Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 - The unwanted son
The summer of 1885 was ending the same way it did every year: low thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance, winds blowing colder each passing days, birds getting agitated ahead of their new migration. From the window, Ominis missed none of the signs that summer was ending. The view from the manor dominated his family's entire estate, which they have owned for many generations. Their land lot would stretch far, far away, almost as far as the eye can see. This notion has always intrigued him, for he couldn't see any horizon, or any land. Ominis didn't sit at his window watching the trees swaying in the gusts or the sky turning amber. His world was a world of scent, touch and sound.
Ominis was blind. Sitting in his chair with his back straight, his hands resting on his legs and his dark-blond hair neatly pulled back, he let himself being lulled by the rustling of the bushes around the manor’s esplanade or the chirping of the titmice in the oak tree of the central courtyard. His attention was also focused on the sounds coming from inside the manor. He could decipher several voices muffled by the thick walls coming from the first floor. Visits to the manor were more frequent at this time of year, most of the visitors being investors, who have come to discuss business with his father, the estate's owner, at the start of the accounting year. And more visits meant more time locked upstairs.
His father, Marvolo Gaunt, was a proud man. Proud of his business, proud of his family and, above all, proud of his name. Ominis knew all to well that the house of Gaunt was one of the most recognized wizarding families in England, not only in the production and trade of magical plants, highly prized potion-making ingredients, but also their magical history. He was constantly reminded his family traced its origins back to the most ancestral of wizards, whose magical exploits have shaped the wizarding world as it is today, making their pure blood a treasure to be conserved down the ages, and their name a reputation not to be tarnished under any circumstances.
He lowered his head at that last thought, his rigid back breaking with a sigh. This reason, among others, explained why he rarely left this room. Spending time in the gardens, going to the nearby town of Little Hangleton, or even settling in one of the ground-floor rooms would mean exposing himself to eventual foreign eyes, something his father would prefer to avoid. Even if Ominis was known to be the family's youngest child, the sight of a cripple, whose body is as weak and fragile as a house elf, on their property wouldn’t exactly serve what his father called "preserving the family image". All these reasons lead to Ominis being discarded in this room at the drop of a hat.
He hated it here. Although it beared his name, Gaunt Manor was not his home, and Ominis would never consider it as such. He's always lived with his aunt, where he had spent his entire childhood and received his entire education. So when his guardian's obligations brought them within these ancestral walls, whether for a few days or a few weeks, he's never thrilled. The manor seemed to have a negative effect on him, as if it was making it clear that he wasn't welcome here. He never felt comfortable within its walls, the residents (he couldn't bring himself to call them family) were as welcoming as tombstones and the sleeping was awful (he never has nightmares at his aunt's house). In other words, he didn't feel at home in the land of his ancestors.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he picked up faint sounds of footsteps on the other side of his door.
"You can come in," he said, straightening his back again, before Putsy even had time to knock. Nonetheless, he heard the sound of three small knocks on the wooden door, followed by a slight creak of hinges.
"Putsy apologizes, Master. Putsy... would never enter the young Master's room without letting her presence known."
"Of course." the boy replied, shaking his head gently. "Come closer."
All his thoughts have made him lose track of time, although he now clearly remembered hearing the clock in the corridor striking half-past-three. Putsy gently closed the door behind her, then approached him in short strides, her bare feet barely audible on the thick carpet. He recognized the faint wheeze of her breathing as she stopped in front of him the same way he could clearly hear the sound of her garment rubbing at each of her moves.
"You can sit down while you read, if you feel like it."
"Putsy wouldn't... abuse the Master's generosity."
Putsy was one of the four servants of the Gaunt family. She was a house elf, a creature commonly found as house attendants of the greatest wizarding families. Despite their small size and puny bodies, house elves were endowed with magical powers that enable them to perform tasks more efficiently than a normal wizard would (Ominis never got tired of the sparks that sounds whenever Putsy disappeared to move to another room). Docile and helpful by nature, house elfs would serve powerful families their whole life. Only the gift of a garment could free an elf from its servitude, whether willing or forced, during which their outfit was rarely more than a shred of cloth. Even though he was only 12, Ominis knew that Putsy was barely half his size, from the distance of her voice and breathing.
