War-stricken America took everything from her. Fleeing from the horrors, Credence Painter goes to the UK and attends the University of Hogwarts. She catches the attention of someone who can understand her pain, a man feared by his peers due to his lineage, one Ominis Gaunt. But Ominis is nothing like what people think.



Rated M for cursing, violence, blood, child abuse, depictions of mental illness, and alluded to sexual themes (nothing explicit).
​

War brought her to her demise. Muggles had cast her aside, then wizardkind did, too. Trapped, unsure of where to go, Credence Painter had tried to appease both worlds: the horrible racism of her American home life—natives and whites fighting for territory—and the cruel torment of Muggle-borns. Like herself, left dejected, outcast, and seeking solace.

Now in Hogwarts, she tried not to think about her mother's sneering face, the blame and guilt associated with dabbling in the darker arts. She was a Ravenclaw and, as she came to see, Ravenclaws were considered the "smart" House in the University of Hogwarts. Credence looked back upon her past, all the stupid mistakes she made, getting mixed up in foolish things, and couldn't figure out where she was supposed to be "smart". All she saw was failure, death in her wake, and blood staining her hands.

Her hands—clutching a novel—threatened to tremble. Flesh scrubbed clean, it was almost as if she was an ordinary student. Destined for nothing. She wanted to keep it that way. The fewer eyes upon her, the better. However, seeing as she'd come from America, that was a bit difficult, as her fellow students often bombarded her with questions.

This afternoon was no different. As she sat in the Central Hall, resting in front of the mermaid fountain after a grueling lesson in Potions class, she'd already had someone walk up to her and ask about America. Basic questions: What's America like? Do you guys have a magic school there? Oh, wow, what's Ilvermorny like? Why did you come to the UK? She answered them all to the best of her abilities.

She was hoping to bury her face in her book, though it was Sherlock Holmes and many people were unfortunately interested in her Muggle novels. So when another voice called for her attention, it didn't seem like anything special.

"Are you the new student?" he asked.

She looked to him, and noticed immediately that his eyes were pale and unfocused. He looked sort of toward the ground, his blonde hair gleaming yellow in the sun. His robe ousted him as a Slytherin.

"Yeah," she answered. "That's me."
"May I sit?"
"Of course."
Despite his lack of vision, he found the fountain bench without issue. "I don't mean to probe, I'm just curious about America. What's it like?"
"Oh, it's great. We ride elks, shoot our guns in the air, and run with eagles."
"You wha—Oh, I see," he said with a chuckle, "that's sarcasm."
"Sorry, couldn't help myself. Been asked this question a million times today. Really, America is hardly different from here. Except that Americans like to be in everyone's business. It's pretty tiresome."
"It's always sounded interesting. The people seem nice enough—"
"Don't let their outward sociability fool you. The people in America are pretty closed-minded."
"Oh? You included?"
"That's the thing, isn't it? People who are closed-minded don't know they are. So even if I said I'm not, it might not be true."
He laughed. "I was only joking. But now I see why you were sorted into Ravenclaw."
"Oh," she said, her gaze falling to her book. "I've never been good with social cues. Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize. I'm Ominis, by the way. Ominis Gaunt."
"Credence Painter."

"Hey, Gaunt!" called another.
Ominis' face soured instantly.
The other student, a Hufflepuff, asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Chatting with a friend."
Grimacing, the Hufflepuff asked, "Why would you want to be seen with her?"
"That's none of your concern, Black."
"Maybe not mine, but what would your family think if they caught you getting chummy with someone like her?"

Credence kept quiet. This guy seemed like nothing but trouble. She'd seen that antagonizing glare in many people's eyes, looking upon her like she was something disgusting. She wanted nothing to do with it and didn't want to rile him up more. It seemed Ominis, however, had different ideas.

"'Someone like her'?" Ominis repeated, standing. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what that means."
Ominis' fists clenched. "Don't start with me."
"Ominis," said Credence, "maybe I should go."
"There's no need for that," he replied.
"Oh, let her go," said Black. "You shouldn't be caught dead talking to her anyway. Could you imagine the scandal? Being seen with some dirty mudblood."

Gasps and whispers erupted around them. Credence had never heard the term before, but given the implications of it and Black's snarling lip and contempt, she knew. She'd had the same treatment before. Without warning, Ominis bashed his fist into Black's cheek. Black staggered back, grasping his wound as even more gasps and murmurs erupted from the small but growing crowd.

