Chapter Text
It started as a gloriously ordinary, autumnal morning. Light tumbling in from the infinite ceiling of the Great Hall in perfect beams, falling onto the four long, food-laden tables, slowly filling with students readying themselves for a new day. There was nothing about it to suggest the dark shadow that threatened just around the corner.
The first hint was the headmaster, Professor Phineas Nigellus Black, marching with irritable intent through the Great Hall doors towards the Slytherin table. Sebastian Sallow frowned as he watched their headmaster make a beeline for him, ignoring the hushed, slightly confused, whispers that followed directly in his wake. What had the librarian told on him about now? It had been at least four days since he’d set foot in the restricted section. He screwed his nose up, ok three, technically, if you counted past midnight as-
‘Mr Gaunt, a word, in the courtyard, if you please.’
Sebastian blinked, looked over to his friend sat opposite, mid sip of his usual morning tea, halted by the crisp, over pronounced words uttered to him. Ominis lowered the cup slowly, blinking owlishly in the direction of Professor Black as he did so, his lips pursing into a thin line.
‘Quickly now… you know your father doesn’t approve of being made to wait.’
The cup clattered the last few inches to the saucer, tea slopping over the side, splattering the table. The headmaster hummed, turned, retreating away, the background chatter already starting up again. Sebastian watched as Ominis clenched and relaxed his jaw in quick succession a few times.
‘Don’t follow. I’ll come find you later.’ He said stiffly, his voice lower. He turned and swung his legs gracefully out from under the table, standing as his wand tip illuminated red in the familiar way it always did in guidance. Sebastian chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously as thoughts entered his mind. It would be…unfair? Unethical, maybe, to snoop. To follow, in secret, just to quench his inquisitive nature into the mystery and mystique that was Mr Gaunt. Anne would have. Without a seconds thought. Still would, Sebastian thought bitterly. It was enough to spur him on, wrench him into a standing position, watching as Ominis trudged with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man. Cramming the last square of buttery toast into his mouth, brushing his fingers on the edge of his robes to free the crumbs, he walked as quietly as he could, aware the general noise of the hall would all but render him noiseless.
‘SEBASTIAN’ Came a happy, chirpy call. Sebastian felt his eyes close slowly. He turned, smiling, Poppy Sweeting rising from her seat, waving him over. He glanced over at Ominis’ retreating form, already at the door, pushing it open, sliding out like a will-o-wisp, the door snapping silently shut behind him.
‘I forgot to say, Professor Howin asked me, well sent an owl actually, lovely little spotted owlet it was, to tell you, she’s not angry… per se, but using confringo on the pumpkins in the grounds makes such a mess and-’
‘I’m really sorry Poppy, just, hold that thought a moment, I have to…’ He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile, and not the deranged grimace of a man-on-a-mission. If her replying smile was anything to go by, it was the first.
‘You have butter-’ She motioned to her own nose with a forefinger.
He turned, swiping his face as he collided bodily with the new fifth year, who let out a yelp of surprise. He peered up at them. They were holding their wand aloft, its tip lit brightly with lumos, a moth whirling around it, as it were the most normal thing to be doing first thing on a Thursday morning.
‘Sebastian, how wonderful to see you.’ He gave them a glancing once over. Today they had donned a simply atrocious purple-paisley cap and a pair of obscenely quirky newt-eye goggles, obscuring their own eyes from view. At least, he supposed, they were wearing their uniform today, not some fashion disaster throwback from the 1860’s, although it appeared no one had informed them yet that only actual prefects were supposed to wear a prefect’s vest.
‘I’m looking for some missing gobstones.’ Because of course they were. Why not? ‘If you happen to see any about, do let me know.’ With a flash of their brilliant smile, they turned and sped off without further commentary. It seemed, Sebastian thought fondly, they were incapable of walking anywhere, instead preferring to run, as if even the most mundane of tasks simply couldn’t wait the extra seconds it would take to achieve it at a more respectable pace. Still, they were always graciously amenable to helping a friend out. Sebastian didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth when it came to accepting assistance in finding the cure for Anne.
Thankfully free of further interruptions he jogged the rest of the hall. The antechamber was empty as he entered, an almost musical tinkling to his left informed him someone, somewhere was busily earning Ravenclaw house points, and before breakfast was even over, the teachers pet.
