#Ominis Gaunt x fMC fanfiction

[ps-cactus]

No Voices But Ours | HL oneshot

5,400 words | also posted on AO3 Ominis x f!MC, & Sebastian (unnamed MC, no appearance descriptions)

Thank you, the ever-amazing beta @accio-bagel

Tags and TWs: Major Character Death, Post-Canon (10 years later), Haunted House Vibes, Thriller, Mystery, Unreliable Narrator, POV Multiple, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Survivor’s Guilt, Redemption, Tragic Love, Tragic Friendship, Hallucinations, Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Found Family But Also Lost Family, Mental Instability, Self-Loathing, Depressive Themes, Nightmares, Fear of the Unknown.

Summary / Preview:

If the past calls, can you ever ignore it? Should you run—or listen closer?

Ominis is right, of course. Sebastian Sallow died months ago, and she saw it happen. He’s gone. Completely gone, because this is certainly not a ghost. She recalls clearly from Hogwarts: ghosts are visible, faintly tangible, capable of conversation, and some even of heated discussions. Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive. ... Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave... Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

“Are you hearing him again?”

Familiar hands grip her shoulders firmly, bringing her back from the depths of sleep. They also force away a lingering echo of her own scream that still rings in her head. She lets go of the wall where she had probably instinctively clung to escape the familiar rhythmic pulses coursing through every surface in moments like this.

“Yeah,” she answers, feeling the scratch in her throat, and hastily adds, “I know. Just a dream.”

Ominis brushes a strand of hair from her forehead, and she knows he’s using the gesture to feel for fever. She watches his face, bathed in pale moonlight, and his eyes, where this light glimmers in fleeting reflections. It keeps her from acknowledging the never-ending shadowy hallway looming behind him. At night, this house always seems oppressively enormous.

“Just a dream,” Ominis reassures her, placing a light kiss on her forehead. The suffocating dread slowly fades, and sleep starts pulling at her again.

Ominis is right, of course. Sebastian Sallow died months ago, and she saw it happen. He’s gone. Completely gone, because this is certainly not a ghost. She recalls clearly from Hogwarts: ghosts are visible, faintly tangible, capable of conversation, and some even of heated discussions.

Whatever voices reach her, whether in dreams or waking hours, they don’t truly exist. It’s nothing more than something perfectly normal that comes with grief—the wish that he were still alive.

x

Sebastian doesn’t move, hardly even breathes, standing barefoot in the dark corridor. The moonlight carves a pale path beneath him. The screams have faded. Except for the ones that will never leave his head, of course. But in his mind, that same voice isn’t screaming. It’s casting spells. Calling his name sometimes. Spitting out curses occasionally.

But here, it’s always the same—a scream of fear, a scream of pain. He holds back from speaking to that voice again. Maybe there’s no voice at all. Maybe it’s just this old house driving him mad. Tonight, he receives another reminder that it's not even a ghost. He knows what ghosts look like and how they behave. This is a haunting punishment.

He checks a few unused rooms, just in case—filled with nothing but silence, as expected. 

Of course. He’s just going mad, plain and simple. Serves him right.

He leaves without another glance back, retracing his steps toward the bathroom.

x

The trees stand bare, having surrendered into an early slumber even before winter’s touch, yet she always finds comfort in strolling through the garden. Especially as soft strains of a piano drift through the air from a slightly open window. 

She is careful enough not to glance toward the far end of the grounds, taking an early turn to avoid the white tombstone among the old oak’s fallen leaves. Clutching the book she failed to concentrate on to her chest, she lifts her head, absentmindedly looking for the seagulls in the silent sky, but the island’s autumn fog is thick as wool, even at noon.

Lunch passes soon, as unremarkable as so many that came before. The house-elf follows every request, preparing the meals exactly to their liking, but they all taste like nothing to her. Just like the familiar groans of the floorboards, the whispers of the drafts in the old house are simply background details she doesn't even notice anymore.

But her cup slips from her fingers, rolling on the table and sloshing its remaining tea the moment she hears a sharp, furious thud from the room above.

x

Sebastian brushes the book off the table. Useless. Worse still, he can’t even leave to search for something more useful on his own, depending instead on booksellers he barely trusts.

But there is always this fear whispering to him: what if, by leaving, he risks the protective spells faltering or vanishing altogether? He doesn't trust his own magic anymore. Whatever that risk is, it isn’t one he can take. He has to finish what he started. No one must find him before that. He won’t be able to explain. No one could ever understand.

He barely understands himself these days. Least of all can he grasp what truly happened after she used the spell meant to rid them of the relic for good. But he just blacked out—no other term fits better. When he regained consciousness again, it was long past the moment it mattered.

Maybe the confusion goes back even further, because he still has no explanation how the relic found its way back to him after almost a decade.

He hadn’t looked for it, of course. That much was certain. The moment he saw it again, he knew only that it had to be destroyed. He had the audacity to ask his friends for help without having any semblance of  a plan. What a fool. How dare he even call them friends now?

x

She quickly says, "There's something upstairs," even though Ominis hasn't yet asked. He’s just frozen, worried, across from her at the table. “Something fell. Dusky, see what’s going on up there.”

The house-elf, having already cleaned up the tea from the table with practiced efficiency, nods and disappears with a sharp pop. 

x

A muffled pop, both remote and unnervingly near, makes Sebastian turn to the middle of the room. Nothing. 

A second noise, like the lingering reverberation of the first, makes him blink and peer at the empty space. Still nothing. Not a shadow, not a whisper. Not a ghost.

He almost wishes it were just a ghost. He wonders if just a ghost would even bother speaking to him. Or would it simply linger, observing in silence, with no words to give? Would it despise him? Or pity him?

He’d take hatred over pity any day.

x

“Nothing?” she asks sceptically, irritation rising as the elf shrugs and shakes his head. She knows he returned too fast. She sees he’s scared. “Are you lying?”

His frantic head-shaking intensifies, eyes flickering in panic for a moment before he dashes from the room.

“House-elves can’t lie,” Ominis notes calmly.

“Wait!”

The elf doesn’t stop, his retreating steps disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen. She turns sharply toward Ominis.

“House-elves can’t disobey, either.”

x

Sebastian crouches down but makes no effort to pick up the book. Resting his palm against the polished wooden floorboards, he feels this again. The faint, rhythmic pulses, like the ghost of a heartbeat. After all this time, he knows the pattern—once the rhythm fades, all the odd sounds fall silent too. Not forever, no, but for a while at least. Usually, it fades fast. And it's fading already. Good.

He frowns at the book on the floor before eventually placing it back on the table, where there’s still a little space left among all the glasses and plates.

Beneath the papers, Sebastian notices an envelope resting at the very edge of the table. This one holds nothing but more grief and pain. So be it.

He tugs at the corner of a letter a little. The recipient’s name stings his mind. His own handwriting looks foreign. It’s the last letter he ever sent here. He never should have written it. Even if it had been the last thing he ever did, he should have handled it alone. 

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? That’s exactly how it will be now. Alone as he is, and with this probably being the last thing he ever does, he will see the relic destroyed. There are already a few ideas he’s considered. For instance…

A gust of wind scatters some papers from the table along with that letter, making Sebastian glance up, noticing the seagulls flying by again, their cries unusually loud today. With an annoyed flick of his wand, the window snaps shut, and the glass rattles in protest.

x

“...Or suddenly go mute! But all of this—” Her voice rises, frustration mounting with every syllable of a conversation they’ve already had too many times—until she stops. “Did you hear that?” 

Ominis doesn’t answer, focusing instead on making a genuine effort to understand, just as he does every single time she hears something he does not. As usual, for him, there’s only silence. Her chair screeches against the floor right before she darts past him out of the room. Soon, her hurried footsteps reach the top of the stairs.

Ominis hesitates before going after her. Whatever these ‘sounds’ are, they terribly exhaust her. She doesn’t know how to stop them or make some sense of them, and he has no idea how to help. All ever since that day.

He still remembers the rage that consumed him—his entire being, the whole world at once—when Sebastian, after ten years of a perfectly decent life, claimed that the relic had simply turned up in his house. How convenient, Ominis said then, because it was agonising to realise that every bit of faith he had in his friend’s redemption had been misplaced. 

However, she had always been the one willing to trust people, to believe in them. It’s because of her he agreed to listen to Sebastian at all. Now her faith is likely the reason she still can’t accept how truly catastrophic his mistake had been and why she can’t let it go. 

When Ominis finally follows her into the room, she comes to him at once. He searches for any disturbance, any inconsistency in the signals from his wand—but there’s nothing. Nothing but silence and stillness.

“There’s nothing.” Her voice comes out quiet, almost shaking, just like her hands. “I don’t know… Must have imagined it. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he squeezes her hand slightly, repeating the simple words that still seem to help them both. “It’s alright. It’s an old house; I used to hear things here all the time. It’ll pass.”

Later that night, Ominis leans over a sink in a bathroom far from their bedroom, gripping the porcelain with both hands. The rush of water fills the silence around him.

Yes, he still remembers that all-consuming rage. But the rage and anger are long gone. Ominis has had no will for anger in a long time. The little strength he does still have, he hoards for forgiveness but never quite reaches it. If there’s one thing he has in excess, it’s pain—so much that, deep down, he knows exactly what she feels, far better than he cares to admit.

Each time he jolts awake from that nightmare, detailed as ever, Ominis edges closer to acknowledging what she had always seemed to know. That the person coming to their house that day wasn’t a reckless teenager, but a man genuinely terrified of something he wanted to but couldn’t explain. Terrified of what came true after all.

Odd enough, Sebastian’s death had never once appeared in his nightmare. The final moment is never about him at all. And her dream is the exact same. There are moments when Ominis almost speaks aloud the theory forming in his mind. He may not hear voices or strange sounds, but he feels the way the silence here lingers unnaturally. It makes every room feel emptier than it should, stretching the time even. Or the way the fire in the hearth loses its warmth the more attention he gives it. The simple yet so complicated theory. Almost impossible. Rather insane.

“No. This is ridiculous,” Ominis murmurs, shutting the tap off. He presses his hands, insufficiently cooled by the water, against his face. Wrapped up in his own mind on this troubled midnight, he fails to notice that the tap seals itself shut, ceasing its quiet dripping.

x

Sebastian twists the tap tighter and hurriedly returns to his usual spot—the blanket spread out on the bathroom floor. Thick enough that he can’t feel the subtle impulses beneath him, though he knows, without a doubt, that they’ve started the moment the tap started dripping by itself. 

He sleeps right here often because the space is just small enough not to smother him with its hollowness and because, until now, this was the only place where they had never reached him. He always hears them from afar, from other rooms, but never here. 

Although now he would swear on anything, he just heard Ominis’ voice right beside him.

He isn’t afraid of such things anymore. He doesn’t even indulge in these imagined voices, either, weaving the illusion that he was never at fault at all. But lately a mere voice seems a rarity, because what he hears more often is the scream. And it gets closer. Just like the voice was right here in this room. As though any semblance of peace is vanishing from his reach completely.

x

“You’re gone… you’re not real… you’re gone…”

She rushes through the garden, her tears sliding off her cheeks just as fast. This time, she doesn’t turn away from that path. She is barely awake from yet another dream that returned the terrible, aching thoughts. 

She doesn’t even wait for Ominis to come back, so desperate is the need to see the tombstone again, to remind herself of reality, of acceptance, and—please—just calm down.

It’s too late to change anything. She must live on. Must focus on the future, or at least the present. Anything but the past. 

She steps closer to the white stone standing out in the darkness and wipes off the soggy leaves clinging to it. Her fingers trace the rough-cut letters briefly before they freeze.  

x

Sebastian hugs his knees closer, still sitting on the bathroom floor. Her voice. The deafening ‘No!’, as distant as it seems resounding straight from within his own head. He senses the faint, rhythmic pulses coming off the floorboards and walls. Stronger than he’s ever felt them. The pain is no longer confined to his chest; his whole body hurts.

He knows what’s doing this to him. Knows it’s punishing him and knows why. But he can’t take it anymore. No matter how—it just needs to be over. He has to act. He has to try. 

As he stands, he keeps his gaze on the door, refusing to acknowledge the mirror. One of the reasons is the grey in his hair. As if he has any right to still be here, growing older, when they will never get the chance.

Determined, he steps into the hallway. 

Each step down the creaky staircase is deliberate, and the grip on his wand is firm. 

All the resolve drains from him as he reaches the entrance to the vast, empty basement. Almost empty. He leans into the cold stone as his breath catches.

Is he really allowed to take another step? Will it let him even try? What if it already knows what he wants?

