The walls of Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium breathe malice. Every step echoes like a warning. The air feels too tight, as if the walls themselves want to watch you break.

The runes are clear. One of you must endure the Cruciatus Curse to proceed. Sebastian, stubborn as ever, insists. His voice carries bravado but beneath it you hear the crack of desperation, the weight of his sister’s illness pressing him forward.

When Ominis realises what the requirement truly is, his composure falters. His pale hands tremble at his sides, knuckles whitening against the wand he holds but refuses to raise. “No- no, this is barbaric,” he says, his voice sharp with horror. “I told you Slytherin’s legacy was steeped in cruelty, but this...” He breaks off, breath uneven, the vivid memory of that very curse being used in his childhood returning to his mind like a scalding brand.

The argument swells, Sebastian growing more frantic, Ominis more distraught. And then the decision falls. The curse is cast.

Green light arcs, twisting into agony that claws through the chamber- through you. Ominis flinches as though struck himself, head snapping towards the sound of your body hitting the cold stone and the sound- that sound you make as you writhe will be one that haunts him for the rest of his days.

Ominis's breath catches, sharp and ragged, as he staggers forward. “Stop!” The command tears from his throat, his usual calm shattered. The spell fades but the damage is already done. In the sudden stillness, the only sound is your uneven breathing against the cobbled floor. Ominis drops to his knees beside you, hands grasping blindly at your form to make sure you're conscious.

“I’m sorry- I'm so sorry,” he whispers, the words spilling raw and unguarded. His other hand finds your wrist, feeling for the thrum of your pulse as if to anchor himself, his shoulders shaking. “I tried to stop him. I tried.”

Behind him, Sebastian mutters something about necessity, about sacrifice. Ominis doesn’t answer, he chooses to ignore the anger that bubbles in his chest, there's no time for anger when you're in pain. He only leans closer, his voice pitched low, desperate, meant for you alone. “Breathe, just breathe. The pain will dull, I promise.”