Black whipped out his wand and cast a spell at an unarmed Ominis. Credence jumped in and cast a wandless Protego. The spell ricocheted off her shield and hit Black in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

Credence snapped her gaze to Ominis, who now had his wand out.

"Are you okay, Ominis?"
"I'm fine."
"Keep your eye on the fight, mudblood!"
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Ominis, flinging Black's wand across the foyer.

Black only took a step or two toward his wand before Professor Sharp rushed up the stairwell.

"That's enough of this fighting! Black, Gaunt, Painter, what's the meaning of this?"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Ominis. "Things got out of hand."
"Gaunt punched me, Professor," said Black. "I was only defending myself."
"You were antagonizing us in the first place," Credence said. "Calling me a—what was that word again? A mudblood."
"You need to learn to mind your business, Painter," spat Black.
"Enough!" snapped Sharp. "Fifty points off all your Houses. If I see any more fighting between you three, you'll all be sent straight to the Headmaster. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," they replied in tandem.
Black shot her and Ominis a nasty sneer. "Don't think this is over. Especially you." He glared into Credence's eyes. "You'll regret this."

Black stormed off. This wasn't the first time she'd been derided for being a Muggle-born, though she'd hoped she'd never need to relive her days in Ilvermorny again. What a fool she was to believe that was even possible.

"Credence?" Ominis asked. "Are you all right?"
"I… I should go."

She scurried off, refusing to look back. Ominis was too kind to get mixed up in her drama. She would never forgive herself if he got hurt because he continued associating with her; she would rather go the rest of her academic career alone than let that happen.


The next day, heading to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Credence heard how quickly rumors spread. The fight between her, Black, and Ominis was a major source of gossip, and though people tried to hide it by getting quieter when she passed, she still caught a lot of what was said. Most of it was accurate—Black called her a mudblood, Ominis retaliated, a fight broke out. But some of it, Credence had no idea where it came from.

"I heard she was flirting with Black and Ominis got jealous, that's why he punched him," said one guy in a small group of students. The others seemed to be eating his rumor up. How people thought she was involved with Black or Ominis in any way made Credence wince.

Another group had a similar story but the other way around. This group clammed up the moment they noticed her coming. She wished she could just shove her face in her book and pretend like nothing was happening, but she'd misplaced it after the fight. Credence needed to mourn the loss of that book before she could move onto another—a completely harmless habit, until today.

Luckily, when she walked in through the doors of DADA, the students inside were chatting about actual schoolwork and not rumors. Once she was past the threshold, the doors shut behind her.

"All right class," said Professor Hecate, an older witch that walked with a hunch but spoke with immense confidence and power. "Looks like everyone is here now. We'll be practicing wandless, non-verbal protection charms today, so let's partner up."

Chairs scraped along the hardwood floors as Credence looked around the room for a partner of her own. Maybe another Ravenclaw would be best, since she already spent time with them in the common room. But as she stood with indecision, she was running out of options fast.

Her eyes landed on Ominis and her heart jumped. She quickly looked away. Oh, please not him, she'd done enough damage to his reputation already. He'd been talking with another Slytherin, an auburn-haired fellow. Maybe she would get lucky and he'd partner up with him—

"Hey there," said Ominis.
She smiled uneasily. "Oh, hey."
"You left this in the Central Hall yesterday."

He handed her the Sherlock Holmes book and her heart jumped with joy. She could've hugged him, but she instead settled for hugging the novel.

"Thank you, Ominis! I've been looking for this!"
"No problem. Did you want to be my partner today?"
"Oh, um, sure." Damn her issues with saying no…
Professor Hecate walked up to them. "Mr. Gaunt, if you need her to use vocal spells—"
"I know when the spell is coming, Professor."
"All right." Then she turned to the classroom, flicked both wrists, and the furniture pushed up against the walls. "Everyone pick a side and face your partners!"
"Don't go easy on me," Ominis said to Credence with a cheeky smirk. "I'll be able to tell."
"I wouldn't dream of it."

She couldn't help but smile. Maybe she was just on a high about getting her book back, but he was— Well… She pulled out her enchanted satchel and stowed Sherlock Holmes in his proper place, then headed to the opposite wall. She faced Ominis, who seemed less anxious than some of the others, making Credence wonder just how good he was with wandless magic. She wished she could imitate his fearless attitude, rather than shuffling her feet.