The house drafts feel much colder than before. He’s barefoot again, clad in only pyjama trousers and a thin shirt, but sweat drenches his skin.

x

As she drops to the ground, the wet leaves beneath her knees smear into mud. Ominis calls her name again and again, but her voice is just as lost as her mind might be. It’s only when he touches her shoulder that she jolts and tries to speak again, unsure, however, she will make any sense at all.

“Th—there…” She chokes out, unable to finish, her eyes locked on the letters on the white stone. “And you… your…” 

Ominis kneels beside her, dropping his wand on the leaves. One arm wraps around her, steadying her trembling body, while the other gently finds her face. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you, shhh… It’s alright.”

That’s when she notices that unlike her, he hasn’t even thrown on a coat. She doesn’t think when she starts to rise, oddly happy there is a reason to leave. She keeps swallowing her tears, trying to say, “It—it’s freezing. Why are you—”

“No, it’s not,” Ominis stops her. There’s tension in his voice, but it carries a quiet steadiness hers lacks. “Feel it. The wind, the ground—they're not cold. Please, just stop and feel.”

The request stuns her for a moment, but she lowers her hand to the damp leaves. Her fingers dig into them, seeking for the earth beneath, searching for a chill that should be there, that must be there—but isn’t.

“How? Why?” Her voice falters as her eyes snap back to the white stone. It doesn’t make any sense. She begs it to be some nonsense. Another nightmare. She finally speaks the words she had meant to, even as each one feels unbearable. “Ominis, the tombstone… It has our initials. Both of ours. Ominis, please… Why?”

“That dream we both have sometimes,” he says, drawing closer, his fingers skimming her cheek again. It hurts him too, to speak, but he can’t keep holding this in. “You had a feeling it was the truth, didn’t you? But something stopped you from saying. Like a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, no matter how hard you try to grasp it, so you let it slip away.”

The truth. 

The truth is somewhere so painfully close.

It is in so many things she keeps both accepting and hopelessly missing. All this time, she had never questioned when their break from work, taken months ago, would end. There were no letters sent or received. No owls for so long. No seagulls in the ever-quiet sky, not once in months. 

And yet, she never questioned it. 

She had turned away from these questions, just as she had turned away from the tombstone, because deep down, she knew too well. Because even though Sebastian’s body and the relic had vanished without a trace, she knows that the stone was more than a memorial and that beneath it, the ground was not empty.

She knows why the nightmare always ends there. 

She understands why it always ends the same way.

x

Another drop of sweat trails along his temple, blending into the single tear streaking down his cheek as Sebastian steps into the basement. He lights a few torches along the walls.

The relic waits, undisturbed, right where he left it. 

A monument to his foolishness. 

Spells are echoing in his head again, desperate, never-ending. 

Slowly, he advances toward the small pyramid on the stone floor, more surprised at each step. It didn't even let him this near that day. 

Blink. A glance to the side—that’s where Ominis was. He was closer, so Sebastian reached for him first, fingers searching for a pulse. He hoped. Listened for breath. Heard nothing. Blink. His eyes dart to the farthest, darkest part of the basement—where she fell. Walking toward her, he knew already. Blink. He turns, just for a moment, toward the door. That’s where a curious house-elf was peeking inside, terrified. 

Sigh.

He raises his wand, aiming directly at the relic. He doesn't know if he could cast the spell or if he could even force out a single word and what might follow. 

He simply wants this all to be over.

x

She once believed that facing some kinds of truth can be painful enough to unravel someone completely. And still, even through the ache, her mind is sharp; it feels clearer than it has in such a long time. To understand, to recognise the truth, is now as effortless to her as drawing breath had once been. A pang of guilt and disappointment in herself stirs inside her—is she really so selfishly determined to deny her own destiny that she chose to believe it had belonged to someone else?

For so long, she had been spiralling, lost between reality and endless illusions, unable to comprehend whatever this is that’s happening to them. But now all her thoughts, both clear and still taking shape, flow down her cheeks in the form of tears… 

No, not quite. They flow onto the fingers that slowly trace her skin.

Ominis is here. Beside her, just as he always has been. Even as she pulled away, as she lost herself, when he had been struggling just as much.

“Ominis, I’m so sorry…” She whispers, leaning on his knee, clutching at the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers. “I’m so sorry…”

“No—Why?” His hand moves carefully as he brushes against a stray strand of her hair near her face before returning to settle beneath her chin. 

“I think… the last thing I remember before everything changed… Is using Ancient Magic. Something went wrong. That must be why we’re both… I’m sorry. I don’t know… Merlin, I just…”

"No, don’t say that," he says firmly, holding her tighter against him. "We made that list of ideas together, didn’t we? We all chose to take the risk. That relic was far more complicated." He breathes in deeply before continuing. "You remember when I said that if it found him, rather than the other way around, it could be worse than anything else?"

She watches as his hand trails down her arm, finding her hand clenched into a fist on his knee. Carefully, he unfurls it, weaving his fingers through hers. 

“I do. It would have meant this relic is so powerful and complex, it may have something like a consciousness of its own…” She looks up at him. “So… you believe him? That he didn’t try to find it again?”

“I truly don’t know. But if both he and the relic are gone, and that means he’s facing it alone somewhere... then I genuinely hope he can overcome it.”

“He loathes himself so much. There’s so much pain inside him. But whatever happened then, I know the relic has no hold over him anymore.” 

Her eyes drift back to the gravestone with six letters on it. It hurts more the more she understands; her mind is flooding with all the realisations she used to suppress. And yet, she still doesn’t fully get it. “You truly haven’t heard anything? Nothing at all? No thuds, no footsteps, no voice?”

“I swear, I didn’t hear anything,” Ominis says, as if regretting that it’s true. “No voices but ours, no footsteps, nothing unusual at all.”

“But you had the same dream as I did?”

“Yes.”

She grips his fingers tighter, and his thumb strokes hers in slow, steady movements. Her mind swirls with thoughts, and though some facts settle easier than others, they wound her just as deeply. 

Sebastian has some bond with the relic because he once wielded it, and she has one because she attempted to destroy it with magic she believed she understood. Could that be the reason she had heard his voice? 

But why—why is Ominis here? And the elf...? What if she is the reason they are all somehow trapped? That would be too cruel. Is there any part of this she can still change? Is there anything left for her to undo at all, or did all the possible moments pass beyond reach?

“What if… maybe this is all just another dream?” She breathes out, pressing her eyes shut, unable to handle the number of questions—some unanswerable, some too painful to even voice.

Ominis says nothing. He simply leans forward, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.

x

Sebastian clenches his teeth so hard it hurts—from sheer anger. Mostly, he is furious at himself. At the foolish fifteen-year-old boy who once decided this damned thing was the answer he needed. 

The relic had changed—there are no Inferi on its edges, it seems smaller, and utterly silent. And he didn’t black out after unleashing magic on it, spell after spell. 

Still, none of it worked.

The only thing left to try is the spell he had used the first thing back then. The relic had changed so much in the months. Maybe this time, it will work. 

Anyway—

He is so done he’s ready to tear the whole world down and himself afterwards just to make it all end. He takes a deep breath, his wand already starting the precise movement.

A flash. 

A thunderous crash.

He freezes, eyes narrowing as he notices something new. The smallest, almost invisible crack on the relic’s surface. He feels something he hadn’t felt in eternity—a sharp, unexpected jolt of joy that almost makes him laugh. 

x

Ominis lowers his hand from her face, his head tilting toward the house.

“There’s someone there,” he whispers, his words almost lost in the wind. “It’s not the elf.”

“True… Not an elf,” she whispers back, placing her palm to the ground again out of habit, expecting the usual pulses, but there is nothing. The shock of it—both the missing sensations and the man standing before her, whom she hadn’t seen for so long—is so great that it takes her a moment to realise she wasn’t the first to notice.

“Hold on, you actually heard it?”

The silhouette doesn’t move closer, stopping just a few steps away.

“Is that… Is that you?” The distant voice wavers, hesitant, uncertain.

“I hear,” Ominis nods. “It’s Sebastian.”

“Forgive me,” he still hesitates, as if afraid to take another step. “I fixed it. I think I did. Just… please…”

For the first time in forever, the voice doesn’t come from within her own head—it’s real, right beside her. His real voice. But the weight of the new suspicion is so heavy, so full of sorrow, that if they had been near the island’s shore, she is certain the grief alone would have pulled her under the waves straight to the ocean floor. From the way Ominis remains perfectly still and silent and only furrows his brow, she knows he feels the same. 

The brief hope they had is mercilessly gone.

x

The pyramid’s peaks emit a soft silver glow, their rhythmic pulses no more spreading through the ground and the walls. A faint light seeps from the crack, sluggish and indifferent, as though the relic knows it has no audience. And even if Sebastian Sallow weren’t lying motionless on the stone floor and was still able to be interested in anything, he wouldn’t have seen this glow no matter how hard he tried.

The glow pulses at the four peaks, climbing the ridges toward the highest, the only still unlit point. When it reaches the top, it gives a last, weak flicker. And fades.

A last, feeble shudder runs through the relic. Then, there is only stillness. Probably the kind that exists in the last fragile second before an unstoppable storm.

The relic cracks. 

One thin line becomes many, crawling over the relic’s surface like vines overtaking a house, claiming it entirely.

x

“He just vanished,” she murmurs in disbelief. She barely has time to process it before noticing something worse. “Ominis, the house—it’s fading. Something’s changed.”

The world transforms quickly. She doesn’t even have time to describe what she sees, but soon there is nothing left to describe at all. The wand on the ground is gone. Ominis’ arm remains wrapped around her waist, and she suddenly understands that she must not let him go, so she clasps his hand and presses it tighter against herself.

The house is gone. The elf is nowhere around. There’s even no earth beneath them anymore. No leaves. Nothing but the blackness where the world used to be. 

Beside them, on what looks like a floor made of black glass, lies Sebastian. In the vast, consuming darkness, the only glow emanates from beside him. Covered in an endless network of fine lines, the relic appears to still be whole only because of this soft, familiar glow.

“He destroyed it,” she realises, looking closely. “The relic. It looks slightly different now, and it carries a little trace of Ancient Magic.” 

“So using your magic wasn’t the wrong choice. Maybe that’s what altered the relic and allowed it to be destroyed. But why did he appear so briefly?”

“He’s… he’s here as well.”

She guides Ominis’ other hand to Sebastian’s shoulder, and he tightens his fingers uncertainly around the damp fabric of the shirt. 

“Tell me, is it just me, or…”

She knows. She doesn’t understand why, but she’s glad to know. “This is strange, but… yes. Maybe…” 

She glances around quickly, but there is nothing. Nothing at all. The void stretches on, endless, empty. The last traces of the faint glow continue to fade. 

“Nothing?” Ominis asks, but she can hear it in his voice—he knows the answer.

“Nothing,” she says, because she has to say it out loud. “If all this was tied to the relic, that means we… we’ll be…”

She knows, with unbearable certainty, what’s happening. There’s nothing they can do to change it. And the only thing that truly matters now remains unknown—what comes next.

“Hey. It’s alright. This is just a dream. Any moment now, we’ll wake up,” Ominis murmurs, lightly lifting her chin. “You hear me? There will be no more nightmares. All of them are over now.”

She watches the tiny reflections of light flicker in his eyes as she trembles in his arms again. She doubts it will happen the way he describes, but the way he says it soothes her.

So she accepts it.

And from acceptance comes peace.

From peace comes… hope. The last one. 

She reaches for the silver glow of the relic, if anything of the original relic remains at all. For the last time, she calls upon this magic, and it obeys, eagerly, almost as if it’s glad to. The glow drifts with her hand as she lowers it onto Ominis’ fingers, which have just returned to Sebastian’s shoulder, as if he had known exactly what she was about to do.

“It’s alright,” Ominis says, leaning slightly toward Sebastian. “It’s not your fault. None of us is to blame.”

“No more nightmares,” she adds firmly, watching as the edges of their fingers blur, dissolving within the dwindling glow. She looks away, squeezing her eyes shut, curling forward, her forehead pressing against Ominis’ chest.

The sharpest pain now comes from knowing that their final days, their last months together, had been filled with confusion and suffering. And that those months were truly their last.

“I… I wish we had more time,” she says.

“Let’s find each other again when we wake up, alright?”

She barely nods. “Alright.”

“Just please, don’t be too hard to spot. I’m not exactly great at hide-and-seek.”

A weak laugh escapes her as she sinks further into his embrace. His hand settles over her head. His other hand moves slowly, smoothing down her back in a measured rhythm—steady, unchanging, like the tide rolling in and out. Her trembling lessens with each pass of his touch, and at last, she feels safe, fully sheltered—not just from the endless emptiness that’s already around, but from whatever comes next.

x

The last traces of the silver glow fade away. The relic lingers only for a heartbeat more, as if offering a final farewell, before it shatters into countless fragments, each no larger than a speck of dust.

xxx

Sebastian Sallow’s pulse hammers against his ribs, wild and unsteady. Each breath he exhales pushes the tiny piles of dust away from his face. He doesn’t dare to move yet. 