Putsy was the elf who looked after him the most when he was staying at the manor. She was perhaps the only one who cared for him, aside from his aunt, who was currently attending the guests downstairs. Putsy was always there when he needed her. She was the one who prepared his food, made his bed or opened doors on his way. Because Ominis was blind, one would think he was admirable at remembering his surroundings, but he was not familiar enough with the Manor corridors to remember them all (it wasn't as if he could have wandered them at will). Just another reason to loathe this place, where every nook and cranny seemed designed to be unfriendly to his inability.
For the past few days, Putsy had been meeting him every afternoon to read him a few pages from a book he particularly likes: " Muggle Daily Routine ". Ominis didn't know how long he had been in possession of this book, but he never refrained from having it read to him over and over again. A strange fascination, when comparing to the other Gaunts and their obsession with their blood purity. This had rendered them hateful towards Muggles, magic-free individuals, who lived in a world almost parallel to their own, where witchcraft was only seen as fantasy. The Gaunts were known to shamelessly despise these ordinary people.
Ominis often thought that his love for this book perhaps came as a way to defy this family, that showed him nothing but disdain and disgust, as it goes at the opposite of what they value and respect. He often empathized with Muggles too. Although he had potential, Ominis had never been very good at practicing magic. He was nowhere near the standards of the Gaunts or the other great families for his age. In other circumstances, he would certainly have shown encouraging signs of magic by now, which would have been welcomed as glimpses of power in any important wizard family. In fact, he often felts of himself as less of a wizard than a newly magic-introduced Muggle (despite what his family may be thinking, Muggles DO develop magical abilities in very rare cases, as stated in the introduction to " Muggle Daily Routine "). A proper or thorough education in magic remained the best way to develop one’s magical skills, but Ominis had little to no hope of ever being admitted to a school of magic, certainly not with his blindness in the way.
Time and again, he had asked his aunt about his difference: why were his body and magic so weak despite coming from such a powerful bloodline of wizards? Why couldn't he see like everyone else could? She often told him that he was answering his first question when asking the second: surely his magical potential was only slowed as his body was too busy to compensate for his blindness on a daily basis. And when it came to understanding the latter, his aunt's only explanation was that it was meant to happen, that fate made it that way, and that he had nothing to be ashamed of: everyone is endowed with their own differences, as consequential as they might be.
Ominis realized he'd gone back into his thoughts when Putsy's little voice pulled him out of his trance.
"Putsy is waiting patiently for the Master to hand over the book."
"Oh, my apologies, Putsy," Ominis replied, grabbing the book, which he had left on the windowsill the day prior. Putsy would never dare to hold any of her Masters' precious items without their permission, and Putsy knew how much the young Master valued this book. She also can't help but let out a quiet sob, as she did every time her Master showed her respect, as unfortunately, not all Gaunts would do the same.
Once the book had been handed over, Ominis leaned back against the chair, hoping the next chapter will shake him out of his gloomy thoughts.
The reading session was interrupted by the faint sound of a chime. Ominis didn't know how long he's been listening to Putsy, but it has already been several minutes since he felt the warmth of the sun leave his face. It was almost dinner time.
"If the master will excuse Putsy. Putsy has lot of work to do in the kitchens." She closed the book and placed it on Ominis' already open hands. He thanked her with a nod and with a snap of her fingers, vanished in a spark.
Silence has returned in the cooling room, now that the sun had disappeared behind the hills. Ominis remained seated for a moment, before he decided to inspect the book he still had in his hands. After all these years, he knew every bit of it, every rough edge, every detail. This book had always been in a sorry state. Its thick cover was flayed in places, and some of the pages towards the front of the book showed traces of dried dampness. The book opened with the sound of old tree bark cracking, and when turning every page, Ominis felt as if he was crumpling hay. To some extent, he often thought this book was a bit like him. It seemed to have no place among the other brand-new books in the manor. Anyone would have gotten rid of such a wreck of paper, but not him. Even in this state, the book still served its purpose to him. So at times, he comforted himself with the idea that despite his condition, he could still serve a purpose as well.
Someone came up the stairs and was coming his way. Ominis hurriedly closed the book, afraid that his father, or worse, his brother, would catch him red handed reading on Muggles. But when two small knocks sounded on the door, he immediately recognized who it was.