He pushed his way into the reception hall, grateful for the unusual lack of anyone milling around except a few hovering ghosts gliding towards the grand staircase, deep in conversation which ended abruptly as they disappeared through the adjacent wall. Casting a deft disillusionment charm as he shimmied through the slightly ajar entrance hall doors, he crept along the edge of the parapets lining the viaduct courtyard. The familiar lilt of the headmasters voice was drifting across the open space, the same self-important voice he used when addressing the student body, rare as it was. Sebastian tiptoed forward, bent double, until all four figures came into view, using a partially blasted fallen column, a victim to a midnight duel no doubt, to remain out of sight.
The headmaster was leaning casually on one bent elbow against a stack of barrels, a delivery stored in a slightly out of the way nook near the winding stairs that led down to the boathouses, gesturing wildly with his other, as he rambled on, Sebastian only catching the end of the anecdote, something about the minister of magic it seemed. Ominis stood stiffly next to him, wand held limply to his side. The other two, well, Sebastian vaguely remembered his older brother, Marvolo, in his seventh year to their first, mostly avoiding the embarrassment of possibly being seen with his little brother, far too prestigious for anything so familial. He was still slightly shorter than Ominis despite his seniority in age, as broad and stocky as Sebastian remembered, in a rather oafish way that distantly reminded him of the troll he had fought in Hogsmede. His eyes were dark and cruel, set back, making it look like he was perpetually squinting. The other figure was unknown, but instantly apparent.
In all eventualities, and a cruel twist of irony, it looked like Ominis was maturing to resemble his father closely. Mr Gaunt was tall, lean and, if Sebastian looked at it objectively, handsome; in all his pale, angular, coldness. They shared the same mouth, same high cheekbones, same long fingered hands even.
‘To what pleasure do I owe this rendezvous, Father?’ Ominis asked as the headmaster ended his ramblings, a slight nervous edge to his otherwise level tone, one Sebastian could only pick up on account of having spent the best part of four years living with him in close proximity.
‘You are betrothed. We have found a most suitable and agreeable match, her parents have enthusiastically accepted. It is a great honour, after all, to join the legacy that is the House of Gaunt.’
‘Oh.’ Ominis sounded far away, in shock probably. Sebastian certainly was. Betrothed? What a far-fetched concept.
‘Oh indeed, how wonderful, Malus. Anyone I know?’ Phineas clapped his hands together, the question hanging limply in the air. Malus turned with a raised eyebrow, as though questioning why he was still present.
‘Lucilin Black. Your cousin, I believe? Or is it the sister who lives near Toulouse?’
Phineas shrugged nonchalantly.
‘Same person.’
Malus turned back to his youngest son, unfazed.
‘She’s in her final year at Durmstrang, once your winter term is over we will be holding an engagement banquet where you will enter an unbreakable vow with her.’
‘I have no intention of marrying Miss Black,’ Ominis spoke up, slightly desperate, as though only just processing the conversation. ‘I-’
The resounding and unexpected back-handed slap Malus gave Ominis across his cheek sounded like a whip-crack, reverberated off the stone pillars. Sebastian watched his friend stretch his jaw against the offence, his cheek already blooming with mottled colour. Malus grabbed Ominis’ cheeks with one hand, fingers digging in like hippogriff talons, wrenching them up to peer into his son’s clouded eyes, expression twisting into sudden fury, ignoring the fingers ineffectually clawing at the hand clamped to his face.
‘No intention? You say that like you have a choice in the matter. You are a part of this family whether you like it or not, and you will start to act like it, whether you like it or not. I’ve tolerated enough of your rebellious dalliances while at this school, ignored every time you denounce our name and lineage, when you refuse to show your face over the holidays as if we are beneath you. Well, I’ve overlooked them long enough. You will be married the following summer once you come of age.’
Phineas coughed slightly, drawing the attention of the two elder family members as he spoke.
‘Not that it’s any of my business… but, come now, ought young Mr Gaunt here have some sort of…eh…opinion in this? He’s a stellar student, a shining example of pure blood royalty, a bright future ahe-’ His voice petered out under the combined heavy stares of Malus and Marvolo.
‘You are, of course, most correct.’ Malus said harshly, Sebastian felt himself wince as the headmaster eyed Malus cautiously. ‘It is none of your business. Ominis is my son, and he will do as I see fit.’
