Sentire, a Hogwarts Legacy story

Chapter 7 - Unbreakable, Unforgivable

Sebastian,

Hope you are well. I am safe with Great Aunt Patricia. On paper, she is officially our guardian. She says to take care of the house and finish your studies at Hogwarts.

I am continuing my education with her, while she helps me with my condition. Seems like some of the family did not agree with Uncle. I never knew.

Please be good.

Anne

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In a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, Sebastian picked at his stovies while reading his sister's letter for the tenth time. Before the trio set off to Diagon Alley, a strange owl quietly dropped off the letter—a treasure and pain Sebastian hoped to keep to himself for a little while. Anne's letter was already folded and crumpled several times from Sebastian reading over and over; it was a bittersweet comfort, knowing his twin would still not reveal her location, but at least was safe. And most of all, it was a sign of hope—that Anne did not want to completely break off their connection.

Yet another thing also caught his attention: his extended family had disagreed with Solomon, a fact both him and his sister were completely oblivious to. The twins never met any of them, as their mother's family broke off all contact after she married their father. It was a taboo topic, especially after Sebastian and Anne abruptly moved to Feldcroft after their parents' passing. Why did Aunt Patricia decide to step in only after Solomon was gone?

"What is the Ministry doing? They should toss the girl in Azkaban!"

Sebastian guessed any more questions about his family were to wait until later. At the table next to him, a loud older couple were reading the Daily Prophet, with the husband clearly several pints deep. Even though the place was bustling with customers, the man's voice carried louder than the crowd.

"Lock the key! Throw the cell!" the husband slurred out of his mouth. His wife tried to shush him down. "She's a kid! No older than our Georgie." Waving his wife away while forcing his face into another swig of his drink, he snarled out "But George ain't a killer."

Sebastian and Ominis spent the entire summer making sure Terra never read the Daily Prophet. The articles were unkind at best, violently slanderous at worst. They gave her the nickname "Little Hit Witch" for her vigilantism in stopping Rookwood and Ranrok. At first there was much praise for her actions, calling her a hero for saving the Wizarding world. But overtime, the stories grew twisted and much less truthful. More "first-hand accounts" claimed Terra was messing with the Dark Arts, blood sacrifices, and who knows what. Sebastian knew best it was all rubbish; she may have learned all the Unforgivables, but she was also the one who desperately tried to get him to leave the relic alone, and dissuaded him from continuing the Dark Arts altogether. Of course he did not listen, but that's a separate matter.

"What do you know? The Prophet's been following her trail for weeks. Yet the Ministry sits on its hands," the husband flailed in his brazenly drunk state. The wife chortled, lightly slapping her husband's arm and moving his mug away as he pulled for another swig. "What trail? Prophet's turned into a bunch of howlbaloo. Remember that rubbish article on thestrals?"

A seemingly, equally drunk passerby, sporting a stylish navy vest and skirt ensemble, had stumbled into the couple's conversation. "Oh, I know that one! Prophet claimed if you killed a spider, you could see a thestral. Got that one wrong they did!" the woman stammered into a hiccup. The wife was grateful to be recognized by the stranger. "See, Alistair? Thanks deary, it's so hard to get this man to see straight. Or stand." The wife pulled her begrudging husband over her shoulders to head towards the exit.