Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
With a CRACK! and a disorienting stumble, I'm finally back to where I began my evening, deep inside the Forbidden Forest and not much worse for the wear, all things considered. I look up through the foliage and inhale as though filling my lungs to my feet. I feel so at home amongst trees.
I unclasp my robe and let it fall from my shoulders as I stretch out my arms as if to absorb the very essence of the night. A glow appears in my peripheral vision – my markings – reignited the in the presence of the forest's wisdom and unadulterated moonlight.
I can tell by the position of the moon that I've arrived back just about when I meant to, and I am so glad to think of ending this night with Kai and his kin in a place of familiarity and comfort. But before I indulge in the dull, hopeful sense that things might be back on track, I hear an unexpected comment–
"You've got to stop doing that."
"What the fuck?" I spit in a whisper as my head jerks into place.
Sebastian stifles reactive chortle at my response. (He always did give me shit for swearing like a sailor.)
My stomach drops and I stare at him ferociously.
He keeps some distance but thankfully matches my volume. "I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't realize you were aparating...Again..."
The nerve.
I stare, unblinking.
"I would have...or, I wouldn't have...I...guess I caught your arm on your way out."
Unbelievable.
He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. "About what I said, you have to understand—"
"You can't be here, Sebastian." I whisper intensely.
"If I could explain–"
I cut him off by sharply raising my hand to a 'stop.'
We are standing just behind the Elder's tent in the keep of the centaur colony. I can hear the celebration underway a mere one or two hundred feet from here - music, laughter, the stamping of dancing hooves, the smell of the feast.
I was so close.
The implications of bringing an uninvited outsider to this place, on this night settle into my skin like doomed drops of rain.
"What I heard was pretty clear, and now is not the time," I hiss, my assertive demeanor masking a veritable black hole of confusion inside.
"If I could just–"
"I'm serious, Sebastian. You shouldn't be here." I gesture around us. His eyes follow my every action, intently, like a falcon stalking prey. "This is centaur land. Relations between our kind are tumultuous at best. They do not take kindly to strangers and if they see you..." My voice trails off, a sickening feeling keeping me from finishing the sentence with any number of terrible, but not unlikely outcomes.
"And you're not a stranger?" he asks with genuine curiosity. He might even be impressed.
"No, I'm not," I say matter-of-factly. I offer no further explanation–I don't owe him one. Though I briefly acknowledge within myself that, for some unknown reason I haven't felt the need to mention my work with the centaurs in any letters.
Pin in that introspective analysis for later.
"Please." I plead. "Please, Sebastian. I need to join them and you need to go. Apparate. Run. I don't care, but if you do this for me now, I promise I'll keep away from you."
The subtlest look of defeat crosses his face, as if my words prick something tender inside him.
"What?" Imploring, I shrug my arms in surrender. "It's what you want, isn't it? Easier for everyone?" His watchful gaze is intense upon me, almost voracious, as I see him calculate his response.
"It's not about what I want."
A stymied laugh of disbelief breaks across my lips. "The hell, Sallow..." I'm at a loss. This moving target called 'Sebastian' is as unnavigable as it is infuriating. "I suggest you figure out what you do want, then," I muster. "Just go do it anywhere but here."
I turn by back to him and walk towards the celebration that beckons me, questioning if I should feel badly in some way. But considering the vast pendulum swing of mixed signals I've endured this evening, I resolve that his volatility is officially not my responsibility.
He's a grown-ass man, I think to myself. He can take care of himself.
And in just a few steps I emerge into a large, bright clearing full of food, light, and dozens upon dozens of centaurs.
