The Call of the Void (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

II: R u m o r s

Sebastian grumbles, pressing the lower half of his face into his palm as he rests his elbow on the table. He keeps his eyes on the text, but he isn't reading, especially when Grace and Violet return to their blathering.

"I heard there's to be a new student at Hogwarts this year."

"There are new students every year."

"Yes, but this one is starting as a fifth year."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, not that he means to eavesdrop, but it isn't like they are whispering.

"A transfer student then," Imelda, to his right, decides to join in on the conversation. Reyes isn't typically one for rumors either, but it seems her curiosity is piqued.

Grace shakes her head. "My father, you know he works at the Ministry, he said that she only received their owl this summer."

"She?" Violet and Imelda seek to clarify.

"Mmhm," Grace nods, obviously enjoying being the momentary center of attention, the one to share such important information. "A farmgirl, so I'm told. Can you believe it? She's a muggleborn."

If Grace meant to whisper the last word, she'd done a piss-poor job. Sebastian frowns into his palm at the various disapproving expressions on his house-mates faces. Even though he is a so-called pureblood wizard, he's never been one to form an opinion of someone based on their blood status or family name. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for many of his classmates, raised up to ostracize anyone who goes against the status quo.

"Great," an older boy seated next to Violet murmurs. One of the Malfoy boys, always quick to share a bigoted opinion. "Another mudblood."

The derogatory word rings in Sebastian's ears, but doesn't seem to bother the others. He clenches his teeth, staring down at his book until the word magicae becomes more foreign than it already is.

"How fun," this time it is one of Black's sons, grinning like the devil himself. At the other's speculative looks, he continues with a laugh. "Muggleborns are fun to break if you catch my meaning. They haven't a clue about wizarding society, and thus are so easy to seduce and scandalize," he explains. "They make the best virgins."

"Oh, will you please just shut up!"

It isn't until the group is staring at him that Sebastian realizes he's said anything. His outburst seems to surprise even Ominis, whose eyebrows are raised in alarm. He flounders for a moment, muttering something about indecency that goes ignored. This time, he tunes out their chatter with a sigh.

Crude as their discussion is—not that he wants to call it a discussion—it isn't like Sebastian hasn't thought about...well, what hot-blooded, puberty-stricken teenage boy doesn't think about sex? He isn't naive enough not to notice the changes to his body and mind, and how the other girls in his year and above are more alluring than usual. His education on the matter is as secondhand as his other extra-curricular research, though the restricted section has some tantalizing selections, enough to fill his imagination and keep him sated, for now.

It simply isn't a priority to snog or shag, not now. Finding a cure for Anne is far more important than bedding someone. Besides, it isn't like he has a line of potential romp-mates waiting in a queue. Not that he has a poor self-worth, but Sebastian can't see himself being on any of his classmates' lists as a potential suitor, let alone someone to fumble around with in some secret part of the castle. He has too many burdens and is perhaps, at the end of the day, just plain weird.

"Well if she's starting in her fifth year, she can't be that talented," Imelda says, and as rude as the comment is, Sebastian is almost inclined to agree. Most witches and wizards gain their magic in adolescence. For he and Anne, they were nine, making toads float in the family garden. "Wait, is that...her?"

Distracted by the conversation, none at the Slytherin table (except perhaps Ominis, with his wand to see for him) noticed Headmaster Black's abrupt disappearance and return to the Great Hall. More than a few paces behind him is Professor Fig, followed by a girl. Everyone, including Sebastian, sits up a little straighter in an attempt to catch a glimpse, but it isn't until she's at the front dais that her form is visible.

"Merlin," Imelda whispers. "She looks petrified!"

Sebastian is intrigued enough that he inspects the girl as well as he can from where he's sitting. The farmgirl, as Grace so eloquently called her, admittedly does look worse for wear. Her pale-blond hair is disheveled and the standard house-robe seems to weigh her down. As she's instructed to sit on the rickety stool to be sorted, it's obvious to see her hesitation. Her wide eyes stare out into the sea of unfamiliar faces and—

"Has she been crying?"

"She looks like a wet kneazle!"

Grace and Violet lean into each other in a lame attempt to mute their amusement. Sebastian glares at them, biting his tongue to prevent another outburst. He can't help but think back to the first time he ever arrived at Hogwarts with Anne, the two unwilling to let go of one another's hand until they were forced apart to be sorted. She had gone first, claiming her birthright as the older twin (and alphabetically came first anyway), and was quickly sorted into Slytherin. Sometimes Sebastian wonders if the Hat showed him some mercy by sorting him into the same house so they wouldn't be separated.

Cruel fate would see to that.

"Better be...Hufflepuff!"

The sudden cheers from the other side of the hall pull him from his melancholy thoughts. So the new fifth-year is a Hufflepuff? The badgers cheer for their newest addition, and Sebastian thinks it is for the best—a nervous chit like her wouldn't last a day in Slytherin, or Gryffindor for that matter. As she slowly makes her way to sit with her new housemates, Headmaster Black continues his speech as if the interruption never happened. Imelda curses and almost stands to loudly disagree when it's announced that Quidditch is canceled, but Nerida Roberts tugs her back down.

Curiosity has Sebastian flicking his gaze through the throng of students, locating the new girl where she is seemingly making awkward conversation with Poppy Sweeting and Lenora —Merlin help her.

Ominis leans a fraction closer. "I believe her name is Sloane."

"Sloane?" Sebastian repeats. Ominis nods once, providing nothing more. "Hmm."

He shrugs, sparing one last look at the Hufflepuff table before finally refocusing on his book.

The new fifth-year—Sloane—is of little consequence to him.