ready,” said Artemis  

Artemis’ skin bore a dark purple bruise perfectly shape where Garreth’s mouth had been; her leg hooked around the small of his back as his hand readjusted the grip. She whimpered as he kissed her temple when his fingers left the comforts of her wet folds; her skirt entirely bunched, the front of his shirt entirely a mess.

Garreth sucked off each of his fingers, the familiar taste of her on his tongue. Her forest green eyes were blow, her normally well-kept hair and attire utterly dishevelled. Her leg insisted he come closer – he obliged as fabric crumpled peripherally.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her lips as he pushed up the skirt further, readjusting his grip on her soft thigh. Pants escaped his lips as he slid his cock lightly against her wet folds, coating himself with her as her hand, that’d been so wonderfully wrapped around his cock moments ago, slipped under his shirt.

Her chest heaved in tandem with his pounding heart. Her nails ghosted his back as he lined himself to her entrance. Everything felt hot and warm and absolutely -

“Perfect,” murmured Garreth as he looked into her eyes.

They softened; he swore he saw the Slieve Guillion Forest within.

The door slammed open as the music roared.

Garreth jolted up from his waist, gasping for air as his mind scrambled. Linen bedding was under his sweaty palms as his heart beat loudly against his chest. A clear tent was pitched under the sheets as his brain caught up that no, he was not deliciously pressed against the love of his life on the wall. He was in his bed with all the deep red drapes shut, decorated with golden lions that laughed at his misery.

He was so close, he could practically feel her breath against his ear, her warmth around his fingers, her soft leg wrapped around his waist, his head lined up and -

“Garreth, you up?” Leander’s voice carried from beyond the drapery.

Garreth seriously considered violence for three seconds. He let out a grumbled noise; his cock was painfully, painfully aware it was not where it was supposed to be.

Could Leander not have waited for five bloody seconds to barge in?  

“Well hurry up. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match is going to start up in an hour, and I am not going to miss the good seats for the finals!” Leander called from beyond the proverbial veil as the cheer music bellowed from the Common Room and spilled in through the opened door.

The match. The after-party.

“The after-party’s still on, yeah?” He managed to squeeze out.

“Well, I hope so! You and Artemis are our bartenders after all.”

The concoctions were under his floorboard. He still had the green apple liqueur.

His cock twitched at the thought of what followed.

“Brilliant. Lee?”

“Yeah?” Leander’s voice came from near the other redhead’s bed. “Hurry it up, will you?”

“Sure.” He’d need less than a minute, really, once Leander stepped outside. “You mind doing bar duty tonight for a bit?”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

Brilliant.

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 21: Field Poppy

Summary: A run-down with Professor Fig about what happened in the witch's tomb. And a little outing with Poppy to rescue a certain Hippogriff.

Floriography: Avoidance of Problems; Good & Evil

Full Chapter: [AO3] //7.0k words

Excerpt Below:

The reverie of Halloween continued into the night as the patrons of The Three Broomsticks were in relative levels of sloshed. In contrast, Artemis slinked under her disillusionment up the stairs to the private room. She’d done her best to clean up the stench of dead that clung onto her clothing, but she thought maybe it was just the permeating smell of candied alcohol and aforementioned drunkenness of the patrons that made her go unnoticed.

“Come in,” called out Professor Fig’s voice as she knocked on the door of the private room. She snuck in and got rid of her disillusionment just as the door clicked shut.

“Godric’s heart! Artemis what on earth happened?!”

How bad did she look, she wondered, for his eyes to widen so much, for him to rush to her like that and tightly grip her shoulders.

Artemis slowly shook her head. “I… I think I need to sit. May I have some tea?”

“Right, of course. I’ll be right back.”

Her mentor guided her to the nearest stool. When he left, she let out a shaky breath as she pulled out the whittled buttercup spoon out of her bag. Her body folded so her forehead touched both the spoon and wand handle in her hands. Her hands now shook almost as violently as they had when she’d killed that Loyalist.

Professor Fig returned quickly with a fresh pot of chai. The familiarity of sitting across from him with a warm cup of chai in her hands finally calmed her. She was safe.

The professor waited patiently for her to start, and once she did, she couldn’t stop. The horror of the tomb, the helm, the fight, and those poor inferi and even that poor Ashwinder. Her eyes didn’t move from her chai the entire time.

Professor Fig sighed. “Artemis… nobody. Nobody. Should see and go through what you did. What was Lodgok thinking?!”

“He tried to go in, sir,” offered Artemis weakly. “He really did. But the second he tried, the tomb clearly burned him or something. I didn’t tell him about the details; he doesn’t need to know.”

Professor Fig looked unconvinced with his furrowed eyebrows.

Artemis sighed. “I agreed to go, sir. We need a spy inside Ranrok’s Loyalists to funnel information. Admittedly, it was a lot more than I expected, but I handled –”

“– it’s not about your ability to handle situations, Artemis. I know you are more than capable. It is the fact that you have been placed in these situations in the first place that is concerning,” interrupted Professor Fig. He fiddled with his wife’s scarf. “Though, I daresay yesterday would not have been a good day for you at the castle had you stayed.”

“It wasn’t, but I couldn’t figure out why. None of my diagnostics made any sense.”

Professor Fig pulled out an ancient, slim book.

“I’m sure Nurse Blainey wouldn’t be able to pull the diagnostic either in this instance. The reason it wouldn’t make sense is because it isn’t a healing cause. It’s because you’re a clairvoyant. At least, from what I could gather from this and a nice chat with Professor Onai – she’s a renowned Seer. I did not tell her of your situation, do not worry.”

Artemis closed her mouth; Professor Fig continued.

“It seems Seers have a… similar problem on certain days of the year. There was a rather lengthy lecture attached to it, but this and combined with this tome I found, it seems clairvoyants that lean toward er, the less warm-blooded, experience troubles when the Veil is thinnest between life and death. It depends on the region, but in our case –”

“– Halloween,” finished Artemis. It made sense why Professor Fig insisted they meet here, and how she felt much better after leaving Hogwarts for the day.

“Precisely. Hogwarts is, ironically, the worst place to be on Halloween, what with all the ghosts. How did you… feel?”

“Like a bone-chilling death on legs. But when I left, and when I took care of the inferi, I felt much better.”

“I see. I haven’t found anything yet, but if there’s anything to mitigate that for next year, I shall let you know. It would be a travesty if you miss the Halloween Feast the next couple of years. Now, I suggest you still avoid the inside of the castle until after midnight, though the grounds might be fine. I could pay Sirona another night’s worth of coin.”

Artemis shook her head. “I’d like to test the grounds theory, professor. I have somewhere we could go.”

“After a nap, I think,” said Professor Fig as he yawned. “Sleep is important.”

A few hours later, when the sky was about as bright as any greyed November sky in the Scottish Highlands could be and she smelled like frankincense instead of death, the pair arrived at the Briar Greenhouse. The familiar click of the key and a few incantations unlocked one of her sanctuaries.

“Welcome to the Briar Greenhouse, Professor,” she said warmly.

Where there used to be rampant weeds and fungi, there were proper flower beds and pots for healing potions and teas. The tree had been transplanted and now in its stead grew an impressive selection of sunflowers, dahlias, and enchanted roses. The ground floor now flourished with the safer plants, while the second had plants with much deadlier consequences. Everything from cordoned off hellebore to field poppies, and even a flaming bush kept separate resided with the drying station. Hanging baskets hung filled with dwarf roses, extra herbs and hanging vines stretched along the railings. Finally, the rotten barrels and boxes were replaced with sturdy ones that could serve as seating if needed, though mostly it functioned to hide the entrance to the Witty Pear.

Artemis watched as Professor Fig passed by it without notice as he circled the ground floor – a success on the Notice-Me-Not. Or perhaps it was because the professor’s eyes were widened in awe at everything.

“Artemis… I read the reports from Professor Garlick of your progress, but this is incredible. What are these?” Professor Fig asked as he pointed toward the little corner with the dying bramble.

“Those are the witch’s briars that were originally here. I kept the three that were still salvageable; the soil is well-maintained and the dead bits were trimmed. So when the Keepers teach me how they revived Feldcroft, I have something to test it on,” explained Artemis.

Though she had no idea when that would be, considering their current agreement. Professor Fig hummed with a smile.

“I see. I presume this is where you spend much of your time on weekends?”

“I – yes. But it’s… yes,” said Artemis, not bothering to come up with an excuse. Truthfully, she split her time between here, the Room-Clinic, and the Witty Pear for her alone time on the weekends.

Professor Fig patted her gently on the shoulder.

“There is nothing wrong with some time alone, Artemis. I am not here to lecture you on that. However, I do have to caution that, when you do get busier with exams and our continued search… to not neglect your friends. I have to say, I was rather impressed by how a few of them inquired of your absence yesterday.”

Artemis averted her and gently touched the briar stems as her cheeks heated. She would have to apologise, especially to Sebastian; he wouldn’t have been fooled by Professor Fig’s ‘ruins’ research.

“They’re good people.”

“They are. Now, how about I deliver you breakfast and lunch here today, and you enjoy a Saturday outside with your friends tonight?”

Getting her hands dirty as she tended to her plants was a balm compared to last night’s events. The warmth of the greenhouse, collecting ingredients for potions and teas, and eating both breakfast and lunch with Professor Fig on the sturdy boxes was a true delight. But with another nudge to ‘perhaps go outside,’ she got the message – alone time was done for today.

But as she walked with no particular destination other than not inside, Lodgok’s parting words flitted back.

She sounds like a loose end.

The more they churned, the more they made sense. From what little understanding she had of goblins, they were thorough – the degree of Gringotts security attested to that. But more than that, why put a curse on someone instead of killing them if they found out something?

