Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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I can't remember the last time I felt this nervous. Well, no. I can. Could have been last night, if not for when I was staring at April's bloodied, torn frame outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom almost exactly a week ago.
Regardless, what I know for certain is that at this precise moment, I might just be sick.
::That would make quite the entrance.::
She invites me into a room I've never seen before, leading me through a dark, elegant vestibule of wooden wainscoting. Walking behind her I can't help but admire how her skirt sways so easily from her hips, and how tiny curls of short hairs form ringlets at the base of her hair, but most of all–-fuck— her scent of jasmine and cinnamon with notes of almond, so clean and fresh, overcomes me and pulls at nerves in each of my fingers and toes.
Entering an absolutely massive room, my eyes are immediately drawn upward towards a giant, tiered dome ceiling of glass, some eight or ten storeys high, that contains a vibrant hum of life unto itself, teeming with vining greens, flowering branches, and rainbow flights of butterflies and flocks of birds. It's a wonder to see, and I'm confused about what this room is and why I've never seen it before.
By the time my focus comes back down, April has acquired a squatty, round jar from somewhere that is now full of water and the bunch of heather I picked, which is really quite lousy in comparison to the veritable rainforest above me. I'm sure the look of wonder on my face is ridiculous but I can't help it.
I can't hide the astonishment in my voice. "This place is a wonderland."
She looks embarrassed for some reason and chuckles to herself as she shrugs and says, "we've all gotta cope, somehow!" I'm unsure what she means, but she smiles so sweetly it makes my heart lurch as she says with an endearing wave, "this way!"
We walk towards a set of stairs that descends to who-knows-where, and I have to peel my eyes from the sight of the room and it's many other stairways and hallways that beg met to explore them, the dark nooks and towering bookshelves I want to dive into, and doorways that beckon me to enter that appear to be entire aviaries, greenhouses, vivariums, and terrariums in their own right. All of it is like something out of a dream.
The wonderland becomes even more unimaginable when, at the bottom of the stairs, we enter an equally impressive, huge room, with a layout like an open-floor flat. A wing to the far left hosts floor-to-ceiling windows and a large, impressive kitchen of natural wood cabinetry, where a number of magical apparatuses appear to be hard at work chopping herbs, making potions, and who knows what else, including a large, open fire blazing in some kind of oven.
A wing to the far right also hosts floor-to ceiling windows to the back and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the left side. The right side of the wing appears to host dozens of personal photographs, portraits, and paintings. A surprisingly large, rather inviting, bed on a cheerful four-poster spindle frame is impeccably made with crisp, white sheets, an array of colorful quilts, and so many large, inviting pillows of various shapes, sizes, and colors.
::Wonder if she made that bed up special for–::
–shove it, arsehole.
Directly in front of us in the center of the room, atop numbers of overlapping, plush rugs, are two opposing large, brown leather sofas that look well-loved and comfortable, and four opposing chairs of differing styles, shapes, and sizes. All of them surround a large, round coffee table which, at the center, displays a welcoming array of candles, bowls of various nuts and candies, and – as of now – a jar of heather. And all of the furniture in the sitting area sport numbers of colorful blankets and pillows that span a wide spectrum of international flavours.
April has noticed my eyes move up to the three, giant hovering orbs that fill some of the four stories of space that opens above the sitting area below yet another domed glass ceiling. Massive, crystal clear spheres of differing sizes float effortlessly together, seemingly light as a feather, full of what looks to me like some kind of glitter which casts a golden-green light.
"Lacewing flies," she says with a smile and something stirs within me. "Come sit!" She gestures to the large chairs and sofas. "Can I get you anything?" she asks as she's already pouring a couple of glasses of water from the cornucopia of options in the center of the coffee table.
My mouth has gone completely dry. I'm able to mutter "No, that's fine" like a bloody idiot before I settle on the sofa and she kicks off her shoes and sits down in one of the chairs directly next to it with her adorable bare feet and legs folded and tucked around and under herself. She is so comfortable, so easy in her manner.
I have no idea where to begin. I bend to set my bag down on the floor next to me and a particularly colorful quilt of wildly vivid floral and geometric fabrics catches my eye.
She offers in a kind tone, "you're not the only one who's traveled a bit since..." and she trails off.
Thank Merlin for her ease. Because just like, in so few words, she's let me know that, at minimum, Sharp told her how far away I'd gone after Hogwarts. And she doesn't seem angry.
I feel a small sense of relief to know they spoke, and heartened that it may not have been, well, so bad.
"A kantha quilt?" I say and she nods. Indian. I'd recognize its distinct style any day. Finally, I ask, "What is this place?"
She answers briefly, "it's...my living quarters" and brushes off an explanation with a friendly wave of her hand, "I can tell you about it later." She's right, there are more important subjects to address. And I suddenly come to realize that if there were any time to put so much of what I've learned into practice, it would be now.
Trust the process, Sebastian, self-consciousness be damned.
