A Bouquet Of New Beginnings Chapter 20: "Devil's Guts"

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 20: "Devil's Guts"

[AO3]

Floriography: Parasite

Summary: The Keepers are *actually* teachers, and Halloween with the Helm of Urtkot.

An excerpt is under the cut as usual; the full fic is located in the AO3 link above!

Long before the sun rose, she opened the grandiose double doors to the Map Chamber. The two professors slid into their frames as if they were alerted to a visitor.

“Ah, Artemis. What a pleasant surprise,” greeted Professor Rackham.

“I presume you’re here regarding our previous discussion,” said Professor Rookwood.

Artemis nodded. Yesterday’s discoveries in Feldcroft hastened her need to learn as much as she could. It was clear they wanted her, at least partially, as a hunting dog. If the size of those drills were anything to go by, they were digging for something big.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We have come to a decision. With provisions, we will teach you how to hone your ancient magic.”

Artemis’ thumb subtly rubbed her scar. “Provisions, sir?”

“Yes,” started Professor Rookwood. “First, is that we decide which questions we will answer. Not to say we won’t in time, but it will depend on your trials. Second, what is taught here is to be kept between us.”

“The sole exception would be Professor Fig. There is an importance of a guiding hand,” added Professor Rackham. “Finally, we will expand on what you already know. Until you progress further in the trials, we will not teach you anything that is wholly new. Do you accept these conditions?”

It wasn’t as much as she’d like, but she’d take it. She was patient enough.

“Yes, sir.”

The professors nodded, and she was glad portraits could not read minds. She was going to take some creative liberty in comparing their teachings, the book’s contents and Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Good. I believe we should start with seeing what you can do.”

Professor Rackham waved his hand as the floor shook. The pointillistic stars lifted from their pooled map and formed a statuesque shape. Artemis whipped out her wand and had a hand on her legside bag.

“Do not worry; it will move and attack but won’t hurt you. After all, stars are a million miles away from us.”

“Percival…” deadpanned Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham chuckled. “Use both ancient magic and regular spells – I’d like to see it. Begin.”

For a statue made of pointillistic stars it moved abhorrently fast. She felt the arcane coolness wash through her as she dodged the sword sings and landed more than ten feet away silently. Silvery petals flitted as she brought forth the tempest. In this arena, she could see clearly how blips of ancient magic existed in the very air that surrounded her and how they wove together at the tip of her wand as it interwove with her standard spells. The oil paintings remained silent as she flung spell after spell with practiced footing.

When the stars returned to the black pool underneath, she looked back toward the portraits. Her heartrate was elevated, but her breathing was relaxed.

“Well. I daresay that was… impressive,” said Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham stroked his beard. “Allow me to confirm a theory. When was the first time you saw the silvery petals?”

“When I cast Protego,” answered Artemis.

“In what circumstance?”

“Ranrok’s troll tried to crush a boy in Hogsmeade.”

“I see,” said Professor Rackham. “You mentioned my ancient magic shimmered like stars before.”

“Yes, is that tied to our individual cores?” Artemis asked.

“Niamh is going to adore you,” commented Professor Rookwood.

“Correct. To start, our magical cores are different even among wizardkind. We weren’t able to research as thoroughly as Charles would’ve liked, but people like us have a few specific requirements for our magic to manifest.” Professor Rackham counted off his fingers. “A longer gestational period, a specific mixture of blood, and a powerful catalyst. The first is because we can naturally access the foundational levels of magic – latent or active. That is why when we use the same incantations and wand movements as others, the effects are slightly different. More diverse. We surmised this ability means that it takes double the time for the magical core to develop. This allows us to, for the lack of better term, soak up ancient magic around us and channel it into our spells.”

“The second,” said Professor Rookwood as he pulled out parchment, “is a specific mixture of blood. It is a theory, mind you… this ability only seemed to surface within half-bloods. Unless you would like to provide contrasting data?”

“I – frankly I don’t know my blood status, sir,” answered Artemis honestly. “Both my parents were magical, but status never came up in discussion.”

If true, then Artemis learned something new about her own lineage. She wondered who was which… not that it mattered in the end.