Why let Anne live? What was the purpose?

“Oh, hey Artemis.”

Artemis lifted her head as she came face to face with Andrew and Leander.

“Hello.”

“Heard you didn’t go to the feast last night; Sallow threw a fit,” said Leander.

“I was out on independent study,” lied Artemis smoothly. “Sebastian threw a fit?”

“Well, a fit is probably overexaggerated,” said Andrew with a relaxed smile, “he did ask around to see if we knew where you were. Muttered about you being a diricrawl. Ominis seemed to agree.”

“Natty commented on it too… before she was rightfully disgusted with Garreth shovelling candy,” huffed Leander.

Andrew turned to her. “By the way, did the paints help?”

“Oh, they did! Thank you for teaching me,” thanked Artemis genuinely.

If he hadn’t had the paints or the patience to teach her, Anne’s tea tin would’ve been drab.

“Always happy to help a fellow artist.”

Leander quirked up an eyebrow. “You paint?”

Artemis teetered her head. “He paints, I sketch.”

“If you want to paint more, I’m happy to accept another into the fold,” said Andrew.

Artemis offered a hand. “Trade you pencil for paint?”

Andrew laughed as they shook on it. “Deal.”

“Alright you two,” interjected Leander before he pointed his thumb toward the Summoner’s Court. “Artemis, I challenge you to a game. See if your win against Natty wasn’t just luck.”

Artemis beat Leander both rounds as Andrew served as referee.

“How? How are you so good at this? And Cro –” Leander bit his tongue as they set up for a third round.

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s a matter of skill. I just need to concentrate more.”

“What?”

“Mm. I mean, everyone learns Accio in their first year, right?”

“Right.”

“And how to duel?”

Leander nodded slowly. “Right…?”

“So you’ve had four years to get accustomed to it; you do it automatically. I still need to think about each step. Does that make sense?”

“I suppose… so you’re saying I’m not concentrating enough?”

“No, I’m saying that’s what I am doing, because I need to.”

Leander seemed to consider her words, and opened his mouth –

“Artemis!! There you are!!”

Artemis, Leander and Andrew turned. Poppy rushed toward them, her bag bouncing harshly against her leg. She looked slightly dishevelled and wore a similar garb to their Biscuit excursion. The three exchanged a look as Artemis and Leander climbed down from the platform.

“Poppy? What’s wrong?” Artemis asked, and had to consciously stay still as Poppy snatched her wrist.

“Come with me, please.”

There was no room for discussion.

“Right, um, see you two later.”

She faintly heard the two boys bid goodbye. Poppy’s pace right now neared a jog as she pulled Artemis toward the familiar glade.

“Poppy, what’s g–”

“– Highwing’s missing!” 

"In the Shadow of Our Ghosts" by @betheckart.

Chapter 13. "The Haven" (English ver.) Audio Excerpt.

Full chapter located here on Wattpad.

Thank you for giving me permission to once again bring this scene to life, and I hope that I did some justice for your beautiful writing of Beth's tale 🩵

*Note: I own absolutely nothing except from the undying love for this tale and the hyperfixation upon HL.*

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 22: Vine

Summary: Another nightmare, a conversation on Unforgivables, and a calmer introduction to the Undercroft.

Floriography: Connection & Friendship

Full Chapter: [AO3] //6.5k words

*There are trigger-warnings in this chapter. Below excerpt does not contain the items, but read carefully if reading the full chapter.*

Excerpt Below:

“Artie!”

Artemis looked up from the boathouse docks as her feet dangled above the Black Lake. Natsai came over with a few bottles of water and pumpkin juice in her arms.

“What are you reading?”

“Alice in Wonderland,” said Artemis as she slipped the purple hyacinth bookmark inside. “A fun read.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Natsai took a seat next to her. “Poppy said she’ll join after getting a few more snacks. I’m glad to see that you are doing better than last night, my friend.”

“Motion sickness is a bane.”

Natsai gave her a sympathetic look as she gestured toward the small basket. “How did you manage to bring lunch this early?”

“I made it,” answered Artemis plainly.

“You…made it?”

“I mean, it’s just throwing together sandwiches, but yes,” explained Artemis as she opened the small basket. Deek had been more than happy to get her the ingredients, especially after introducing him to all the beasts this morning. “Plus, I didn’t think our conversation would be good for the Great Hall.”

“True,” agreed Natsai. There was a pause. “So, about what you asked last night.”

“About you being a gazelle?”

“No, about my uniform,” said Natsai sarcastically as Artemis chuckled. “Yes, about being a gazelle. How did you know?”

“Poppy and I saw a gazelle hanging around the Hog’s Head. Frankly we thought Harlow’s poachers had brought the gazelle from Africa. Then I saw the gazelle melt and change into a person that looked like you, but then that would be barmy right? Because we were in the forest. But then you were actually there, and really, how many gazelles are running around Scotland,” said Artemis.

Natsai laughed brightly. “Of course, the first people to spot me is you. Does Poppy not know?”

Artemis shook her head. “She was facing me when you turned back. I’m assuming that’s magic?”

“Yes, yes,” laughed Natsai as she placed a hand on her chest. “I’m an animagus.”

“Animagus?”

Natsai nodded. “It’s a branch of self-transfiguration not often practised in Britain, and not taught at Hogwarts. It’s a complicated process, but I can change into a gazelle at will. Professor Weasley has… ‘gently discouraged’ me from it, or discussing about the subject since it’s considered dangerous here, but I find it freeing.”

“Sounds very handy, especially for a quick escape.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that,” said Natsai. “I’d been sneaking around the Hog’s Head more so recently but have been travelling around the forest since last year – it reminds me of when my father ran with me back in Matabeleland. My father transformed into the most beautiful giraffe.”

Artemis recognised grief like a glove. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” said Natsai. “It’s been a few years but, some days, it is harder than the others. Running as a gazelle helps me to feel closer to him.”

“Did you choose to become a gazelle?” Artemis asked as Natsai shook her head.

“Oh no. When you go through the process, you become the animal that represents your personality. My mother is convinced that my form is a gazelle because I adapt well to any situation. I believe it is because I can sense danger and keep my wits about me. I would appreciate it if we kept this between us. My mother and I are both registered because we need to be, but I’d rather not have everybody know.”

“Of course,” Artemis readily agreed. “But in return, could you show me some wandless magic? Just until Poppy comes.”

“Truly? Well, you’re easy to please,” teased Natsai as she pointed to Artemis’ book. “I can do better. I’ll teach you basic wandless magic, especially since you asked me to show you our first Charms class, and I’ve been neglecting you.”

“Really?” Artemis asked; she didn’t think her friend would teach her.

“Of course! Wandless magic isn’t too different aside from the obvious. There’s no spell that is tied to a particular hand gesture, but there are tendencies. Levioso.”

Natsai held her hand out, palm up, and gently curled her fingers as the book levitated from Artemis’ lap. Artemis watched with fascination as the Gryffindor did the same movement for Accio, and the book went into Natsai’s open hand.

“But because there’s more overlap, the intention becomes much more important, and knowing where your magic comes from. At Uagadou, before we learn how to cast magic, we learn how to gather magic into our palms. Like this.”

This time, she held both her palms up, and Artemis gasped mutely as she watched a ball of red with golden hues coagulate. It reminded her of the colour of the Secret Sharer. Natsai spun the magic as it floated and expanded, flicking like a fire before extinguishing it.

“Try it,” encouraged Natsai. “Hold your palms up like you’re cupping water. Then, concentrate getting your magic from your core to your palm, and hold it for as long as you can.”

“Um… any guidance on that, Professor Onai?”

Natsai guffawed. “Please don’t. I feel like my mother.”

Artemis rolled her eyes as she chuckled. “Teacher Natty?”

“Acceptable. When I first learned, I thought about the savannah and running. How my heart would pump, the golden beauty under the sun, and the freedom I felt. I imagined my heartbeat pumping the blood – and my magic – into my palms. Maybe something like that?”

Artemis hummed as she looked down at her hands – an illusion of matching, unmarred palms. Since Natsai’s magic was the same colour as the Secret Sharer, theoretically, hers would be as well. She closed her eyes slowly. She enjoyed running through the forests around home, but that didn’t seem right.

No, what it sounded like was the need to direct and control her magic. Maybe it was like preparing to plant the garden, to find the perfect bit of fertilised soil. To dig just enough to plant the bulb. The more she imagined her the process of planting through the Briar Greenhouse, the more she felt her magic tingle throughout her body; like it needed room to breathe. She imagined how she felt when she first stood at the greenhouse entrance with everything finally planted.

Breathe In. Two. Three. Four. Out. Two. Three Four.

As she breathed out, a cooling sensation coursed from her chest through her arms, and centred in her palms. Keeping the slow, controlled breathing, she opened her eyes and let out an elated gasp as a blob of iridescent blue-green shimmered with a silvery hue within her hands.

“That’s it Artie! You’re doing great!”

It only lasted for three seconds before the warble fizzled away, but Natsai clapped cheerfully.

“You did really well! Not many people can get it in the first try, and certainly not for that long. It gets easier with practise, I promise.”

“How long do I need to be able to keep it before moving onto spells?” Artemis asked.

Natsai hummed. “Our professors had us hold it for three minutes. Our first spell, by the way, was levioso.”

“I’ll keep working on it then,” agreed Artemis.

Natsai held up her fist; Artemis bumped hers.

“And I will help you of course.”

“Artemis! Natty! Sorry I’m late!” Poppy’s voice carried as Natsai and Artemis lifted their heads. In her arms was a large bag, undoubtedly filled with sweets. “The house-elves were really nice and gave us the rest of the Halloween desserts.”

