The Blood of The Covenant

by Fitzs_Trained_Monkey

Summary:

Slytherin is for the Broken, the Fearful, and the Selfish. Don't let anyone tell you differently.

Chapter 1: Foreword

A note presumably written by one Sebastian Sallow, dated 1922.

The note reads as follows:

To whomever may find themselves reading this, I regret to inform you that the pages in your hands may very well be the only documentation in the world detailing the truth concerning The House of Gaunt. This tale you're about to read won't be written in the history books. Alas, as I write this the Ministry and all the rats that didn't go down with the ship are hard at work scrubbing away any and all proof of just how deeply their corruption truly ran. But even if it costs me my freedom, I will not allow my friend's suffering to be forgotten. This time, I'll speak the truth - no matter the cost. And if you, dear reader, are the only soul who ever reads this, so be it. Maybe I'll finally have done something right.

 

- Sebastian Sallow

Chapter 2: First Steps (Toward White Faced Cliffs)

Summary:

Ominis Gaunt makes his very first friends.

Notes:

Just so everyone knows... I'm crazy nervous about this story. Hope you like it.

He felt a certain fondness looking back on that day. Sitting in King’s Cross Station, assaulted by unfamiliar and frightening sensations. It was scary at the time, but he’d only been eleven then. The hulking monster of soot, smoke, and steel lurched out of the station, and with it, he was finally, finally free.

 

Even though, at the time, he hadn’t quite figured out that he was trapped to begin with.

 

That would come with time. And pain. But he didn’t know that quite yet.

 

And to be fair, he wasn't entirely free. His mother and father would scarcely let him flee so effortlessly from their clutches. But for the first time in his life, he had a real choice - many real choices, in fact. Surely, if he fought hard enough, he wouldn't have to be the villain. He wasn’t destined to become his older brother or his father. He could be the hero, he was sure of it. At eleven years old, he was determined. He would write his own story - prove mother and father and ‘Volo wrong. He would just have to be brave. 

 

That was the tricky part. 

 

Bravery wasn't particularly his forte. 

 

Well, he would just have to work on that. After all, how hard could it be? Without mother and father around to punish him, or ‘Volo over his shoulder to ensure they would, the boy was sure that bravery could be forged easily enough. And Hogwarts, of course, would be the perfect place to build up a little courage. 

 

Perhaps he could start with what Aunt Noctua always said: Making some friends. 

 

The only problem there was that… well he'd never really had a friend before. The closest he'd ever come to a playmate were the family house elves and somehow, he didn't think that magical enslavement was quite what his Aunt had in mind. 

 

" How does one go about making a friend ?" The boy wondered with a frown.

 

A soft click jarred him from his reverie, and the boy tilted his head toward the door of his little seating area, listening to the voices he'd previously been ignoring.

 

"Well, I don't know… push it a little harder?" One of the voices, likely a girl's though it was hard for him to distinguish, said. 

 

"I'm pushing on it as hard as I can." The second speaker sounded more like a boy, at least in temperament.

 

"Then why isn't it opening?"

 

"Perhaps it's jammed?" The second voice suggested. This was followed by an indignant huff from the first.

 

"But everywhere else is full!" The girl complained. "Try it again, Sebastian."

 

"Oh, fine!" The boy - Sebastian, evidently - exclaimed. "But if I break my shoulder, you'll owe me a new one."

 

The boy inside the compartment raised a brow and stood. Reaching out, he felt around for the door's handle before twisting and easily sliding it open. 

 

"It helps to unfasten the latch," He hummed, rather amused. Then, gesturing inside the compartment, he smirked. "In need of a seat?"

 

"Yes, please!" The girl chirped. He quickly stepped to the side as she slipped past him. Sebastian followed, though not without a low grumble.

 

"I would have gotten that eventually," He said. The rustle of fabric that followed usually indicated that a speaker had crossed their arms and the frown in his voice wasn't hard to detect. 

 

"Of course you would."

 

Sebastian huffed. "As if you didn't do the same thing your first time riding a train."

 

"I didn't." The boy shrugged, chuckling. Sebastian opened his mouth to contend that only to be met with a quick jab in the ribs from his companion. 

 

"Sebastian!" She chastened. "Don't be rude!"

 

"Right. Sorry."

 

"Apologies on behalf of my brother," The girl said, an eye-roll quite evident in her tone. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Anne Sallow, and he's Sebastian."

 

The boy nodded. "Pleasure to meet you both," He replied. 

 

"Are you not going to introduce yourself?" Sebastian wondered. Were he an adult, likely there would have been a hint of displeasure in the boy's tone, but seeing as he was merely eleven, the only undertones in his words were those of curiosity.

 

The boy froze. If he shared his name, the likelihood that these two would desire to befriend him would either drop or rise significantly. (The latter for all the wrong reasons, of course.) However, he could hardly go about befriending anyone should he withhold his name from the entire school.

 

"I'm Ominis." He took a deep breath, grimacing as he readied himself for the backlash (or quite the opposite) to come. "Ominis… Gaunt ." 

 

There was silence.

 

“Oh…” That was Sebastian.

 

"I've… heard things about that family," Anne's voice began softly. Not at all an odd thing to say really. Because everyone who was someone had heard something about the Gaunts. Looking back on it, he could hear it in her, just as he had so many others. 

 

The fear. The disgust. 

 

And beneath it all, there was that reluctant awe. (In his usual circles - his parent's circles - that awe was less reluctant and more forced. ) As though he were some sort of prince, heir to a vile, imaginary crown. 

 

Oh, how he grew to hate it.

 

Though he was only eleven at the time and oh-so-innocent, Ominis knew enough. He knew enough to recognize that his family was awful rude and stuffy and old fashioned. He just didn’t know how bad it really was. Not at the time. His name - his bloodline - was his crown, revered by all, and coveted by those who didn't have the sense to fear it. The Gaunt legacy was one of darkness and hate - it was not something to be exalted. 

 

Why could people not acknowledge them for what they were? Not royalty, but-

 

"Pure-blood maniacs - the lot of 'em. That's what my uncle says," Sebastian cut in, foregoing his sister's more polite tone. There was no awe in his voice. Ominis caught only a steadfast surety. "I never understood why the Prophet always talks about your folks like they're some kind of royalty, but that whole clan sounds more like a bunch of spoiled brats to me. What say you, Ominis?"

 

The blunt honesty caught him off guard. Ominis blinked.

 

You see, despite having been born blind, (or perhaps because of it) Ominis Gaunt was quite adept at reading people. He could hear the difference between a smile and a sneer, even when one masked the other. He could scent out a lie from across a room, even in a setting steeped with deceit. He could taste a challenge before it crawled its way between a speaker's lips, not unlike a snake that tastes its prey from deep within its hole - never giving a warning before it strikes. (An apt metaphor, though Ominis would never take pride in it.)

