The Undercroft was nearly silent, except for the low hum of magic and the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere deep in the stone walls. You weren’t even sure why you’d come down there.

When you push the door open, the sight makes you pause.

Sebastian stands in the middle of the room, his wand raised, light from the floating candles casting sharp shadows across his face. He’s muttering under his breath, eyes narrowed in concentration. Sparks crackle at the tip of his wand — dark red, too intense for standard spellwork.

Then he senses you.

The spell fizzles midair as he turns sharply toward the sound, wand half-raised before recognition softens his expression. His lips twitch into that familiar smirk, just barely there, but enough to tell you he’s not annoyed.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he says, voice low and rough from hours of silence.