Poppy sat to Artemis’ right with an excited huff, and Natsai chuckled from her left. With sandwiches and sweets in hand, the three started their cobbled outdoor picnic. The November air was crisp and cool, though it didn’t feel that way with the company kept.

“Highwing’s safe. The place I had in mind worked,” started Artemis.

Poppy beamed. “Really? What about the other hippogriff? And the thestral?”

“Them too.” Artemis nodded. “I can bring Highwing out anytime you’d like.”

“Thank you. Truly, both of you. Let me know if either of you ever need help.”

Natsai and Artemis both smiled.

A few moments of silence passed before Artemis brought up the question.

“The spell that Harlow casted… the one with the green light… it killed that owl, didn’t it?”

In the lake’s reflection, Artemis saw Natsai and Poppy both pause in their reverie as they looked at each other. A small fish popped above the surface momentarily.

“It’s called the Killing Curse,” started Poppy.

Artemis whipped her head toward her. “The what curse?”

“The Killing Curse,” sighed Natsai. “An Unforgivable.”

“… unforgivable…?”

“It’s a collection of three of the most powerful Dark curses,” continued Natsai. “We learned what they are last year, obviously just the name and what they do. The green one last night is the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. The effect is self-explanatory – instant, painless death.”

“There’s also the Imperius Curse and the Torture Curse. Imperius, or Imperio, puts the person completely under someone’s control. And the Torture Curse, Crucio, well… it’s also self-explanatory. Intense, excruciating pain,” explained Poppy.

The memory of the red crackling lightning by that Ashwinder as she cackled at the centaur’s pained screams flitted back. Artemis pressed her thumb against her scar and let the pain keep her steady – that witch had cast a torturing curse on the centaur.

“Who would make such spells?” Artemis managed to squeeze out.

Poppy huffed. “A medieval sadist. If you can believe it, they weren’t always illegal; they became illegal in 1717.”

“That’s less than 200 years,” pointed out Artemis.

“Morality took its time,” said Natsai bitterly. “They can’t be blocked, so you have to be able to stop the cast beforehand or dodge it. Otherwise… you suffer. Or, die.”

Poppy picked off a bit of her sandwich and threw it for the gathered fish. “The one good thing is that not everyone can cast Unforgivables. Because they’re so… you know, powerful, whomever casts it needs to have a high level of skill and willpower. Remember I said the creator was sadistic? The curses are more effective if the castor has a clear, deep desire to use it. They have to mean it. Mean that they want to hurt someone, want to control someone, want to kill someone.”

“What happens if someone casts it? Consequentially, that is.”

Natsai swallowed her sandwich bite. “Azkaban. Lifetime, plain and simple.”

“But only against humans. Apparently, they don’t count as ‘unforgivable’ if cast on beasts or other beings, like goblins,” spat Poppy.

Artemis blanched. So the witch cursing that centaur was legal? The Depulso she’d casted suddenly didn’t seem strong enough… not that the witch could do that anymore. An arrow to the neck tended to put a stopper to things.

“Is that… it?” Artemis held her hand up as both girls looked at her incredulously. “I mean. The effects are horrid, yes. But, does it hurt the caster? Other than their conscience, if they have a shred of it left. It just, it seems like it’s more than just morality and some degree of sadism that made it Unforgivable.”

Natsai and Poppy both looked at each other before Natsai sighed deeply.

“According to Professor Hecat, successfully casting an Unforgivable on a living soul damages the caster’s own soul and magical cores.”

“Like we said earlier, you have to mean it. That means it’s premeditated, and if we’re talking about the Avada, that’s premeditated murder,” finished Poppy.

Poppy’s acorn eyes were steeled, and she was subtly hugging herself. Artemis didn’t comment.

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 23: Anemone

Summary: A little finding in the Undercroft, and it's a twin birthday (11/11).

Floriography: Healing & Sickness

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.1k words

Excerpt Below:

Sebastian sneezed. “We really need to dust down here.”

“You’re a wizard, cast a scourgify,” quipped Ominis.

“Why don’t you do it? You always complain mine’s not as good as yours,” countered Sebastian, his eyes now lifted from his book.

“Because I’m busy, Sebastian.” Ominis lifted his pestle. “And you are interrupting.”

Artemis brought her attention back from the incredibly distracting pool of ancient magic. Ominis had managed to crush the dittany into fine granules after four bowls before the genius epiphany of placing a sticking charm on the mortar came to be. Sebastian had come down at the start of the third bowl, and much to Ominis’ chagrin, decided to stay.

“This looks good, Ominis. Now, stick your fingers in so you can feel the texture.”

Ominis perked up slightly as his porcelain smooth fingers slipped into the dittany.

“Did you stick your fingers into dittany when you learned?”

“Still do sometimes,” hummed Artemis. “Guilty pleasure.”

Sebastian chuckled as he flipped a page, and Ominis even smiled small. They’d poured the varied dittanies into their separate jars; she’d crush the other three thoroughly later. They could prepare for the brewing next session.

Ominis leaned just close enough to whisper. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh. “As much as one could.”

Artemis watched as Ominis exited and the gate fell with a clang.

Sebastian piped up. “He’s gone to wrap our presents, hasn’t he.”

“Maybe he wanted to chat with the mermaids,” said Artemis.

Ominis was, in fact, going to wrap Sebastian and Anne’s presents. She was on distraction duty, and frankly, it was a blessing in disguise.

“Uh-huh, right,” said Sebastian sarcastically as he closed the book. “But I’ll take it. Now that he’s shown you the Undercroft, we can talk freely without any ears on us. About ancient magic, and where you actually were on Halloween.”

“I was in Hogsmeade.”

“Really. Fig wasn’t pulling my leg?”

“Yes. But… not to study ruins.”

“Go on.”

She bit her inner cheek. She didn’t know how Sebastian would react about Lodgok and that whole debacle, but she had to give him something. He already knew about the ancient magic – it wouldn’t hurt for him to know.

“Ominis wasn’t wrong; I was ill. Just not with a sickness. Being in Hogwarts on Halloween was making me sick.”

“What does that even – wait. Don’t tell me. Let me think…” trailed off Sebastian.

His warm chocolate eyes pierced through her as she could see the gears shift in his mind. His fingers drummed on the book spine. He paced in front of her, back and forth like a pendulum, and sometimes she would catch little flickers of the ancient magic lick his ankles.

Sebastian slowly touched his finger on her hand. “Your hand’s still cold.”

“I suppose.”

“And you hardly reacted when Nearly Headless Nick strolled through your arm yesterday.”

“I…suppose?”

“You didn’t take Garreth’s poisons, did you?” Sebastian asked with an eyebrow raised.

Artemis blinked twice. “No!”

“Hey, just had to get that option out of the way,” said Sebastian with his hands up.

The momentary easy smile slipped as he again paced. His eyes danced with curiosity, but they had limited time that they’d be alone in the Undercroft; she had a long way to go before she could set foot inside without an obvious Calming Draught and Ominis.

“I could offer a different mystery, if you wanted to think on that one for a while?”

“Sure, I’ll get back to you with an answer later,” said Sebastian. “Good mystery?”

“I see ancient magic here.”

Sebastian full on stopped with his eyes widened. “WHAT?!”

Artemis pointed toward the arcane blue puddle. “There, specifically.”

“Since when!”

“Since Ominis showed me last week. But I couldn’t very well do anything… plus, I wanted you here.”

Sebastian stopped his wild gesticulation before he straightened up. The warm chocolate browns now danced with excitement as the firelight from the candelabras reflected along the lens.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat with an easy smile. “Well, here I am. Come on! Let’s find out what it is. It can’t be a statue at least; the ceiling’s too low.”

Artemis chuckled. “Small comfort, that.”

“Can I stand with you? When you do your –” Sebastian gestured. “– thing?”

“Of course.”

The closer she got, the arcane magic welcomed her as it seeped through her ankles and calves.

“Huh, that’s odd.”

“Feel something?”

“Yeah, like taking a dip in the ocean.”

“Hm, not inaccurate. It’s bubbling around our ankles. Just, uh, here, hold on,” said Artemis as she offered her left arm. “When I do this, there’s usually a burst.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one offering?” Sebastian offered his right arm with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Semantics.”

She slipped her hand easily through his arm, resting on the crook of his elbow, and lifted the pool of magic.

The arcane magic sung as it rushed toward a blank wall. Sebastian whipped out his wand as he stepped closer to her, hardly any room between them as both their wands pointed at the shifting wall. The bricks pulled back and apart by the arcane tendrils, and soon revealed a large, brown triptych in the centre of a small alcove.

“Well, that’s new,” offered Artemis.

“You don’t say,” deadpanned Sebastian. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

She didn’t let go, nor he didn’t comment. Their steps fell in stride as they approached the strange alcove, and with a look, she slowly slipped her hand out of his arm and opened the triptych. Most of the canvases were missing; only the left frame’s depicted some sort of hillside mine, and a yellowed envelope with a royal purple anemone wax seal was pressed into the middle frame.

Artemis opened the envelope, and first pulled up a note with a collection of runic symbols drawn with more middle English.

“These look like those buttons down in the Restricted Section, don’t they?” Artemis asked as she passed the note to Sebastian.

Sebastian accepted the parchment as he stood just behind her, his right shoulder just behind her left.

“Huh. It is. Well, we already knew it’s ancient magic related, so this isn’t exactly new information. What else in that envelope?”

“A letter. Hold on,” said Artemis as she pulled out the letter – thankfully, not middle English – and read aloud:

“If this note has been found, that means Liz had done her part of the bargain.

Welcome to my sanctuary. I am Isidora Morganach, and like you, I can see and wield ancient magic.

Sebastian, this is… Isidora made the Undercroft.”

Sebastian whistled low. “Damn. What’s the bet that this Liz is Ominis’ ancestor?”