 

The boy was so used to deception - had lived his entire eleven years of life by its principles. Navigating the cloak-and-dagger conversations of pure-blood high society was a skill sewn into his very essence. Yet, none of his parents' instructions on navigating polite conversation could have prepared him for the metaphorical bludger that was Sebastian Sallow.  

 

His words alone painted for Ominis a perfect impression of his entire personality. 

 

Thus Ominis was quite sure that the child before him was unlike anyone he had ever met. This boy had never known wealth nor privilege as he had. (Ominis could smell the dirt on the clothes he and his sister wore.) There were no schemes nor hidden agendas, it seemed. No, he simply didn't have the patience for such things. He was purely upfront - a trait Ominis was far from used to. Sebastian wasn't going to play nice for the sake of propriety.

 

And truthfully, Ominis was quite bored with propriety. Perhaps that was why he didn’t lash out in his family’s defense. Or perhaps it was because ‘Volo had pushed him down the stairs earlier that day. He wasn’t sure. Either way, that was the beginning. That was how the wool over his eyes began to unravel, so to speak. But again. He didn’t know that yet. For now, as an eleven-year-old who was quite annoyed with his brother would, he just found it all rather funny.

 

"Ugh! ‘Bash!" Anne hissed, though the admonition died on her lips when Ominis cracked a smile.

 

"Oh, I quite agree," He said with a smirk. "You can't imagine the family reunions." 

 

Oh , if his parents heard him say that… 

 

Rather, only Sebastian and Anne did. They didn't seem particularly affronted. In fact, a broad grin stretched into Sebastian's next words. 

 

"I think the three of us are going to be great friends, Ominis."

 

And Ominis smiled then. They had extended their friendship first, and he hadn't even needed to do anything! He'd thought he would have at least had to buy them off, but no! They didn't ask a knut of him. What a spectacular feeling that was! 

 

He could be normal, like Auntie Noctua always said. He could make friends. He could do this . 

 

He would prove his siblings and his parents wrong, just like Aunt Noctua always said he could.

 

"Thank you, I look forward to it," He said, with a slight smile. "So, this is your first year at Hogwarts as well, I presume?"

 

"Yes, it is!" Anne answered readily, practically buzzing with excitement.

 

"I see." He nodded. "Would the two of you happen to be twins then?"

 

"Indeed we are," Sebastian hummed, a hint of pride in his voice. "Can't you tell?"

 

Ominis frowned and retreated slightly. "As a matter of fact, I-I can't," He said.

 

"Why's that?" The boy wondered, genuinely confused. His sister sighed.

 

"Because he's blind , Sebastian," She hissed under her breath.

 

"Oh… Wait, really?"

 

Ominis raised a brow. "Yes?"

 

"So what's that like?" He wondered, leaning forward in his seat. "What color is everything for you? Is it black or white?" 

 

Anne groaned. 

 

"I wouldn't know…" Ominis answered slowly. Yet a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, despite himself. "I was born this way. What's your excuse?"

 

Most questions he received about his blindness were demeaning in some way or another. He was used to them by now. However, for once, he didn't mind because this one was entirely genuine… if only in the sense that not a single ounce of thought had been put into it. 

 

"He doesn't have one, I'm afraid." Anne deadpanned. "He's just an idiot."

 

Sebastian's robes rustled as he drew back, offended. "What are you two getting at? I just ask-" He paused. "Oh."

 

It would seem that Sebastian's mouth ran a bit faster than his head. There was honesty in that. Ominis found himself appreciating it.

 

"Merlin's beard, Sebastian." Anne sighed, shaking her head. She shifted to address Ominis. "Believe it or not, my brother's got the brain of a Ravenclaw."

 

"Pity he doesn't use it," Ominis hummed, teasingly.

 

The girl giggled. "That's what I've been saying for years."

 

"Oh yes, how clever of you, Anne. Let's all just applaud your stunning originality," Sebastian said flatly. Ominis could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "You know, Ominis, I've always thought my sister more inclined to Gryffindor," He continued. "She reminds me of a lion quite often. Though, not so much in temperament as in looks. I mean, you're lucky you can't see because it's rather frightening - razor sharp claws, yellow teeth, and when she wakes up in the morning, she's got quite the impressive mane. She's also unreasonably loud!"

 

"Wha-" Anne gasped and a loud thump indicated that Sebastian was going to have an impressive bruise on his arm by the end of the day. 

 

Ominis couldn't help but laugh. And, oddly enough, that laughter lasted for the duration of the train ride. He'd never before felt the urge to laugh quite like he did in the presence of the Sallow twins. Because… well he could . With no one around to chastise him, he could laugh all he wanted. 

 

Something warm and entirely foreign stirred in his chest. Thus, on that very day, Ominis Gaunt experienced the sensations of both true freedom and kinship for the first time in his life and, like a Niffler, he welcomed it greedily, relishing it in the moment before it would inevitably be taken from him. After all, good things were always taken from him. He wasn't good enough to keep them. He hadn’t quite learned that lesson yet. But he would.

 

Rather sad that, but no one ever said this was a happy story. 

 

By the time the train arrived in Hogsmeade Station, the twins were practically bouncing off the walls of that little compartment. Though, in hindsight, the mounds of candy Ominis bought for them to share certainly didn't help matters. He did it because he could. Because mother and father would have told him no. Because he had money and his parents never spent a Galleon on anyone else. Auntie Noctua said generosity is a good thing. So Ominis would be a generous little boy.

 

“Oh, Sebastian! Just look at it!” Anne squealed, her face plastered to the window. Her brother, in an attempt to remain composed and thus appear more mature than his sister, remained in his seat. He was equally excited, however, if his voice was anything to go on.

 

“We’ve passed by dozens of times. We practically live here! Why is today any different?” His feet drummed on the floor. Oh, he couldn’t wait.

 

“Because today we’re going inside !” Anne shook her brother vigorously and Ominis couldn't help but laugh. 

 

“Look at it, Ominis!” She then implored him. 

 

He didn’t hesitate a second.

 

“Oh, yes. Stunning. Positively mind boggling.” 

 

“Isn’t it just?” She sighed. “I’m just so… wait.” She whipped around again and crossed her arms.

 

“HA!” Sebastian gave a rather loud and phony laugh. “Who’s the moonmind now?”

 

Anne kicked her brother before resting her hand on Ominis’s arm. He flinched, but only a little bit. He was proud of that. Thankfully, she didn’t touch his skin. That would have been far too much. He was only eleven, after all. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t normal for touch to be an awful thing. He hadn’t yet realized it wasn’t normal for parents to hit their little ones.

 

“I’m so sorry,” She said. “I truly didn’t mean to be so rude.”

 

Ominis just chuckled in response. “Don’t be. You’re not mean, Anne.”

The poor girl seemed so genuinely and deeply upset. It honestly floored him.

 

“No, no. I really will be more careful.”

 

“Don’t waste your breath,” He maintained. “It will happen again. And again… and again.”

 

He was, after all, quite used to much worse. 