Professor Rookwood tutted. “Pity. I could’ve added to my notes.”

“Charles,” admonished Professor Rackham quietly. “Now, the most important – the catalyst. The gestation period, the blood – those are just the foundations. What our core needs to activate is an emotional trigger so the foundations can take root. Something profound, and it must be before the person turns sixteen.”

Artemis raised her hand out of habit. “So, there’s a chance there have been others like me, or, like us, within the past four hundred years? Just, they didn’t experience the catalyst?”

“Potentially, yes. There are many unknowns. I won’t ask of yours, but I can tell you, my catalyst… was seeing the most profound meteor storm and being completely swept in awe.”

She sucked in a breath. She knew exactly what hers was – the one-year mark when Leto and Kierston rescued her from the depths of limbo. It felt then, truly, that it was real, that they were there to stay, and she felt completely and utterly safe for the first time in years.

“The reason the catalyst is so important is because your instinctive ancient magic is tied to that trigger. Yours is, I dare say, something protective,” analysed Professor Rackham.

“The best defence is a good offense,” said Professor Rookwood.

“That tempest was a marvel, but you must learn how to control the power levels. I suggest practising by thinking of a single lightning bolt, and tempering the intensity. You will need both discipline and patience in yourself; it will not be resolved overnight. Now, I believe we’ve given you enough to digest for today. I suggest a bi-weekly visit; you will need to concentrate on your regular schooling as well,” said Professor Rackham.

“Wait, I have one more question, sir,” called out Artemis hurriedly as the portraits made to leave. She turned to Professor Rookwood. “It’s about the memory of Feldcroft. Were you able to wield ancient magic? Or did you augment Professor Rackham’s magic?”

The portraits exchanged a glance. Professor Rookwood sighed.

“I only tell you this because you’d piece it together on your own at this rate. Those of us who cannot see ancient magic cannot cast ancient magic out of nothing. But we can wield, and augment, existing pieces.”

Not ten minutes later, she sent out a letter to Professor Fig. An hour later, she sat in her designated arm chair within Professor Fig’s office with Nocturne in her lap. She spared no detail in what she’d discovered over the past two days.

Professor Fig fiddled with his scarf. “Intriguing. The fact there’s been a consistent Loyalists presence so close is disconcerting... as is the fact that it’s becoming more and more likely they’d repurposed existing ancient magic from somewhere. You did the right thing, to not engage them with Mr. Sallow.”

Artemis sighed as she sipped the warm chai. “Do you think it’s possible they’re… mining for more ancient magic? I can’t imagine the Keepers would leave ancient magic just lying about in the open.”

“Possibly. There is the matter of how they found out in the first place. With their generally reticent demeanour, I can’t imagine the Keepers left their findings in easily accessible places –”

“– Aside from Peeves,” they said in unison.

Artemis briefly smiled before her eyebrows furrowed. “Professor, is there anything we could do for Feldcroft? I just… Anne lives there and, well –”

“Considering Minister Spavin’s response about the dragon, I do not think we should bank on the front-line aurors,” said Professor Fig. “But perhaps I can call in a favour and see if patrols can be brought to the area. How is Miss Sallow?”

“She’s… unwell, but she’s trying. She’s agreed to Leto’s check-up; I’m currently waiting on his response,” answered Artemis.

The older wizard gave a small, comforting smile as he nodded. “And what about your friend? Richard Jackdaw, was it? He is helping clear up a murder case, yes?”

The grip around her cup tightened.

“Yes, but it going at a snail’s pace. It seems the Ministry is… reluctant, to release Ms. Thisbe. Citing her long stay in Azkaban and the danger she possesses to the community,” said Artemis, repeating Ms. Thistlewood’s latest missive. Nocturne’s tail swished.

“More like Azkaban made her dangerous,” sighed Professor Fig. “You’ll unfortunately find that, though there are plenty of good people that work at the Ministry – Leto, Kierston, and George to start – there are those that are not and only care for their self-interests.”

Artemis nodded as she sighed. Richard’s bones remained in the jewellery box inside her legside bag. She never parted with it; it was the safest place to keep ‘him’ until he came back. Nocturne’s and paper tongue licked her fingers.

