Sinner // Sebastian Sallow

FIVE

"Have you tried Sleeping Draught?" Garreth Weasley asks you in your potions lesson the next morning.

You shake your head, "I don't want to be unable to wake up. What if I dream?"

"I don't think that's how it works," he replies, leaning over his cauldron. "It'll be a deep sleep, you don't dream in deep sleeps."

You don't reply, skeptical of Garreth's proposition. The idea of being trapped in your own head sends a shiver down your spine, and pushes your favour further away from the idea of a sleeping potion.

"Why don't you try it at least once? It's a temporary deep sleep, after all." he says, throwing another ingredient into the cauldron in front of him. "I'll brew one for you myself."

You open your mouth to reply with some kind of explanation of your concerns, but Garreth manages to do that for you with his own miscalculations.

The cauldron suddenly bubbles and boils in a way that definitely isn't included in the recipe book, and the liquid turns murky and thick. You take a few steps as the bubbles start popping above the rim, and the liquid suddenly shoots up far into the sky.

The other students cry out, either ducking or crawling under the tables. It takes the Professor casting a spell and freezing the potion in midair to save them all from a sticky mess.

Garreth smiles sheepishly at you; that's all you need to know to put the sleeping potion out of your mind.

Instead, you decide to wander down to the Undercroft after your classes, one book under your arm and your wand held tightly in your other hand. Emotions heightened by your nightmare, the power under your skin has been particularly irritating today, and threatens to crawl out at every opportunity. The only thing you can think to do is to let it escape.

You shiver as soon as you step into the Undercroft, a breeze hitting your cheeks. Casting a simple warming charm, you inhale deeply before moving into the depths of room.

Your feet echo loudly in your ears as you move, your blood pumping to the same tune. You're the only noise in the silence of the Undercroft, and it seems to be enough to smother the emptiness.

You pick the same place as before, an open space between four pillars, and set your book down on the concrete. Turning page after page, you eventually settle on a spell to follow on to, and raise your wand high up into the air.

One spoken spell later, and the end of your wand ignites. Flames crawl high above the wood, smoke floating into the darkened ceilings. All your power shoots towards the end of your wand, draining from your hand and out in the mass of flames.

Relief. That's how those flames feel; pure bliss after a day in agony. With Unforgiveable Curses, you're starting to feel more at home than you are with the spells and charms taught by the professors. Perhaps that's a bad omen, but you don't care.

You push your magic further, flames multiplying by every second, seeing how far you can possibly take it. The heat dancing in front of you eyes fascinates you, and you just want to see more.

You hear your name called out from afar, but the roaring of your fire suffocates the noise. There's no way in telling who it is, you can't even think about it. All you see is fire, and all you can think is fire.

It's so beautiful.

Whoever calls for you becomes frantic, their voice growing louder and louder, but your fire keeps on roaring. You grin at the sight of it, fingers tightly wrapped around your wand - so tightly that you don't realise that the flames are beginning to lap over your skin.

All of a sudden, a hand covers the top of yours with a crushing force. The sudden impact causes you to jolt forwards, the flames darting from your wand and crashing straight into the wall on the other side of the Undercroft.