 

Then the train pulled to a stop. Ominis was a bit thrown in his seat, but otherwise alright. Sebastian jumped up like someone had just lit off a Wizzpopper in their compartment. He and his twin were bouncing on their feet. 

 

“Are you ready, mate?” Sebastian prodded. Now, this made Ominis frown. He fleetingly reached into his robes to touch his wand. Still there.

 

“I… I think I’ll wait.” He said. Anne immediately frowned. 

 

“Wait?” She sounded like she couldn’t possibly fathom what the word meant. “Merlin’s beard! Why would you possibly want to wait?”

 

He caught himself swaying a bit again and corrected. 

 

“Less people.” He replied. 

 

“Oh… I see.” Sebastian nodded slowly. Then he giggled. “Dammit. I did it again.”

 

Anne hit him. For the fourth time. Ominis suspected she did that quite a lot. 

 

“Sebastian!” She admonished. “Language! There is a lady present.”

 

“Shit. Where?” He gasped mockingly. “Ominis, have you lied to me?”

 

They were trying to make him feel better. It was working. He smiled.

“Oh, I hope not.”

 

“Damn. Don’t say that, mate. You got my hopes up.” 

 

Anne died a little bit, smacking her palm against her forehead loud enough for Ominis to flinch again. He opted to change the subject before she did herself (or her brother) any more damage.

 

“Say, if the two of you live in this valley - as I assume you must - why take the train?” He wondered. 

 

“You talk so fancy,” Anne said. Not an actual answer to his question and she sounded rather sad. He decided then and there that he didn’t like it when Anne Sallow sounded sad.

 

He’d hardly had time to frown before Sebastian spoke up.

 

“Mum and Dad were so excited about it,” He said. “They ate up any bit of news they could. They so desperately wanted us to be able to ride.” The boy laughed and then his voice fractured - and not because he was an eleven year old boy. “They set aside some money. Put it in their will. Uncle Solomon says its just this once.”

 

“Oh.” And really. What else could he say? “You’re… orphans?”

 

The thought of simply not having parents seemed so foreign to him. But then again… perhaps not.

 

Before her brother could say anything brash (and he was going to judging by his intake of breath) Anne huffed and placed her hands on her hips. 

 

“That we are,” She said. “Come now. Looks like most everyone has cleared out.” 

She took him and her brother by their sleeves and promptly dragged them from their compartment. Sebastian was rather stiff - his footsteps gave him away. 

 

“You’re very brave, you know,” Ominis told the other boy under his breath. Sebastian froze.

 

“There are steps here, Ominis. Three of them. Be careful.” Anne informed him, remaining deliberately unresponsive to his comment. 

 

“Yes, thank you.” He pulled out his wand and it pulsed a few times. It vibrated, seemingly happy to be put to work after hours in his pocket. There were indeed three steps. Ominis liked Anne quite a bit. Thoughtful she was. Loud, but in a good sort of way. An honest way. His wand liked her too. She descended the steps first and her brother, though he didn’t turn to face Ominis, he did speak. His voice was quiet in an awful sad sort of way. 

 

“Brave… That’s not what people usually say,” He murmured. 

 

Ominis cracked a little smile. Noctua always said that a stretch of the lips and a crinkle of the cheeks makes people more at ease. 

 

“Well, I do like to be different.”

 

Sebastian huffed a laugh and helped Ominis down the steps. There was something warm about that. He was trying. They both were. 

 

However it was Sebastian who ended up slipping off the last step.

 

Ominis and his new friends stood at the back of a herd of eleven-year-olds who began to walk almost as soon as the three of them got off the train. They quickly followed. At the head of the pack was a man who introduced himself as Mr. Moon - the Hogwarts groundskeeper. He inhaled quite a lot throughout his speech and Ominis found that rather annoying. Speech patterns aside, the groundskeeper led them down a rather steep gravel-covered path. It was still rather slick from the afternoon rain, which the young Gaunt did not appreciate in the slightest, but really that only made something amazing happen. Every time he slipped (which was only thrice, mind you) Sebastian would catch him.

 

Ominis really didn’t need him to. He didn’t need help . In fact, he never really even lost his footing - just slipped a little. Yet, Sebastian was there. He helped, and not in a demeaning way. He didn’t say anything. Just helped. But that was enough and Ominis felt a little warm around him.

 

The next obstacle, however, was worse . 

 

There were many things that Ominis Gaunt did not like. He was a particular person after all. But rather high on that list was a simple little thing called water . He didn’t like it. He didn’t like floating in it, he didn’t like being doused with it, and he most certainly despised the thought of drowning in it.

 

Now, most unfortunately, he was led by this groundskeeper onto a dock of all things and waiting for the little first years, were boats . Waves lapped against the shore and the little wooden contraptions bumped against the dock. Ominis did not want to be in a boat. All the other first years were climbing on in and the boats rowed themselves away from the dock soon after being filled. Or at least, he assumed as much, as the accursed things bobbed their way out of his wand’s range. For the record, his wand was a little curious about the water. After all, it had experienced so little aside from the dusty wand shop which had housed it for most of its inanimate life. It wanted to learn of water, but Ominis would not indulge such curiosity. 

 

“Oh, how lovely!” Anne chirped. “Boats!”

 

“No.” Ominis said simply.

 

Sebastian frowned. “No?”

 

“No,” He said again. “I’ll not be getting in one of those things.”

 

“Doesn’t look like you have another option, mate,” Sebastian noted. “Thats the only way to get to the castle.”

 

He crossed his arms. “There are carriages.”

 

“Those carriages over there?” Anne referenced some point in the distance. “Good luck. They’re at least a hundred meters to our right and moving fast.”

 

Ominis hesitated. 

 

No,” He said again. “I’ll wait right here.” 

 

Now, he was fully aware that he sounded like a spoiled child. But really - Boats!

 

“Oh, come on. Its not that bad,” Sebastian tried to persuade him.

 

“Drowning at age eleven seems quite bad!” He exclaimed.

 

“Ominis! They’re leaving us behind!” Anne pleaded.

 

He huffed. “Then you two go on. I suppose I’ll not be receiving an education.”

 

“Not without you.”

 

The twins were then unusually quiet for a moment, and Ominis really should have seen it coming. But he would learn. One day he would learn. 

 

He felt a pair of hands grab onto each of his arms, and with a strength that belied their size, the twins lifted him into the little dingy waiting just off the dock. Ominis protested vehemently but that changed nothing. As he was set down, the boat rocked dangerously from side to side. He cried out, latching onto the sides with a death grip. But now that he was in the boat, it wasn’t like he could get out.

 

“You two are going to get it for this!” He spat - an entirely empty threat, but he felt it needed to be said.

 

“Whatever you say, Ominis.” Sebastian climbed into the boat next and Ominis just about lost all that candy from earlier as the thing teetered and tossed. Then Anne boarded next and all he could really do was grumble.

 

“Come on… you too,” Anne said once settled. 

