Sinner // Sebastian Sallow

SEVEN

The nightmares don't relent the night after, nor the night after that. As usual every single one is different, but now every dream is accompanied by a magical outburst and silent screaming. You've cracked the mirror for a second time, and disfigured one of the bed posts. It's strange and you know you don't like it one bit.

Sebastian's offer still lingers in the air, but you don't believe he offers much. He may be smart, but there's a limit to his experience. Besides, last time you let him in he used you for your powers; you're not about to let him use them again.

Still, a part of you wonders what he'd say if you told him of your nightmares and the subconscious spells.

However, today you don't plan on thinking too much about it all; if at all. Saturday mornings are a call for some time to yourself away from Hogwarts grounds.

The sun doesn't beat down on the earth as it did a few months before. Instead, the heat is matched with a cool breeze, swaying the trees and brushing through the grass underfoot. You smile to yourself, deflecting from the gravel path and into a field that stretches as far as the eye can see.

Butterflies are scarce this time of year, and the flowers no longer bloom, but the day is pleasant enough. It's comforting and eases the pains and worries from the week.

As soon as you're far enough, you take a glance over your shoulder; Hogwarts is faint in the distance, and you can hardly see the path. It's perfect.

You don't wear your cloak today, so your wand is stored underneath a jacket, but you're not inclined to use it. A day without magic is why you're here, and a day without magic you will have.

You pull a book out that you have tucked under your arm, and nestle yourself into the long strands of grass. They're as soft as anything, so comfortable that you prefer this over your own bed, and your smile only widens.

Your journeys out from the castle alone are growing frequent, purely just to get away from it all. Your nightmares only occur in Hogwarts, your worries over your magic stay within the walls. At least in a middle of a field, no one knows who you are or where you are - you can really just forget the world for a short while. Even down to the fiction book over a magic textbook.

You don't really remember how long you stay there, basking in the sunlight and letting the breeze tickle your skin, but by the time you finally rise again, you feel weightless. Forgetting is the best medicine.

The sky stains orange and pink towards the end of your adventure, capturing your full attention. You drink in the setting sun before you, the colours illuminating your face. There's nothing more peaceful than your own company and a beautiful sunset; you'll never be able to get enough of it.

You turn and walk your way back to the gravel path once the sun falls low enough. Your soft smile hasn't shifted for hours and refuses to even when you walk on a path of familiarity. It doesn't even shift when you can feel someone's eyes on the back of your head; and, quite frankly, you don't have it in you to care.

The blissful walk back to Hogwarts flies by, and soon enough you're back within school grounds. The feeling of Cloud Nine hasn't quite disappeared, and you hold your head high with a sparkle in your eye.

It doesn't take you too long to stumble into your friends, who look just as overjoyed to see you as you are them. You're pulled into a bone-crushing hug before you can think, which you gladly accept.

"Where have you been?" Poppy asks as you pull apart, her hands grabbing onto your forearm. "You vanished!"

"It was a lovely day," you explain, which isn't untrue. "I wanted to get some air, but I lost track of time."

"What did you read?" Natsai asks next, peering down at the book in your hands. "Doesn't look like anything I've seen before."

"Oh," you raise the book up slightly. "It's by a Muggle author."

Natsai's eyes widen slightly with fascination, "Muggle? I haven't read a Muggle book in a long time."

"Charles Dickens," you elaborate, and Natsai nods her head. If she knows who he is, there's no way of telling.

"You've come at just the right time, though!" Poppy moves the subject on with a tug on your shirt sleeve. "Natty and I were just about to go and see Highwing, did you want to come with us?"

You agree easily, the word rolling off your tongue. It's been a while since you've seen the hippogriff, and you wonder if she's changed much.

She hasn't. You find that out immediately when Poppy finds her in the woodland just outside the Hogwarts walls. It's dark now, with the three of you now relying on the light at the end of your wands and the glow from the castle behind you. Highwing is just as big and broad always, and watches you with the same intent; one constant in your life that you hold dear.

"She's more comfortable now," Poppy comments, running her hand along Highwing's neck.

You hum in agreement, eyeing her as she does to you. The hippogriff's sense of pride amuses you, but you envy that confidence all the same.

"She's an amazing creature," Natsai smiles, a bag of food in her hand - which looks an awful lot like a dead rat.

"Where'd you get that?" Poppy frowns, attention caught when Natsai lifts the bag up slightly.

"It had already passed away when I found it," she explains. "It was caught in a trap in the castle. Poor thing was battered, I couldn't save it."

Your mind flashes back to the cursed rat in the Undercroft and you grimace, this one met just as untimely an end as yours.

Poppy smiles sadly, mourning the rat like a family pet, and you try to cover the guilt across your face. It doesn't help when she says, "I hate rat traps, they cause so much more pain and misery than is necessary."

You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your palms. Pain and misery - exactly what you caused. The tiny convulsing body, covered in red light, falls to the front of your brain so fast you can't stop it; leaving you unable to do anything but stare into the memory.

"Are you alright?" Natsai regards you after a few moments, catching on to your sullen silence.

You nod your head and put on a brave face, just for her, "Of course, I was just thinking about something. That's all."

That seems to satisfy her well enough, and she passes you the bag with the rat, "Would you like to feed her?"

Holding it feels wrong, but you swallow the lump in your throat and nod hesitantly, "Sure...Sure, I can do that."

You take the rat out of the bag, keeping your chin up so not to look at the dead animal for too long, and hold your arm up high enough for Highwing to pluck it from your grasp.

You focus on her face and the way she preens as soon as she sees the treat in hand. When she takes it from you and swallows in one gulp, you don't even register it in your head.

Nothing makes sense; you're relishing in being a dark wizard, but you can't even look at a rat without a horrible ache in your heart.

Perhaps you're too soft for the career change, but you're so far gone that you can't find it in you to let the Unforgiveables go.