Malus turned his head back, pursed his lips, as if deciding on something, and in a sudden flurry he let go of his son’s face, pulled his wand from seemingly out of nowhere, and pressed the tip gently into Ominis’ cheek.
The air changed palpably, the walls of the courtyard closing in, the shadows darkening, lengthening despite the rising sun overhead. Marvolo started grunting, no, laughing, cruel and deep, flicking his eyes between his father and brother with obvious excited anticipation. Sebastian felt himself chewing at his lip nervously, wringing his hands in nervous uselessness. He wanted to call out, to warn him, RUN, pointless as it was.
‘Who are you?’ Malus said, low and dangerous into Ominis’ ear.
Ominis mumbled.
‘Who are you?’
Sebastian wondered if Ominis could feel the almost deranged look that his father was boring into the side of his face, hopeful he couldn’t. The wand tip pressed deeper.
‘The snake within.’ Came his voice, surprisingly steady.
‘Say it.’ Malus seethed between bared teeth.
Silence.
‘So easily you dishonour your legacy. Let me remind you of the consequences.’
Malus pressed his wand harder still, hard enough to force Ominis head back and to the side slightly, baring his pulsing neck. His eyes went wide in surprise, his jaw clenching. Sebastian felt his heart skip a beat, a sense of dread melted like wax down his back, tingling in his toes. Surely someone, anyone, could do something if only they walked by, preferably Professor Weasley or Hecat, hell even Professor Sharp would do.
‘Father-’ Came his voice, small, open and pleading. A begging in one word.
Malus’ voice in reply was hollow, now devoid of emotion, and all the crueller for it.
‘Crucio.’
His scream pierced the air, echoes bouncing off the stone walls, sending the hairs on the back of Sebastian’s neck to attention. The headmaster’s eyes bulged, almost comically so in any other context, and he took an involuntary step towards Ominis, then back as he eyed Malus fearfully, who was staring at his son with a detached, almost bored look, wand still aloft, red light circling out the tip of his wand, twisting its tendrils around Ominis like flames. His spine curled, wand clattering away uselessly as his fingers spasmed and scrabbled on thin air, trying and failing to find purchase, body convulsing. He fell to his knees, heavily with a dull thud, now letting out a series of almost inhuman whines.
The spell stopped almost as abruptly as it had started.
Ominis pitched forward, barely holding himself up on visibly shaking hands and knees, chest heaving as he panted like a workhorse, head held limply between tensed shoulders, hair flopping with gravity, obscuring his features.
Marvolo was laughing again, manically. Sebastian closed his damp eyes, feeling bile rise in his throat. He had heard Ominis talking about that spell with unbidden revulsion. It was quite different witnessing it.
‘Say it.’ Came Malus’ insistent voice again. Even Sebastian could hear the unsaid threat just below its surface.
Ominis canted his head up, slowly, his breathing mere shaky rasps. His nostrils flared desperately, in annoyance, disgust, a look of pure hatred etched in his normally smooth features that Sebastian had never seen before, hoped he never would again.
He cleared his throat slightly.
A series of strange hisses came from Ominis’ mouth, and Sebastian almost gave himself away, only managing to hold back on an audible gasp of Merlin’s big bushy beard at the last minute when he realised what his best friend was doing.
Parseltongue.
He knew, abstractly, how could he not, that Ominis, the Gaunt family, were Slytherin in all the ways that mattered, but hearing it. Well. He was going to have to persuade Ominis to do it again one day. Obviously many, many days after today had long been forgotten, but maybe, if he got him in a good enough mood, or get Anne to persuade him. That girl had somehow managed to wrap him round her little finger since their first day. She was good at it, winning people over, he thought with a sad smile. Always had been.
‘You scream like a muggle.’ Came his father’s disgusted voice.
‘I say-’ The headmaster’s voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, jaw snapped shut with an audible click as Malus focused his full glare round to Phineas. He visibly cowered, licked his lips and took a step back, letting out an odd, slightly high pitched chuckle that Sebastian couldn’t fathom. Malus took a step over his quivering son’s form and without a glance back strode off across the courtyard, back towards the entrance hall, Marvolo in his wake. Phineas crouched, reached out tentatively as though to touch Ominis, paused, his expression unreadable, before standing back up. He smoothed his waistcoat and cleared his throat awkwardly.