Professor Hecate stood proud at the front of the classroom. "To my left is Side A and to my right is Side B! Side A will be using their Protego first. Side B, please get out your wands for your basic cast, I don't want to be sending anyone to the hospital wing today. No funny business, either! Basic casts and Protego only. Ready? Cast!"

Credence thrust out her wand and a red spark traveled swiftly across the room (though, she noticed, hers was one of the slower spells). At first, it looked like Ominis was going to miss his chance, and plenty of the other students cast their Protego early. But Ominis' Protego expanded forth at the perfect time to completely absorb her spell.

"A perfect Protego," said Professor Hecate with a regal and soft round of applause. "Excellent work Mr. Sallow, Mr. Gaunt. Twenty points to Slytherin. Oh, Ms. Fimble, please do cast Protego earlier."

Fimble, a Slytherin, was one of the few who'd failed at casting Protego. Credence felt her palms sweating, hoping she wouldn't be one of them, too.

When it came time for Side B to cast Protego, Credence's heart was racing. Professor Hecate gave the signal, and Ominis' basic cast launched at her so fast—far faster than her own, faster than a good portion of their other classmates'. All fear left Credence. She was taken back to the wars, the fighting—a sudden calmness hitting her, instinctual, almost predatory. An acrid taste hit her tongue. Her Protego shot out without her needing to move, at exactly the right time for her shield to absorb his attack.

As the purple glow of her shield faded, and she just barely heard the teacher praising her and another Ravenclaw—Arman? Amit?—she returned to the present, breathing a little heavier. Professor Hecate clapped again for them, getting more of Credence's attention as voices returned to her ears.

"A perfect Protego! Good work Ms. Painter, Mr. Thakkar. Twenty points to Ravenclaw as well! Mr. Hobhouse, be careful with that ricochet. The four perfect Protego casters, please practice amongst yourselves."

She and the others congregated to their own space a little farther down. Ominis and the auburn-haired guy, Sallow, briefly conversed before Sallow rolled his eyes and paired off with—Arman? Amit?—Thakkar.

"Your Protego was amazing," Ominis said to her.
"Thanks, so was yours. How did you know how close the spell was?"
"You know what they say. When one sense is gone, the others pick up the slack. Spells have a very specific scent, you know."
"Really? I guess I never noticed. I'm sorry, that wasn't insensitive, was it?"
"No, not at all. Buuuut let's get to work before Hecate loses her mind."

Going back and forth with Ominis helped ease Credence's brief lapses of reality. Through his laughter and encouragement, she stayed more in the present. She even found herself laughing when Sallow told them to "quit flirting" and Ominis responded by outright flipping him the bird. Hecate scolded him briefly, but even through his apology, he was still grinning.

By the end of the class, all those nasty rumors about Black had faded away. It was just a bad, fleeting memory now, covered over by Ominis' voice and smile. She knew she shouldn't be getting attached, but he sure was making that difficult.

​

Despite hoping yesterday's Potions class would be the most difficult one of the week, Credence felt the sting of failure over and over during Charms class that afternoon. She sat next to Everett, a fellow Ravenclaw who was just as befuddled as the rest of the class.

"Here I thought secondary school classes were hard," he said.
"Oh, don't I know," said Credence as they practiced their charms. "Looks like everyone else is struggling, too."
"Not that Natty girl from Gryffindor. I heard she can do wandless magic no problem."
"Come now, come now!" said Professor Ronen. "I know wandless magic is hard, but with enough practice, any one of you can master it. It could save your life in a pinch!"

Credence concentrated on her pouch of feathers. The small cloth bag didn't seem like much, but it vexed her. The best she got was for it to wiggle. She didn't like to be beaten. She stared hard, giving a few practice hand movements. This was the one, she told herself. She just needed to focus.

Credence gave one last shove of her palm and a silent command, and her Depulso charm exploded her satchel across the room. The auburn-haired Slytherin had to lean away so fast that he nearly fell out of his chair and gripped the desk. The bag hit the wall and burst into a mess of feathers.

Next to the auburn-haired Slytherin, cracking up as he regaled the story, was Ominis. He smiled in her general direction and she almost waved, before she remembered that would be stupid and pointless and give his friend ammunition to make fun of her. She would prefer to get through the rest of her schooling without making a fool of herself.

After class, Ominis and his friend caught her before she left.