 

Ominis frowned. ”Hm?” He hadn’t heard anyone standing behind their little trio - no breathing, no footsteps.

 

Yet, the boat rocked again and a pair of robes brushed over his leg. A tiny, quiet little voice apologized. 

 

“And what’s your name?” Anne asked as the boat began to move. Ominis just groaned.

 

“I-Irene.” This student was clearly a girl. She sounded more terrified than he was. “My name is Irene.” And she had a funny little voice too - flat and throaty, scratched up like she’d been screaming all day.

 

Ignoring the oohs and ahhs of his companions, (the other girl didn’t make a peep) Ominis tried very hard not to think about anything at all as their little boat approached the castle. Certainly not how just one wrong move would have him flailing in icy liquid until his clothing dragged him down to the depths of the Black Lake. Yes. He absolutely wasn’t thinking about that.

 

When finally their boats bobbed into a harbor that was apparently underground according to Sebastian, Ominis finally let himself breathe. Which was a relief as he was beginning to get a bit lightheaded. Sebastian and Anne climbed out first and together pulled him from the death trap dingy. 

 

“Alright, up and out now,” Sebastian urged the other girl. Very helpful these twins were, he decided. Ominis heard the clasp of their hands and then… a second noise, this one none too pleasant. See, Sebastian tugged on the girl’s arm and there came a loud, rather stomach-churning pop. Ominis assumed it was her shoulder.

 

The poor little thing hissed but miraculously stayed upright in the boat. Seeing as their little group was the last to arrive and most of the other first years were already filling out, the little mishap garnered little attention. However, Anne, always so concerned, was positively mortified.

 

“Bloody hell, love! Are you okay?” She immediately climbed off the landing and back into the boat, before helping to lift the other girl out.

 

“I’m fine,” Irene said, still so quietly. 

 

“I-I am so, so sorry…” Sebastian swallowed audibly. “I think you should get that looked at…” He sounded downright sick. There came another disgusting popping noise followed by a nasty grinding that made Ominis even more queasy than he already was. 

 

“Great gobstones!” Anne gasped. “Did you just shove your shoulder back into its socket?”

 

Irene seemed to back away a bit. “It's fine… happens all the time.”

 

“Alright…” Sebastian scratched the back of his head. “Wait a minute, are you an American?”

 

Ah, so that’s what was so odd about her voice! Ominis had been looking in the wrong place, so to speak. It was her accent that was funny. The little oddity was American. How… exotic. 

 

“Y-yes… I am,” Irene practically whispered.

 

“Well… God blind me,” Anne said.

 

“Language, Anne,” Sebastian teased.

 

“Oh, shove it.” 

 

Ominis just huffed, still rather grumpy - or at least reminding the twins that he had been. “Well, come on! Let’s not miss the sorting.”

 

Pulling out his wand, he and the twins followed after the rest of the first years. The strange American trailed behind them, quiet as a mouse. Destiny awaited them. And all four of them knew it. Perhaps, however, with all fate had in store for them, they shouldn’t have been quite so giddy.

Chapter 3: The Warmth of a Shoebox

Summary:

The Sorting Ceremony.

The tiny, quiet American was rather nervous, it would seem. Ominis could hear the poor thing shifting her weight about as the four of them stood at the back of the crowd of first-years in the middle of the Viaduct courtyard. He was a bit annoyed by it, actually. 

But Anne Sallow, he discovered, was not like him. She was kind. Spectacularly and singularly kind. 

“Come now, lovely…” She soothed quietly. “The sorting is nothing to be worried about.” 

Ominis could hear their hands clasp together, and Irene let go of an audible sigh of relief. Strange, because that was the first time Ominis had actually heard her breathe. He'd been paying attention.

“There are so many people,” Irene said with that dry voice of hers strained with stress. “Will I be in the same house as you?”

Anne chuckled. “I can't guarantee that. But wherever you're sorted, I'm sure you'll be just fine.”

The American smiled. It sounded like a fragile little thing, much like the rest of her. “Thank you… Anne.”

“Yeah, you'll be fine.” Sebastian added. “So long as your arms don't fall off, that is!”

“Sebastian!” Once again, Anne attempted to admonish her brother. Surprisingly enough, Irene laughed.

“Keep it as a souvenir, why don't you?”

Ominis grimaced. “No, thank you.”

The American chortled again. “I thought it was a generous offer.”

“As did I!” Anne said primly. “Come along, Irene! Clearly, we’re not appreciated here.” With that particular devious giggle only young girls can make, the two of them broke away and began to play a skipping game involving the many stairs that led from the courtyard. There was a silly little rhyme to accompany their steps, and Ominis tilted his head to listen. He’d never heard a skipping rhyme that didn’t involve bones or poison before. How peculiar. Beside him, Sebastian shook his head.

 

“Been her playmate all our lives, I have… and as soon as she’s given the chance, what does she do? She abandons me! My own sister!” He shook his head with a playful huff. “No loyalty.”

“None at all,” Ominis agreed, amused.

He jumped when Sebastian, for no reason he could figure out, slung an arm around his bony shoulders. It was odd because Sebastian didn’t squeeze his scapula until Ominis feared his muscles might peel from their bones. No, his arm just rested there - a comforting weight.

“Do you have any sisters?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis blinked. “Um, yes… One.” 

One that he knew anyway. The rest were far too old to be of any interest to him. He’d had quite a few siblings, actually. One or two of them might have died recently and he knew his younger brother had never made it past his first winter. No surprise there, seeing as Ominis’s parents were siblings themselves. 

“Older or younger?”

“Younger,” He answered. “By two years.” 

“Ah! So she’ll be joining you soon enough,” Sebastian said. “Anything like mine?”

Ominis listened to Anne laughing and chanting that silly, lighthearted skipping rhyme, teaching the American girl. 

“No.” He replied shortly. Rhuin was nothing like Anne at all.

“Oh…” Sebastian fell quiet, and the conversation lulled for a bit. The nuances of communication were lost on their little eleven-year-old brains, so they just sort of walked in amicable silence as the two females moved further and further ahead. 

Ominis knew how to chat politely - to make light conversation. Proper conversation, that is. Sebastian, on the other hand, didn't. 

“What if Anne and I aren't sorted into the same house?” Sebastian asked, as if he hadn't actually comprehended the possibility until now.

Ominis wanted to cringe at his complete lack of segue or manners. After all, what was he supposed to say? 

Perhaps learn a little independence? He thought. But no, he couldn't say that. Auntie Noctua would shake her head. 

“Well, it's not like you won't be able to see one another,” He replied instead. 

Sebastian shook his head. The scent of dirt and straw assaulted Ominis' nose. 

“No, you don't understand.” He said. “Anne and I have never been apart before. She's my other half. We share everything - toys, a room, a bed-”

Ominis was affronted. “You share a bed with your sister ?”

Sebastian only blinked. “You don't?”

“No.”

“Wow… Imagine that.”

