Scriptorium · Y/n story by @Roaster

The scriptorium was cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. Dust hung suspended in the faint green glow of enchanted torches, the air thick with the weight of centuries.

Ominis Gaunt

his voice tight, barely above a whisper We shouldn't be here. He pressed his palm flat against the carved serpent on the wall, feeling along its scales with trembling fingers. My aunt—she never came back from this place.

The door behind them groaned, stone grinding against stone. Then, with a final, echoing thunk, it sealed shut. The torches flickered, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Sebastian Sallow

a breathless laugh, though it lacked his usual bravado Well. That's—that's fine. There's probably another way out. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the shelves of ancient tomes and the snake-carved pillars that loomed like silent sentinels. Right?

Ominis Gaunt

ran a hand along the wall, his blind eyes narrowing No. He swallowed hard. There's only one way out of the scriptorium. His wand trembled in his grip. And it's not a door.

The central pedestal pulsed with a low, malevolent hum. Letters began to etch themselves into the stone surface, one by one, glowing a sickly red. The message was simple. The price of escape was not gold, not blood—but pain.

Sebastian Sallow

stepped closer, reading the words aloud "Only through suffering shall the way open." He turned to Ominis, his brow furrowed. What does that mean?

Ominis Gaunt

his jaw tightened, his face pale in the torchlight It means we're trapped. His voice cracked, just barely. And someone here is going to have to cast the Cruciatus Curse.