"Hey, Credence," said Ominis. "Great wandless work in there."
"Thanks. You guys will get it, too. It's not that hard once you've done it the first time."
"My friend here will get it way sooner than me, I'll bet."

His friend stood half a head taller than Ominis who was already taller than her.

"Hey," he said with a very charming smile. "Name's Sebastian. Ominis only says that because wandless magic will be useful in duels."
"Yeah? You duel?"
"I can't get enough of it."
"I guess they can be fun, but I've always been a bit of a wimp. I prefer books."
"Classic Ravenclaw."
She pursed her lips. If that wasn't an indirect challenge, she didn't know what could be. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that's how you lot are."
"Oh, really? So you think you know me," she said. "Because I'm in the smart house, I should be in chess clubs and debate teams, is that it?"
Sebastian looked her up and down. "Cheeky little thing, you are. You might be able to outwit me, but you'll never be able to outduel me, Ravenclaw."
"Wanna bet?"
"I'm glad we're all getting along," said Ominis.


Okay, so maybe she'd beaten the pistol a bit. She stood on one end of the field out in the courtyard, her heart already pounding as she observed Sebastian on the other. He seemed so confident with his bright brown eyes and knowing smirk. The hand on her wand was sweating and quivering, despite her trying to steady it.

The other students at Ilvermorny stuffing her into a box had always brought out her competitive side—to perhaps her own detriment, like chewing leaves, spouting mysterious incantations, drinking an experimental potion, or… Staring down the wand of a much more experienced fighter in Sebastian.

"On go!" Ominis shouted from the sidelines. "Three, two, one—go!"

"Flipendo!"

The blast from Sebastian's wand sped toward her with practiced force. She put up her Protego which absorbed his attack. The moment she released her shield, she cried,

"Stupefy!"

But her attacks were unpracticed and slow in comparison. Sebastian easily maneuvered out of its way with a few well-placed side steps, keeping his eyes on her. As he walked, he shouted,

"Levioso!"

But she cast Protego to absorb it. She did the same with a well-placed and swift basic cast, continuing to use her shield against Sebastian's decisive attacks.

"That all you got, Ravenclaw? Just defensive spells? You'll never beat me like that!"

She wasn't particularly good at offensive spells, and she feared that in her haste to prove she wasn't like "all other Ravenclaws" she didn't have much of a plan.

"Accio!" Sebastian cast, and his spell grabbed hold.

The wind whipped her face and she had to shut her burning eyes. When she jerked forward as the force stopped, her slick palms dropped her wand. In her panic, she cast a wandless Depulso.

She heard the air knocked out of Sebastian's lungs just as her knees hit the ground. When her gaze shot up, through her curtain of mussed brown hair she spotted Sebastian getting back to his feet.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" he said, panting. "Finally gonna fight back?"
She cast out her hand. "Arresto Momentum!"
"Protego!"

Sebastian's wandless Protego absorbed her spell, but more impressive was his ability to cast a speedy and talented Stupefy. She couldn't get her Protego up fast enough, and Stupefy hit her like a punch to the face. It disoriented her, made the courtyard spin, and prevented her from getting off her knees.

"Flipendo!"

The spell connected in an instant, flinging her. All she caught sight of was sky then grass then sky again, before her back hit the ground. Her dizzied mind tried to make sense of the swirling colors; even as she lay there with the world spinning, she knew Sebastian was far too strong for her.

"I give!" She shot her hand up. "I give!"

Her arm collapsed and she lay in the grass, breath heaving. A shadow engulfed her. She opened her weary eyes to see Sebastian reaching out to help her up.

"You all right there, Credence? You put up a pretty good fight in the end. Got my heart pumping."
"Yeah, yeah."

She grabbed onto his hand (which was far less sweaty than her own) and yanked him to the ground beside her. When he looked at her, his dark, thick brow was furrowed and he looked rather offended—until he saw her smirk, then he laughed and rolled onto his back.

"That was really mature," he said.
Ominis' shadow soon rolled over them, too, as he gazed down, leaning over his knees and holding Credence's wand. "Are you two done flirting?"

Sebastian and Credence exchanged one mischievous glance before they grabbed either of Ominis' shoulders and tugged him to the ground, too. He fell between them, with much the same shock as Sebastian. But once she and Sebastian began to laugh, he joined in. He plucked a handful of grass and tossed it at Sebastian, who gave a hearty, "Hey!" before returning fire. Some of the grass got caught in a breeze and hit Credence in the face.