“Everyone in my family has their own room,” Ominis said as though his situation was any bit more private than Sebastian’s. It wasn't.

“What? Your house must be enormous!” Sebastian said.

 

It was. Enormous and empty.

 

“You must live in a shoebox,” Ominis replied. 

Unfortunately, by eleven years old, Sebastian had figured out how to be offended by a statement like that. Though Ominis hadn't yet figured out that he'd said something mean. So he was a tad confused (and a tad disappointed, to his great bewilderment) when Sebastian pulled his arm away.

 

“It's a warm shoe box,” He said bitterly. 

 

Ominis stopped on the stairs. He didn't share a room with his siblings. He wouldn't want to. But it seemed as though the Sallow twins… truly liked each other. And he realized then that Sebastian Sallow, who smelled of dirt and hay and hard work, had something that he did not. Not having something was not a feeling Ominis was used to. 

So he frowned.

 

“Mine… isn't.”

 

Eleven-year-old Ominis, sheltered in all the wrong ways, didn't really know what pride was. He hadn't yet identified it. Hadn't yet donned it like armor. That would soon change.

But this brand new friend of his, who’d grown up just a little too fast in plenty of painful ways, could recognize a cry for help when he heard one. Even when the one crying didn’t hear it themselves.

Sebastian, a few steps ahead now, paused. “I don't like the sound of that,” He said. Ominis didn't move. He was thinking. Thinking about cold hearths and silent dinner tables. So Sebastian sighed and tugged him along.

The Great Hall, when they finally filed in, was positively enormous. The ceiling was so high, Ominis's wand couldn't even sense it. Students crowded the tables, all jammed together and laughing. It was a warm, pleasant atmosphere and Ominis just had to grin as the smells of a hundred delicacies wafted by him from the house tables. No silent dinner tables here, it would seem. How novel. 

Someone in front of the crowd of first years clapped and started speaking. Oh, that was Mr. Phineas Black. Ominis knew him through his father. Rather stupid, Black was. Ominis never liked him much. He had too much to say without ever really saying anything at all. So Ominis let himself be distracted by the smell of a nearby roast ham until the Headmaster had finished speaking. 

His attention was only brought back when a woman cleared her throat and introduced herself as Professor Weasley. She would be conducting the sorting ceremony, it would seem. She sounded kind, Ominis thought. He wondered if she looked it. 

In his hand, his wand pulsed, sensing another magical object nearby. A hat, by the looks of it. It smelled like a raggedy old thing, from what his wand could tell. Surely this couldn't be the sorting hat his parents had told him of. But sure enough, the raggedy hat began to sing its little song, and Ominis, grinning, just had to sing along. He was swaying again. He didn’t correct it this time.

When the hat was finished, Professor Weasley began listing off names, and Ominis was inclined to listen to the placements given by the famous sorting hat. One by one, students sat on a stool in front of everyone and the hat would shout out their designated house. Some even received a bit of commentary. 

“Sweeting, aye? Not like your parents, no… I say, Hufflepuff!”

“Another year, another Weasley. Gryffindor!”

“The skies are the limit for you. Ravenclaw!”

The list went on until finally… 

“Sebastian Sallow!” 

Beside him, Sebastian let go of a nervous breath. He made his way up to the front, brushing his sister's arm on his way. He sat down, donned the hat… And for a moment, there was silence. Then, after a beat or two…

“Walk with great care, Sallow. Slytherin!”

That was curious , Ominis thought as the boy’s sister was called to the stage. 

“Ah… very much your brother's sister,” The hat said. “Slytherin!”

Ominis grinned, delighted. His new friendships were safe. He, of course, already knew which house he'd be in. He didn't really think there was any other option. His father had certainly assured him as such. Well… assured was a kind word for what he’d done.

Next came, “Irene Amanecer?”

The tiny, quiet American girl in front of him timidly made her way up to the front. She sat on the stool delicately, though her hands gripped the wood tightly enough for Ominis to hear the stool creak. Strong fingers for such fragile bones.

The hat hummed. “Ah! Never seen one like you before… How interesting. For you, best be Slytherin!” 

Ominis could sense how her whole body crumpled in relief before she hopped off the stool and rushed to join Anne. A few more children were sorted before it was finally his turn.

“Ominis Gaunt?” 

A sudden hush swept over the great hall, but Ominis held his head high as he strode up to the stool, just as he'd been taught to do. The sorting hat smelled rather musty as it fell over his brow. Ominis coughed a little. 

“Well now…” Ominis flinched. The hat wasn't speaking out loud this time. The voice was only in his head. “You're not anything like your siblings, are you, young master Gaunt?” 

Ominis grimaced a bit. No. No, he wasn't much like ‘Volo at all, was he? ‘Volo was awful and brutish and ugly. And he always smelled like an overripe onion. Now, he couldn’t make a fair judgment about the rest of his siblings, seeing as he only ever interacted with them at weddings and funerals. Save for Rue. Dear little Rue… But he wasn't too much like her either. As much as she tried to explain it to him, he never could understand why she so enjoyed picking apart the sparrows and jobberknolls that nested in the gardens. He’d always thought it was rather rude to go poking about inside them.

“You know all of your predecessors were sorted into Slytherin, don't you?” The hat asked, shaking him from his thoughts. 

“Yes. I know,” Ominis replied, growing a little nervous now. 

“You don't belong there,” The hat said, firm as fact. 

The young Gaunt boy felt a chill down his spine. That couldn't be right! 

“N-no… I'm a Gaunt. Salazar Slytherin’s blood runs in my veins!” He insisted. “You can't put me anywhere else .”

“You don't belong in Slytherin,” The hat said again. 

 

It was a simple statement. Simple as any other. A dragon has wings, nifflers like gold, and you don’t belong in Slytherin.

 

Simple and yet… devastating. Horrifying. Ominis swallowed thickly, and his hands broke out in a cold sweat. He started rocking again, back and forth and back and forth, threatening to tip that little stool.

“No… No, no.” He shook his head subtly, fisting at his robes. “You don't understand. I-I… I have to be in Slytherin. I have to be. Father… He-he will be so angry with me!” 

 

He didn't want his father to be angry. He didn't want to be beaten again. His bruises hadn’t healed from the last time.

 

The hat’s voice in his head seemed to sigh. “You have the heart of a Hufflepuff, Ominis Gaunt. I would put you there, but Slytherin had his rules.”

His stomach lurched. Oh dear… Was he going to throw up in front of all these people? Father would beat him doubly for that.

And then a shout finally broke the silence. 

“Slytherin!” 

 

Ominis breathed a sigh of relief, quietly thanking the hat under his breath. He hopped off the stool and lifted his wand, moving over to the Slytherin table. His stomach churned a bit. Would they be able to smell it on him, he wondered? What the Sorting Hat had declared, would they know? He felt like an impostor. 

“Ominis!” And then there was Anne’s voice calling out to him. “Come sit with us!”

He held his wand in front of him, and his hands only trembled a tiny bit. Maybe everything would be alright after all.