He listens. 

The voices reach him, but for the first time, they bring no fear. There is no anger in them for some reason. No hatred. He doesn’t like that. He thinks back to his own thoughts, but the weight of self-loathing is no longer there somehow. It isn’t his choice—he doesn’t want any relief—but he lacks the strength to fight. His gaze catches on the scattered dust, and suddenly, he knows what it is.

He actually did it. It worked. The relic is gone.

As he steps outside on unsteady legs, he shields his eyes from the light that burns his eyes. It’s too bright and feels almost too warm for autumn. He looks toward the white tombstone. There’s no one there, of course.

He trembles, feeling his body surrendering to exhaustion. He stumbles back inside and sinks onto the first sofa he finds. 

He sleeps for hours, peaceful, dreamless, and unmoving. This sleep will definitely settle something inside him. When he wakes up, he will know what to say to people who keep asking. He will know how to return to work he once loved, and he will love it again. He will live.

And no one in this house will ever suffer another nightmare.

P.s. I couldn't have said in the beginning but it was partially inspired by 'The Others'. Thank you for reading, your feedback is very much appreciated ❤️🥹

[anomalyaly]

My New Dream

Tangled!AU AO3/Wattpad

Beginning | CHAPTER 5 | Chapter 6

CW: Mature for violence and character death, alcoholism, super mild sexual references, thievery, vandalism, general disregard for the law, and swearing. SFW.

Each chapter is between 2-3k words.

None of this is meant to be taken seriously :)

NEW CW: Use of the torture curse and implied stabbing

A prison cell.

The dark, dank walls surrounding Sebastian would be a comfort compared to what awaited him. He hadn’t meant to end up here, not when he was so close to turning over a new leaf, to chasing after a new dream, to learning what it was like to be loved.

Instead, he would be facing a one-way trip to Azkaban, likely to receive a Dementor’s kiss for his entanglement with Dark Magic. Or, if his crimes were deemed petty enough to be spared of having his soul sucked out, he would be subjected to a lifetime of insanity, slowly losing his sense of self as the misery of isolation overtook him.

Neither option seemed promising. Death would be considered a gift.

He kicked the wall and cursed the damned Ashwinders who sent him here — a fucking setup. When he had awoken, tied to a boat that had landed him in front of the palace, Elsie had been nowhere to be found. He wasn’t even given the chance to ask questions as the palace guards dragged him away, removing his silencio charm so that the entire world could hear his desperate cries as he screamed her name, hoping that she had managed to get away before the Ashwinders could —

He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged a hand down his face. Somehow, he needed to get out of his holding cell. If she was still alive, she was in terrible danger.

The door to his cell clanged open, and a group of guards stood at the entrance. “Time to go, Sallow.”

Sebastian swallowed. He was out of time.

The guards led him through the hall of never-ending cells, filled to the brim with prisoners of all kinds. Some of them looked intrigued while a few had mildly impressed expressions, knowing that only the worst of the castle prisoners were hauled away to Azkaban right after their sentencing while the others awaited trial. Sebastian wasn’t given the luxury of a trial.

He was still calculating a plan when they passed by a cell that caught his interest. It was nearly empty, save for two burly men who sat curled in the corner.

The same two Ashwinders who had turned him in.

Something inside of him snapped, and he slammed his shoulders into the guards that held his arms, knocking them to the side as he shoved past them toward the cell. He reached in and hauled one of the Ashwinders up by the collar, forcing the man’s face against the bars.

“How did you know about her?!” He wished he had his wand so he could make this man feel the pain that he likely inflicted on Elsie. His heart thundered in his chest, his hands shaking with rage as he spat in the man’s face. “TELL ME!”

The Ashwinder had the decency to look frightened. “I-it wasn’t us! It was that old man with the top hat!”

“Old man with a top hat?” Sebastian hardly had time to process the information before more prison guards burst into the corridor, pinning him down and handcuffing him before dragging him away.

“No, no! Wait! You don’t understand!” He needed them to hear him, to do something, Even if he had to die, Elsie needed to live. “She’s in trouble! Please! Wait!!”

He struggled against them, pushed as hard as he could against their grasp as more guards doubled down on him, their wands at the ready. He wouldn’t stop fighting, not until he knew that she was safe, that she was alive and breathing and happy, even if it was without him. But he needed to know, needed to be certain of it and witness it himself. He couldn’t go to Azkaban without seeing her one last time.

“Keep struggling and we’ll use a spell instead,” one of the royal morons threatened. Sebastian had half a mind to kick him in the shin just to test him.

As he reared back prepared to do it, he spotted an odd shape in one of the alcoves along the wall. Is that…a ceramic unicorn?! What an odd place to leave something like that. Though he had to admit it looked strangely familiar.

Where had he seen it before?

Suddenly, every door in the vicinity slammed shut around them. He straightened, prepared for a fight as the lead guard banged on the door with an angry fist.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He shouted. “Open up!”

A small, wrinkly man popped his red nose through the small window at the top of the doorway. His voice slurred as he spoke. “What’s the password?”

The guard blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Nope.” The tiny man giggled and disappeared from view.

It only served to anger the guard. “Open this door!”

Another giggle. “Not even close.”

“If you don’t open this door…”

“Try again!”

Sebastian stifled a laugh himself as the lead guard turned red in the face. “You have three seconds before I break down this door. One…”

Someone was definitely plotting in his favor because while the lead guard was too distracted, the guard on Sebastian’s left disappeared from view first, then the one on his right, and finally, everyone standing behind him vanished.

“Two….Three— “ The lead guard turned around. “What in Merlin’s name?”

Still handcuffed, Sebastian gave a small wave, a casual smile on his face as none other than Helmet, one of the Ashwinders he and Elsie had met at the Hog’s Head, emerged from behind the lead guard and knocked him out with the best weapon of choice. A frying pan.

“Frying pans!” Sebastian laughed, elated. “Who knew, right?”

More guards burst through the southern door, their wands at the ready. Time to run.

He followed Helmet, weaving through the corridors of the prison and out into the courtyard. They met up with a few other Ashwinders from the Hog’s Head, who, it appeared, had all banded together to plot his escape, or Elsie’s rescue. He wasn’t certain how they knew, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t dying today.

And he could save her. That was the only thing that mattered — that she was safe.

His hopes were momentarily dashed as every single sentry under the king and queen’s employ emerged from every entrance. The crowd began to close in on him, blocking every exit with no way out.

Hook Hand met him in the middle.

“There’s no way out!” Sebastian shouted over the war cries of the guards. “What do we do?”

“Step two inches to the left.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows but complied, unsure of what else to do.

“Head down.”

Sebastian tucked his head to his chest. “Head down?”

“Arms in.”

“Arms in.”

“Knees apart.”

“Knees…wait, knees apart?”

He didn’t have time to question it further as something very heavy landed on whatever he was standing on, and Sebastian Sallow flew.

Not the kind of flying one would expect on a broom or an animal, something far more graceful than what he had been subjected to. Launched was a better word for it, and he spun, careening over the castle wall. He squeezed his eyes closed as the cobblestone roads neared his face, much too close for comfort.

“Levioso!”

The voice of Ominis Gaunt, the last person he expected to see, stopped his fall, and Sebastian hovered slightly above the ground, face-to-face with the blind man.

“Ominis?” He asked, surprised. “You brought them here?”

Ominis guided him to his feet. “I did.” He tucked his wand to his side. “I heard a boat hit the cobblestone and your voice, calling out Elsie’s name, but I didn’t sense her with you. I knew something terrible had to have happened.”

Sebastian glanced around them. “And sending me flying over the courtyard walls?”

“That was the rabble’s plan.” He scoffed. “I was hoping to at least get you a horse, but the author couldn’t think of the logistics of all of that, so we decided to go with this instead.”

“The…what?”

“Never mind.” Ominis began to head in the opposite direction. “Come on. We have to find Elsie.”

“Right.” Sebastian followed close behind. “Oh, and…thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Sebastian grabbed Ominis’s arm. “No, really. Thank you. I…feel like this whole time, maybe we’ve just been…misunderstanding each other, and we’re really just— “

“Sebastian.” Ominis cut him off with an incredulous look.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sebastian gave him a shit-eating grin. “We should go.”

~

They ran from the oncoming barrage of spells, of shouts from the guards who were quickly gaining on them from all sides.

“I am deeply regretting this right now,” Ominis panted. Sebastian ran ahead, letting Ominis take care of the spell-casting, as he was without a wand.

“Come on,” Sebastian laughed, ecstatic at the thrill and still running off of the high of being alive and not in Azkaban. “You’re life must have been so boring before I came along.”

“You would be right,” Ominis sighed as he cast an aggravated confringo towards the guards, “and I very much preferred it that way.”

The two men skidded to a halt at the edge of the wall, teetering over the precipice. They had reached a dead end, and there were no hidden corridors nearby to throw off the guards’ chase.

“Now what?” Ominis groaned. “I’m going to lose my job. They’ll have my head for this. I— “

“Stop.” Sebastian grabbed his arm. “Follow my lead. On three, cast depulso.”

“What?!” The shock was evident in Ominis’s voice. “Are you trying to kill us?! My wand can’t sense what’s that far down! We’ll be squished!”

“Then trust me.” Sebastian took a slight step back, mentally calculating the distance and the typical amount of power behind the spell. Ominis had to be skilled enough to cast it well if he was Captain of the Guard. “I’ll be your eyes. I can see what’s below, but you have to trust me.”

Ominis hesitated. “You haven’t exactly — “

“Ominis!” The guards were getting closer. “Just this once! I promise we’re not going to die. Cast depulso! Now!”

Ominis took a breath, and for a second, Sebastian thought he was going to refuse. And then, he raised his wand out in front of him, leaning into Sebastian.

“DEPULSO!”

The two of them propelled off of the edge of the wall. Ominis screamed as Sebastian kept his eyes on the roof behind them. His calculations had been just correct, and he clung to Ominis’s arm as he braced for impact.

They landed with a thud. Sebastian stood and brushed himself off while Ominis knelt on the ground, his feet a bit shaky.

“If I make it out of here alive,” he gritted out, “You owe me.”

“We’ll discuss matters of payment later,” Sebastian said, offering him a hand up. “For now, we have to get to the tower where Elsie is. Let’s go.”

~

Sebastian led Ominis to the clearing in the forest where he had first found the tower. He was thankful the man had a wand and, now that they were outside of the castle walls, could apparate them closer. It looked the same as it had a few days ago, isolated, climbing with ivy, framed by the waterfall against the cliff side.

He skidded to a halt at the base of the tower and looked at Ominis.

“You go,” Ominis nodded at him. “I’m going to see if any of those brutes made it out.”

Sebastian nodded back, a silent ‘thank you’ before the Captain of the Guard disapparated.

“Elsie!” He called up to her, hoping that she could hear him, or that she was even still alive. “Elsie! Let down your hair!”

Nothing but silence. He climbed it once before, and he would do it again, but the thought of finding her up there, dead —

The sound of a window slamming open caught his attention. Sebastian looked up and nearly cried with joy as a long rope of brunette hair cascaded down to the base of the tower. He swung his body around it and began to climb once again.

He finally reached the top, dragging himself up at speeds that would have been impossible for him without the rush of adrenaline, and he hoisted himself through the window, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Elsie, I thought I’d never see you again! I — “

“Sebastian, don’t!”

He froze, his words died in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Elsie, her hands bound behind her, struggled in the corner. He didn’t have time to process and rage, to make sure she was unharmed before a spell struck him.

“Crucio.”

Immeasurable pain tore through him as he collapsed to the floor, his deafening screams echoing through the tower window and out into the empty forest. Ominis was long gone, and nobody came near the area. No one would hear him. No one was coming to save them.

“Please, stop!” He could hear Elsie begging, and through his vision could see the desperate look on her face as she struggled against her bindings.

A man in a top hat stepped out of the shadows and tutted, his voice disappointed. “Now, look what you’ve done, Elsie. You’ve made quite a mess of things.”

“Let him go. Please, please, let him go!” She writhed as the man sent another Crucio at Sebastian, and another scream was ripped out of him.

He wasn’t going to survive this.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” the man chuckled, and Sebastian realized who it was — Victor Rookwood. The infamous criminal who disappeared years ago, had gone into hiding after it was rumored he had been working with Dark Magic to keep himself young. “Our secret will die with him.”