"Woah, guys, I'm not involved in this grass fight!" she said jovially, her cheeks hurting.
"Oh, yes you are," said Ominis before snatching a nearby flower and tossing it into her face.
"Flowers, how romantic," teased Sebastian.

After another bout of laughter, the trio got to their feet.

"Seems like you're doing well for yourself, Credence," said Sebastian, wiping dirt and grass off his house cloak. "Maybe you'd like to join our Dueling Club?"
"Dueling Club? Sounds illicit."
"That it is," agreed Ominis, handing back her wand. "Crossed Wands. The teachers never approved of the idea so a group of us went behind their backs and did it anyway."
"Ah, so it begins," she said. "My spiral into villainy. Starts out by getting involved with the wrong crowd—dumb and dumber, you guys can figure out who's who—and before you know it I've found myself a cell in Azkaban."
"You could just say no," said Sebastian.
"Instead of being so hurtful," added Ominis.

But Credence bit her lip at the idea of getting back to her roots. She thought about her old childhood friend, Anaba. How she and Anaba loved getting into trouble; two castaway Muggle-borns with nowhere else to go, no other friends. Despite their falling out, despite all the bitterness and blame, Credence looked back on their good times with rose-tinted glasses. Her rational mind reminded her that she was now a nobody—destined for nothing—but it was difficult to deny the part of her who cried out to return to simpler days. Finally, she said,

"I'm in."


Most people came to the Crossed Wands room underneath the clock tower every night to converse with dueling enthusiasts and practice—sometimes on each other and sometimes on the dummy. Sebastian was well-versed in all the goings-on, and introduced her to the coordinator, Lucan Brattleby. He was easily the youngest of the bunch, but Sebastian gave him great respect. Not her, though.

"She's a little rough around the edges, a bit unpracticed," said Sebastian, nudging her. "But I've had first-hand experience with her abilities. She's incredible at defense, and is really getting the hang of non-verbal spells."
"Defense again, Sebastian?" said Lucan, sighing and casting a very subtle glance toward Ominis, who had gone off to chat with a few other members.
"When I backed her into a corner, she came out swinging."
Lucan smiled at her, though it didn't touch his incredulous eyes. His face went stony and serious for Sebastian. "Well, you've never steered me wrong before, Sebastian."
"We've known each other for less than a year, don't give me too much credit."
"This decision has to be on someone's head. If the quiet girl gets her arse kicked, I don't want it to be my fault."
"Hey!" she piped up. "I am not that quiet." She stuck a finger in Sebastian's smirking face just as he opened his mouth. "Don't you dare."

Ultimately, Lucan agreed to let her join. She got acquainted with some of the fighters that were there—and far too many names for her to ever remember. A couple of the members were Ravenclaws but mostly it was full of Gryffindors and Slytherins, with a decent amount of Hufflepuffs. Rather than jumping into a group of people who already knew each other well, thus making her feel out of place, she chose to awkwardly approach Ominis. He'd finished speaking with Lucan and was headed toward the courtyard.

"Done chatting already?" he asked. "Didn't you just tell Lucan that you're not quiet?"
"What can I say? You and Sebastian are the only ones I know, and I have no idea where he went."
"So I'm your second choice?"
"That question is a trap, I know it."
"Perceptive, but I'll get you one of these days. And don't worry about Lucan. He gets on my arse, too. I don't think he understands the importance of defense like you and me."
"Without it, that guy—Whatever-his-name-is Black—might've gotten the better of us."
"Exactly. I never did get to properly thank you for having my back."
"Don't mention it."

They came to rest upon a stone bench, which was cold given the chill of autumn creeping over the grounds. She thought about the utter malice on Black's face, colder than the wind chill in the courtyard, as he'd stared her down. Black's words were full of contempt—"Especially you. You'll regret this."

She frowned at Ominis. "Should we really be hanging out? I mean, Black is—"
"A right arsehole, I know. I'm not worried about him. And you shouldn't be, either. He's not worth it."

She clenched her hands together, thumbs fiddling. Maybe Ominis was right. But… Maybe she was right. She didn't know what Black was capable of. Horrible things? Nothing? Ominis would know him better, yet she still squirmed at the idea of being confronted by Black again.