Chapter 4: Of Mice and Mud

Summary:

Irene can't lie for shit and Ominis learns the fine and subtle art of not being a prick.

He could hear the frown in the little American’s tone before she even spoke. “How does one… juice a pumpkin?” Irene asked over breakfast the following morning. She was sitting with them again. Though Ominis supposed, it wasn't really them she was sitting with. It was just Anne. Irene seemed to be glued to the younger Sallow twin’s side. (Sebastian had claimed to be three minutes older when they'd conversed from their bunks the night before.)

“Same way ya’ juice everythin’ else,” Sebastian replied with his mouth full of lemon tart.

“But… pumpkins don't make juice,” She pointed out. “They make puree. They don't make juice. You can squeeze and mush them, but they don't make juice!”

Anne placed a hand on her arm. “Don't question the magic, love.” 

“I do question it.” 

“How is it that you've never had pumpkin juice?” Ominis had to wonder. However, he had the decency to speak before nibbling on his morning toast. 

“I was raised in Texas,” She deadpanned. 

“Tex-ass?” Sebastian questioned.

“That's… not what I said.” 

“Where's that?” Anne wondered. “Is that in America?” 

Irene nodded. “It's one of the states.”

Ominis swallowed his toast. “I think it's the big one.” 

“Big Tex-ass,” Sebastian said. Irene audibly rolled her eyes.

“Yes. The big one,” She sighed. “To the point, in Texas, you drink lemonade… and that's pretty much it.”

With a groan, Anne reached across the table and took the pitcher of pumpkin juice, pouring the girl next to her a glass. “For Merlin's sake, just try it.”

“I don't trust it,” Irene said.

“Is there anything you do trust?” 

“Those beds smelled like piss!” She said defensively.

“They did not,” Anne pushed the girl's shoulder. Ill advised in Ominis’s opinion, considering how delicate her tiny body seemed. She'd practically fallen apart at Sebastian’s hands last night.

“Besides,” She continued. “The prefects even gave you your own room. I don't see why you're complaining.”

That seemed to render the American rather speechless. She picked up her fork and started stabbing at what smelled like breakfast sausage on her plate. 

“Maybe I wanted to stay with you…” She mumbled. Anne chuckled and ruffled the other girl’s hair affectionately. Just as physical as her brother, apparently.

“You have your own room?” Sebastian demanded, rather affronted at the very idea. “Ominis doesn't even have his own room. And he's filthy rich! Not to mention Salazar Slytherin’s great great great great-” (Ominis scoffed as fifteen more great’s followed.) “- grandson or something.”

Irene simply shrugged. “I don't know…”

Now, while this made Ominis very curious, it was clear to him from the scratching of her fork against her plate that Irene was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second. Thus, for the sake of courtesy, he changed the subject.

Once he finished his toast, Ominis tilted his head curiously. “If you’re from Texas, what brings you to Hogwarts? And where do you call home now?” 

“A little place in Sussex,” the girl replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper, shrinking further into herself with each word. “Uh... my great auntie is… dead,” she added, her tone oddly detached, laced with a confusion that seemed disproportionate to the finality typically associated with death.

“Oh…” Anne coughed awkwardly, glancing at Irene with concern. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry… What was her name?”

Irene’s fork scraped against her plate with a harsh squeak, disrupting the otherwise quiet atmosphere. “G-Glinda? Glenda?” she murmured, shaking her head slightly as if trying to shake a rather heavy something off her shoulders. “Yes. Glenda.” 

Ominis raised an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across his features. “Are you sure?”

“You didn’t even know the poor woman’s name?” Sebastian interjected, a teasing laugh escaping his lips before Anne thwacked his arm. Once again.

“Shut it! Both of you. That isn’t nice,” Anne scolded, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tried to redirect the conversation.

“I-I, um… I didn’t spend much time with her,” Irene admitted quietly, casting her gaze down toward the table, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her plate. “I didn’t like the smell.”

"But… she's your family," Sebastian pressed. 

Anne gasped as Irene quite suddenly dropped her fork with a clatter. After a moment, she picked it back up. Her knuckles popped as she gripped it tight - that same white-knuckled grip she had on the sorting stool last night. 

 "I-I don't want to talk about it.” Her voice had a sharpness to it then, something hot and crooked. Ominis didn't know what that was called at the time. But it sounded something like that time he'd clumsily tried to convince his mother that he hadn't broken that ancient urn in the first-floor hallway.

That hadn't ended well for him.

“No need to get touchy,” Sebastian huffed.

Ominis snorted, and the American girl followed up with a choked sort of sound that would have been a laugh had she not sounded like she was dying a little inside. Just then (right as Anne was about to berate them for being rude, no doubt), someone much taller than the four of them cleared their throat in a decidedly authoritative manner.

“Miss Amanacer, making friends, I see?” The voice of Professor Weasley said in a tone that was polite but not entirely kind.

Irene froze, her posture stiffening like a niffler caught in a vault as the deputy headmistress laid a hand on her shoulder. “Y-yes, Ma’am,” She said shakily.

“Glad to hear it,” Professor Weasley said with a soft but not altogether genuine smile in her tone. “I hate to steal you away from your breakfast, but might I speak with you for a moment in private?”

Of course, she asked that in the sort of tone that authority figures use when they aren't really asking. Firm, but not outright demanding. So why was the little American suddenly breathing so hard? Her breaths sounded haggard and thin in a way, like she'd just sprinted a lap around the lake. 

“Of course, Ma’am.”

Ominis returned to his breakfast as she got up and left with Professor Weasley. Though to his surprise, Anne stood up just moments later.

“What? Where are you going?” Sebastian demanded, a flare of concern knitting his brows together.

“Following,” Anne replied simply, offering no further explanations.

“Not without me, you aren't.” Sebastian shoved some more lemon tart into his mouth and scrambled after his sister, pausing for a moment before turning back. “Well? Come on, Ominis!”

Ominis reeled, blinking twice. “But-but… breakfast?” 

“You can eat later!” The boy snagged his sleeve and tugged him along, paying no mind to his vehement protests.

With a reluctant grumble, Ominis trailed after the Sallow twins, his mind swirling with thoughts of half-eaten pastries and spilled tea. Yet, there was something about the urgency in their steps, something deeper that compelled him to follow. Perhaps that revealed a little more about him than he cared to admit.

“Why are we chasing after this kid?” Sebastian asked as he caught up with his sister.

Anne shrugged. “There's something different about her.”

“She's American,” Ominis said, amused but trying to seem otherwise. 

“Not that, you ninny!” Anne huffed. “There's something about her that's different. Really different. And I'm going to find out what it is.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes in a way that had already become familiar to Ominis. “Oh, Anne. Forever imagining mysteries where none exist,” he replied, his words tinged with exasperation.

Ominis was startled as he suddenly found himself eating the back of Sebastian's hood. Anne, it seemed, had come to a very sudden stop. She whirled to face her brother, jabbing her finger into his chest with enough force to send him stumbling back and stepping on Ominis's toes. 