“I’m not giving you easy money, Sebastian,” tutted Artemis before she continued.

“You have also likely spoken to the Keepers – have been told of how ancient magic works to manipulate the physical world. How it can be used to transfigure the earth, to reinvigorate the land and call forth tempests. Useful of course, but limited.

I am here to tell you that that is not all that it can do. It can do so much more.

This magic can heal people. Heal them in ways no ordinary healing spell...can…”

“Artie… Artie.”

The amount of hope in Sebastian’s voice was shattering. His hands enveloped her shoulders as he shook them in excitement. She couldn’t blame him; her own grip tightened on the parchment.

This could help Henry. If she could figure this out… there was a chance he could walk again. She wasn’t going to let that chance go.

“Wait, there’s more.

This magic is complex, and I did not have the luxury of time nor the resources as desired for this research. I have left a path for you, so that you may learn what I’ve done. I’m loathed to think the Keepers would train you outside of what they deem as ‘proper’. Each location will have a canvas for you to place –”

“– Damn, she’s giving you trials as well? What is it with these people and trials,” grumbled Sebastian as he peered over her shoulder. His hands were still glued onto her. “Are the Keepers teaching you anything?”

She nodded. “Well, it’s a bit slow, and they are focused on honing what I already know. So, Isidora is right in that regard. Let’s see…

Each location will have a canvas piece for you to place, as well as a few of my tomes and journals. I hope that, like me, you will find and develop this new way of using ancient magic for the betterment of people.

Isidora”

A pause befell on them as they digested the information. Sebastian let her go as he paced, though this time his eyes danced with glimmers of hope.

“Artie, this – if Healer Gavin’s consult and everything comes back bad then – then you. You could help Anne,” said Sebastian elatedly.

She could help Henry. Anne as well, of course, but Henry. She took in a deep breath; it wasn’t good to rush to conclusions, not without evidence.

“We’ll need to learn how much she developed this. Then, see how much more work needs to be done to perfect it,” started Artemis carefully before her gaze met his. “But we’ll do it together.”

Sebastian beamed. “Yes, yes we will. I suppose the first place we’d need to look for is where this place is.”

He tapped on the canvas piece.

“I’m not much help there I’m afraid,” sighed Artemis. “I don’t get out of the castle as much as people seem to think.”

“Let me research it – lived in these parts for a long time.”

She bit her inner cheek. This was something a different angle on ancient magic, one that only she and Sebastian knew. She wanted to go with him, but…  

“Alright but, please, be careful,” said Artemis.

She needed to trust he’d be okay.

“When am I not – no, don’t answer that,” Sebastian cut himself off as Artemis looked pointedly. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be back in no time to translate more of that pesky Middle English.”

“Appreciated.” She looked up at the triptych. “How are we going to explain this to Ominis?”

“Explain what?”

Artemis gestured. “The fact that a whole wall just transfigured itself and a triptych appeared? In the one hour he stepped out?”

Sebastian looked back at the triptych, then back at her with a confident smile.

“Leave it to me.”

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 24: "Pink"

Summary:

An argument in the Undercroft between Sebastian & Ominis.

A Bickle Pickle.

Floriography: Make haste, Pure love

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.4k words

Except Below:

“But, didn’t goblins curse Anne?”

Ominis was the first to respond. Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh as he tousled his hair.

“We only saw goblins at the estate. But Healer Gavin did these –” Sebastian gestured with his hands. “–Diagnostics? Which came up that it wasn’t goblin magic. But it could still have been goblins if they had a wand and found the spell somewhere.”

Artemis hummed slightly. “Goblins have their own magic right? Why take the extra step to use wizard magic?”

Sebastian scoffed. “I don’t know, irony? Why terrorise all of these hamlets? Loyalists don’t need any reason for that.”

Artemis gave a slight nod; it was clear they were near Feldcroft for the connection with the Keepers and Isidora. But the bulletin board in Hogsmeade showed their reach was far beyond the region.

Sebastian sighed before he brightened slightly. “But the good thing is, at least it narrows it down to wizard curses. I was thinking maybe we can find something to give to Healer Gavin. Help with researching the cure.”

“We could research in the l –”

“– Actually,” interrupted Sebastian. “Ominis could just tell us about the Scriptorium.”

The air chilled instantly around Ominis. His brows knitted together as he clenched and unclenched his left hand.

“Scriptorium?” Artemis repeated. Her question fell on deaf ears.

“You rat!” Ominis hissed. “This was supposed to stay between us!”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed. “Ominis, there’s nothing in the library! Anne had another bout tonight and it was so much worse! The Scriptorium could have –”

“– No it won’t,” interrupted Ominis. “I can’t believe we’re still talking about this.”

“Because it could have something to help Anne!”

“Anything to do with the Dark Arts should be avoided. It’s one thing to read, but this? It’s too risky.”

“You missed visiting Anne for this; it would be a waste to not use this. Anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is worth the risk.”

Artemis blinked twice, too stunned at the influx of new information to do anything. Salazar Slytherin had a Scriptorium in this school?

“I can’t agree.”

“Why don’t you want to help?” Sebastian said accusingly. “Artie’s done more than you have –”

“– How dare you,” hissed Ominis. A flash of hurt passed before a steely mask settled. “I’ll not say a word more.”

“Wait, Ominis!” Artemis called out in vain as the blond stormed out of the Undercroft.

The gate crashed down. Artemis sighed as she looked toward Sebastian. The brunet released a frustrated groan as he paced back and forth once more. She, for her part, felt useless as she stood there, her thumb rubbed against her scar. She should’ve stepped in and not stand there like an useless fish.

“Sebastian –”

“– Healer Gavin’s great,” interrupted Sebastian. “I just –”

Sebastian stopped his pacing when he stood in front of her and sighed. Despite it being his birthday, the joys had been replaced by a heaviness in his shoulders.

“You want to help Anne,” finished Artemis.

Sebastian’s eyes softened slightly. “Exactly. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do.”

More than he knew.

Artemis sighed as her eyes went back to the gate; she was going to have to figure out a way to drink another Calming Draught discreetly before going out. Somehow.

“Was the Scriptorium actually supposed to be a secret, Sebastian?”

“Sort of,” said Sebastian with a shrug. “Ominis didn’t specify that we kept it between me and him. But, he showed you the Undercroft, so I thought he wouldn’t mind … wait, that’s it!”

Sebastian exclaimed loudly as his warm chocolate eyes brightened. His hands flew as they grabbed her shoulders.

“You can help me convince him!”

Artemis blinked twice.

“Of…?”

“Going into the Scriptorium!”

Artemis tilted her head slightly. “Sebastian, how is Slytherin’s Scriptorium going to help Anne?”

“Look, the Gaunts are full of secrets, like the Undercroft. And, the Gaunts know better than most that there’s more to Dark magic than people realise. Can you imagine what Slytherin must have stuffed inside a hidden Scriptorium? There might be long buried texts! And –”

“– Sebastian,” cut off Artemis. “Where’s this coming from? The diagnostic?”

Sebastian sighed. “Yes. It showed these… dark tendrils that were wrapped around Anne’s veins.”

The grip around her shoulders tightened.

 “Said that it’s a sign of the curse being something old, and aristocratic Purebloods tend to have more than their fair share of old magic. The Blacks, Lestranges… even the Prewetts.”

“Are the Sallows…?”

“– Pureblood? Yes, but definitely not aristocratic, clearly. Anyways, I want to make sure we don’t miss any possible thing that could help Anne. The issue, is that only Ominis knows how to enter and, as you clearly saw, he won’t tell me.”

“You did tell him he didn’t care about Anne,” pointed out Artemis, “Which you know isn’t true.”

Sebastain sighed as he tousled his hair. “I admit that was uncalled for. I was just… frustrated with everything and – anyways. Would you help me convince Ominis?”

She blinked twice. She could see the point Sebastian was making, though there was no guarantee of anything being inside. If the Scriptorium had any sort of material that could help Leto create a cure for Anne – or something to manage it – that would be worth the risk.

“Only after you apologise and he forgives you. Then I’ll… talk to him about this,” said Artemis.

Even if she didn’t, her gut said Sebastian would find a way. Plus, they still needed to ask him about that shed.

“Deal,” said Sebastian with a relieved smile. He let go of her shoulders. “By the way, that book cover and bookmark – those are the enchanted ones, right?”

“Yes. The book cover turns into an Arithmancy title, and the bookmark lights up. Though, that might disrupt your roommates…aside from Ominis.”

“Fantastic, now I can read forbidden books out in the open. No one would be the wiser.”

“Unless someone comes up behind you and reads over your shoulder.”

“Fair point.”

Sebastian chuckled, but it sounded hollow.

The ashes atop the Sallow table flitted back to her mind. Artemis bit her inner cheek before she pulled her wand and conjured a boutonniere – a gladiolus with a forget-me-not and a geranium surrounded by green. Not a bouquet, but small and compact. She pulled a hairpin from her hair and transfigured it into a silver pin.

“May I?” Artemis asked as she lifted the boutonniere.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Oh, um.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

Artemis hummed as she carefully slipped her fingertips under his left lapel. The bright and colourful flowers stood out against the Slytherin uniform. She straightened the lapel and the flowers before she looked up; the freckled face of her friend was intently concentrated on her.

“By the way, didn’t know you knew a Curse-Breaker.”

“Kierston?” She asked as she looked back down to make sure the pin didn’t pierce her friend. “He’s a dear family friend. I wasn’t sure if he would be popping by today.”

“Do you think he’d be able to take a look at Anne?”

“He doesn’t know human physiology well enough, but he’s definitely a resource. I’m sure he’d be willing to help,” she answered as she finished pinning the boutonniere. She gave two gentle pats. “There. All done.”