"Look, if you don't like me," Ominis said, "we don't have to be friends."
"Wait, hold on, that's not at all what I mean! I do like you, I just—" She stopped when she saw his growing smirk. "Oh, you dick."
"Told you I'd get you. God, I wish I could see the look on your face right now, probably all blushing and flustered."
She gently pushed his arm. "I am so not! Shut up!"

They cackled hard enough that others stared at them and talked behind their hands. She was sure another rumor would brew from this, but maybe this one would be a little more pleasant. Then again, anything was more pleasant than Black.

After their laughter subsided, she questioned,

"What's up with Black anyway?"
"He's one of those pureblood wizards who really believe in that wizard supremacist ideology. A lot of pureblood families are like that. And, naturally, they all seem to wind up in Slytherin. Probably because Slytherin himself held those beliefs and had a tendency to take in purebloods. The entire House of Black has been in Slytherin. Well, except Regalian.
Before we came to Hogwarts, we were… I struggle to say friends, but I suppose so. Families like ours stick together for all the wrong reasons. And tenuously, at best. Regalian was always 'I can't wait until we're both in Slytherin, Ominis', and 'if I wound up in one of the other Houses, I'd just die'. Imagine his shock when he was sorted into Hufflepuff. No one knows how. I have my own theory—loyalty to his family lineage overriding his pureblood status—but whatever the case, Regalian is supremely envious of me.
I don't think Houses are all that important. It just seems silly. But Regalian hasn't been able to let it go. Of course, you being Muggle-born put a bigger target on your back. I think that if you were a pureblood or even a halfblood, he probably wouldn't have accosted us the other day. I also think he didn't realize how well you'd be able to fight back. It's why I'm not worried about him. He's an utter coward."
"You're very knowledgeable about Hogwarts. I don't know pretty much anything about the Houses. Black would probably have shit a brick if I wound up in Slytherin."
"Oh, I would've loved that," he said, chuckling. "Would've served the bastard right."
"But I've seen Muggle-born hatred firsthand. Americans just call us lowbreeds. Gotta admit, the consonance of mudblood sounds a lot better. Whimsical almost. Americans are so boring."
"You really just take everything in stride. I don't think you're boring at all."

She grinned, letting the conversation fall to silence. If Ominis was this untroubled about Black, then why should she be bothered? Though there was still a part of her that feared for Ominis' safety, the more she got to see of him, the more competent and fearless he became. Defensively inclined as he was, he also showed her how willingly he stood to fight. And if he was going to have her back, she'd have his, too.

A chilly autumn breeze blew. She hadn't noticed until then how dark it was getting and how low the sun had sunk beyond the horizon. They headed for the castle. He teased her about the Floo networks, "Try not to wind up halfway across town," before they said their goodnights.

All that dicking around at Crossed Wands and she'd forgotten the mounds of homework she needed to do. But she simply took it in stride. The memories she had of spending time with Ominis made the hustle worth it.

Leave it to Professor Sharp to make their weekend difficult. During his Thursday class, he put students into teams to collect potion ingredients near the school grounds. When Ominis' name was called to be sorted, Credence looked over at him hopefully. She slumped when he was paired up with Samantha Dale (who smiled uneasily into her textbook). Still, it was hard to complain about getting Sebastian as a partner.

The teams conferred in the muggy heat of their well-used potion stands. Despite the purplish glow of sticky, choking smog, Sebastian looked unshaken and calm as he approached.

"Hey partner," he said, their list in hand. "Look over the list yet?"
"Yeah, but I have no idea where to get all this stuff. I guess Professor Sharp expects us to know the area a bit better than I do."
"Not to worry, I know this place well. You're in good hands."
"Then we should get started Friday afternoon. Get it over with as soon as we can."
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I would get stuck with the overachiever. Can't we procrastinate, just a little?"
"And ruin my reputation as a wet blanket? No way. Friday afternoon."
"Fine. Slave driver."

Friday was best for her, as one of her slower days, with only a couple morning classes alongside Hufflepuffs. Ominis had Regalian down to a T. She would feel the piercing presence of his dark, bagged eyes at her back, but he always looked away the moment she took notice. Regalian wound up getting mud all over his coiffed raven hair during their Beasts lesson—thanks to one particularly vitriolic kneazle—to which Credence forced down her laughter. No need to keep stoking that fire.

During lunch, she took her food and headed into her dorm. She had the urge to pen a letter to her mother. The silence on her mother's end all month stabbed at her heart, and though the sting of betrayal sat heavy on her skin, she wanted to reach out. She was sure her grieving mother was glad to have Credence out of her hair, glad to be rid of the reminder of America's wars.