“What — “ Sebastian tried to plead, tried to fight, tried to free himself to get to Elsie. But there was nothing he could do, not without a wand. “What — are you — going to do — “

Rookwood paced the room. “The girl’s magic is mine, you vermin.” He pointed a crusty finger at Elsie. “That magic used to be in a flower — a magical flower, the last traces of ancient magic that was my birthright, mine to control and do what I wish with it.” His face curled into a sneer. “Until those royal shitbags decided that they owned it, and they took it from me!”

Elsie continued to strain against her bindings as Sebastian was struck with another Crucio.

“Do you see this?!” Rookwood removed his top hat to show off an embarrassment of a hairline. It had receded far behind his forehead, giving him an awkward fade that ran along where his hairline should begin. “The leader of Dark Wizards can’t go walking around with a hairline looking like this! It’s embarrassing wearing this stupid hat! It’s abhorrent! It’s — “

He dragged his palm along his face. “No matter. I won’t risk another Sallow child sharing my secrets. I won’t make the mistake of keeping another one of you alive again.”

Sebastian rolled himself over to look up at the man who towered over him. “What?”

Rookwood only snarled. “How’s that sister of yours? Still reeling from her curse, or did she finally kick the bucket?”

Rage coursed through him, and he strained to kick Rookwood’s ankle. “You. It was you!!”

“Yes,” He cackled as he pressed his boot into Sebastian’s shin, crushing it. “Immense pain any time she tried to share my secret. I suppose it caused her to waste away. Little thing didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.” His face dropped back into a sneer. “None of you do.”

“And then,” he turned back to Elsie, “I discovered where my little flower went. All in the efforts to save you and heal your pregnant mother.” He scoffed. “What a waste. I tried to cut it, to only take the hair, but since that didn’t work, I had to find….other methods of maintaining control.” His wand pointed back at Sebastian. “Until you came along and ruined it!”

Two things became clear to Sebastian at the same time. One, he was going to die. There was no getting out of this, no coming back from taking Crucio as many times as he had. Even if he survived, his mind would never be the same. He could already feel it slipping away, even as he fought to understand what was happening.

And two, Elsie was the lost princess.

All along, he had been escorting the lost princess home, only to have them both die here at the hands of Victor Rookwood. What a fool he had been.

Rookwood brandished a knife. “I think Avada Kedavra is a bit too easy, don’t you think?”

Sebastian felt the pain, heard Elsie’s scream, and knew for certain the wound had been fatal. He had studied enough about healing to know where he was struck.

“As for us,” Rookwood strode over to Elsie, dragging her by the chains he had locked her in, “we are going where no one will ever find you again.”

Darkness clouded his vision, and one final thought echoed in his mind before he slumped to the floor.

Save her.

[dearestro]

A little thing I wrote while daydreaming about Hogwarts Legacy. It's the most I've written in a while. Maybe one day I'll be able to expand on it.

A Familiar Fantasy

Three students could be seen in the middle of the hallway. Two of which were yelling at each other.

"It's left!"

"It's right!"

"Ugh! It's left!"

"Alright then, Miss Know-it-all, how come my brothers told me it's right!"

"Are you stupid? They are trying to trick you!"

The third wondered down the hall a bit. Tired of his friends' incessant arguing.

He came to a portrait of an older girl. He couldn't explain why, but she seemed wise, kind.

"Excuse me, Miss?" He hesitantly asked. The woman in the portrait looked down at the young boy.

"Yes?" She smiled.

"Would you happen to know if the quickest way to Potions Class is left or right? We're a bit lost." He looked back at his friends who were still trading insults. She followed where he looked and lightly laughed. The argument felt familiar.

"Oh, of course! I've only hung here for about a century and before that explored the halls myself." She smiled. "It's left."

"Thank you, Miss..."

"(L/n). But you can call me (MC). And you are?"

"Harry Potter." A look of recognition crossed her features at the mention of his name. She stared at him for a minute as if remembering something before gently shaking her head.

"Well then. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mister Harry Potter. Good luck on your journey." She smiled as if she knew something great was in store for him.

[enemiestoloverssimp]

House of Gaunt

Lady Yvette Gaunt, daughter of Tom Riddle. Aka The Dark Lord.

She was a double spy and when The Boy Who Lived had finally gotten rid of her father, she could now peacefully rest for the next decade without the deatheaters knowing she were a traitor.

Until she's offered a job at Hogwarts.

The world has forgotten The House of Gaunt, perhaps they will soon remember.

A story that explores the line of Salazar Slytherin more deeply, and also gives Severus Snape a redemption arc

[girl-named-matty]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A masterlist for all of my headcanons and fanfictions that I've written. Please let me know if some of the links aren't working! And buckle up because this is long! 🤍

𝑭𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔

● Passion || Sebastian Sallow (wattpad & ao3) synopsis: It has been six years since Astoria and Sebastian broke up. Both of them are living their best lives away from each other. But when Sebastian finds out that Rookwood is still alive and hunting Astoria down, he leaves his life behind to find her. ● In the Shadow of Her || Sebastian Sallow (wattpad & ao3) synopsis: Matty Ambrose is a simple Muggleborn girl living in London. After the arrival of Professor Fig informing her that she was a witch, she knew Hogwarts was going to be much different than anything she could've ever experienced before and she didn't know what to expect. With friends, rivals, and enemies around every corner, her time at Hogwarts already beginning to be epic. Join Matty as she navigates her way through her 5th year at Hogwarts-will she rise to the occasion, or will the dark secrets of the school and the ancient magic she possesses lead her astray? ● In the Shadow of Love || Sebastian Sallow (wattpad & ao3) synopsis: Matty is returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry although things are quite different this time around. With no guidance from Professor Fig and the Wizarding world not being in constant peril, Matty has to learn what it's like to be a normal student. On this path, Matty finds herself deeply in love with a fellow classmate, strengthens and finds new friendships, and possible betrayal by the ones she trusts. Join Matty in her sixth year and see the story of love, friendship, action, and betrayal. ● In the Shadow of Magic || Sebastian Sallow (wattpad & ao3) synopsis: After two whirlwind years, Matty was returning to Hogwarts for her final year but this time would be different. She was fighting to maintain control of herself, as she felt the lure of the unknown, the magic, calling her. It tempted her and drew her deeper with each spell cast, each experiment taken a step further from the norm. But she was not alone in fighting for control. Join Matty on her journey through her seventh year with enemies around every corner and view the slow grip of reality loosen as time goes on. (terribly sorry for using the "in the shadow of" trope. hope its not too confusing).

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 - 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔

quick a/n: These are all from over a year ago (I think) and I am lowkey embarrassed about the writing. They're still enjoyable but apologies in advance for how sloppy some of it might be. 😅🤍

Sebastian Sallow ● Sebastian Headcanons | pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | ● Sebastian's Boggart + His reaction to MC's Boggart ● Sebastian x Tall!FMC ● Sebastian x Short!FMC ● Sharing a bed with Sebastian

Ominis Gaunt ● Ominis Headcanons ● Ominis x Tall!FMC ● Ominis x Short!FMC ● Sharing a bed with Ominis

Garreth Weasley ● Garreth Headcanons ● Sharing a bed with Garreth

Leander Prewett ● Sharing a bed with Leander

Amit Thakkar ● Sharing a bed with Amit

Andrew Larson ● Sharing a bed with Andrew

Imelda Reyes ● Imelda headcanons

Poppy Sweeting ● Poppy Headcanons.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 - 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒔

Eleazar Fig ● Professor Fig Headcanons

Aesop Sharp ● Professor Sharp Headcanons

Dinah Hecat ● Professor Hecat Headcanons. pt.1 | pt.2 |

Matilda Weasley ● Professor Weasley Headcanons.

I will write for pretty much any HL character but these are just the ones I have written for before! More to be added. Hope you enjoy 🤍

[ravenwind-75]

Fanfiction & Oneshot Masterlist

A masterlist for the writing chaos that goes on in my mind.

Most of these and more are on my ao3 and WP.

It's hard to find all original links here lol.

💙✨🦅💙✨🦅💙✨🦅💙✨🦅💙✨🦅

WIP long fics:

In the Shadow of Injustice || fMC & boys

fMC Ravenclaw x ambiguous relationships x Ominis Gaunt

ongoing (randomly updated)

Synopsis: Johanna risks it all to save Sebastian from a situation he wouldn't be in if it wasn't for her. Forgive, forget, love, and regret all come together in this story of hard decisions. This is a story that tells as it goes.

The Darkness I breathe || fMC & Garreth (?)

morally gray Slytherin fMC

ongoing/ currently on pause

synopis:

"I didn't always like the darkness. It contained what I couldn't see, what I couldn't control or understand. But now that I breathe it, now that it lives inside me I would always choose it over the light."

Coming Soon

Fire on Fire || fMC x Sebastian Sallow

Cowritten: (mostly by me tho)

The Double Jailbreak Heist || mult

fMC Ravenclaw(s) & fMC Hufflepuff friendship

multiverse dynamic

on pause long fic

related story attached

Anne's Last First Dance

The MC Sleepover with @starry-slithers

Cowritten with @endless-starlight-legacy

Once Upon a Sebby Chicken 🐔

Sidequest:

Oneshots:

Hearts of Fire (also on WP and ao3)

The Depulso Rooms (WP and ao3)

AU: Saturn

I love you I'm sorry

Shiver up your Spine

Revenge is Hot

Sweeter than Strawberries

A Christmas Kiss

Indigo

The boy who became indigo and His Diamond girl, His silver boy.

Fics for friends:

Ignorant for @the-ozzie

Magic Bread for @starry-slithers

Magnolia's birthday (cowritten with @starry-slithers)

New year for @morelikeravenbore

A Fly Among the Stars for @alibasnur

Healing you, Healing me for stein

Silly posts:

Muggle books

Hogtober:

Natty

Sebastian

Ollivanders

Feldcroft and Divination

Arena

Trick or Treat:

Jominis

HCU:

Just be Completely You

A Yule Ball Date

[ps-cactus]

Shades of Silver Lining - Ch. 5.1 - posted ���

Ch.4 <- | -> Ch.5.2 | the first post aka story teaser + tags

word count: 4700 ✨ [ AO3 ] ✨ [ Wattpad ]

a/n: Huge thanks to @accio-bagel for beta reading! The whole story is rated MATURE for various forms of traumas and violence. Tags and trigger warnings specific for this chapter: Main: Family Conflict, Toxic Family Dynamics. MOSTLY NOT EXPLICIT: Physical Abuse, Parental Abuse, Parental Neglect, Sibling Abuse. Also: Self-Doubt, Guilt, Occasionally BITTERSWEET, ESCAPE PLANS, Hurt/COMFORT, Internal Conflict, Manipulation, Coping Mechanisms, PTSD Symptoms, Moments of Self-Loathing, Mentions of Pureblood Supremacy, Mentions of Arranged Marriage, Mentions of Alcohol.

And the last one - I'm sorry.

Summary: Several scenes of Ominis’ days in the Gaunt manor, where he is burdened the most by the constant reminder that he’s still under his family’s control. Each forced conversation is a careful dance around his father’s suspicions and his brother's hostility. Ominis clings to the thought of returning to Hogwarts and the people he trusts, counting down the days until he can finally break free. He struggles to keep a hold on his own hopes, but every single step in this house feels like walking on ice that is thinner than ever.

First time I post whole chapter on Tumblr, let's goo:

Eighteen months and twenty-two days.

Ominis paused, his hand brushing against the slightly scuffed bannister. Only half an hour here, and the usual eerie cold of the manor already chilled him to the bone, more than the frosty January drizzle had. He listened carefully, yet all he could hear were the soft rustling of the rain outside and the mild bustle from the dining room below. His wand subtly indicated the nearest objects, that were undeniably motionless. 

"Sure the letter isn't an option?"

"It's far better if they know about this directly from me, Alyn. That I had to speak with the Auror."

"Sorry, we shouldn't have…"

"No, in fact, it's advantageous. He would've summoned me today regardless. He made it very clear."

He gained some precious moments to build a defence for Alyn from Marvolo and to shield himself from Father's suspicions. Until he graduated and could truly vanish from their reach, it was safer to avoid any provocations, he knew it all too well. 

Ominis hurried down the stairs, hesitating briefly at the dining room door. Entering felt like stepping onto uncertain ice, unsure if it would hold. But for the safety of those he cared about, he took the step. Warm, dry air carried the rich scent of beef simmered in herby gravy, yet Ominis couldn't imagine forcing down a single bite of anything the House-elves were still arranging. His entire being felt like it had coiled into a painful knot of dreadful anticipation.

"Your father should be back soon," Merope Gaunt's voice carried across the big room. Mother's voice seemed more ghostly with each passing encounter, just as her presence. Ominis only gave her a short nod. From the sound, she was seated on a sofa opposite the fireplace. He had no desire to sit with her and instead stood near the fire, slipping his wand into his pocket immediately. Father disapproved of him holding a wand even a moment longer than necessary for navigation.

