Chapter Text
* * *
Stepping off the Hogwarts Express and onto the platform at Hogsmeade station felt… surreal. Not that it was your first time — no, you had done it many times before. Which is mostly why this particular time felt so strange.
It would be your last time.
This was the last time you’d be returning to school for the start of a new school year. This was it. It was hard to believe you had spent nearly seven whole years up in the Scottish highlands. It felt like you had been here for most of your life, and yet at the same time, it felt like barely any time had passed. It didn’t feel right that, come the end of the year, you’d be clambering aboard the Hogwarts Express headed back to London —back to Kings Cross — for the last time. Never to enter the grounds of Hogwarts again.
Well… Unless you chose a career in magical education, you supposed.
Even though you still had a whole year ahead of you, you can’t help but linger on these thoughts even on the first day back. First evening back, really. The sentiment does at least seem to be shared by a few other of your fellow seventh years, however, with the carriage ride to the castle seeming unusually quiet. Upon your departure from the carriage, you hang back for a small while, taking time to give proper thanks to the Thestrals that had carried you back and forth between the castle and Hogsmeade station for seven years now — barring the first year, of course.
Those thoughts continue to linger throughout the evening; walking through the castle’s gigantic doors; reuniting with your housemates at the Hufflepuff table; enjoying the welcome back feast in the Great Hall; ducking into the barrel entrance of your common room; tucking yourself into bed, readying yourself for a start to a new year…
There was a lot about Hogwarts you were going to miss.
Sebastian Sallow would not be one of them.
You’d say you didn’t know when it started, but… you did. You knew the exact moment. First year, first class: Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had thought it would be a good idea to introduce you all to the class— a bunch of rowdy eleven year old’s eager to use their wands — via a duel. Which, to be fair to her, it kind of was. Helped throw away the notion that your years of education would be spent sat behind a desk with your noses in books, that was for sure. And so, after a lesson in teaching you the most basic (yet undeniably effective) of protection charms — Protego — she had conjured a duelling platform out of thin air and had picked two students at random.
Which just so happened to be you and Sebastian.
You hadn’t even spoken to him at this point. In fact, it had been the first time you had even looked in each other's direction. You didn’t know it at the time of course, but Sebastian — and his sister, Anne — had two professors for parents. Had, as in, past tense, unfortunately, due to a rather tragic event, leaving both Sebastian and Anne orphaned at such a young age. But, being a child of professors, Sebastian had begun his education at Hogwarts with certain… notions. Mostly that he believed that his parents having been professors gave him a slight advantage over the rest of you. And that was the kind way of you putting it. If you were to state it how it was, then the reality of the situation was that Sebastian came into school with the belief that he was already better than everyone else starting their first year at Hogwarts.
You hadn’t known this. But you would soon. You got an inkling of this the moment Hecat had called on the two of you, and he looked you up and down with a barely contained grin, smugness practically oozing off of him as he made his way to the other end of the platform. With just one look at you, he had written you off. Had already won in his own mind. You were going to be an easy opponent. What chance did the likes of you have against him? A measly, timid Hufflepuff against a proud Slytherin?
Yes, Sebastian Sallow had entered Hogwarts with a lot of notions…
And you — the measly, timid, inexperienced, unassuming Hufflepuff — had brought those misconceptions crashing down as you sent his smug arse flying off the end of the platform.
It’s not like you had done it with the intention of humiliating him. And it wasn’t an easy duel to win either — it was quite some time of back and forth between the two of you exchanging blows before you came out on top. But you could still vividly remember the venom in Sebastian’s eyes peering at you over the edge of the platform as he pulled himself back to his feet, the room filled with the piercing laughter of your peers at Sebastian’s misfortune, and you just knew that Sebastian was not going to be one to let this go easy.
…And now here you were, seven years on.
Seven whole damn years of this. Goes to show how important first impressions are, you supposed… That one moment, that one bad experience, had sealed your fate. A single duel, and your experience of Sebastian Sallow was now reduced to a cold, spiteful, snubbing, and occasional downright prick. That last part wasn’t all the time, thankfully. For the most part he’d just glare at you like you’d gone and skinned a family of Puffskeins in front of him or something. But that’s not to say there weren’t a few times things would boil over. For the most part, you tried to stay civil; you weren’t one for unnecessary confrontation. But oh, for someone who spends most of his time pretending you don’t exist, he sure did know you well. Specifically, just the right buttons to press to bring you down to his petty level.
