In the Brilliance of Longing | Ominis Gaunt

In the Brilliance of Revelation

2:48pm - September 3rd, 1891: Divination Classroom

After seeing the first traces of dark ancient magic since I defeated Ranrok, I knew I needed to speak to Professor Onai regarding the reading I did a while ago. I hadn't touched my cards since, realizing now I was afraid of what they would tell me. As I approached her after class, she seemed to already have a sense of what I needed to speak with her about.

"Ms. Hawthorne. Come, sit. I'd like to have a chat."

"I actually was hoping for your assistance, professor," I explained. I sat across the table from her and pulled out my cards, the magician falling out from where I had so hastily shoved it back into the wooden box that housed my tarot deck. It felt as if the universe were mocking me, and I huffed as I put the card back with its deck proper.

"I did a reading and I'm very confused about its meaning." I opened my journal, showing her the cards I pulled, "When I pulled for my present, the cards made sense, but the future seems... tumultuous at best."

Professor Onai didn't even need to look at the cards. "Yes, I've had premonitions about you." She leaned in so as to not worry any students that were straggling behind. "You must be prepared to defend Hogwarts again. I do not know the details of how you came to learn of Ranrok's attack on the school, but you need to perhaps retrace your steps and speak to those who assisted you."

My eyes widened as I took in her statement. Adrenaline was circulating throughout my body, making my heart beat out of my chest. My clothes felt suffocating, the room was spinning, and the daylight coming in through the window was brighter than it had been a moment ago. I wanted so badly to yell, scream at the top of my lungs that I didn't want to, it wasn't fair, that I didn't deserve to go through that again, but I held myself back.

She reached out for my shaking hand. "You were given a gift, and although it may feel like a curse at times, you can overcome anything that stands in your way because of it."

3:02pm: The Map Chamber

After speaking with Professor Onai, I ran down into the depths of the castle, throwing the doors open to the map chamber and rushing down the stairs. None of the keepers were in their portraits, so I went straight for the doors that led to the repository. I sprinted through the caverns until I came face to face with the glowing orb of power.

The blue glow inside the repository was bubbling outward like a rabid beast trying to escape an abusive owner. The cage of goblin silver that Fig and I repaired was cracking, deep, dark cuts in the metal that reminded me of the crooked smile of Ranrok himself. But Ranrok wasn't here, nor Rookwood, nor Harlow. The only immediate threat was the potential leaking of the ancient magic from the repository. I was able to fix it once, and although I had help from Professor Fig, I was weak from the ongoing battle. Perhaps I could patch it up myself, at least until I was able to speak with the Keepers.

The issue was that I didn't exactly know how to repair the silver. While I had learned to use my ancient magic in battle, I didn't quite know how to conjure it at will, and something told me Reparo wouldn't be much help in this situation. As I slowly stepped toward the repository, however, I began to feel a surge of energy coursing through my veins. My skin was tingling all over, and it was euphoric.

I'm still not entirely sure what came over me, but I concentrated that energy through my chest, shoulders, arms, hands, and eventually through my fingertips. I cast and a bright white beam exploded from the tip of my wand, and I watched as the cracks in the repository slowly began filling in. I was fixing it!

The cracks weren't near closed when that energy that had previously filled my body came ricocheting back, almost like a delayed kickback from the cast. It slammed against my body, sending me flying backward. The last thing I remember is watching the cracks reopen in the repository and the magic held within becoming even more restless. Then blackness.