"You cannot change who they are, Ominis," a tender voice reminds him. He would gladly trade all the others that had ever echoed in this manor for that voice, its sincerity and gentleness. "I know it hurts. But what truly matters is that you're nothing like them."

The front door banged with a force that seemed to drive all the air from Ominis' lungs, the echo of heavy quick steps reverberating against groaning wooden planks. He straightened, turning away from the fireplace. 

"Oh?" The footsteps halted at the threshold. 

"Evening, Father." His hand wrapped firmly around the fingers of the other, that was now painfully missing the familiar weight of his wand.

"Splendid." The surprise in Ivraxus Gaunt's tone was overshadowed by the most natural irritation, ever ready to explode. "I suppose my owl will arrive here shortly, then."

Of course he knew. The uncertainty of what exactly Father might have known gnawed at him, but Ominis wouldn't risk initiating the conversation now, lest all his fragile plans collapse into ashes that might well entomb him. Heavy footsteps approached the table, followed by a harsh slap of papers on the cloth. His fingers didn't twitch, though Ominis could feel the strain of keeping them perfectly still.

The clink of the glass, the soft pour of liquid, the faint chime of a ring against the glass. A quiet swallow. All was expected. Ominis tried to focus on the fire's heat, which reassuringly climbed along his legs and up his spine.

A solid thud jarred the table.

"Where's Marvolo?"

"Upstairs, I believe. Ivy…" Mother's quiet words to the House-elf were cut short as the footsteps echoed from the staircase. "Oh, never mind."

The faint pull at his brow tightened, but Ominis caught it, forcing his face into calm stillness. The little good thing he experienced this summer was Marvolo staying abroad. His sister had visited briefly with her family, but at least he hadn't had to endure both siblings at once.

"Father, pleasure to see you." Marvolo's voice had taken on a richer timbre since they last met, the restrained insolence beneath the politeness remaining as distinct as ever.

The muffled "Mmhm," came into the glass.

"Would you mind signing this?" The crackle of parchment accompanied Marvolo's words. "Hah. Look who's—"

The hollow, muted thwack was paired with a clipped exhale. Ominis shifted his weight uneasily, hoping the movement would disguise the flinch that had rippled through his body.

"Enough. Sit." The words crashed like thunder, completing the heavy drumming of icy rain against the window.

Ominis knew he was normally capable of compassion. But at this moment in this house he only felt relief. It wasn't happening to him. Not yet, at least. Reluctant footsteps shuffled across the floor, ending in the soft scrape of fabric as Marvolo dropped onto the sofa.

"What happened?" Mrs Gaunt's voice, though surprised, remained barely audible.

"Three months. Three months of meticulous preparation for this contract—wasted. All because rumours reached my friends today that Potter is collecting papers to detain him. Or arrest him outright, should she succeed." 

Mr Gaunt approached, pausing not far from Ominis. Thankfully—no, delightfully—the voice, that was more irritated than usual, was always aimed at the sofa. "Few would have the patience for such nonsense. I certainly won't."

"Wait… Arrest?" Echoed Mrs Gaunt.

"There was an arson in Hogsmeade. Fiendfyre. In Hogsmeade, of all places!" 

One step closer to the sofa. 

Marvolo scoffed. "Horrible. Perhaps they ought to try doing their jobs better for once."

Ominis felt as if the fire was slowly moving from behind him to within his chest. He genuinely wished that Aurors would do a better job. The faint rustle of cloth and the retreating footsteps marked Mrs Gaunt's departure across the room, to where a busy House-elf could still be heard aligning cutlery. 

"Your name stirs trouble again. And I am left to field foolish questions about you. Again." Mr Gaunt's every word sent vibrations coursing through the room, rippling along the manor's walls, and deep into Ominis' very being. The glass landed with a clink on the side table. "A delightful predicament, wouldn't you—"

"You can't honestly think it was me." 

The impatient step followed at once, and sofa legs creaked strainedly. A startled gasp and the feet scuffing against the floor made Ominis feel the grand room suddenly shrink to the size of a cramped closet, suffocating and unescapable.

"Interrupt me again, and you'll be cleaning up your own mess—and rotting in Azkaban shortly after."

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Marvolo's voice was void of its usual arrogance at last. 

Sofa legs groaned again as the body was dropped back forcefully.

"How dare you insult this family with such reckless foolishness? Look at me when I talk to you."

"It's not on me. Whatever happened there. I only spoke with a couple of people yesterday. Mason—she didn't keep her end of the deal, so I just—"

"Did I ask about people? For Salazar's sake..."

And—nothing. 

This nothing felt surreal, but it didn't last. Soon the sound of Marvolo's breath grew louder, quickening and breaking once with a grunt. Instinct, born of familiarity, quickly guided Ominis to what was unfolding. He had long believed Marvolo to be completely inept at Occlumency, especially when compared to  their father's unfailing proficiency in Legilimency. Except for one time.

"Ah, I see…" Mr Gaunt murmurs, gripping the face of his younger son tighter. He is fascinated to realise physical contact can also be a pathway into the mind.

The feeling of his father's hand is horrifying. Ominis flinches faintly, but he knows not to fight back. The worst part isn't even the hand; it's the odd disobedience of his mind, slipping from his grasp. All he can think is how much he wants this to stop. 

His eyelids flutter, but the tears never reach his father's quickly retreating hand.

"Agh! What the—?"

The Healer later warns Mr Gaunt against further attempts, pointing out that recovery will require some potent potions and considerable rest. They explain the damage was caused by the boy's unexpectedly strong mental resistance, while Ominis, unharmed but equally terrified, stands near them, only wishing to hide again and never be found. 

"Well… We'll revisit this a bit later." Father's voice grew almost cautious, though the irritation lingered. Ominis inclined his head and even leaned forward a bit, fearing that something vital was slipping past him. Why wasn't he furious? 

There only was the rustling of parchment as it was briskly straightened. 

"Is ‘Authorization' truly so difficult for you to spell? And the seal, wrong. I'm not signing this, unless you're truly aiming for Azkaban and a thousand-galleon fine… Now you. Ominis. I know you visited the Aurors today."

He resisted the urge to step backwards right into the blazing fireplace. The weighty footsteps, pounding like a drumbeat, were approaching him this time. He had to keep his face neutral, his breathing steady. He had done nothing wrong today. He just had to make it clear now, and try to keep Marvolo away from Hogsmeade.

"I'm sure your conversation was riveting. Since you turned up before even getting my letter, I'd say you're eager to share. Go ahead."

"The Not-Involved One is their prime suspect." Ominis made sure to sound with deliberate clarity. "The Head Auror said it was reason enough to talk to me, as his brother, often seen in Hogsmeade. Though he—"

"Hardly grounds for interrogation. Did they have anything on you?" 

Father stood right next to him. Too close. The door was precisely five steps away. Too distant, it might as well have been a mile. The hastily crumpled parchment hit the fire with a faint thump, the flames roaring briefly as they devoured it.

"No, they didn't," his voice felt foreign. It was crisp and detached, though Ominis felt as fragile and fleeting as that parchment disintegrating in the fire. "But it wasn't—"

"You're still underage, did you forget? They had no right to interrogate you without my consent and presence." The hand slammed against the mantel, too close to Ominis' shoulder. "I'll see to it that all your words are rendered inadmissible. Foster is in charge in Hogsmeade now, am I right?"

"Yes, it was Officer Foster who wanted to speak to me. Though, he—"

"He wanted to talk to you personally?" 

"He did. And he seemed... prejudiced. It's as though he's more concerned with the suspect's name than anything else. I didn't realise I could refuse at first. So I told him I knew nothing of Marvolo's dealings, which is true, and left as soon as I realised he had no authority to keep me there and called it a ‘conversation.'"

A pause was filled by an impatient metallic chime against glass. Ominis was still outraged that Foster had chosen to treat Alyn as a suspect instead of giving her the help she needed, and to waste time threatening him simply because of his name. But he kept focused on staying motionless, keeping his fingers relaxed, all his face muscles steady. 

"Nothing surprising," Mr Gaunt commented finally. "He never learns, does he?.. Must be the lingering effects of too many Stupefies. At this point, he's begging to be reminded of his limits… A ‘conversation', you say?"

The step closer brought the intrusive smell of firewhiskey to Ominis, as if frustration itself had a scent. 

"That's what he called it. I'd say it was a threat disguised as a warning."

Father's heavy breathing lingered uncomfortably close. The rhythmic drumming of fingers against the mantelpiece hurt his head from the inside, but Ominis didn't dare take a step back. He had always wondered if he was simply imagining it, or if he truly could sense someone's gaze lingering on him. He'd read and heard of the unsettling feeling he was experiencing this moment—of being reached for, examined from a distance. 

"Obviously, had you said something to embarrass yourself, I'd be adding your mess to the one I'm already cleaning up. But hear me now." A hand landed on Ominis' shoulder, sending an unpleasant jolt through him, every nerve alight with tension. "If you so much as breathe near an Auror again without my consent, your regret will far outlast theirs. Understood?"

"Of course." 

The hand left his shoulder, and the scent of Firewhisky receded slightly, but the tension in his body lingered. 

An exaggerated scoff drifted from the sofa. It wasn't loud, but it was enough. The flame from the fireplace seemed to have burst forth and swallowed Ominis whole at once. 

"I imagine things might be easier if faces on Auror's records didn't show up near there, especially right before disasters." 

He regretted the words before they'd fully left his mouth. Ominis hated losing control. He hated being here. There was too much audience for these words, but it was too late. He clenched his teeth as though that could pull the words back. Father hummed in agreement, which only made it worse.

"Full of words today, aren't you? Desperate for some attention? Pathetic." The distant words slithered out, their hiss betraying them as Parseltongue. The fire blazed wildly in Ominis' chest, and on his cheeks, too dangerous for the fragile ice he still felt beneath his feet. He had to stay quiet, be smarter, but—

"Mirror much?"

This time, Ominis regretted more than just this stupid inability to hold back. Shifting into Parseltongue could happen unconsciously. The sensation of hissing words on his tongue was even more nauseating than the oppressive smell of firewhiskey. 

A sharp movement disturbed the air right in front of his face. Ominis blinked, unable to suppress the flinch, though it was nothing more than a gesture near him.

"Get out. Both of you," Father's words were also hissing now, but quicker, lashing, his firm steps already striding  decisively toward the table. 

Skipping meals was nothing unusual here and Ominis couldn't welcome it more today. He didn't really trust this new tendency of his father's, noticed over the summer, as mother's health deteriorated more than ever—to dismiss rather than punish outright—though he couldn't deny it suited him.

"Actually..." 

Ominis had barely reached for his wand when he froze again. The heavy scrape of a chair against the floor grated through the room.