“By the way, did you manage to meet Lodgok?”

“Not yet, sir. Sirona suggested I meet him on Halloween considering,” trailed off Artemis as she gestured to her hair. “Though, it may be best to go alone. He doesn’t trust wizards, and even with Sirona’s recommendation, he may not meet me. Especially with another person.”

Professor Fig looked at her with those English greys, and she could visualise the mental scales as he contemplated her suggestion.

“I presume this is what you would like to undertake during independent study?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Considering everything that is at stake… you will write to me if it will be longer?”

“Of course, sir,” answered Artemis.

Professor Fig gave a relieved smile. “Right. Now, I think it’s high time for breakfast. Then we can check on the lacewings for the Polyjuice.”

Because he's just such a cutie...enjoy!

i love the way you draw your sebastian !! i don’t know if this is weird to say but i can definitely imagine him having some stretch marks on his stomach or arms

THANK YOU! ♥️ and oh my god I love this little detail YES 😭 I had to implement this in a drawing

Sebastian fresh out of shower and wondering where the f are his clothes (his wife hid them)

"you've already left kudos here :)". AND WHAT? LET ME LEAVE THEM AGAIN BITCH. DON'T BE A COWARD.

Changed my brain chemistry, this work did <3

March 22, 2023 - March 22, 2024

One year ago to this day, I started writing Green is the Color. I fell in love with Hogwarts Legacy from the moment I played it, and found such a kindred spirit in Ominis that I wanted to honor the character by writing him a fic. Ofc, I didn't expect the fic to be 70 chapters long, but my I poured my entire heart and soul into the work, and I couldn't be happier that I did.

I'll also be posting GITC to Wattpad, one chapter each day.

Happy birthday to GITC. Happy birthday to my fic. Happy birthday to my MC Allegra, the creation of whom inspired me enough to get me out of a creative rut.

Thank you, too, to all the people who read my fic(s). You are always in my memory--I've never stopped thinking about the people who I share this beautiful, amazing fandom with!

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 22: Vine

Summary: Another nightmare, a conversation on Unforgivables, and a calmer introduction to the Undercroft.

Floriography: Connection & Friendship

Full Chapter: [AO3] //6.5k words

*There are trigger-warnings in this chapter. Below excerpt does not contain the items, but read carefully if reading the full chapter.*

Excerpt Below:

“Artie!”

Artemis looked up from the boathouse docks as her feet dangled above the Black Lake. Natsai came over with a few bottles of water and pumpkin juice in her arms.

“What are you reading?”

“Alice in Wonderland,” said Artemis as she slipped the purple hyacinth bookmark inside. “A fun read.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Natsai took a seat next to her. “Poppy said she’ll join after getting a few more snacks. I’m glad to see that you are doing better than last night, my friend.”

“Motion sickness is a bane.”

Natsai gave her a sympathetic look as she gestured toward the small basket. “How did you manage to bring lunch this early?”

“I made it,” answered Artemis plainly.

“You…made it?”

“I mean, it’s just throwing together sandwiches, but yes,” explained Artemis as she opened the small basket. Deek had been more than happy to get her the ingredients, especially after introducing him to all the beasts this morning. “Plus, I didn’t think our conversation would be good for the Great Hall.”

“True,” agreed Natsai. There was a pause. “So, about what you asked last night.”

“About you being a gazelle?”

“No, about my uniform,” said Natsai sarcastically as Artemis chuckled. “Yes, about being a gazelle. How did you know?”

“Poppy and I saw a gazelle hanging around the Hog’s Head. Frankly we thought Harlow’s poachers had brought the gazelle from Africa. Then I saw the gazelle melt and change into a person that looked like you, but then that would be barmy right? Because we were in the forest. But then you were actually there, and really, how many gazelles are running around Scotland,” said Artemis.

Natsai laughed brightly. “Of course, the first people to spot me is you. Does Poppy not know?”

Artemis shook her head. “She was facing me when you turned back. I’m assuming that’s magic?”

“Yes, yes,” laughed Natsai as she placed a hand on her chest. “I’m an animagus.”

“Animagus?”