"It's me, Noctua," announced his aunt while entering.
Ominis relaxed and smiled in her direction. He followed the sound of her footsteps to him, where she knelt down, gently taking his hands.
"I hope you're not too bored ? Were you reading the book again ?" she asked, stroking his hands with her thumbs.
Ominis nodded. "We've reached the chapter on cooking."
"Oh how ingenious Muggles are when it comes to cooking. It's not much different from our magical concoctions after all, but what’s fascinating to me are the tools they use. But, I guess you already know all of that."
Ominis was really lucky that Aunt Noctua was so kind to him. He sometimes wondered if she really was from the same family as his father, given their very different views and behavior, especially towards Muggles. Surprisingly, Noctua seemed to find them fascinating, while Marvolo only saw them as insignificant as insects. No doubt Ominis got open-minded about them by growing up with her, much to the annoyance (or indifference) of the other Gaunts. But it would'nt matter, as this was just another line in his family's list of reproaches they have toward him.
Ominis flipped aimlessly through his book, his pale and unfocused eyes lowered before him. He couldn't wait to pack up his things and leave Little Hangleton, to return to the comfort of his aunt's home.
"When do we go back to Brightview?" he asked softly.
"Soon. Your father has a lot to deal these past days and needs my help. A little more patience."
Ominis didn’t respond to this, his fingers continuing their dance between the pages, when they suddenly froze on one of them. It was strangely rigid, and unusually thick. How odd. At first, he thought he'd stumbled across the bookmark, which he would have moved under his fingers without noticing, but it was far too wide. The object clearly hadn't been there a second earlier.
"What is it?" asked Noctua, whose attention turned to the book as well.
Ominis opened it and felt the strange page detached from the rest. He inspected it with his fingertips. The object was a folded sheet, its corners joined at the center, held in place by a patch of wax. It was a sealed envelope.
"By Merlin!" exclaimed Aunt Noctua, nearly knocking the letter from Ominis's hands in surprise.
"What's...what is it?"
"Oh Ominis, that's wonderful!" she continued, a smile in her voice. "It's a letter from Hogwarts!"
Ominis eyes widened. He took the letter in both hands. He couldn't believe it. Hogwarts was the most important and renowned school of magic and wizardry in the whole of England.
"Give it to me, so I can read it to you!" hurried Noctua excitedly. Ominis complied, stunned, his body strangely shaking. The front of the letter read:
to Ominis Gaunt,
"Muggle Daily Life", page 337,
Gaunt Manor, Little Hangleton.
Ominis couldn't suppress a stunned gasp. He didn't know how to react, between trepidation and apprehension.
"They’ll never fail to amaze me," chuckled Noctua, almost as excited as if the letter was intended for her. She delicately detached the seal, unfolded the paper and hastened to tell him the contents, when "Huh?" The letter fell out of her hands. Ominis didn't hear it fall to the carpet though, for the letter had started to levitate, before it recited :
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF MAGIC AND WITCHCRAFT
Principal: Phineas Nigellus Black (Order of Merlin, International Confederation of Wizards)
Ominis's eyes widened even more. The letter was speaking to him.
"How considerate. They thought of sending you a Reciter." Noctua smiled. The voice was feminine, slightly gravelly, but very benevolent. She continued:
"Dear Ominis Gaunt,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. In regard of your situation, I will meet you personally at Hogsmeade station this day, to determine whether or not certain arrangements need to be made for you. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours faithfully
Matilda Weasley,
Deputy Headmistress"
When the reciting was complete, the letter folded back on itself and fell gently to the ground. Ominis was at a loss for words. He couldn't believe what he had heard. So then, he wasn't as hopeless as he had always thought? Was he really being invited to join Hogwarts? Warm arms suddenly hugged him.
"Oh, my little Ominis, I'm so proud of you ! I've always knew this day would come. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful wizard once you graduate at Hogwarts."
Ominis slowly embraced her back, unable to prevent a big smile from forming on his lips. Noctua took one of his hands and invited him to stand.
"Come, dinner is almost ready. We must inform the others of such a great news!"
Ominis's smile disappeared at once at this sentence. Carried away by his aunt, it was certainly one of the few times Ominis showed hesitation at the idea of leaving this room.
Ominis Gaunt - 1885