"Marvolo, you wait. Ominis, I said, out. Now."

~~~ // ~~~ // ~~~ // ~~~

Ominis couldn't shake the chill, even in his supposedly warmest pyjamas. This small fireplace was never enough for his spacious room, and a warming charm wouldn't last through the night, so he was leaning over the dresser, searching for the warmest socks. His thoughts mirrored his hands, rummaging, restless: what had Father discovered? Did Marvolo have some brilliant plan? Or was he really not involved? Which one of these possibilities was more ridiculous? 

Once he'd found a thick enough pair of socks, Ominis slammed the drawer shut with force. The old, unsteady furniture wobbled precariously, and he had to hold it steady with his hand and take  a deep breath. The evening hadn't turned out so badly, actually. Without dragging anyone else into it he seemed to make his father consider banning Marvolo from Hogsmeade. Also, Foster now was one of the primary focuses of blame. Ominis felt no real sorrow about that; a man in Foster's position should understand the implications of his words and actions. 

He climbed under the blanket, hoping that the weariness would allow him the relief of dreamless rest. 

Eighteen months and twenty-two days. By tomorrow evening, he'd already be at the Great Hall, just in time to enjoy a proper dinner. He would be happy even to hear Reyes yelling at the Quidditch team, demanding they add more meat and greens to their plates.

And after that, he'd escape to the Undercroft. Alyn would prepare little cards with a rune on the one side and lecture notes on the other. At some point, when exchanging these cards, his hand would accidentally brush against hers—always so soft and warm—and linger. She wouldn't pull her hand away, and he wouldn't apologise, because in these rare moments of being alone, they wouldn't have to. 

It seemed as though ages, not just months, had gone by since the first time he sat next to her in class.

"Sure. It's just a bit… unexpected," Alyn says before Charms as Ominis slides into the seat beside her. He pointedly ignores this remark, much as he keeps ignoring Sebastian—he's far from ready to deal with whatever Sallow's been trying to say these days, after... The thought brings a bitter taste, but Alyn's presence, as the only one who understood, made it a little easier to bear. 

He thinks that lately life has taken on a wild unpredictability, like how she's somehow the only person left he can stand to be near. Out loud, though, he says only, "Might I borrow your Slowing Charm notes for a moment?"

The knocking returned Ominis from the class back to his bedroom, making him sit up. The sensation of his heart pounding wasn't comforting anymore, but growing sickeningly uneasy.

"Yes?"

"Master Ivraxus is asking for Master Ominis, sir," came a high-pitched, slightly trembling voice from beyond the door. 

"What, now?" 

"Yes, Master. Right away, sir. In the library."

A muffled pop told Ominis the elf was gone. As he left the little comfort his blanket and slightly warmed room offered, a shiver crept through him again. He knew more questions would come sooner or later and had the answers ready. However, the urgency of this request unsettled him deeply, to say the least. Something was off.

Ominis approached the stairs when he paused, noticing the subtle warning hum of his wand. Awareness struck in a split second, but there was no time to act—the Full Body-Bind curse had already taken hold. The cold stone floor caught him, its freezing surface pressing hard against his spine. His head buzzed, drowning out the sound of unhurried footsteps circling him, but he would always recognise them unmistakably.

The scene played out like something familiar as well. Familiar to the point of dread. His mind was clawing at Finite, even though he knew full well it was useless without the simplest wand movement.

Marvolo crouched beside him. "A little rat, aren't you? ‘Faces on records.' Disgusting." His wand jabbed against Ominis' chest. "Too bad you didn't tumble down those stairs—but that's something we can still fix." 

The weight of the wand tip pushed Ominis fully into the memory that had already been creeping over him.

Small and vulnerable, his younger self trembles as the heartless laughter reverberates around him. The floor feels impossibly cold, slick with sweat and tears. He isn't immobilised, yet it offers no advantage—he is completely lost. The exact same wand presses suddenly against his chest, and one brief word burns into every nerve of his body at once.

"Mute now, are we? How tragic." Ominis couldn't hold onto the meaning of the words near him; they drifted away, overshadowed by the urgency of the memory. "I've got nothing to do with that. Is making me look bad in front of Father just a little hobby of yours now?" 

The grip on his pyjama shirt pressed against his skin with brutal force. The discomfort was sharp enough to make Ominis try to clung to this sensation, desperately wishing it could drown out the other pain.

"What's going on there?" The distant voice combined with the weight of the fist pressing near his throat, brought to his mind another woman's voice.

"I've got you, sweetheart, it's alright. I promise this will pass soon."

The pain on his chest flared sharply, and Ominis clung to it with all his might—because this pain definitely wasn't coursing through his entire body, and nothing mattered more than that.

"Keep playing the rat, and you'll be treated like one. Your precious Sallow is now rubbing shoulders with the Aurors, isn't he? That's dangerous—for both of you. Remember that next time you open your mouth."

Sebastian. Ominis fought to focus, straining to grasp the meaning of words. The footsteps grew closer. Once again, he tried to feel his wand in his hand, but failed.

"Stop whatever childish nonsense this is." 

Marvolo hesitated before pulling his wand away.

"Finite!"

His body unlocked all at once, and Ominis inhaled sharply, savouring the precious rush of air deep into his lungs and the distance now separating him from his brother.

"We're just talking. And we understand each other perfectly now, right, baby brother?" 

Hands roughly dragged him up by the shirt, forcing him into a sitting position. Ominis ignored all of the drawn-out words, and the barely audible comments from Mother, mentioning, of course, Father. What mattered most was the stone under his palms—cold, but blessedly dry. The other pain had dulled, but the sharp pain in his chest, where the wand and the fist had pressed, remained vivid—and he welcomed it. Reality.

"It's not real, you hear me? Breathe, Ominis, alright? Please," says Sebastian in the urgent, worried voice of an eleven-year-old boy.

His hand instinctively clasped around his wand's handle, so familiar and comforting. Reality kept crashing down on him as the dreadful meaning of the half-heard words began to sink in.

Marvolo kept speaking, standing beside him. "You are so absolutely right. Wouldn't want to upset Father more than we already have." Ominis felt the mocking patting on his shoulder. He forced himself to act—a desperate move, but desperation has often been his companion, after all. His unsteady hand shot upward, gripping Marvolo's wrist.

Velvety laughter, indulgent, almost inviting. No—this isn't right… Alyn's voice, sharp and determined: "Show you the way out?" That's closer… The cold wind brushes his face. "Felt good, didn't it?" The trembling with rage voice lingers before slithering into almost inaudible Parseltongue, "I'd kill you, but..."

A scattered cheering of voices, while Marvolo grunts—the sound is displeased, sharp. "Don't be stupid." The words are sour with disdain… "Lies!" The voice cuts through, raw and trembling. The fear is there, just beneath the surface, twisting into fury… That laughter again… No… Velvety laughter is louder this time, pressing closer, refusing to leave. It grows, sharpens, until it almost breaks into something else—a voice…

Marvolo yanked his arm away violently, snarling, "Get off. Don't you dare." 

Ominis clutched his wand, but his grip on reality still was tenuous at best. The indulging laughter lingered in his head, silencing the sharp "I meant every bloody word" and a dismissive huff Marvolo let out before his heavy steps receded into the corridor. 

The second set of footsteps was gone instantly, walking decisively away in the opposite direction. Ominis struggled to recall if there had ever been a time Mother had stepped in. Maybe five years ago? Ten? But of course, the only reason for her to show up was because he had told her to. 

Slowly, the ghost of pain from the memory was loosening its grip on his body, and Ominis pushed himself up, holding onto the wall for balance. It's nothing, he told himself. It wasn't even real. 

His navigation charm faltered several times as he made his way to the library. He wasn't at all surprised to confirm it was deserted, but he had to check .

Eighteen months and twenty-two days. Maybe, it was twenty-one already.

He shut the door of his bedroom behind him quickly and, though it took effort, reinforced the locking spell. He leaned his head against the door for a while, as though the pressure could somehow force "It's been worse" deeper into his mind.

He tucked his wand under his pillow resolutely and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket tightly around him as he stayed perched against the wall. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Wrapping his arms around himself, he tried to stop that ridiculous trembling. Silence reigned on the other side of the door, while the rustle of the rain shifted into the crackle of hailstones against the window. 

He should warn Sallow that Father either has an interest in him already or will develop one soon. Marvolo wouldn't keep this quiet for long. His endless threats had long since blended, forming one continuous menace. Why had he stayed silent until now? 

Ominis wished his lack of experience in Legilimency wasn't so painfully evident. But what concerned him even more was his brother's thoughts persistently drifting from course, ending up at that laughter again. He was surprised and concerned that Marvolo was capable of that. Could he be good enough to hide anything from their father?

Even in the memories he managed to grasp, nothing was clear enough. Unfortunately, his father had been right all these years—the natural ability would indeed be more practical for the person who could see. Then he would've been able to tell if there was any link to Hogsmeade, and… Beneath his gripping fingers, his arms still felt numb. Exhaustion must have dulled his reactions at first, he really needed to get back to practising duelling. But what excuse did he have for not responding to his brother afterwards? Cowardice. Some old memories scared him. In a real fight, it could have cost him his life.

Ominis hadn't allowed himself tears for years; he knew well how dangerous they could be. Now, they all formed a familiar lump in his throat—painful, suffocating, and—utterly useless. Just like him.

His mind drifted to Sebastian again. Sallow would have fought back—he always did. He could probably even smirk straight at the face of whoever threatened him.

"Send an owl when you're back, alright? We'll grab a butterbeer." Sebastian's voice dips into a conspiratorial whisper, "Or I can find us something a little more exciting." 

Alyn snorts at his suggestion, taking an exaggerated step away from them. 

Soon after that talk, Ominis strolls across the castle lawn with her alone, stealing what moments they can before his train departs, as they both agreed she shouldn't go to the station with him.

"This scarf is mine now, you know," she says, her voice carrying a smile for the first time this day. Ominis finds himself also smiling a little. He's especially pleased that she just sent Sebastian's jumper back by owl, though he tries not to dwell on that too much.

"You can borrow it for now," she says, still smiling as she drapes the scarf around his neck. Her movements are far more careful than her words, revealing a shyness she doesn't quite let show. His smile grows a little. "It's a long trip, after all. Just be back soon to return it. I already have an idea of how to make it look a bit less… Slytherin."

He tried to avoid thinking about her, as if she might sense his weakness through them and be disappointed, but he couldn't help giving in. He remembered the certainty in her voice in that memory. She was stronger than he could ever hope to be. She deserved better—he knew that. 

Yet he also knew that he couldn't bear the thought of letting her go, even if the ache came from the shameful truth that he needed her far more than anyone could ever need him. With her, the idea of becoming the person he aspired to be felt real again—a hope he thought had died after fifth year at Hogwarts. For her, he wanted to keep trying.

His arms remained wrapped around himself, as if restraining tears that wouldn't fall. The hail tapped louder against the windows. He silently vowed to Alyn he would make it through. He had made it so many times here already. It could have been worse. Soon, Ominis could feel her touch. Less than two years, and he would be free to break his family's hold on his life once and for all.

The grip on his arm tightened and he made himself loosen his hand to preserve the beautiful, fragile feeling that she was near him. In his mind, it was her voice now, repeating "You can make it through." 

The sound of hail on the glass shifted to the rustle of rain once again, fading into distance. Slowly, Ominis sank into sleep, the warmth of Alyn's voice soothing his trembling better than the tight bundle of his blanket he was shrinking further into.

...pt.2 ->

[ps-cactus]

Shades of Silver Lining - Ch. 5.2 - posted ✅

Ch.5.1 <- | Ch.6 (in progress) | the first post aka story teaser + tags

word count: 3600 ✨ [ AO3 ] ✨ [ Wattpad ]

a/n: As always HUGE thanks to @accio-bagel for beta reading! Reminder that the whole story is rated MATURE for various forms of traumas and violence. Tags and trigger warnings specific for this chapter: Main: Family Conflict, Toxic Family Dynamics. MOSTLY NOT EXPLICIT: Physical Abuse, Parental Abuse, Parental Neglect, Sibling Abuse. Also: Self-Doubt, Guilt, Occasionally BITTERSWEET, ESCAPE PLANS, Hurt/COMFORT, Internal Conflict, Manipulation, Coping Mechanisms, PTSD Symptoms, Moments of Self-Loathing, Mentions of Pureblood Supremacy, Mentions of Arranged Marriage, Mentions of Alcohol.

I'm sorry again - this might be a bit sadder than 5.1. Chapter 5 in general is the saddest and the most painful of all this story. It will get better eventually, I promise.

Summary: Second part of several scenes of Ominis' days in the Gaunt manor. He's still trying to stay steady on the thinnest, most absurd sheet of ice imaginable, that might shatter completely even from his one sharp inhale. 

The whole pt.2 below the cut:

"No, don't stop," Mother's quiet voice came too late, as Ominis had already lifted his hands from the keys and released the pedal. The echo of the grand piano's dignified tone seemed to last longer now. He suspected the room was even emptier than it had been in the summer.

He had hoped to gather his thoughts, taking advantage of his father and brother's absence that morning. Alas.

"The Burkes are hosting a rather grand dinner this evening," Mrs Gaunt went on, having waited in vain for any response. There was something alien and intrusive in her voice today, matching the way her hand now lingered on the piano's body. "We're announcing Marvolo's engagement, before he'll be gone again for a little while."

"I have classes tomorrow morning. I can't stay," Ominis said, gently lowering the lid over the keys. His N.E.W.T. classes mattered too much; he needed to keep as many job options open as possible. It was far more important than anything involving his brother. He stood, but his hands felt frozen on the lid, as if already pinned there by the inevitability of the next words he would hear. 

"That's nothing to worry about," Mrs Gaunt replied, her voice feeling distant because of how much he didn't want to hear any of it. "Your father has already settled it. Sit down, Ominis."