‘Come now Mr Gaunt… back to your common room, tidy yourself up while I show your father out, let’s not make a scene eh?’ He bit his bottom lip for a second, before jogging after the two departing figures until he caught up, his false cheery voice carrying as they disappeared out of sight. Now, finally, the comforting background noise of the castle suddenly come back into focus, a flock of birds chirping overhead, the wind blustering through leaves somewhere in the distance joining the sound of Ominis’ jittery breathing. Sebastian stood up silently from his hiding place, his face blank. He opened his mouth to speak, to comfort, to call out something re-assuring; when Ominis let out a single, wracked sob. It cut through him as easily as the screaming had, rendering him silent.
He watched, still frozen to the spot, as though someone had cast a particular stubborn glacius, eyes tracking his friend as he shifted himself slightly, shuffling on weak hands, pushing himself to a kneeling position, reaching blindly out in front of himself, patting the stone floor, his fingers splayed wide.
‘A-accio!' came his voice, wobbly and whispery. Nothing. He inhaled deeply, exhaled shakily and tried again, his voice only minutely stronger. Still nothing.
The doors behind them burst open, Sebastian suddenly startled to movement, ducked back behind the broken partition, momentarily forgetting he was still disillusioned, to see a group of loud, bustling students stroll through, clearing the air of its remaining darkness with their bright laughter. Ominis was a statue, a frown line forming between his eyebrows, obviously hoping to go unnoticed. The crowd were deep in chatter, merely passing through to the bridge, when one of the Gryffindors seemed to notice Ominis’ still form kneeling on the floor, almost-but-not-quite out of view. She murmured something in the blonde-haired Ravenclaw student’s ear who she was looped arm-in-arm with before peeling away from the group, half dragging her friend with her across the courtyard.
‘Ominis!’ Natsai Onai’s voice was bright, happy, a night-and-day contrast to the previous voice who had spoken his name.
His head flicked up in her general direction briefly, gaze aimed too low, before looking away to the side. Her face fell.
‘What happened? You look-’
‘I’m fine.’ He snapped. His voice strained. Her friend tutted and rolled her eyes, unlinking their arms with a shrug.
‘Come on Natty, we’re going to be late for Arithmancy, as if he has anything nice to say to anyone who isn’t a pure-blooded Slytherin.’ She marched off without waiting for a reply. Natsai cast a sad look over Ominis, in an understanding, that thankfully went unseen by him, Sebastian thought, knowing how much he hated undue fuss and furore.
He supposed she was taking in the same things he knew to be jarring to Ominis’ usual prim and proper presentation; the uncharacteristically mussed hair, his fringe plastered slick to his forehead with sweat, the red flush that was creeping across his face, darkening with every second. Sebastian wondered idly if Ominis was aware that embarrassment showed up so visibly on his face, giving his true emotion away. His limbs were still minutely shaking, chin now resting on his chest, his gaze somewhere on her feet, unseeing as ever. Perhaps the most damming were the drying tear tracks, unmistakably so in the misty morning light.
‘Ah, here it is, your wand,’ She reached to pick it from its resting place, guiding the handle to his expectant fingers. If they were clammy and trembling still, she made no reaction she’d noticed.
‘See you in Herbology later. I hear we’re covering glomping mud-flowers today, should be interesting.’ The tense lines of her face spoke of pity, but her voice was the same light, airy tone she’d used in greeting, almost soothing. She gave him a genuine warm smile, and loped off after the gang of students nearly out of sight.
Ominis let out an audible, resigned sigh as he flicked his wand, wordlessly casting whatever spell it was that allowed him to navigate his surroundings. His free hand pushed heavily on his left knee, grunting gracelessly as he stood himself up, slightly bent over, a curled fist pressing into his abdomen as he grimaced. His robes, normally pressed to an inch of perfection, were dusty with creases, the knees of his breeches smeared brown with mud, outlines of the cobbles imprinted on his stockings, his boots scuffed at the toes. It was a sobering sight. With a few steadying deep breaths, and a minute shake of his shoulders, he made his way in the opposite direction, back towards the castle.
Sebastian remained, staring at the spot Ominis had been standing long after his marginally uneven footsteps had retreated away.
Regret.
It was a new feeling.