So she wrote only about Ominis and Sebastian, Crossed Wands (which she simply referred to as her "extracurricular activity"), and her difficult coursework. Though she tried not to let her distress come through her writing, she signed the letter as—

Sincerely,
Credence

Anything more felt too forced. Clammy hands sent the letter off with a school owl, alongside the hope that their relationship could be mended.

Afterwards, she grabbed her backpack and met up with Sebastian at their agreed spot in the North courtyard. He'd been sitting on one of the benches there with a book in hand, waiting. When he saw her approaching, he closed the thick tome and stowed it in his backpack.

"Hey, slowpoke," he said, standing to greet her. "Decided to join me?"
"I'm on time, you're just freakishly early."
"Or maybe you're freakishly punctual."
"Well, we're both gonna freakishly fail Sharp's class if we don't get a move on."
"All right, all right."

They headed along a rickety bridge that overlooked the lake below. The mossy wood creaked, like it could collapse at any moment if magic hadn't been holding it up. Sebastian couldn't have given it less of a thought as he glanced over their list again.

"Horklump, toadstools, Lacewing flies—all stuff that's not too far. We should be in and out in about an hour."
"Trying to get rid of me?"
"What? No way. You're stuck with me now. Actually, I was thinking of handcuffing us together."
"That is the most perverted thing you've ever said to me."
"The most perverted thing so far," he said, winking.
"Please don't."

Throughout their trek, Sebastian showed off his knowledge of the area. He told her of various landmarks, knew where certain animals liked to hide, and found a swarm of Lacewing flies with ease. They stashed their filled mason jars in their backpacks. He pointed out quite a lot of locations, even ones off the beaten path.

"That way's home to a bunch of thornback spiders. Best not to go there, unless you like spiders—"
"I do."
"You would. Oh, and that down there is the Groundskeeper's hut. Our horklumps are on the beach just behind it."

He took her down a pathway that was almost hidden—it jutted off to the left and was covered with thick bushes and rocks, but the cleared dirt path made walking single-file easy. A man in black stood upon the sandy shores, overlooking the bright lake. He was difficult to miss, haloed in the orange glow of the afternoon sun reflecting off the water.

"That's Mr. Moon," said Sebastian. "He's a little… Odd. But he's a good man." Sebastian called out, "Hello, Mr. Moon."

Mr. Moon's attention turned to them. He was an older man with black hair almost to his shoulders, and bagged eyes as though he'd not slept well in quite some time.

"Ah, young Mr. Sallow," said Mr. Moon. "Good to see you out and about."
"You, too. I hope things are going a little better for you."
"Not to worry, not to worry," he said, though his exhausted voice and hunched back betrayed his words. "The sunny lake always makes me feel better. Who's your friend there?"
"I'm Credence Painter, sir."
Mr. Moon gave a sidelong glance to Sebastian. "Nice day for a date, isn't it?"
"This isn't a date," said Sebastian. "It's purely transactional."
"How romantic," said Credence.
"Well, whatever it is you two are doing, please be careful going past Lower Hogsfield. Spotted some of Ranrok's Loyalists just yesterday, I did, while selling my fertilizer."
"Good to know," said Sebastian. "We'll be cautious. You take care."

When they left, she noticed Sebastian's eyes growing dark, his thick brow knitted. Farther down the beach, away from prying ears, she asked,

"Ranrok's Loyalists? What does that mean?"
"You haven't heard? They're some no-good goblins following a power-hungry psychopath. They've been wreaking havoc all across Scotland, and no one knows exactly why. Whatever Ranrok is after, it's been affecting all of us. They're the reason my sister, Anne, is in such poor health."
"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'm sure she'll get better—"
"You don't understand. She's been cursed. Not even the best doctors at St. Mungo's have been able to cure her. Everyone's stopped trying. I feel like I'm the only one who hasn't given up hope. I refuse to lay down and accept it."

Sebastian speaking with such conviction and confidence made Credence see him in a new light. Anyone would be shaken up in this situation, but Sebastian's resolve was undeniably strong. How long had he been staying brave? How many chose to reach a compassionate hand out to him? As she knew all too well, even the most courageous needed support and understanding. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he stopped walking.

She said, "I'm here for you if you need me."