He only reached for his wand on the music desk, the simple action feeling impossibly difficult. The crackling of the ice beneath his feet returned, sharper and louder than yesterday. What will happen to it by tomorrow?

"Your turning of age this Wednesday gives us the perfect excuse to host a dinner ourselves. Just a modest gathering, of course, but your father needs every chance for a productive meeting these days. I trust you understand."

Birthdays had never meant anything here. But of course, this one was a convenient excuse for a ‘productive meeting' for them. And three more days for him, trapped in a place where every hour felt heavier than the last. His mother's request carried his father's demands loud and clear. Ominis couldn't afford to provoke them, not while he was still at school, within their effortless reach. 

The rustle of her dress  and the faint creak of the bench let him know that his mother sat beside him. "One more thing. You'll need to have a word with Mrs Black today. Because your father and I want to invite the Flints on Wednesday. They're her family, as you know, and we want them all to get to know you better."

The confusion quickly gave way to the growing, familiar blazing knot in his chest, creeping upward to his throat. There it was again. A matter he thought long buried, something he dared to hope he'd never hear again. 

"I was under the impression the Flints had declined long ago."

"We convinced them to think it over again. It wasn't simple, Ominis, and we expect you to appreciate that."

This wasn't the first time he heard that arranging marriages had grown increasingly difficult for his family. His parents' success in finding a future wife for Marvolo felt like both a stroke of luck and an act of desperation. Though he knew their lineage wasn't quite up to his father's expectations, the Burkes were a family Ominis had known all his life—just like the Blacks or Flints. He considered it at least remarkable that his parents managed to actually find someone for him as well, despite his problems reaching beyond the family's general issues.

He hesitated longer this time before answering. "You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble on my account. It makes me feel rather awkward."

"Don't worry about us, Ominis. What matters are these sacred alliances. I want you to have everything you deserve, without giving your father a reason to doubt if you're worthy of it."

Noctua's will, brought up again as if the memory of her was  theirs to use however they pleased, normally against him. He hadn't planned to live out his life in one of the family's houses—never, not for anything. Especially not when the only one who had ever given that place a sense of beauty or comfort g was no longer there to do so. But a faint yet steady hope lingered:  that selling it quickly after graduation, before his family found out, might make his new life more bearable. He didn't want to be the burden he'd felt like here, not to anyone, not ever again.

"Just show some respect, and it will make things a little easier for us," Mrs Gaunt said at last, breaking the heavy silence. "Surely that's not too much to ask."

Ominis stepped away from the piano, giving his mother only a parting nod.

The only thought that held him together was knowing this girl—and that she wouldn't come of age for another three or four years. Protecting his future, however, meant enduring just eighteen months and twenty-one days—a time in which they needed to believe he had no control. The real challenge was to maintain that illusion without truly losing his grip. He had to stay steady on the ice, even as it cracked dangerously beneath his every step.

The silver brooch bearing the family crest felt like it was burning a gaping hole in his body. Tracing his finger again and again over the ridges dulled by time, Ominis desperately wished, but did not dare, to remove it from his jacket.

Faint voices and the occasional clink of glasses carried through the air from the house. The charm he'd used to warm the garden bench was slowly wearing, but he wanted to stay a little longer, away from the hypocrisy of his father, who wasn't truly pleased about this engagement. Away from Marvolo, who grew more obnoxious with each drink he downed. Away from the unspoken words about Hogsmeade that hung heavy in the air; Father had brusquely silenced someone's question with one of the usual honoured guests, Headmaster Black, seconding him. 

Ominis quietly snorted in disgust, thinking back to his summer. For the first time since starting school, he had endured all six weeks at home instead of just a few days at the end of the summer break. All the dinners and parties he never missed. The people he couldn't stand. He had happened to hear Black casually reassuring someone that the ‘goblin issue' at Hogwarts had been handled by the professors, dismissing some girl's involvement as purely accidental and not even worth discussing further. Those were the Ministry's words—Foster's official public stance, as Alyn had explained. Now, Ominis found himself wondering how Black managed to be so-called friends with such a great variety of people. These games required exceptional skill, something that could almost be admired if it weren't used so wickedly.

The sting returned, a sharp ache as Ominis thought about how he couldn't write to that girl—to warn her, to explain why he hadn't returned today. It wasn't possible here; he was acutely aware of his every move being observed. Eighteen months and twenty-one days.

He heard the patter of small feet on the stone path, and let go of the brooch, gripping his wand with both hands. Its signals suggested that someone small, roughly three feet tall, came to a halt nearby—probably an elf, yet again, or possibly a child.

"Hi!" came the familiar child voice. "Are you all alone here? Why?"

"Go back inside. Your mother must be wondering where you are." Ominis gestured toward the house, already hearing the approaching clack of heels that was about to shatter any of his hope for a quiet moment alone. 

"Sweetheart, Uncle Ominis doesn't want to talk to you." Korentha's voice dripped with venom as she said his name. "Belvina is waiting for you; be a good friend and go play with her." 

The boy didn't need much convincing and dashed back toward the house. Ominis felt a desire to retreat just the same and decided to act on it, rising from the bench. His sister stepped in his way in an instant, the cloying sweetness of her perfume making him feel dizzy.

"Your manners are worse than a four-year-old's. It's almost as if you're not happy for our brother." 

"As the one blessed with sight, you should've already noticed my unmistakable glow of happiness. I'll be back, so everyone can marvel at it properly."

He tried to walk past her, but Korentha seized his elbow with a sharp grip, just as his wand emitted an almost imperceptible low hum. 

"So you can speak in full sentences? Try to finally prove it to the others."

A child's squeal and a woman's shout echoed from the house, prompting his sister to let go of him and rush back inside, her perfume persistently lingering in the air. Ominis trailed after her, deliberately slow. No one here truly wanted him around, and his absence would go unnoticed; his mother had already ensured he exchanged at least three polite phrases with Mrs. Black. On other occasions, he might have passed the time talking with Phineas, as he often did during these gatherings, but tonight he was the only student present. 

He wished the garden would somehow become a Hogwarts courtyard.

"I told you, I'm not going back," Ominis says firmly. He is sitting on a bench, warmed by the dry spring air.

"Suit yourself. I just…" The footsteps draw closer anyway, accompanied by a soft rustle of parchment. "We're having a little break now, and Sharp handed out essays. I grabbed yours. You spent two whole nights on it, after all."

As Ominis shoves the parchment into his bag, Alyn lets out a quiet chuckle. "Oh, and Grace's murder plans are off. Apparently, your essay points made up for the… incident. Is it always like this? People out for blood over every house point by year's end? Can't believe it still matters to anyone, after… Alright, I better go. See you later." 

She touches his shoulder in passing, her steps soon receding on the gravel path. For just a moment, Ominis finds himself tempted to rejoin the lesson he detests.

"Don't test my patience. Put your wand away and sit."

Another dinner lay ahead tonight, with a smaller and slightly different group than Sunday's, but equally unpleasant. But for now, Ominis sat in a stiff chair near the unlit fireplace in his father's office, wondering if he was the only one in this house bothered by the relentless cold.

The reasons he imagined for his father's early return from work and the sudden summons grew darker with each thought. He latched onto the ideas he'd been running through his mind for days to make sure they would sound natural if he had to voice them. He had no ties to Sallow left. No associations with Muggle-borns. None of it even bothered him. Only family mattered. 

Eighteen months and eighteen days.

"I've just spoken with Foster," Father began, his voice chillingly even. "Care to guess what he had to say?"

Ominis was aware of the silence stretching too long, but he required the pause to keep his expression and the fingers on his knees as steady as he could. He stood on the thinnest, most absurd sheet of ice imaginable, so fragile it felt like even his sharp inhale might shatter it completely. 

He finally found his voice, which couldn't afford to waver. "Something calculated, no doubt. Did it involve Marvolo? Foster seems to think he has all the answers there."  

"I made it clear to Marvolo to stay out of Hogsmeade. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Ominis hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly, glad he was sitting. "It'll be a relief not to be questioned by the Aurors about him again."

"Speaking of Aurors. As I understood, After Solomon Sallow's death, the Ministry provided ‘support' for your friends until they come of age in summer. Sallow has become something of a pet for the Hogsmeade Aurors, hasn't he? Tell me, how long have you known?"

"I've heard something, but as I said before—we're not friends anymore, just people who once knew each other at school."

His voice didn't shake and was devoid of feeling, even though he longed to curse, shout, flee, disappear. Maybe even to wherever Sebastian was, to ask why he hadn't mentioned the position was only temporary. Anywhere but here, stuck in this suddenly frozen conversation. The oppressive silence hung heavily as Ominis waited for his father to speak again.

"That's foolish, Ominis. He likely knows more than he should. What if the Aurors have been using him to dig into you—into our family?"

"It would be difficult, considering he knows nothing significant and has no way of finding out now. If he really did, why would Foster warn you of a potential threat? He didn't bother to hide his disdain when speaking to me."

"I know of his offer, and I am pleased you refused. Good. Well done. What interests me far more, though, is why he assumed you'd humiliate yourself to defend a Mudblood."

Ominis knew all these questions were inevitable. In fact, it was almost surprising they hadn't come sooner. He had prepared himself, rehearsed the answers. The key was believing in them for now, even if doing so made him sick. 

Yet the conversation led nowhere. The words lingered in the room, futile and falling short. It felt as if his father wasn't searching for answers at all, but rather for justification, an excuse to weaponise his disappointment and fear. 

He realised he was trapped all along. His words were irrelevant, the outcome for him was already determined.

This was it.

He shouldn't have stayed. 

He shouldn't have come here.

He shouldn't have spoken to Foster.

He shouldn't have grown close with Alyn.

He shouldn't have become friends with Sebastian.

He shouldn't have been such an idiot.

"Enough," Father cut him off yet again. "Stand up. And step away from that fine armchair."

Ominis stepped back from the door, where he had been listening for what felt like an eternity. Somewhere deep in the house, a clock chimed four in the morning. His legs felt unsteady as he made his way back to the table, sinking heavily into the chair.

With hands that trembled on and off he attempted to roll up the parchment he had spent the night scribbling on. Plans, fragmented thoughts, fleeting ideas, interrupted in places by blots of ink where his quill had paused for too long. He couldn't sleep, so he'd worked instead, attempting to improve in the nonverbal use of his quill. Yet tonight, he'd failed at even that.

Frustrated, he crumpled the parchment in his hand with all the strength he could muster. His fingers, sluggish and barely responsive, clenched tighter until pain and exhaustion forced them to release. The crushed ball of parchment slipped from his grip and fell to the floor with a faint crackle.

Three days felt like an eternity. Like time had stopped in this house.

Eighteen months and seventeen days seemed surreal.

He buried his face in his palms, one of which throbbed now. The Wiggenweld potion he'd been given before dinner had helped him for a few hours, but its effect had already faded completely. Not that anyone had truly wanted him at the dinner. Not that he'd wanted to be there, either.

One day, he would leave this place, this life, for good. The train to Hogsmeade wouldn't depart for another eight hours—eight horribly endless hours. Perhaps he could board some other train, vanish into a place where no one knew him?

No. He couldn't. For the same reasons that haunted him for years already. He needed more: the education to stand on his own, the money to start over, the assurance that he wouldn't be found by them. Best would be to not let them celebrate that he had simply disappeared. 

He breathed out a silent, "Enough," trying to shift his thoughts.

"Just be back soon."

"You can make it through."

No. Ominis ran his fingers through his hair and gripped his head. He'd spent… hours?.. persuading his father that he and Alyn were nothing more than classmates. That their appearance together in Hogsmeade had been purely coincidental, meaningless. That she was meaningless. 

The idea of Foster's so-called deal was nothing but the Auror's delusion, he'd insisted. That only family mattered.

He'd sworn there was no connection to Sebastian, that Sallow knew nothing, could never be a threat. That he was nothing. That only family mattered.

The truth pressed on him. In fact, he couldn't remember everything that happened, everything he'd said, and that terrified him. What if he had slipped? What if he'd already failed? Would anything he'd said even matter? And if it did, what kind of difference would it make?

His father hadn't seemed suspicious during dinner. On the contrary, he was the first to even mention that Noctua's house now legally belonged to Ominis. He'd suggested showing it to Mr and Mrs Flint one day—a place for their daughter to live with his son. 

It was only a matter of time before his father began finding ways to track his actions at school. He would likely increase his pressure on the Flints as well. Ominis had never heard of using an Unbreakable Vow for such arrangements,  but the term "contract" Father used was just as unsettling. 

They believed they owned him. They acted like it. 

And were they wrong? 

The Flints hadn't been enthusiastic tonight, but it was only a matter of time before they reached an agreement—or before his father found someone else.

Fuck.

Time. In the end, it all came back to time, and it was merciless. The ice beneath him had stopped cracking, but only because it was gone. He was under it now, his breath stolen by the cold, the weight of despair pressing him down. Someone drowning couldn't hope to hold anyone else up.

In the end, maybe it was better to sink alone than to drag anyone else with him.