Artemis lifted her head, her forest green eyes meeting his. Something passed through Sebastian’s eyes, though she couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Happy Birthday, Sebastian.”

“Thank you, Artie,” said Sebastian softly. A second passed in utter silence before he cleared his throat. “I’ll just, grab the other gifts. Then we can head out.”

Artemis knocked down a Calming Draught when Sebastian’s back turned as he grabbed his presents.

Ominis didn’t come back; her thumb dug deep into her scarred palm.

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 25 "Purple Vervain"

Summary: The Scriptorium (Before & During)

Floriography: I weep for you

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.2k words

Trigger Warnings: Endangerment of a minor, pureblood supremacist times, past abuse mentions, suicide.

The below excerpt does not contain the above trigger warning items.

Excerpt below:

Artie,

Ominis accepted my apology, but he still won’t discuss the Scriptorium with me.

Could you try and talk to him?

Also on your other mystery – I think I got it. I’ll give my guess soon.

Sebastian

The Undercroft wafted of crushed alihotsy and peppermint as Artemis watched the liquid change from a murky pink to blue.

“Bind now.”

Ominis nodded as he performed the binding spell, sealing the potion’s properties into the Invigoration Draught as Artemis jotted down the brew time. The cauldron fire was quelled as Ominis silently poured the potion into vials.

A droplet landed on the testing strip – purple vervain appeared as the purple hued into blue vapours. Success.

Artemis smiled. “You did good, Ominis.”

The blond gave a small smile as he touched the vial. “Thank you. Never thought I’d ever be told I did good on a potion.”

“It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you about the quality of a potion,” said Artemis. “Besides, these potion instructions don’t exactly help. ‘Dissolve alihotsy leaves when potion is orange.’ Really.”

“Shame, orange is such a lovely colour,” said Ominis sarcastically.

Artemis chuckled softly. “As long as you can time between each step and have the ingredients prepared beforehand, I don’t see why you couldn’t score high on the O.W.L.s.”

“Now you’re just buttering me up.”

“Just an observation. We’ll keep practising; repetition is key. But I think we had enough for tonight – three hours on an invigoration draught is a long time.”

“I agree.”

They started to clean up the makeshift preparation station, carefully transferring the remaining crushed ingredients into their respective containers. All the while, the letter from Sebastian burned a figurative hole through her legside bag.

She did say that she would talk to Ominis about it after he apologised, though she herself wasn’t wholly convinced. There could be something in the Scriptorium to help Anne or Henry, but it wasn’t a guarantee, and Ominis didn’t seem the type to withhold information without reason.

“I’m sorry.”

Ominis’ hands stopped as he lifted his head. “Whatever for?” He moved his wand from right to left as if to scan the Undercroft. “Did you two make some weird alcove on accident again?”

Artemis blinked twice before she shook her head.

“No, nothing of the sort,” said Artemis. “Though, I am sorry about that as well. I meant about… well, the Scriptorium.”

Ominis’ shoulders stiffened. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Still.”

Ominis sighed. “Is this because of what happened at the Bickle’s?”

“Did Sebastian tell you?”

“He didn’t give me specifics, but he mentioned you four were instrumental in preventing a child from being kidnapped and said child not becoming fatherless.”

“We were lucky,” muttered Artemis.

“It seems the Bickles were the lucky ones.”

Artemis didn’t respond. Mr. Bickle was stable, but he had been placed into a coma to recover from the blade’s curse according to Mrs. Bickle’s latest letter. The relief she’d felt initially fizzled away; if she knew how to break curses, if she knew –

“Artemis?”

“Hm?” She lifted her head as her thumb let go of the pressure against her scarred palm. “Sorry, I was just, thinking.”

“I see.”

“How’s the view?”

Ominis laughed once. “Not bad, actually.”

The tip of his wand blinked its usual red. Curiosity got the better of her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you see when your wand blinks? Or… pulses, rather.”

Ominis’ eyes widened slightly as his fingers smoothed over his wand.

“I don’t mind. But…” Ominis shook his head. “Never mind. Yes, I can answer that for you, though I’d be borrowing some of Aunt Noctua’s words.”

Artemis leaned against the now cleared up desk as Ominis started.

“Without my wand, I don’t see anything. Aunt Noctua said it’s like you’re in total darkness. But with my wand, I can ‘see’ the outlines of magic against objects or people. When you say my wand ‘pulses,’ that’s when my wand is communicating to me.”

“I can imagine the first time must’ve been a shock.”

“It was.” Ominis’ smile softened. “Aunt Noctua took me to Ollivander’s, and when I held my wand, it was like a whole world opened. I knew how tall Aunt Noctua was from approximately where her voice was, but it was the first time I could see her outline and exactly where she was. There were so many wand boxes on the shelves, I could see how many fingers I held up…”

“So, the pulses bounce out, hit the latent magic on objects and creatures, and then come back to translate through your wand to you,” summarised Artemis.

It sounded vaguely like how ancient magic existed latently before mixing with her active spellcasting.

“Exactly,” continued Ominis. “It’s not a spell, but it took quite a while to understand what my wand was communicating.”

“Is there a limitation to what you can see?”

“To a degree. For one, I don’t see colours. Sebastian and Anne suggested our first year that I stick my wand inside an Antidote to Common Poisons to see if I can ‘sense teal’.”

“Did you? ‘Sense teal’?”

“All I got was a wet wand for my troubles.” Ominis huffed slightly. “And like I mentioned earlier, I can only see the outlines. I can’t see paintings, nor can I see anyone’s features. Not unless someone decides to, effectively, glow with magic from the inside.”

Artemis hummed. No wonder he never asked about the painting in front of the Undercroft or about the triptych canvas. Rather, he was understandably distracted with the sheer fact an alcove with a triptych had appeared suddenly. Sebastian was rather smooth in convincing him they had stepped on some unknown magical switch while practising spells and it suddenly appeared.

“Ms. Noctua sounded like a lovely woman.”

“She was,” agreed Ominis readily. “She was different than the rest of my family. She thought like I do. Didn’t agree on the family’s use of Dark Magic.”

The blond gently bit his lower lip as he furrowed his eyebrows. Artemis waited patiently as Ominis shifted his weight on his feet.

“Aunt Noctua was a magical researcher. I – when I went back to the manor this summer, I looked for any of her research that could help Anne. Though it’s not like my family would let me take anything. Even her research was mostly hidden away.”

“The meeting last month –”

“– I managed to convince Mimsy, Aunt Noctua’s favourite house-elf that was always kind to me, to continue in my stead. To the degree that she wouldn’t get in trouble with Father. What she delivered to me was the copy of the journal about the Scriptorium and copies of letters Aunt Noctua wrote to my father. Aunt Noctua wanted to convince the rest of my family that there was more to my unfortunate ancestor than just worshipping pureblood status. She even found the entrance in the school but…suddenly she vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“Yes. The last one she wrote said that she was going to try and enter the Scriptorium and would bring back what she found.”

She blanched as a pit dropped into her stomach; the image of Dad’s gravestone without the death date flitted across her mind. Richard’s bones in that cave, abandoned for forty years.

She swallowed silently. “I’m not sure how to say this but, how did your family know Ms. Noctua passed away?”

“Family tree.”

“Family tree?”

“Yes. Many pureblood families have their family tree painted magically upon their ancestral home’s walls or inside their family grimoires. The Gaunt family tree is in a grimoire, represented by coloured portraits. The day she died, my brother so kindly informed me her portrait lost its colour.”

The way his eyes flashed as they stared just slightly toward the ground was proof enough it was anything but kind. But beyond that...

“Ominis.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should go to the Scriptorium.”

Ominis whipped his head up. “Absolutely not! Weren’t you listening to what I just said?!”

“Yes.”

“Then why?! My aunt died going there and –”

“– that’s why, Ominis,” interrupted Artemis as she walked around the table. His shoulders tensed as she came closer. “If Ms. Noctua died within the Scriptorium, then she deserves more than being trapped alone. If she died beyond there, then there’d be clues as to where she is. She should be found and buried where she could be visited by her favourite nephew.”

Ominis’ eyes widened a fraction.

“I won’t force you to go,” continued Artemis. “You’re clearly, and understandably, uncomfortable about the Scriptorium. But let me do this for you, Ominis. Give you closure.”

“You don’t think there’s anything in there that could help Anne,” said Ominis simply.

Artemis shook her head. “I don’t know, there might be. But that’s not a certainty. But what we do know is Ms. Noctua went down there. Sebastian would go for Anne, and I can go for you.”

Ominis’ fist pulsed gently against his side as his eyebrows furrowed and he remained silent.

“No.”

Artemis opened her mouth before he continued.

“We will go for Aunt Noctua,” clarified Ominis as he sighed. “I’m not going to let you two just go down somewhere concocted by Slytherin by yourselves. And if there is something … I’d like to see through her work.”

Artemis blinked twice before she smiled. “Alright. Though, I think we should do it tomorrow.”

“I agree; if we tell Sebastian now he’d want to go right after.”

“Right. Plus I’d like to ask him about the shed. It’s… concerning.”

Ominis hummed. “Of course. It might be prudent if I don’t partake in that conversation.”

“Why? You’re just as concerned.”

“Because he might be more forthcoming if it was just you, and you’d tell me.” Ominis gestured toward the gate. “We should get back; it’s almost curfew.”

“Right,” said Artemis even though she wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer. She instinctively reached for his robe as she took another Calming Draught. He allowed it as he stood in front of the lifting gate, though he didn’t move.

“Ominis?”

“I am sorry, for not coming back last time.”

She shrugged. “It’s alright. You were upset and, frankly, I don’t fault you. I managed to take another Calming Draught without him noticing.”