Natsai nodded. “It’s a branch of self-transfiguration not often practised in Britain, and not taught at Hogwarts. It’s a complicated process, but I can change into a gazelle at will. Professor Weasley has… ‘gently discouraged’ me from it, or discussing about the subject since it’s considered dangerous here, but I find it freeing.”

“Sounds very handy, especially for a quick escape.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that,” said Natsai. “I’d been sneaking around the Hog’s Head more so recently but have been travelling around the forest since last year – it reminds me of when my father ran with me back in Matabeleland. My father transformed into the most beautiful giraffe.”

Artemis recognised grief like a glove. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” said Natsai. “It’s been a few years but, some days, it is harder than the others. Running as a gazelle helps me to feel closer to him.”

“Did you choose to become a gazelle?” Artemis asked as Natsai shook her head.

“Oh no. When you go through the process, you become the animal that represents your personality. My mother is convinced that my form is a gazelle because I adapt well to any situation. I believe it is because I can sense danger and keep my wits about me. I would appreciate it if we kept this between us. My mother and I are both registered because we need to be, but I’d rather not have everybody know.”

“Of course,” Artemis readily agreed. “But in return, could you show me some wandless magic? Just until Poppy comes.”

“Truly? Well, you’re easy to please,” teased Natsai as she pointed to Artemis’ book. “I can do better. I’ll teach you basic wandless magic, especially since you asked me to show you our first Charms class, and I’ve been neglecting you.”

“Really?” Artemis asked; she didn’t think her friend would teach her.

“Of course! Wandless magic isn’t too different aside from the obvious. There’s no spell that is tied to a particular hand gesture, but there are tendencies. Levioso.”

Natsai held her hand out, palm up, and gently curled her fingers as the book levitated from Artemis’ lap. Artemis watched with fascination as the Gryffindor did the same movement for Accio, and the book went into Natsai’s open hand.

“But because there’s more overlap, the intention becomes much more important, and knowing where your magic comes from. At Uagadou, before we learn how to cast magic, we learn how to gather magic into our palms. Like this.”

This time, she held both her palms up, and Artemis gasped mutely as she watched a ball of red with golden hues coagulate. It reminded her of the colour of the Secret Sharer. Natsai spun the magic as it floated and expanded, flicking like a fire before extinguishing it.

“Try it,” encouraged Natsai. “Hold your palms up like you’re cupping water. Then, concentrate getting your magic from your core to your palm, and hold it for as long as you can.”

“Um… any guidance on that, Professor Onai?”

Natsai guffawed. “Please don’t. I feel like my mother.”

Artemis rolled her eyes as she chuckled. “Teacher Natty?”

“Acceptable. When I first learned, I thought about the savannah and running. How my heart would pump, the golden beauty under the sun, and the freedom I felt. I imagined my heartbeat pumping the blood – and my magic – into my palms. Maybe something like that?”

Artemis hummed as she looked down at her hands – an illusion of matching, unmarred palms. Since Natsai’s magic was the same colour as the Secret Sharer, theoretically, hers would be as well. She closed her eyes slowly. She enjoyed running through the forests around home, but that didn’t seem right.

No, what it sounded like was the need to direct and control her magic. Maybe it was like preparing to plant the garden, to find the perfect bit of fertilised soil. To dig just enough to plant the bulb. The more she imagined her the process of planting through the Briar Greenhouse, the more she felt her magic tingle throughout her body; like it needed room to breathe. She imagined how she felt when she first stood at the greenhouse entrance with everything finally planted.

Breathe In. Two. Three. Four. Out. Two. Three Four.

As she breathed out, a cooling sensation coursed from her chest through her arms, and centred in her palms. Keeping the slow, controlled breathing, she opened her eyes and let out an elated gasp as a blob of iridescent blue-green shimmered with a silvery hue within her hands.

“That’s it Artie! You’re doing great!”

It only lasted for three seconds before the warble fizzled away, but Natsai clapped cheerfully.

“You did really well! Not many people can get it in the first try, and certainly not for that long. It gets easier with practise, I promise.”

“How long do I need to be able to keep it before moving onto spells?” Artemis asked.

Natsai hummed. “Our professors had us hold it for three minutes. Our first spell, by the way, was levioso.”