Thank you for reading! Sending you hugs 🫂 it'll be okay, and it will be a bit better at once after he gets out of this place - which is soon, on the next train to Hogsmeade.

[anomalyaly]

My New Dream

Tangled!AU AO3/Wattpad

Beginning | CHAPTER 4 | Chapter 5

CW: Mature for violence and character death, alcoholism, super mild sexual references, thievery, vandalism, general disregard for the law, and swearing. SFW.

Each chapter is between 2-3k words.

None of this is meant to be taken seriously :)

It wasn't much, but Sebastian managed to find a small gondola to take them out into the middle of the lake. He held out his hand to help Elsie first before climbing in himself.

"Oh, no. Not a chance." Ominis marched up behind them. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Sebastian scoffed. "Here." He tossed him a bag of treats from Honeydukes, and they landed at Ominis's feet as he stood on the deck, glowering. Many of the royal guards had a sweet tooth — he knew from the countless times he had been caught sneaking into and around the palace — and Ominis was one of the most guilty.

The Captain hovered his wand over it, a skeptical look on his face. "If you think some stolen candy is going to convince me —"

"Relax," Sebastian laughed. "I bought it. You promised us twenty-four hours."

He stiffened, but reluctantly, Ominis agreed once more and picked up the bag of candy. "Alright. But don't think this means you can sneak off and do something stupid."

Sebastian was already beginning to paddle away, grinning at Elsie and ignoring whatever Ominis was saying. He watched from the corner of his eye as the Captain of the Guard strutted away, cautiously but enthusiastically sneaking a treat from the bag and popping it into his mouth. 

The girl in front of him gazed into the distance. "Where are we going?"

"Best day of your life?" Sebastian smiled widely at her, flexing his broad shoulders as he rowed them toward the lake's center. "I figured you should have a decent seat."

As the sun set and the sky grew dark, Sebastian paddled them to the perfect spot, secluded from the other boats, yet close enough that they could see the entirety of the castle. When the lanterns went up, they would be right in the middle of it all. He couldn't wait.

They floated in silence, watching the distant sky, and he noticed Elsie had a forlorn look on her face. She sighed, and he furrowed his brows questioningly.

"You alright?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "I'm...terrified."

That wasn't the answer he had expected. "Why?"

"I've been," she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "looking out a window, watching these lanterns for eighteen years. It's all I've ever dreamed of, wondering what it would feel like to be here, up close, watching those lights rise in the sky." She tucked her chin in her hand. "What if...what if it's not everything that I dreamed it would be?"

He tilted his head, reached out, and took her hand in his. "It will be."

"And," she turned to look at him, "what if it is? What do I do then?"

"That's the good part, I suppose," Sebastian chuckled. "You get to go find a new dream."

She smiled then, and gave him a soft laugh before plucking one of the flowers from her hair and placing it on the lake, watching it float away from their gondola.

Even though he had said the words, Sebastian wondered to himself what his dream was. Thievery had never truly been a part of it, not really. If everything terrible hadn't happened, if it hadn't been his fault, he never would have become a thief in the first place. It was all because he had gotten himself twisted in Dark magic, all for some sick addiction he couldn't seem to shake.

Thievery was never his dream. It was just something he needed to do to get by.

He had toyed with selling Dark Magic that promised a cure for terrible ailments, to make more money, to make up for losing his sister, and he had obtained them in questionable ways. He had made choices that no human being should have had to make just to get what he wanted in hopes of living the life he chased after — one where he wanted for nothing.

What would have become of him, had life not happened the way it had? Had he not gone and ruined everything, would his dreams of becoming a healer truly come to fruition? Or would he have still been another lowly, lost soul, destined for pain?

He couldn't even save his sister. He could never become a healer, not after everything he had done. He didn't deserve a dream.

The girl that sat in front of him, gently plucking flowers from her hair and floating them into the water, was the opposite. She was soft, kind, and unselfish — his antithesis. If anyone deserved to live out their dream, it was her.

As she reached behind her for another flower, he found he couldn't look away. Something about her presence had enchanted him, from the moment they met, even though they only knew each other for a short time. As insufferable as she had been, convincing him to take her on this long journey may have been exactly what he needed.

Sebastian reached out and delicately pulled a few more petals from her braid, being careful not to disturb the artwork that the young children had created of it, and held out his hand. Elsie smiled appreciatively and took one out of his palm, dropped it into the water with the others, and watched it float away.

Suddenly, she froze, and as she slowly looked out into the distance, Sebastian tracked her gaze to a lone lantern floating into the sky.

Elsie gasped, running to the gondola's prow and clutching onto it, as if climbing onto the highest point of the boat would allow her to see better. Her movements knocked their tiny boat askew, and Sebastian clung to the bottom of it, fearing that he was in for another dunking.

When the gondola steadied itself, he looked up at the sky and watched how in the distance, the lanterns floated up to the sky, a long trail of lights following the first. The glowing path weaved along the skyline, a swirling river of paper and candlelight.

It was probably a beautiful sight, but his eyes weren't focused on the lanterns.

Instead, he studied Elsie as her face lit up with wonder, the lantern light reflected in her bright eyes, a wide smile on her face. Something fluttered inside him, as if he was the lake and she had placed her flower petals in him to float, to bloom within the empty chest cavity he referred to as whatever semblance of a heart he had left.

The lanterns floated closer to their gondola, close enough that he could reach out and grab one if he wanted.

He grabbed two.

"Elsie?"

She turned, pulled from her reverie, and perked up. She climbed over the seat across from him in the tiny boat and sat down. "I have something for you, too."

Sebastian tilted his head as she reached under the seat to pull out his satchel. The relic. He looked at her, both bewildered and impressed. No longer did she look terrified or sheepish, but instead she held the bag out confidently to him, the bright grin still on her face, illuminated by the lantern light.

"I should have given it to you before," she admitted as his brows knitted. "But...I was just scared. And the thing is — I'm not scared anymore." She blinked up at him. "Do you know what I mean?"

He did.

This girl, trapped inside of a tower as long as she could remember, had been incredibly brave — more than he could ever say of himself. His whole life, he had been running from something; from his parents' deaths, from his sister's illness, from his uncle's constant reprimands, and the terrible reminder that there was nothing he could do to save anyone. And now, he was running from the law.

It seemed he was running from his dreams, too.

He realized then that his dream was never just to become a healer or to win the affections of people far and wide, or even to become exceedingly rich and bathe in piles of money. His dream was to find true happiness and love that, by the minute, appeared to be taking the form of the young woman who sat before him, holding out what he once thought his dream was.

He didn't need the satchel anymore.

With a gentle hand, Sebastian pushed the satchel down and gave Elsie a sincere smile — no mask, no charm behind it — one filled with pure, unadulterated joy.

"I'm starting to."

Her answering grin rivaled the glowing of the lanterns, and he wanted nothing more than to bottle it up and keep it in his pocket for when the nights got too dark, when the nightmares threatened to take any ounce of light left in his life.

He handed her one of the lanterns, and they sent them up in the air together. Sebastian took Elsie's hand.

"You know," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as they watched the lights float away, "as strange as the last couple of days have been, I'm glad we met."

She squeezed his hand in return. "I'm glad we met, too."

It was more than that, he thought, not simply being glad that they met. In a short period of time, Sebastian had never felt closer to another human being, never felt so drawn to someone so radiant and warm, burning brightly enough to push back the darkness in his soul, darkness from his own sins, from choices that he made that led him to become the thief that he was.

He didn't deserve her.

In a single moment, the fog was lifted from his mind, no longer blind to the truth that shined before him.

I love you.

His first instinct was to banish the thought from his mind, to pretend he never mentally uttered those words to himself. And yet, once he admitted the truth, he no longer wanted to hide from it — his insides screamed at him to embrace it, to accept it with open arms.

And so, he did.

"Elsie." He squeezed their clasped hands and turned to face her.

She tore her eyes from the lanterns and met his gaze. "Yeah?"

Sebastian's mind raced, his heart thundered in his chest as he cupped her cheek, stroked it gently with his thumb, and tilted her chin up towards him. He could see the sparkle of the lanterns in her eyes, like tiny stars in a galaxy he wanted to drown in. His lips brushed against hers so lightly, not daring to press them together until he was certain that she wanted it, too.

Then, just as her eyes fluttered shut, something in the distance caught his eye.

Two figures — figures he had been running from for a while — locked eyes with him and gestured for him to follow.

"Is...everything okay?"

"Huh?" Elsie's voice had pulled him out of his stupor, and as she tried to look behind her, he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. "Uh...yes. Everything is — Everything is fine."

His gaze traveled back towards the bushes.

"Could you um...I need to do something really quick." He paddled the gondola back towards land, towards where he had spotted the two figures in the distance and climbed out. Elsie scrutinized him with a quizzical look, and his stomach sank.

"Everything is fine. I — " He sighed. "I just...have to finish something, and then I'll be back, okay?" He reached into the gondola and pulled out his satchel. "I promise."

Her eyes flicked down to the satchel, to where she knew the relic was hiding, before meeting his eyes again. She smiled warmly. "Okay."

Guilty. She trusted him so easily, and he wasn't being fully honest with her. But he needed to do this.

He shot her his signature grin, a silent reassurance. "Be right back."

Sebastian sauntered through the bushes, seeking out the two shadowy figures that sat waiting for him in the darkness. The lanterns had disappeared into the sky, and Elsie was far behind him now. Everything had to be taken care of and done right. Then, he would go right back to her, and they could continue where they left off.

Searching for a new dream. Together.

"There you are!" Sebastian said, maintaining a jovial facade, "I've been looking everywhere for you two since we got separated back in the woods! I was wondering when I'd finally run into you."

The two men — Ashwinders he had struck a deal with about the relic — stared him down coldly and wordlessly. One leaned menacingly against a tree, carving rune symbols into a piece of driftwood, while the other slouched over a rock, twirling his wand in his hand and glaring daggers at Sebastian.

Originally, he had promised to sell the relic and split the profit three ways. He had the misfortune of being indebted to the two of them when they had caught him mid-theft. It was only intended as a prank until, through them, he discovered the relic's true value. Powerful magic — Dark magic.

He had wanted it for himself. And so, he had run, and taken the relic with him after tricking them to leave him behind. It was how he ended up finding Elsie's tower in the first place.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I, uh, wanted to say I no longer have need of this." He tossed the satchel at their feet. "It was nice working with you both. Lovely, even. But, I do think it's for the best that I continue this one solo." He swung his arm awkwardly.

The Ashwinders said nothing.

"Well," Sebastian slowly backed away, saluting as he turned, "Ta!"

He whirled around and slammed into a wall that hadn't been there before. Concealed by magic, a wall that now flickered purple and blue was around him and the Ashwinders.

He was trapped.

"Holding out on us again, are you, Sallow?" The one carving rune symbols tossed the driftwood to the side and rolled his neck.

Sebastian furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

The other one twirled his wand again and brandished it, ready for a fight. "We heard a rumor that you...found something. A very valuable something, from what we understand." He kicked the relic to the side, and it thrummed angrily in response. Sebastian could feel the Dark magic radiating off of it before the Ashwinder blasted it away and it disappeared, destroyed, or back in hiding, he would never know.

It was gone, vanished to a place unreachable to him. Another universe, perhaps, where something more sinister could be done with it. He wished he could have stopped it, could have kept it somewhere safe, away from curious hands and minds too young to understand.

But the Ashwinders in front of him circled. And he was powerless.

"Give us the girl," the first Ashwinder said, "and you can return to your normal life. Don't," he raised his wand at Sebastian's throat, "and we kill you."

"No," Sebastian said, his voice ragged, "Not her."

The other Ashwinder tutted. "Not her? Attached to the girl already, Sallow? Pity."

"Please." He would be on his knees, he would throw himself on the ground and make a fool of himself begging if it meant they wouldn't hurt her. "I'll do anything just...leave her be. Take me instead. Not her."

The first one frowned. "You're no fun." He nodded to his buddy as he pressed his wand harder into Sebastian. "Shame. I liked working with you."

"Really?"

"No." He snorted. "Incarcerous."

Sebastian's body went taut. "W-wait. You don't know what you're doing. You— "

"Silencio." The Ashwinder gave him a sinister smile. "We know about her magic hair. How much do you think someone would pay to stay young and healthy forever?"

He couldn't argue, couldn't even shake his head to disagree, to fight, to do anything to stop them. He was helpless against their taunts, left to dangle uselessly as they threw him into a boat, tied him to it, and prepared to send him off.

"Enjoy Azkaban, Sallow," the other Ashwinder sneered. "Pleasure doing business with you."

And then, as he heard the muttered incantation of a sleep charm, everything went dark.

[anomalyaly]

Secrets of the Silent Stars - Chapter 28: Avada Kedavra is posted on AO3/Wattpad

Ft. a glitch that I got where Ominis got wrecked so hard he lost his hands

[anomalyaly]

Hellooooo

I posted my first ever fanfic on wattpad! The prologue is up now 😭

I’m so excited (and very scared…please be kind 😂) to share this with everyone. I’m by no means a writer but I have many ideas in my head and this is the first time I’ve wanted to sit down and flesh them out on paper since I was like…a kid.

Anyways, go check it out if you like! I would appreciate it!

Wattpad: anomalyaly

AO3: anomalyaly