“It’s no excuse. I gave you my word I’d come with you every time until you’re fine – that meant I would leave with you.”

“I – oh.” She gripped his robe slightly tighter. “Thank you.”

The corner of Ominis’ lips lifted. “See. You’re consistent.”

“Are you going to ever clarify that?” Artemis asked.

Ominis chuckled.

“No.”

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 26 "Peony II"

Summary: After the Scriptorium/2nd trial

Floriography: Life & Death

Full Chapter: [AO3]//6.9k words

Excerpt below:

The last of the leaves barely clung to the tree branches just outside Professor Fig’s office windows.

“Artemis, are you sure that you are alright?”

Artemis nodded. Cotton was sandpaper and the chill resembled a ravenous bite. But these were exaggerations on what was normal; two weeks in the Hospital Wing was enough.  

“Yes, sir. Thank you, for your patience.”

“Don’t thank me, Artemis,” said Professor Fig as his eyebrows furrowed. “Frankly I’d prefer we delay this until the new year, but I’m afraid the Keepers were right. That castle is swarming with Rookwood and Ranrok’s lot, and waiting longer could mean more trouble. Not the friendliest of alliances, but still. Come. Let’s head to the nearest spot to apparate.”

The moment the two of them reached beyond the anti-apparition perimeter, they disillusioned themselves – and she casted a pre-emptive Sensory Balancing Charm – before Professor Fig apparated them both to what appeared to be right inside the castle walls just behind a set of tents.

It appeared to be the edges of a courtyard, and in prime seating a heated conversation between Rookwood and Ranrok. The top hat wearing man paced back and forth, gesticulating as Ranrok remained stern. His armour looked… even more entrenched in the red globular magic.

“If I’d known your plan was to dig up half the country- “

“I wouldn’t have to dig if you could simply manage to bring me that snow-haired child you disgustingly call a rabbit,” growled Ranrok.

Rookwood spat. “We wouldn’t need her if you hadn’t sent a dragon retrieve the container, I spent months and countless Ministry favours tracking.”

“You let them board the carriage.” Ranrok jabbed his finger.

“Have you not acquired enough power here?” Rookwood gestured around himself. “I allowed you to tunnel under my family home – “

“ALLOWED ME?” Ranrok bellowed. “You are here only because you are descended from a Keeper and may at some point inadvertently become valuable. We have an agreement. I will share with you the power that I discovered if you locate the stores of magic that are yet to be found.”

Ranrok’s shoulder pads and gauntlets glowered like heated iron or lava. Yet from his chest Artemis could see the faint waves of something red and black. Her skin prickled as the hairs on her arm stood.

“So, unless you want another demonstration of my power – a power that you one day hope to wield – bring her to me.”

With the final word – and glare – exchanged, Rookwood apparated away as Ranrok marched into the castle itself.

A few minutes passed before they broke their silence.

 “So that’s why they’re digging under Isidora’s house,” whispered Artemis.

“It seems that way. It’s also clear they both know about the Keepers. Highly disconcerting,” whispered Professor Fig. “Follow me; with all of the damage this castle’s weathered, there’s bound to be an entrance through the battlements.”

The familiar scent of chai guided Artemis near her mentor through the battlements of the castle, and sure enough a bricked wall had weathered away into the upper levels of a severely beaten down central hall. Professor Fig held her hand as they apparated down to the lower level.

“Professor, those buttons.”

“Hm? You mean those bronze things? Wait, that symbol…”

“Yes, I recognise it from the library. Let me just –” Artemis started as she sent off some basic casts toward the bronze buttons. The large door beyond the staircase glowed the typical ancient magic blue before it unlocked and opened forward.

“Incredible,” breathed Professor Fig. “This is different from the first trial entrance. Though I’m surprised it appears nobody used the door.”

“Professor Rackham mentioned my regular magic already imbues ancient magic,” explained Artemis as she followed Professor Fig’s footfall into what seemed to be a cellar. “Perhaps the symbol only reacts to my casts? Or, touch.”

“Perhaps. Though that leaves the question of how – oh.” Professor Fig paused as they entered the main part of the cellar. “I suppose that gaping hole explains how they got in. Drills.”

Dim sunlight poured into the dark cellar from a gargantuan hole in the ceiling. Bricks were strewn about haphazardly, clear that anything that had existed inside this portion of the cellar had been plundered.

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“It’s… something’s glowing red down to our left,” whispered Artemis. “The same glow as Ranrok’s armour.”

“And that’s where the goblin tracks lead. Stay close.”

Only the sounds of their feet reverberated against the stone walls as they walked further down. In front of them opened a large, spherical cavern that seemed to have exploded. The earth was cracked as they reached closer to the source of red, and the hairs on the back of Artemis’ neck stood as her skin burned.

“This must be the store of magic that they were arguing about; it looks empty,” remarked Professor Fig.

Before them was a gargantuan silver object split open. Red veins pumped in the earth around it – ancient magic.

“Professor Rookwood mentioned that created ancient magic can be manipulated,” said Artemis as she ignored the pain. “Why would they store ancient magic like this?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps they believed a Keeper’s home was the safest location,” mused Professor Fig. “You said it is glowing red. Is the ancient magic still there?”

Artemis narrowed her eyes at the broken object in front of them as she ignored the way her skin cried for something to cool down.

“Not exactly. The magic itself seems to have been completely removed. It – it’s hard to explain. Um… it’s more like the fire kept in the hearth during the winter night.”

“Hm. Perhaps they need this so that the magic in their armour can continue to be used? I’ll dig through Miriam’s notes some more when we get back. For right now, let’s move. I’d rather not have another surprise run-in with Ranrok or Rookwood.”

“Agreed.”

“Now, where is that portrait… ah, perhaps that way,” said Professor Fig.

The pair followed through the hall and down the stairs; goblins and human tracks were both present. Her skin cooled the further they got from that object.

“Hello?”

Professor Rookwood’s voice rang from the empty frame.

“Professor Rookwood?” Artemis asked.

Professor Fig and Artemis both dropped their disillusionment as the stout man appeared in the frame.

“Oh thank Merlin. Artemis, we heard from Professor Fig. Are you alright?”

“I’m better, sir.”

She wasn’t alright, but she’d live.

“Sir, the ancient magic you had stored in in that odd silver container – it been taken by Ranrok and his Loyalists.”

“No! Things are more dire than I could have imagined. I still don’t understand how this Ranrok could’ve known-  it cannot be.”

“Professor,” cut in Professor Fig. “If Artemis is to complete the trial now and not after the New Year like I’d requested, I suggest we hurry so she can come back earlier and rest.”

Artemis blinked twice but smiled at the kindness Professor Fig offered. Professor Rookwood cleared his throat.

“Right. My apologies. This trial will ensure that you understand the power that you wield. Power without knowledge is dangerous indeed. In the wrong hands –“

Artemis bit her inner cheek to hold back from interjecting that it was already in the wrong hands.

“– We will simply have to outwit Ranrok – and my unfortunate namesake.”

Professor Rookwood waved his hand in the portrait; licks of ancient magic fluttered along her ankles before she revealed the hidden door. The ancient magic felt cooler as it erupted – a reprieve.

“I suppose this is where I must depart,” sighed Professor Fig. “Artemis. I know you are more than capable; I’ll be waiting in the Map Chamber for you. But please, please be careful. Take as much time as you need.”

 Artemis gave a final nod to her mentor before she stepped through the doors.

It was gaudier than the first trial, with notes of bright gold cracked through the walls and blue-green hues reflected on every surface. The floors of the high ceiling cavern were akin to stained glass; the interior seemed of a pristine castle meant for some sort of royalty.

<<Was this really necessary…>> mumbled Artemis as she continued forward.

Her legside bag had been replenished with healing potions, and she still had a few Flaming Frenzies. Spending two weeks in the Hospital bed had not been the plan, and it showed with her severe depletion of offence potions.

She did not run up the stairs or hurry on the path as she had last time. No, if this trial was anything like the first one, she needed to save her energy for the moving statues… and probably a gargantuan one at the end on the platform.

Admittedly, she appreciated the new puzzles with the hidden pillars; it meant that she could hide things using ancient magic itself. Or even hide entire spaces – was that the logic that Isidora used when she built the Undercroft?

She hadn’t bothered to pull out her throwing knife as she continued, fully expecting statues to come attack. Instead, she swallowed an improved Thunderbrew and pulled out a few of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage seeds, ready to toss and grow. She was right.

“Herbivicus.”

Nurse Blainey had warned her that too many spells so soon after recovery – despite her physical injuries being healed – could lead to backlash. The Python Curse had coiled around her magical channels and constricted them, and there were some residual effects. With the way her skin reacted at just the proximity of the red ancient magic, she didn’t want to risk being inoperable.

Surprisingly, the cabbages took care of the statues as the teeth seemingly sunk into stone. As if their fangs oozed of acid. They even took care of the invisible statues as some rolled beyond the awkward archway in the middle of the room.

Many short breaks, statues and puzzles later, she was faced with the unpleasant familiarity of the ground shaking, and a platform standing in the centre of the caverns. The only difference was that now it contained an archway– presumably for hidden spaces and the accompanying hidden statues.

<<Great. This is, great.>>

She pulled out her first Flaming Frenzy and pocketed it whilst knocking back another Thunderbrew and her Edurus. Her skin became black diamond itself, and the ever-pervasive pain numbed. Her wand was gripped tightly as the little plant seeds came out once more. She’d conserve her magic until the big one when she couldn’t avoid it. She could do this. She was going to make it.

The Chinese Chomping Cabbages were unleased to reign chaos as she dodged the axes and swords swung by the statues, many of whom exploded from the storm that encircled her. A Sticky Solution was thrown to entrap a few as she flicked her arm, sending the gaudy Faberge egg objects to smash them into smithereens. The roots of harvested Devil’s Snare were unleashed as they strangled the stone off the ledges.