It’d almost be funny, if those few occasions didn’t get you into trouble. And you hated getting into trouble, especially when it cost your house points. It was mostly the reason you tried to keep as far away from Sebastian as possible. So naturally, you had decided the best way to go about that was to befriend Ominis Gaunt, who just so happened to be Sebastian’s best friend, as well as Anne Sallow. Sebastian’s sister.
Again, like when you humiliated (no, no, let’s not stoop to his level) when you bested him that day in DADA, you hadn’t befriended Ominis and Anne intentionally. At least, not with the purpose of annoying Sebastian. In fact, it hadn’t happened until your second year at Hogwarts. You hadn’t ever really talked to either of them that entire first year — more than likely due to Sebastian’s influence over them, you had no doubt — and you had mostly assumed that becoming friends with anyone in Sebastian’s friend circle, particularly his own sister, was simply an impossibility.
But then you and Ominis were partnered together for a project in Potions class during your second year and Ominis… got to know you. Simple, really. Beginning as most friendships did. It did take some time, naturally, given Ominis had likely spent the entire first year only knowing of you based on Sebastian’s opinions of you. Thankfully Ominis was able to look past Sebastian’s misconceptions of you and form his own opinion instead, and Ominis had become one of your closest friends during your time here in school.
Then, through Ominis, you had met Anne — who was simultaneously every bit her brother's twin, and also nothing alike. They seemed to share a certain fondness for testing the boundaries of the school rules and getting themselves into trouble. They also shared a very strong protection over one another, which you later learned from Anne was from their parent's passing… Left with just each other, and their uncle to become their guardian.
But Anne also didn’t tend to look at you like you were personally responsible for every wrongdoing in her life, so… that’s where she tended to differ from her brother.
“So… Are you going to tell me if I was right?” Anne had asked, grinning opposite you as you wiped away the disgusting liquid from the Gobstone off your face. It had become a bit of a tradition that the three of you — you, Anne, and Ominis — would meet up your first night back for a game of Gobstone’s in the Undercroft — a secret room hidden beneath the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Which, for a time, was a secret only known to the Gaunt family. And then, the Sallow family, in the form of Sebastian and Anne. And then… you.
Oh boy, was that a fun day when Sebastian walked into the Undercroft to see you there…
“Right about what?” You asked, still valiantly fighting back your urge to gag at the putrid smell of the Gobstones. Why you still played this game, you didn’t know.
Anne scoffed. “As if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Professor Garlick asked you to be Quidditch Captain, didn’t she?”
You sighed, leaning back to observe the Gobstone placement in front of you, trying to figure out your next best move. You chew absent-mindedly on the nail of your thumb as you think, narrowed eyes darting between the game, Anne, and Ominis. “You know… I’m strangely torn. On one hand, I’d love nothing more than to celebrate the fact that yes, Professor Garlick has indeed made me captain. On the other hand, you’re insufferable when you’re right, so…”
“Suppose I must be insufferable all the time then.” That right there. That’s what she had in common with her brother. Smugness must be a Sallow trait…
“Good one…” you grumble past Ominis’s quiet huffs of laughter, placing your focus towards your next shot. For a Chaser, your skills at getting these damn Gobstones where you want them to be were… not up to par. Place you on a broom high in the sky with a Quaffle in your hands, and you’d get that Quaffle right where it needs to be, right through those hoops. Place you on the ground with these tiny infuriating stones that needed precise placement with a flick of your wrist, and well…
The skills didn’t exactly translate.
“You know, you don’t sound terribly excited to be named captain,” Anne points out.
“Oh, no, I am,” you insist, eyes still focused on the rings drawn onto the ground, rolling the Gobstone between your thumb and finger. “Just… Lots to think about. Last year… Last chance at winning the cup…”
“Well, at least Dominic Hearth didn’t leave behind too big of shoes for you to fill,” Ominis says, which, while a little harsh… was true. He had been elected captain all the way back in his fourth year, serving as Hufflepuff Captain for his four remaining years at Hogwarts. And in those four years, the team had gone… nowhere. Forget getting a taste of the Quidditch Cup; Hufflepuff had placed dead last four years in a row.