“I’ll keep working on it then,” agreed Artemis.

Natsai held up her fist; Artemis bumped hers.

“And I will help you of course.”

“Artemis! Natty! Sorry I’m late!” Poppy’s voice carried as Natsai and Artemis lifted their heads. In her arms was a large bag, undoubtedly filled with sweets. “The house-elves were really nice and gave us the rest of the Halloween desserts.”

Poppy sat to Artemis’ right with an excited huff, and Natsai chuckled from her left. With sandwiches and sweets in hand, the three started their cobbled outdoor picnic. The November air was crisp and cool, though it didn’t feel that way with the company kept.

“Highwing’s safe. The place I had in mind worked,” started Artemis.

Poppy beamed. “Really? What about the other hippogriff? And the thestral?”

“Them too.” Artemis nodded. “I can bring Highwing out anytime you’d like.”

“Thank you. Truly, both of you. Let me know if either of you ever need help.”

Natsai and Artemis both smiled.

A few moments of silence passed before Artemis brought up the question.

“The spell that Harlow casted… the one with the green light… it killed that owl, didn’t it?”

In the lake’s reflection, Artemis saw Natsai and Poppy both pause in their reverie as they looked at each other. A small fish popped above the surface momentarily.

“It’s called the Killing Curse,” started Poppy.

Artemis whipped her head toward her. “The what curse?”

“The Killing Curse,” sighed Natsai. “An Unforgivable.”

“… unforgivable…?”

“It’s a collection of three of the most powerful Dark curses,” continued Natsai. “We learned what they are last year, obviously just the name and what they do. The green one last night is the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. The effect is self-explanatory – instant, painless death.”

“There’s also the Imperius Curse and the Torture Curse. Imperius, or Imperio, puts the person completely under someone’s control. And the Torture Curse, Crucio, well… it’s also self-explanatory. Intense, excruciating pain,” explained Poppy.

The memory of the red crackling lightning by that Ashwinder as she cackled at the centaur’s pained screams flitted back. Artemis pressed her thumb against her scar and let the pain keep her steady – that witch had cast a torturing curse on the centaur.

“Who would make such spells?” Artemis managed to squeeze out.

Poppy huffed. “A medieval sadist. If you can believe it, they weren’t always illegal; they became illegal in 1717.”

“That’s less than 200 years,” pointed out Artemis.

“Morality took its time,” said Natsai bitterly. “They can’t be blocked, so you have to be able to stop the cast beforehand or dodge it. Otherwise… you suffer. Or, die.”

Poppy picked off a bit of her sandwich and threw it for the gathered fish. “The one good thing is that not everyone can cast Unforgivables. Because they’re so… you know, powerful, whomever casts it needs to have a high level of skill and willpower. Remember I said the creator was sadistic? The curses are more effective if the castor has a clear, deep desire to use it. They have to mean it. Mean that they want to hurt someone, want to control someone, want to kill someone.”

“What happens if someone casts it? Consequentially, that is.”

Natsai swallowed her sandwich bite. “Azkaban. Lifetime, plain and simple.”

“But only against humans. Apparently, they don’t count as ‘unforgivable’ if cast on beasts or other beings, like goblins,” spat Poppy.

Artemis blanched. So the witch cursing that centaur was legal? The Depulso she’d casted suddenly didn’t seem strong enough… not that the witch could do that anymore. An arrow to the neck tended to put a stopper to things.

“Is that… it?” Artemis held her hand up as both girls looked at her incredulously. “I mean. The effects are horrid, yes. But, does it hurt the caster? Other than their conscience, if they have a shred of it left. It just, it seems like it’s more than just morality and some degree of sadism that made it Unforgivable.”

Natsai and Poppy both looked at each other before Natsai sighed deeply.

“According to Professor Hecat, successfully casting an Unforgivable on a living soul damages the caster’s own soul and magical cores.”

“Like we said earlier, you have to mean it. That means it’s premeditated, and if we’re talking about the Avada, that’s premeditated murder,” finished Poppy.

Poppy’s acorn eyes were steeled, and she was subtly hugging herself. Artemis didn’t comment.