“I watched the prefects take Irene to her room last night – her private room…” She paused, leaning forward and dropping her voice further. “The door… locks from the outside.” 

Once he found his footing again, even Ominis had to admit that was a tad odd. 

“Does that sound like something I'm making up?” Anne hissed.

“Huh…” Was the only response Sebastian could muster. Very eloquent, he was. 

Yet, Ominis too followed after their female companion until she ushered them to a stop just behind a large statue of some kind. It smelled a bit like a knut and Ominis could feel the cool metal against his back as he listened. 

“Miss Amanacer,” Professor Weasley was saying. “I'd like you to meet two other members of our staff here at Hogwarts. This is Professor Ronan, and to his right is Professor Sharp. They'll be the ones… keeping an eye on you during your time here.”

“H-hello, Professors,” Irene said, sounding even smaller than she had the night before, which was almost impressive. 

“Professor Ronan here is, of course, your head of house and will be the one you'll be expected to go to for any, ah hem … special requirements you may have. He'll also be the one in charge of discipline should any accidents arise,” Professor Weasley explained. 

“Accidents?” Sebastian whispered. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

Anne just shrugged.

“I-I promise I'll be good…” Irene mumbled,  rather hurriedly. 

“I'm sure you will,” Professor Weasley assured, not sounding at all confident. “As I was saying, Professor Sharp as a former auror has been tasked by the Ministry to monitor your unique situation. For your safety, and the safety of our other students, you are to inform him whenever you leave the grounds. Is this clear?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

“Now,” The deputy Headmistress continued, “I absolutely must impress upon you the delicate situation you find yourself in. Physical harm towards any student will not be tolerated. Additionally, any and all details of your condition must be kept to yourself. Do you understand?” 

“I understand,” Irene whispered. 

“Good. Professor Ronan, will you be so kind as to escort your student to her first charms lesson?” 

“Certainly, Matilda.” Professor Ronan had a gravely yet warm voice with an Indian accent, and he seemed infinitely less grave about the entire situation. Ominis decided he liked this man already. 

Which is precisely what led him to his next, rather panicked thought. 

“Don't we have charms now?”  He asked, a bit louder than he had intended. Anne gasped, and the three of them froze, waiting for one of the teachers, mere meters away, to notice. Footsteps began rounding the statue, and Anne shoved him and her brother in the opposite direction, towards the grand staircase. 

Which, of course, was not the way of charms. So, while the three of them managed to escape detention via blending in with the other students flooding the stairwell… they were subsequently around seven minutes late to their first Charms class—quite the impression they were setting. Thankfully, however, Professor Ronan did not see fit to deduct points from three first years getting lost on their very first day. (Perhaps it had something to do with one of them being blind - we may never know.)

Anyway, when they finally did make it through the door, and after the charms professor chuckled about them being late, there was almost immediately a quiet, raspy voice hissing at them from across the room. 

“Anne… Anne!” 

Ominis truly couldn't help but rub his ears. He didn't like this girl’s voice, he decided. Nothing against her at all, she just sounded more like a snake than a person and he hadn't exactly met a great many friendly snakes. Aside from Forty-Eyes, but that's a topic for later. 

“Anne! Sit by me!” The American girl insisted. And, content as a clabbert, said Sallow twins skipped over to join her. Leaving Ominis with Sebastian, to his relief. It would seem that Sebastian was the more level-headed of the two of them. 

The two Slytherins found their seats and listened as Professor Ronan began an introduction to charms and charm work. He went on and on for a bit about their importance and versatility, but he sort of went on a bit of a rant. It all got a bit technical for a room full of eleven-year-olds, and Ominis felt his eyes begin to droop. It took him a bit, but Professor Ronan seemed to realize this.

“Look at me, rambling on. I get so excited,” He said. Ominis shot back up, worried he'd missed something. “But of course, for many of us, the best way to learn is to do. Therefore, I invite you to begin by levitating a book off your desks. The first one to do so, shall win a prize!” 

Oh. 

Now, that got his attention. And Sebastian’s it would seem. After all, who doesn't like a prize?

“Now, wands at the ready… A swish and flick with your wand and the incantation is Wingardium Leviosa! ” Professor Ronan clapped sharply. “Begin!” 

While many others jumped right in and began shouting various interpretations of the words Ronan had given, Ominis first decided to get his bearings. His wand pulsed in his hand, excited by all the magic stirring in the room. With it, he traced the outline of his book and its thickness relative to the height of his desk. Then, he practiced the wand movement a few times. His wand buzzed as he got it right. 

Lastly, he cleared his throat. 

“Wingardium Leviosa!” He said in the most commanding tone he could muster. 

Nothing happened. 

He tried again with the same result. Huffing, he repeated the process a few more times. On his seventh attempt, the book lifted minutely… before dropping with hardly a thump. Ominis scowled.

This shouldn't be so difficult, should it? 

The only comfort he had was that Sebastian seemed to be struggling too. 

“No! I don't want it to open. I want the book to move !” The boy next to him grumbled. Ominis smirked. “Hey! You don't get to laugh, Gaunt.” 

Ominis opened his mouth, prepared with a smart retort, but found himself cut off by a shrill squeak.

“Ah! Miss Sallow has done it, I see!” Professor Ronan cheered. “That's twenty points to Slytherin, and a chocolate frog for you!” 

“Yay!” Anne giggled and Ominis was about to congratulate her when it was her desk partner who yelped this time.

 

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

 

“Merlin's Beard!” Anne cried out. “I am so sorry! Are you alright?!”

Irene whimpered. “Eh! I bieh muh fongue!” 

Sebastian had doubled over laughing next to him and Ominis frowned.

“What happened?”

“Anne’s flying book smacked her in the face!” He laughed as Professor Ronan brought the rouge textbook back to the desk. 

“Very sorry about that, Miss Amanecer,” He said. “Miss Sallow, will you please accompany her to the hospital wing? Thank you.” 

“I uh.. I don't know where that is?” Anne admitted, no doubt red in the face.

“Me ve’va!” Irene added. 

“Ah, yes!” A soft chime sounded as Professor Ronan cast what Ominis’s wand told him was a guiding charm. Not that one like that would work for him, it seemed a more visual thing. “Perhaps we'll learn the Seeking charm next time.” 

With Anne rushing her little friend to the hospital wing and dishing out a gratuitous number of apologies, he turned to the rest of the class.

“I expect all of you to practice the levitation charm before our next class. Control, as we've just seen, comes with experience!” He laughed good-naturedly. “Dismissed!”

Ominis packed his things away and Sebastian waited next to him for all the other students to file out. He wasn't so keen on trying to fight his way through the throng.

“Should probably go get my sister before we head to potions,” Sebastian said. “Otherwise she might just keep apologizing until the end of term.”

Ominis just shrugged. “Lead on then. Just don't get us lost this time.”