“You’ve just reminded me I’m going to have to find a Seeker to replace him…” You realise, watching miserably as Ominis’s marble knocks one of yours out of play. Finding a Seeker wasn’t going to be easy… There was a reason why, despite his ineptitude, that Dominic Hearth had kept the position for as long as he had. Was it a position of great respect? Of course. Who wouldn’t want to be Seeker? To be the one player on the team that, with just one single move, could bag your team the victory. A hundred and fifty points, just for grabbing hold of a tiny fluttering golden ball.
If it was that easy, then everyone would be lining up to be Seeker, wouldn’t they? But they’re not. Because being a Seeker is hard. Not that the other positions on the team don’t have their own difficulties of course, but let's just say you weren’t exactly ever jealous of Dominic for his role within the team.
You had no doubts that there’ll be some people showing up to trials. Difficult or not, there are always going to be lovers of Quidditch desperate to prove their worth. Question was whether they’d be any good at it. They’d have to be fast. Agile. Able to get the most out of their broom than any other player, not to mention be in possession of a pair of eyes sharper than a hawk's, able to pick out the erratic flight pattern of the snitch from within the mess of confusion that is a Quidditch Pitch. With the noise and movement of the crowd, and the rush of the game around you, team-mates and opposition whizzing by — not to mention the pressure of knowing the other teams Seeker was meticulously scanning the pitch same as you — it wasn’t difficult to see why it was a rare occurrence for the Seeker to find and capture the snitch shortly after the game has begun.
“Did you tell them the other good news?” Ominis asks. You look up, confused as to what he was talking about.
“What good news?”
It’s only once Anne starts speaking that you realise he had been talking to her. “...Sharp’s removed Crane as captain.”
That you hadn’t known about. Archie Crane was one of the Beaters on the Slytherin team and, until now, had been captain too — and had been doing a perfectly fine job at it, being a major contributor to Slytherin hoisting up the Quidditch cup just two years ago. “On the first day? What for?”
“Not sure. Rumour I’ve heard was it was to do with something he’d done over the summer, but, well… Sharp didn’t exactly seem in the mood to talk about it,” Ominis explains. “He’s still on the team from what I know, but… not as captain.”
“So who’s Slytherin’s captain now?”
You had a feeling you’d know what the answer was going to be. Mostly because the universe seemed to enjoy revelling in your misery like that. And yet, Anne’s hesitant answer still makes you shoot the next Gobstone into place perhaps a tad harder than you meant to.
”…Sebastian.”
“Oh,” you say, leaning back from your shooting position with a deep breath. You nod your head, looking down at the terrible placement of your Gobstones. “Well… I wish him the best of luck.”
“You could always tell him yourself?”
“I’d rather die.”
Great. The two of you were already competitive enough when it came to Quidditch, but with the both of you being captains? This was going to take it to another level… Sebastian was Slytherin’s Keeper. And a damn good one at that, as loathe as you were to admit it. He had signed up for Quidditch same time as you, in your second year, the earliest possible time you could. When you had found out, you had automatically assumed he would be a chaser, like you. It seemed to fit him best. Second to being Seeker, it was the position with the most… glory? That was the best way you could think to describe it. The ones to score points. Help propel your team to victory. But he wasn’t a Chaser. He was a Keeper. And when you first watched him in play, you realised how foolish you were to think he’d be anything else. Being the one to fetch glory for your team was one thing, but to be the one responsible for taking it away for the other team? Taking away that power, that satisfaction from someone?
Sebastian relished in it. Particularly with you… That’s not to say he didn’t take pleasure in making saves against every other Chaser on the other teams, but you knew that little self-satisfied smirk you saw whenever you had flown close enough after he had made a save was one reserved only for you.
Anne’s sigh pulled you away from your thoughts. “I never will understand this thing between the two of you… I really do wish you could find a way to get along.”
“You say that like it’s my fault,” you say.
“You know I’m not. I just meant that… I really feel like you two would have been good friends if it weren't for…”
“For what?” You asked with a scoff. “If it weren't for the fact that we’re not? It’s not like I asked for this, Anne. Sometimes… people don’t get along. It is what it is.”
