Like Moths to a Flame // Sebastian Sallow x Male MC [Book One]

Chapter Twenty-One: Squabble in the Corridor & an Apology for Anne

Well, today wasn't shaping up to be a good one. To put it mildly. In fact, the whole day thus far had been an utter disaster. Mostly because Sebastian hadn't spoken much, if at all, with Damien, and also because he'd made absolutely no progress with Ominis regarding Slytherin's scriptorium.

And now, here they were. Again. Arguing.

"Anything to do with the Dark Arts should be avoided. It's too risky," Ominis hissed as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. Sebastian and Ominis had been having a proper row for days about the scriptorium. Sebastian realized he may have finally hit Ominis's last nerve.

"Anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is worth the risk."

Ominis straightened up, glowering in the direction of Sebastian's voice. "I can't agree, and I'll not say a word more. I'm sorry." He whipped his robes behind him and set off back into the Great Hall.

Sebastian rolled his eyes as Ominis strode away. He was thoroughly fed up. Why couldn't Ominis just tell him? It wasn't that hard, surely.

"I won't give up," he muttered under his breath.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps, until Damien appeared beside him, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh. How very Ominis-esque.

"What were you and Ominis speaking about?" Damien asked, tilting his head slightly. Sebastian noticed he was wearing the scarf they'd found in the Forbidden Forest during their... whatever that had been. But even that small detail, one that might have lifted his spirits on any other day, did nothing to pull him from his foul mood.

"He's being ridiculous," Sebastian said, checking to make sure the coast was clear before continuing. "As I'm sure you recall me mentioning, Salazar Slytherin had a secret scriptorium here in Hogwarts. Ominis swears it was used for the Dark Arts, so he wants nothing to do with it. I reminded him that Anne needs a cure. This 'scriptorium' could hold the answers we need."

Damien stared at Sebastian intently, almost as if he was rehearsing his response. "The Dark Arts do pique my interest," he finally said.

Foul mood? What foul mood? That was gone now. 

Sebastian was suddenly beaming. It was a relief to know that he wasn't the only one interested in learning more about forbidden magic. "There's more to Dark Magic than people realize. The Gaunts know this: better than most." He paused, very briefly. "Perhaps I've spoken out of turn. Ominis's family history is personal to him."

"I understand," Damien said, glancing down at his feet. "You needn't tell me if you don't want to."

"If I were you, I'd be begging for more details."

"It's not that I'm not interested," he said, looking back up at Sebastian. "And you can certainly trust me if you want to tell me anything."

Sebastian knew that, of course - Damien had already proven himself trustworthy more than once - but his words did dampen his mood somewhat. Damien still seemed like he was hiding something from him, although Sebastian couldn't pinpoint what. And didn't... friendship... go both ways? 

Anyway, Sebastian plowed forward before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. He'd deal with the potential consequences later. "Ominis learned Dark Magic from his parents. Are you familiar with the Cruciatus Curse?"

Damien shook his head. "What does the Cruciatus Curse do?"

"It's known as the Torture Curse. Crucio. It inflicts intense, excruciating pain on the victim. Apparently, his parents and his older siblings had no qualms about casting it on Muggles for sport. Ominis described the sound of the victims' cries as horrific. So, the first time he was asked to cast it himself as a child, he couldn't bring himself to do it. As punishment, his family cast it on him. The anguish was so bad, that when asked to cast it again, he relented."