In the Shadow of Darkness | Sebastian Sallow

Isidora

The following Friday morning, Ominis received an owl from the painter in Hogsmeade. Isidora's painting was restored—mostly, the man said, which made me wonder what to expect—so the three of us deigned to travel there that evening after classes. It was a quick journey, with Ominis walking much faster than normal. Once we arrived at the little cottage, I asked that the painter and his companion—I realized I didn't even know their names—to leave us to speak with Isidora's likeness.

Her eyes watched us suspiciously as we entered the room. I swore I could feel a magical power crackle between Sebastian and Ominis as the silence stretched between us. I finally decided to speak when she didn't, "Isidora, my name is Eleanor Jerome. These are my friends, Ominis and Sebastian."

Silence.

Looking between Ominis and Sebastian, I continued, "Last year, I began studying at Hogwarts as a fifth year, like you did. As did Professor Percival Rackham."

Her eyes shifted between the three of us, but she did not move otherwise. Her gaze settled back on me, clearly understanding what that must mean.

"I can wield Ancient Magic, like you. I found your triptych and your Pensieve. I know what happened with the other professors." I figured it was best to keep the detail light.

"Do you now?" Her voice sounded exhausted and scarcely audible as her lips barely moved. "Do you know what really happened or simply what they told you?"

"I saw your memories. At least, the ones you left for me in the Pensieve. The Keepers showed me your death from their perspectives," I admitted.

She blinked, moving her head with some effort. "'Keepers?'"

"Professors Rackham, Fitzgerald, San Bakar, and Rookwood," I defined, realizing they may not have used that word for their group when she was alive.

Isidora let out a humorless laugh. "The ones who held me back, the ones who believed I had gone too far." She seemed to sigh. "Maybe they were always right."

Her words shocked me. This could not be the same woman who had sought power in removing pain from others. This could not be the same person who began storing the magic for whatever purpose.

"We—we've come to you to ask for help, Professor Morganach," Ominis said calmly.

Her eyes shifted to him. "You are blind? There are potions and spells that can cure that. Certainly you don't need Ancient Magic for that."

He closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. "No, Professor. My sight is incurable, but that is not why I am here."

"In the Pensieve, we saw you remove pain from others," Sebastian recounted. "My sister is dying." His voice failed him.

"She was afflicted by a curse that causes her great pain," I continued for him.

"The pain I extracted was emotional, and it took a toll," Isidora interjected. "Over time, those whose pain I removed became emotionless shells. My painting was hung in my family home shortly before I died, and I watched my father slowly wasting away. There was nothing I could do. I only hope that the others did not meet the same fate—dying alone in a cottage with no one. Left there for days before anyone came to call."

I felt the blood draining from my face as she recounted the story of what happened to her father after she had passed. Though she barely moved, her voice conveyed emotions I hadn't expected. "I'm sorry, Isidora," I told her softly.

She looked at me sadly. "You see, when I was alive, I believed that this new form of magic was the answer to curing all the pain and grief in the world. I never once questioned what could happen if I went too far until I saw it with these eyes." She turned her head slightly to Sebastian. "You must not use this magic on your sister. It is a fate worse than death."

"Maybe there is a way to remove the curse?" Ominis pleaded.

"My dear boy," Isidora replied, "not even Ancient Magic can reverse a curse."

"Please, there must something we can do. Something Eleanor can do to remove her pain or...help her," Sebastian appealed.

"If there is, I do not know it," she said tiredly.

I reached for Sebastian, wincing at the zing I felt as our hands touched. It was almost painful this time around.

Isidora noticed. "You feel it, too."

I looked at her, questioning, "Feel what?"

"Pain. When you touched him just now." She smiled slightly. "It's the reason I invented the spell. I could sense others' pain, and I wanted to heal it."

"I can feel...pain?" I asked, still processing.

"Yes." She cocked her head to the side. "I always wondered if there was more about it I didn't understand. I could always sense certain things with no explanation. Eventually, my desire to help others became perverted. I wanted to control the magic I had extracted. I wanted to use the power, but I didn't know how yet. I suppose the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Sebastian looked up, an unsettled look in his eyes.

I squeezed his hand. "Are you alright, Sebastian?"

His eyes shifted to me, an endless sadness reflecting back. "Anne. I wanted to help her. I was so desperate to find a cure... I went too far."

Isidora smiled sadly as I pulled Sebastian into a hug. He sobbed into my shoulder quietly, pulling my attention away from the portrait. When I looked back at her, she had closed her eyes.

"I'll get Master Reginald and pay him for his efforts." Ominis excused himself.

Once Sebastian had calmed, he lifted his head slightly and buried his face in my hair. He took a deep breath. "I am so sorry for all that I have done," he apologized once again.

I leaned back to look up at him, cupping his cheek. "It doesn't matter how many times you feel you must apologize. I forgave you a long time ago."

He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing deep. We stayed like that for only a heartbeat before I grabbed his hand and led him into the next room, where Ominis was speaking to the painter, Master Reginald, in low tones.

"Mr. Gaunt, I do worry about where the painting was found. The first thing she did upon restoration of the enchantments was scream. She said a man burned her portrait when she refused to help him," Master Reginald explained.

"It was the fire in Feldcroft," Sebastian exclaimed.

It made sense. After Sebastian had pointed out the painting's destruction looked intentional, I had guessed the Keepers had destroyed her painting, but perhaps I should have given them more credit. They had not seemed to know of Isidora's Pensieve and triptych when I'd mentioned it, but I had assumed they were hiding the truth. Maybe they had been unaware until I told them, after all.

"It was probably Victor Rookwood," I suggested. It would make sense, I thought. That's why he'd been there the night Anne was cursed.

"Ah, that criminal has a reputation as far away as Kingsbridge." Reginald wrinkled his nose. "Dreadful man, from what I've heard. I hope he is caught sooner rather than later."

Sebastian and I shared a look. Ominis turned his head toward me, but said nothing of it.

"There is one other thing. The damage was reparable, but there is no way to make it perfect. The enchantments have been restored, but they are not what they were. She will likely never be able to leave her painting, and over time the charms may fade completely, rendering her nothing more than portrait a muggle could have painted." Reginald said.

I nodded. "Thank you for all of the work you have done. I would very much like you to deliver the painting to Hogwarts when you are able. I have a safe space to keep it."

Master Reginald nodded, thanking us for our time and understanding. We left him, walking back to Hogwarts in utter silence. My heart broke for both of the wizards beside me. Even with all of our work and money spent, Anne was still doomed.

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A/N: I know, I know. Isidora's portrait probably couldn't be restored at all. She probably was evil. But I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt here. But truly, Sebastian needed to hear it from the horse's mouth, as hard as it is. This chapter has planted the seed for how the story will end, though, so bear with me.