“It is baffling though,” Ominis points out. “Anne’s right — any other circumstance and quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine two people who would get along as much as you both would. I always thought that, somewhere along our time at Hogwarts, you’d be able to move past this odd rivalry thing you have and see that.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” you stress. “If we were to get along as much as you say we would, then… why don’t we? Look, Sebastian got his pride wounded by me, and he’s never been able to let it go. If he wants to be petty and make it his life mission to one-up me on everything we do, then that’s on him.”
“Except… you do the same thing,” Anne points out, defending her brother.
“...That is technically true,” Ominis agrees. Traitor. “You can both be about as bad as each other sometimes… Hence the whole… you two getting along thing.”
You hope the wand in Ominis’ hand is able to pick up the severity of the glare you’re sending his way. “Well someone needs to be there to knock him down a few pegs. He’s already insufferable enough as it is; imagine what he’d be like if he actually was best at everything.”
“And yet, it doesn’t really bother him when anyone else beats him at something,” Ominis notes. “Only you. How odd…”
“Could we please stow away the ‘Sebastian vendetta’ talks for tonight?” You ask. “I’m going to have to deal with him enough this year, I’d rather not have to spend my free time with him occupying my thoughts, too.”
Both Anne and Ominis chuckle in a way that makes you think your wish will not be granted, even as they return their attention to the game of Gobstones between the three of you. “Well, on the bright side, it is only one more year,” Ominis points out, readying his next shot. You were sure his wand helped him cheat a little… Somehow signalled just how much power he needs to use with his shot. Or at least, those were the excuses you came up with as to how someone unable to see always beat you at this stupid game.
You grunt in agreement, watching as Ominis’s next shot lands perfectly in the centre, knocking the one miraculous Gobstone you’d manage to get anywhere near be sent rolling out of the game entirely. You don’t even flinch as the foul liquid coats you, too used to it by now.
Just one more year…
What’s the worst that could happen in one year?
* * *
“So? Is it true?” Odell badgered you the second you stepped foot onto the Quidditch pitch. Odell Sterling was one of your Beaters — and lived up to the name. Tall, broad-shouldered, looked like he could send you to the infirmary with a single swipe of his bat — the whole nine yards. He was an intimidating-looking fellow, especially for a Hufflepuff. That’s not to say that Hufflepuffs couldn’t be intimidating of course, but well… the house did have a rather soft reputation for a reason. But anyone who got to know Odell past his bulky exterior knew there was no other house he belonged to but Hufflepuff.
“Merlin’s Beard, Odell, give them a second to get their bearings would ya?” Sophia reprimanded him as she seemingly appeared from nowhere, both Beater’s now flanking you on both sides as you made your way towards the rest of the team. And the group of hopeful students you could see readying themselves for Seeker try-outs. “...But is it true?” Sophia sheepishly added.
Sophia — your other Beater — was not like Odell. At least, not in physical appearances. She was the very definition of ‘unassuming’, often looking swamped under the Quidditch equipment you had to wear. Even now, with two years of experience knocking countless cocky students off their brooms under her belt, people would still disregard her as a capable Beater. Worked out in your favour more often than not, though. You’d lost count of the amount of Chaser’s who thought they were in the clear after racing past Odell, flying towards Sophia like she was just for decoration, only to get some sense knocked into them in the form of a Bludgeon to the head ricocheted off Sophia’s bat.
You reach the rest of your team, all eyes turning to you. They pounce on you immediately, being bombarded by questions.
“I heard from--”
“It’s true, isn’t it? I’ve seen him--”
“Is it really--?”
“Yes, it’s true,” you snap, raising your voice to be heard over the rest. “Sallow is Slytherin captain now. And no, that doesn’t change our game plan for the year. That’s not our focus, okay? Today we’re looking for a Seeker, not gossiping over the drama within Slytherin’s Quidditch team. Let’s focus on our own team, okay?”
There’s a murmur of agreement from your team. Thankfully. You sigh in relief, turning your eyes towards the group of team hopefuls huddled off to the side. They at least all had a broom in hand, so that was a good start.