He observed her, eyes softening as if he'd come back to the present. His hand caressed hers.

"Thank you, Credence. I might have to hold you to that. But let's get the rest of these ingredients, shall we?"

The horklumps were right where he said—several fungi patches, spread along the beach in areas where dead logs and old debris had settled. They carefully plucked the spiky mushrooms and tossed them in jars. There was a silence unlike Sebastian in the air, leaving her to listen only to the somber rolling waters of the lake.

When their mushroom picking was over, Sebastian held a solemn sort of tone as he spoke.

"The toadstools are just past Lower Hogsfield."
"Let's hope we don't come across any cutthroats, then."
"Or—" He gripped his wand which rested at his hip. "—let's hope we do."

She didn't like the sound of that, nor the dark look creeping back into his chestnut eyes. The memories that haunting look brought back caused her to shudder. Her brother's eyes reflected in Sebastian's, and she saw him standing before her.

"Kameron," said her past self. "Please don't do this."
"I have to. Do you want Dad to have died for nothing?"

Kameron donned their late father's favorite cap atop his chocolate brown hair and armed himself with a bolt-action rifle and six-shot pistol. The sounds of gunshots in the distance called to Kameron, and he stormed toward their door. Credence leapt in the way to block him in.

She cried, "Of course I don't, but this isn't right—!"
"Stay out of my way, Credence!"

Older and stronger, he shoved Credence and rushed into what would soon become a stained and bloody battlefield. She looked down upon it, that sour flavor hanging in her mouth, sloshing along her tongue and down her throat to her roiling, acidic stomach. Bodies lay in crumpled heaps, skin slashed or punctured or necrosing. Among them, Kameron's dead eyes stared blankly at the sky. Blankly at her.

A flash blinded her. When her vision returned, she saw Sebastian laying in place of her brother, with dead bodies of goblins all around, blood seeping from terrible wounds. The horrific scene shocked her back to the present, and Sebastian's muffled voice came through.

"Credence?"
Her gaze jerked up to him. "Huh?"
"You all right?"

She rubbed her aching head and ran sweaty fingers through her hair. Her heart was on fire, beating in time with the residual sounds of gunshots. She tried to study Sebastian, unblinking and burning eyes counting the freckles across his left cheek, how many of them touched the outline of his lips—anything to come out of her own head. The sides of her vision, once blurry, returned to normal as she stared. Her parched throat couldn't speak until she swallowed against it.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just— Let's not go looking for a fight, okay?"

Sebastian observed her face, his features loosening, eyes growing gentle again before he looked away. He inhaled—deep and slow—then breathed out and relaxed his tensed shoulders.

"Okay… Okay, I won't. Can't risk you getting hurt." He smirked at her. "Imagine if you came across some goblins. I mean, you can't even beat me in a fight. "
She forced a smile and felt compelled to chuckle at his joke. "Right."

His smirk faltered. He tossed his arm around her shoulders and led her along the beach.

"C'mon, I didn't mean to make things weird. Why don't we get those toadstools? We'll be all right."


Credence breathed easier when she was back at Hogwarts for dinner. Though nothing had happened on her adventure, she'd stressed herself to the point of needing a serious break in her dorm. Since her roommate, Francine Gover, was on the Quidditch team and spent most of her time at the Pitch or with her friends, Credence had time to relax. She returned to Ominis and Sebastian that evening, refreshed and calm, and sat between them at the Slytherin table.

"You guys are lucky you got the assignment over with," said Ominis. "Samantha says she wants to do 'more research' before we head out. I don't even know what she's researching."
"Isn't she the one obsessed with plants?" Sebastian asked, nudging Credence.
"Yep, that's her," Credence confirmed. "She's very impassioned."
"That's a nice way of putting it," said Ominis. "She talked my ear off after class yesterday about all the plants on our list. I don't think Professor Garlick has talked about plants that much—" His face tensed and he sat straighter. "... Oh God."

Before she or Sebastian could ask what was wrong, Samantha came bounding up to them.

"Ominis!" she called, looking much brighter than when she'd first been partnered up with him. "You'll never believe what I just found out about the dittany we're supposed to get!"
"I'm sure it's unbelievable," said Ominis.

She held up a rather long sheet of parchment covered in messy writing, shoved it into his face as though he could read it, and gushed about her findings. An entire essay on dittany. Sebastian and Credence huddled together, trying their best not to laugh at Ominis' pained expression.