As the final statue crumbled, the platform shook violently. The centre of the platform bubbled as something in a gaudy gold and blue-green arose.

<<Why couldn’t I be wrong?>> She muttered to herself as she threw the Flaming Frenzy right onto the fifteen-foot Pensieve Guardian.

Its ancient-magic cape lit ablaze momentarily as it was swallowed by the flaming tornado. She might not be at her best state spell-casting wise, but she’d done this before. She would not break bones this time.

“Reducto. Glacius. Diffindo. Confringo.”

One after another she casted her spells, each time feeling like her stomach twisted. An uncomfortable itch existed just under her skin as bile rose to her throat. Her veins sung as she reigned a tempest down upon the statue as it dropped to its knee.

It was only when the statue brought out the military flail when she swore.

“Mother of Christ,” she sputtered as she just barely dodged its reverberating smash upon the ground. “Evanesco.”

The flail vanished momentarily, and as the statue remained confused, she pulled out her second to last Flaming Frenzy and flung it. The tornado inferno spun its dance of glory as magical shards shot out at her; she deflected each with a Protego toward the guardian that stood within the centre of the blaze.

As the statue melted into the ground with the dying flames, her lungs heaved, and her body folded as her stomach emptied its contents. Her skin was on fire and her body shook violently despite no chill in the air. Backlash.

Breathe in. Two. Three. Four.

Out. Two. Three. Four.

She managed a wiggenweld down her throat, the cool minty taste a soothing balm despite the way her hand shook. It was a full hour that she remained folded on her knees, unable to leave the ground as her body wracked of magical backlash. Slowly, she stood and made her way across the newly floating bridge, her footing steady out of willpower alone.

The giant statue of Rookwood loomed over, his hands on the floor in stoned, complicated swirls above the pensieve. A single, silvery tear fell from his eye and formulated the artefact once more.

<<Mine now,>> she whispered as she touched her wand.

The artefact became the size of a marble before being slipped into her legside bag, and she placed her face into the basin.

The memory was a direct continuation of Professor Rackham’s memories, only this time she saw from Professor Rookwood’s eyes. The Keepers had arrived to Isidora’s home in Feldcroft and were led into her home. It was a simple, lovely home. Even through Professor Rookwood’s gaze, Artemis appreciated the apothecary cabinet, the hanging dried plants, and the myriads of ingredients in the clear jars.

Artemis recognised a few of the ingredients as specialised components for advanced Healing potions – Isidora must’ve been a Healer before becoming a professor.

“We’re ready,” called out Isidora as Professor Rookwood sat. “I’ve something to show you.”

A man came out of the back room, and even through Professor Rookwood’s eyes, she gasped sharply. It was the man in the first memory, the one that had supported the little boy. It must be her father, but his shoulders carried a heavy weight.

“Father hasn’t spoken since my brother died. On my travels, I confirmed that which I’ve always believed: that we have the power to take away pain,” stated Isidora.

Artemis watched in a mixture of horror and intrigue as Isidora pointed her wand at her father’s chest. The man gasped as if he’d not had a single breath in years, and when her wand pointed back into that strange jar in her hand, she could see something in the jar. A red and black something. Globular.

Just like Ranrok’s armour.

“This is uncharted magic, Isidora,” started Professor Rackham as he stood.

It was clear that the bearded professor was shocked, horrified even. Professor Fitzgerald appeared neutral, but Professor Bakar looked… intrigued. Professor Rookwood’s own thoughts were in that it was something unknown, so many unknown variables.

“You can only see what has been sealed in the jar – and we do not know what power that may hold. But the traces of that magic are different from what I’ve seen before.”

The memory concluded with the father, who had not spoken since Isidora’s brother’s death, uttered two words.

“Thank you.”

Artemis gasped as she lifted her head back up. Why wasn’t that memory from Professor Rackham’s view?!

There must’ve been something other than just the red, floating magic that he could see, but Professor Rookwood wouldn’t have been able to… no matter. She found the crystallised wall, now familiar, that would lead her back to the Map Chamber.

She added the crystallised wall, as well as forming invisible interdimensional spaces, onto the list of things she ‘knew’ about to be taught by the Keepers as she stepped through.

“Artemis!” Professor Fig exclaimed as his shoulders slumped and a smile spread across his features. “Welcome back. Are you alright?”

“It was better than last time, sir,” she explained simply. Which was true, she didn’t break any bones or get burned. Just, was very ill.

“Well, that is good. You do look a bit pale.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. I just – there’s a lot of questions I have after this time.”

“Right. Well, the professors are here as always. Come, hopefully they’ll give you the simple answers so you can hurry and rest,” said Professor Fig.

As they approached, the portraits looked up from their positions.

“You’re back!” Professor Rackham exclaimed softly. “Good. When Professor Fig told us of your unfortunate run-in with the Python Curse, we were incredibly concerned.”

“And we are glad you made it back to us in one piece,” added Professor Rookwood. “It is most fortunate that someone so competent is following this path.”

“I – right. I’ll keep the second artefact safe as you’ve advised.”

“Good. Are you ready to move on?”

“That memory – I only saw the red ebb of magic that appeared in the jar,” said Artemis as she looked toward Professor Rackham. “I imagine you saw more than that to horrify you so.”

The bearded portrait sighed. “Indeed. When Isidora pulled out the –”

“– pain – “cut in Professor Rookwood.

“– The pain, yes,” continued Professor Rackham. “I saw a strand of blue, red and black connected between Isidora’s father’s chest and the magic on the tip of her wand.”

“But her father wasn’t in any phys –.” Artemis’ eyes widened. “She pulled out his grief?”

“What?” Professor Fig asked incredulously.

Her thumb rubbed against the glamoured scar on her palm.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Emotions aren’t solid, and not –”

“– Artemis,” cut off Professor Rookwood. “It shall be explained in due time.”

A wizened hand touched her arm; she bit her tongue and nodded.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “For now, allow me to introduce former Hogwarts headmistress, Niamh Fitzgerald.”

 To Professor Rookwood’s left, a woman appeared in academic regalia with her crowned, braided auburn hair. Her spine was completely straight as she looked down with kindly eyes.

“How do you do? It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Artemis Loreley.”

Professor Fitzgerald spoke with a heavy Scottish accent; her voice exuded wisdom.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor.”

“Excellent. Considering you’ve already completed two trials, I am certain you are more than capable of completing mine,” said Professor Fitzgerald. “However, I must first – how shall I say – ‘prepare’ the location of your next trial.”

Artemis and Professor Fig looked to each other. Didn’t they have everything prepared?

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We trust your judgment, Professor Fitzgerald. You should know better than anyone how to manage the inconvenience of, well – “

“- a vainglorious and exasperating headmaster? Indeed I should.”

“Headmaster Black?” Artemis asked aloud. Where could the trial be to warrant something – “His office?”

Professor Fitzgerald’s oil-painted eyes lit up.

“Charles was right – you are bright. Yes, well. I will see to it that the location is prepared.”

“Professor Fitzgerald will require some time to clear the way forward. I suppose in the meantime, we shall resume our training now that you are fully healed?”

“Actually,” Professor Fig started, “the school’s term exams are coming up next week, and Artemis did only just recover from the harrowing ordeal. I’d like to suggest that the trial be done, no matter how early, to be after the holidays. This applies to the ancient magic training as well.”

The oil-painted professors all hummed.

“We agree,” said Professor Rackham. “But if you hear anything about Ranrok or this Victor Rookwood’s movements, please let us know. Until then, Professor Fig. Artemis.”

Artemis mutely nodded before she followed Professor Fig up to his office. The warm chai seemed slightly too hot between her palms as she sunk into ‘her’ armchair.

“Have you heard from Lodgok? About the helmet?” Professor Fig asked as he sat across from her.

“Not yet, sir. Though I don’t imagine it would be a simple walk into Ranrok’s territory, especially since it seems like he defected,” said Artemis.

She was still stuck on the memory she’d seen. Isidora had pulled grief from her father’s chest. Was that what she meant in the note when she said there were other way to help people? To heal people? To take away their grief?

“Artemis, you mentioned that Isidora pulled out grief out of her father?”

“Yes. That’s the only thing I could imagine – Professor, how is that even possible?”

Professor Fig hummed into his cup as he fiddled with his scarf.

“Magic is very complex, and there’s so much that we don’t know.” Professor Fig placed his cup down and folded his hands together. “I believe we discussed that emotion is a powerful magic on its own. I imagine… if Isidora figured out a way to have certain emotions attach to latent magic itself, then it is possible. However unbelievable it may seem.”

Artemis sipped her chai; the spices warmed her throat.

“But grief can be attached to so many different things. Memories of happier times. Sadness. Anger. It’s…” she trailed off.

She didn’t know where she wanted to go with this. Professor Fig shook his head.

“I don’t know, Artemis. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t find out. Hopefully, there will be other memories or research to clarify this.”

Artemis nodded. She needed to tackle that triptych after exams.

🏀we BALL🏀

Honestly my cheeks, sides and diaphragm have no recovered at how funny this fic is.

Her and the Hoop | Part 1

Solomon x ball ✨🏀

Tags: Solomon x ball, SFW, Solomon is deluded, one single humorous sexual reference, historical inaccuracies, lots of Australian pride, hammed-calves, not a single rule of the game is followed, witches/wizards can now contract tuberculosis

This crack fic was written for a HL discord event. I dedicate it to @morelikeravenbore and @2centniffler who I’ve written in as characters. A/N at bottom

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence had brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

Word count: 918 {Wattpad | AO3}

The real reason Solomon Sallow despises his nephew so much, is because. . .