“What do you think, Captain?” Cooper — your Keeper — asked with a shit-eating grin and a nudge of his elbow to your ribs. Remarkable he could make any saves at all really with his mop of curly hair constantly getting in his eyes. “Any you can pick out from the crowd?”
“Weird to think one of them is going to be our future Seeker…” Comes the pessimistic voice of Iris, second Chaser on the team. “Never thought I’d say it, but I think I’m going to miss Dominic…”
“Oh come on now, we haven’t seen them in action yet!” Oscar — surprise, surprise, Chaser three — entered into the conversation as the voice of optimism. “We should at least give them the benefit of the doubt, right?”
You tried to keep Oscar’s words of encouragement in your heart as you watched the train wreck that was the Seeker tryouts. There was bad, and then there was… whatever this was. As you sat there, hovering above the pitch on your broom, disaster unfolding beneath you, the image in your head of you and your team hoisting the cup high over your heads was slowly starting to fade from view…
“Hey, Captain--” Odell came to a graceful stop just in front of you, having flown up from lower down the pitch where he was watching the tryouts. “I don’t think you’re going to like this…”
“Didn’t need you to tell me that…” You mutter miserably, not even flinching as one of the try-outs flies head first into one of the towers of the stands. In your defence, you had the first time he’d done it. Was kind of hard to find that sympathy the sixth time.
“Oh, I’m not talking about that…”
You looked over to Odell with a frown, wondering what else he could possibly mean. He just gives you a tight-lipped frown in response, nodding his head down and off to the side. In particular, to a patch of cliff-side overlooking the Quidditch pitch, where you could just about make out someone standing. Watching.
“It’s Sallow.”
Of course it is.
“Give me a break…” You mumble, hands tightening around the handle of your broom. “Alright, just… watch over everyone for me for a minute, would you? I’ll go deal with him…”
Odell chuckles deeply, flashing you a knowing smile. “Try not to kill him.”
“No promises…”
Sebastian’s got that stupid smug smile already plastered on his face the second you land, seemingly waiting for you to have noticed his presence. If this was supposed to be some espionage mission on behalf of his team, then he was doing a rather piss poor job of it. You dismount smoothly from your broom, tampering down your desire to beat that stupid smug smile off Sebastian’s face with it as you approach.
“You know you’re not supposed to be here, Sallow,” you kindly remind him, his responding head tilt only serving to irritate you further. “These are private tryouts.”
“Who says that’s why I’m here?” Sebastian lies smoothly. “Is there something wrong with offering some congratulations? One captain to another?”
“Right…” You stuff as much sarcasm into your voice as physically possible. “Really? That’s why you’re here? To say congrats?”
“It is, actually. Why? Do you think there’s some other nefarious reason for my being here?”
You actually have to laugh at that. “Come off it, Sallow. You know full well you’d go off crying to Sharp if you caught me trying to spy on your tryouts and practices.”
That knocks some of the smugness off Sebastian’s face. “You think I need to spy on you? For what? To… have an edge over the ‘competition’?” Sebastian asks, crossing his arms across his chest with a disbelieving bark of laughter. “What competition? Because, just between you and me…” Sebastian leans closer — a little too close into your personal space, to be honest — gesturing with a flick of his chin to the pitch as he speaks, voice low and quiet. “…Seem’s this year's selection of Hufflepuff Seekers are, shall we say… bottom of the barrel pickings?”
You get a hand between you, shoving at Sebastian’s shoulder to force him back. The shove only widens his smarmy smile. “Truly, I did come here to offer my congrats. And from what I’ve seen, well…” Sebastian begins to step away, walking backwards as he laughs that slow deep laugh that never fails to send shivers up your spine. “Good luck.”
You turn away before you do something stupid like knock his retreating form off the cliff, clambering back onto your broom and speeding back towards the pitch. You land next to your team, whose heads are craned up towards the sky, watching the last of the tryouts come to a close. It’s as you watch one of them — a sixth year you’ve exchanged perhaps a handful of words with — somehow not notice the snitch hovering three inches from his head (due to being too busy checking out one of the other Seekers who seemed to prefer showing off his broom than showing any actual skill) that you come to a conclusion that sickens you down to your very core.
Sebastian Sallow was right.