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Mostly women, married and unmarried from all across Scotland had congregated in my humble farming hamlet of Feldcroft. Desperate to witness the spectacle, they pushed against the barricades of the makeshift arena, corsets tight-laced and petticoats hiked up to expose their ankles to me. Perhaps it was to avoid the manure soiling their finest gowns – but I believe it not to be the latter. 

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

For a moment, I entertained the fantasies brought on by the overwhelming amount of female attention, being naturally curious to what their soft flesh might feel like when they threw themselves against me – lauding my muscular frame from years of plowing the field; but I digress.

Nothing, and I repeat: nothing, could be comparable to to the feeling of supple leather, cradling the beauty of which was firm and round, inflated with so much love that seeped into my calloused fingertips. The truth – was only she, my orange and spherical lover could fulfill me, and I desired for nothing more. My obsession for the game overshadowed everything, and all that mattered was her and the hoop. 'Wilsona' is what I affectionately named her. 

The sun had shone so brightly that day, it's warm rays bathing me in glinted golds and the promises of glory. It was the game of the century – the final showdown, so to speak. As captain of the Feldcroft Flobberworms, I'd assured our triumph against every opponent we had faced thus far. Today would mark our final and greatest victory in a worldwide basketball tournament, held for only the most talented of witches and wizards in the profession. 

The crowd was vivacious, chanting my name before I'd even begun warming up with my trademark three-quarter shots.

Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon!

I couldn't blame them; I had quickly risen to become one of Scotland's most revered basketball players – and arguably, one of the greatest in the world. I pencil-rolled down the court, grasping Wilsona tightly above my head before knocking one– two– then three of my own teammates off their feet. When implemented during a match, my then wobbling teammates would knock down our opponents like bowling balls to pins.

With the other team flailing about for purchase, I'd use my immense strength to swing Wilsona over my head and launch her into the air, having full trust she'd be caught by my ever-dependable teammate, Banshee. Holding the perfect amount of muscle and buoyancy in her tender-hammed calves, she'd use their power to float through the air, slam-dunking my Wilsona into the hoop. 

I expected to be met with raucous applause after graciously displaying a preview of my three-quarter shot, and yet, my ears were assaulted by a name I'd heard only in myths...

Aura. . .

AURA, AURA, AURA! The crowd cheered.

It was the infamous wild woman, captain of the Australian team the Darwin Dugbogs, who'd just arrived at the scene in a chariot drawn by a dozen Milo-drinking Abraxans, evident by the chunky malted drink dried at their muzzles. Rumors of her story had swept through the hamlets like a haze, with some claiming she'd been taken in as an orphaned child by a court of kangaroos and raised as their own. As a man of considerable intelligence and impeccable breeding, I was incredulous to believe such utter hogwash. 

An air of mystery and intrigue surrounded the wild woman, flowing through her lustrous auburn hair she'd adorned with sticks from her homeland. As she approached me, I found no reason to believe such a lovely and diminutive lady was anything to be feared on the court; my reputation was secure. 

'How ya goin'?' She said, her native tongue so exotic and beautiful it could only be compared to a siren song. 

I was utterly speechless, and even more so as she'd managed to ignore my handsomely rugged features in favor of the view above my head. A confident and all-knowing smile tugged at the edges of her delicate lips, as if she already knew exactly how the view from above would appear.

A ball of nerves settled into the pit of my stomach then, but I stood my ground. Defending my territory, I repeatedly dragged one leg back through the dirt while firmly planted on the other, like a bull preparing to charge. 

In my own native tongue, I answered her back.

'Fuck it, we ball.'

AN: The idea for this hastily written crack fic was inspired by the image above, which I scribbled on after noticing it looked as if Solomon was about to slam-dunk a basketball through a hoop. I couldn't have written it without having met some insanely lovely people on a Hogwarts Legacy discord server 🩵✨

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 27 "Poinsettia"

Summary: Little things before winter break

Floriography: Merriment

Full Chapter: [AO3]//5.2k words

Excerpt below:

“Ready, Richard?”

“I’m always ready but, why by broom?”

Artemis mounted her Moon Trimmer. “Can ghosts go through floo flames?”

Richard lifted a finger with his mouth open as if to retort, then shrugged.

“Fair point. Alright, lead the way.”

“Libro.”

Sensory Balancing Charm in place, she kicked off the top of the Astronomy Tower with Richard in tow. The clouds had cleared to reveal a beautiful, starry winter sky, and her breath puffed white smoke as the wind bit her skin. The borrowed gloves clung to the broom handle as the thick, borrowed cloak billowed. There now lay a thick layer of fresh, white snow over the usual ground canopied in the dark green pine.

“Not that I’m ungrateful but, why are we going to do my funeral at two in the morning?”

Richard seemed to have no issue keeping up – that’s one less worry at least.

“Well. You said you preferred to do it at night when everyone was asleep ‘just like the good old days’, and I’d like to do this before winter holidays. Plus, I thought you could also help me with gathering some first snow.”

“Um. I feel honoured that you think me so alive but slight problem?” Richard passed his hand through her broom. “Not solid. Bit of a problem trying to pick things up.”

Artemis shook her head with a smile. Her borrowed scarf kept the sharpest edges of the winter wind at bay.

“I just wanted your company, Richard.”

“Oh!” Richard beamed. “Well why didn’t you just say so! Allons-y!”

At least it seemed like he picked up some French.  

💐A Bouquet of New Beginnings, Ch 30💐

Title: "Juniper"

Summary: Artemis and Garreth go on an excursion to find Tobbs and obtain a key ingredient for a potion to ward off dragon fire.

Floriography: Succour

Full Chapter: [AO3]//5.4k words

Excerpt Below:

“You know potions,” started Artemis as they reached the midway point of the brewing process.

“Why thank you.”

Artemis chuckled. “I was wondering if you knew any that made someone heat-proof. Or, heat resistant.”

“How resistant are we talking? A regular house fire? Potion explosion?”

Artemis looked up from crushing the juniper berries. Garreth in turn looked back with an innocent smile.

“A dragon’s fire.”

Garreth’s jaw dropped. “...a what?”

“A dragon’s fire.”

“Okay, my hearing’s fine.” He stirred the potion as he poured in half the chopped dumbcane leaves. “Why?”

Artemis smiled small.

“That’s not an answer, Snow.”

“I can offer you something in exchange for the recipe and your discretion?”

Garreth lifted an eyebrow with a cocked smile. “I’m all ears.”

“Leech juice. Ample amounts.”

“Brilliant!” Garreth exclaimed as the potion turned a midnight blue. “Where are you getting them from?”

“Spinner’s Cavern.”

“Wait, aren’t there spiders roaming about? Heard my aunt talking about it last year.”

She blinked twice; of course he’d know, she should’ve thought of that. “That’s the rumour.”

Garreth groaned. “Why is it always spiders?”

“What else could it be?”

“Butterflies?”

“Pretty sure they don’t like caves.”

“Bugger.”

Artemis chuckled before they moved on to the next steps, and Garreth’s peridot eyes glimmered at finally opening the last bottle of arcane lightning. Garreth followed her exact instructions on how to tip the bottle just right before uncorking and disabling the safety runes. The redhead let out a gleeful shout as half of the teal-lightning shot into the liquid; the runes lit up once more when it was corked.

“Nice job,” complimented Artemis.

“Thank you, I’m here all week.”

AUs are so fucking funny. Here's my blorbo. In an alternate universe he fights everyday to keep himself alive against an uncaring world. In another universe he sings sometimes.

Sorry Eleanor!

just got diagnosed as your soulmate. yeah sorry now we must spend the rest of our lives together

Yes! I love talking about it with people and getting their input.

✨Having someone who is invested in your story and discusses it with you is like a solid half of the fun of writing. I'm not even kidding.✨

Oh my gosh these types of comments make me so so happy. I take a screenshot and show my boyfriend immediately lol

Masterlist of my Sebastian x MC Hogwarts Legacy fanfiction

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (IN PROGRESS)

Rating: Mature (All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised)

Summary: Once students have graduated Hogwarts (and are at least 18 years old), they are invited to stay over the summer for the "Courting Season". A time meant for all graduates to court and romance Victorian-style.

Despite not sending Sebastian to Azkaban, Eleanor is still haunted by that night two years later. She would have preferred to never speak to Sebastian again until they are forced together in a school project. This paves the way for understanding between the two.

An understanding which leads to mixed and complicated emotions while they each deal with the drama of Courting Season.

commissioned art here

The Shape of Your Body is Blue (IN PROGRESS)

Rating: Explicit (All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised)

Summary: Despite now being in her mid-20's, Eleanor has never dated anyone. Her inexperience has made her very curious about what kissing and sex would feel like. Sebastian, being the good friend he is, volunteers himself to help her experience these things.

So begins a "cruel summer" where they begin a friends with benefits situation. She knows it's a bad idea given that she is secretly in love with him, and he is not in love with her. She can't have his heart, but she will force herself to be content with only having his body.

commissioned art here

Completed One-Shots:

The Folly of Friendship (COMPLETE)

Rating: Teen

Summary: Eleanor always knew her friendship with Sebastian was merely a temporary alliance. He would help her with her ancient magic struggles, and she would assist with him finding the cure for Anne. Now, Anne has finally been cured and has returned to Hogwarts. Eleanor knows this means her time with Sebastian and Ominis is now at an end. Sebastian is determined to prove her wrong.

Beauty is Not Skin Deep (COMPLETE)

Rating: Teen

Summary: Eleanor is aware she is not attractive (she has certainly had enough people tell her throughout her life). She knows Sebastian could never look at her the way she wants him to. But that doesn't stop her heart from being broken. Sebastian knows something is wrong. He (and Ominis) prove to her that is valued and loved.