“Me? I have a perfect sense of direction, Ominis.”

“Yes, and I'm a Dementor,” He hummed.

“Well, you do have that whole skin-and-bones thing down.”

If there was one thing Ominis could thank his older brother for, it was demonstrating plenty of tripping jinxes on for him. Sebastian yelped and fell on his face. Ominis found that rather funny. 

As the two of them made their way towards the Hospital Wing, a herd of seemingly late Gryffindors barreled past them. Ominis tried to dodge as many as he could, but their overwhelming numbers had him tripping over himself. He reached out, trying to find Sebastian's arm, but snagged a handful of hair instead. A girl cried out and pivoted directly into him, knocking him to the ground.

“Ods Bodkins! I'm so sorry!” The older girl exclaimed, moving quickly to help him up. Disgruntled, Ominis staggered to his feet and quickly dusted himself off. Now, of course, having been born blind, Ominis was used to tripping over himself. 

He was also quite used to being punished for such a thing. 

So perhaps he was feeling a little defensive and likely more than a little angry. And she'd made the mistake of using a rather funny word that Ominis had only ever heard muggles use. 

And Ominis was very young. And very naive. He didn't know. And he didn't understand when he spat back at her- 

 

“Watch where you're going you stupid mudblood!” 

 

Sebastian gasped, and the Gryffindor girl stepped back. There was silence for a moment.

Then the girl hucked a mouthful of spit onto her hand and smacked him across his little eleven-year-old cheeks. He stood there frozen, face stinging, shocked, and trying very hard not to cry. 

“Aw… look at that,” The girl sneered. “You've got mud all over your face.”

He stumbled back, feeling rather small and altogether stupid. Like a little mouse. Or a Crup that's just been kicked. 

 

What had he done wrong?

 

His lip started to tremble, so he bit down hard, because he'd always been hit again and again for that in the past.

“Oh, poor baby. You gonna cry?” The girl jeered. Her friends laughed.

 

And somehow that hurt a whole lot worse than his father's cane. 

So Ominis did what he'd become quite good at over the course of eleven years. He ran. Now, while it's rather difficult for many blind individuals to run due to a number of reasons, Ominis for his entire life had, at the very least, never lacked motivation. His older brother often gave him reason to run. (Away, to be clear.) 

It was very lucky he had his wand now, seeing as his usual clicking method would have been useless in the echoey, bustling castle. He only stumbled and tripped twice, whipping hurriedly at his tears and snotty nose, as he dashed to the first outdoor space he could find. (Not by conscious decision, but on instinct - habit. The outdoors were usually safe from Marvolo, you see.) The Transfiguration courtyard had mostly emptied by then and Ominis found himself seated at the roots of a large tree. (It was an old tree if his wand was to be believed. Good wood. Safe wood.)

And there, Ominis cried. Not so much from pain. The sting of the girl’s smack had more or less faded and he'd endured much worse before anyhow. But he cried from confusion and humiliation mostly. Anger and disgust were there too, but mostly he just couldn't understand what he'd done to warrant being slapped in such a repulsive manner. Maybe he shouldn't have called that girl stupid. Marvolo called him that quite a lot, so it was probably very mean. 

You see, not a whole lot had been taught to young Ominis Gaunt. Most of the English he'd learned up until age seven had been what he could pick up, from his siblings and parents — words spoken over him, around him, but rarely directed toward him with care . He'd been deemed too helpless in his affliction for anything else and hadn't had the context or pride enough to dispute that. Only once he had demonstrated his capability had his parents hired a tutor to teach him proper English and how to read Braille. He'd mostly only learned what was essential and polite. Not much else.

Thus, he genuinely simply did not understand what was wrong with the words he had said. 

His head shot up as his ears caught a crunching sound beside him. He immediately stopped his stupid crying. He was a very stupid boy, it would seem.

“Hey… are you alright?” Sebastian asked. 

“I'm fine,” He said sharply. He might be stupid, but he had to be fine.

Sebastian nodded, fiddling awkwardly with his robes. “She shouldn't have hit you.”

Ominis ground his teeth. “I should have her expelled for that! My-my father is friends with Headmaster Black. I could get her expelled!”

“Well…” Sebastian sounded like he was frowning. Why ? “You know, I don't exactly blame her, mate.”

Ominis balked. “ What? ”

He shrugged. “I'm just saying I'd have done the same thing, if I were her. Actually, hearing that, I’d probably have done worse.” 

“I-I only called her stupid! It can't be that bad!” Ominis said.

“Ominis…” Sebastian stared at him, raising a brow. “You called her a mudblood. And, yes. It is that bad.”

Ominis blinked. “Is that not what they're called?” 

“No!” 

“What do you mean?” He asked. “That's what everyone calls them.” 

“No,” Sebastian said firmly. “No, they absolutely don't.” 

Ominis huffed, crossing his arms. “That's what my father says those thieves are called.”

“ Thieves ?” Sebastian gaped at him. “What do you mean thieves ?”

“They stole their wands and their magic from real wizards, like us,” Ominis explained. “Which is silly, because nobody seems to want to get them in trouble for it.” 

Sebastian was silent. How didn't he know this?

“What… the hell.” He said at last. “Where in Salazar's name, did you hear that ?” 

He shrugged. “Mum told me.”

Sebastian chewed on that for a moment, likely trying to choose the best words for such a delicate situation.

“Your mother… sounds like…” He paused. “A cunt .” 

Ominis frowned. “What does that mean?”

“A, uh… not a nice person.” A slight breeze crossed his face as Sebastian waved his hands. “But that's not the point. What you've been told is utterly bonkers.”

“That's what Auntie Noctua always says,” Ominis said. “But everyone else tells me she’s loony.”

“Your bloody family is loony.” 

“Oh.”

“Look, forget everything you've been told. Muggle borns - and that's what they're called, by the way - did not steal their magic,” He said. “They were born with it, just like everyone else.”

Ominis nodded slowly. “I see… I suppose that does make more sense.”

“That's because a muggle somehow stealing a wizard’s magic doesn't make any sense at all,” Sebastian said dismissively.

“That's true.”

“And, Ominis… what you said was not an acceptable thing to say,” Sebastian continued. “And I don’t just mean in front of teachers, or parents, or Anne… I-I mean ever. In front of anyone. You don’t say that in front of anyone. Never.”

Ominis tilted his head, confused. “Why not?”

“Because you just don’t!” Sebastian huffed, finally understanding what the term inculation meant. “It's a nasty, derogatory thing to say. Using it implies that you think you’re better than they are.”

“But… I am. We are.” He paused. “Aren’t we?”

“No,” Sebastian said again. “Just because you have a lot of wizards in your family doesn’t make you any better than someone who doesn’t. That's like saying that I’m better than you just because I can see and because all my family can see.

“But you are,” Ominis said simply, fiddling his wand and swaying a bit.

Sebastian groaned. “No. No, absolutely not.” He sighed, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Where’s Anne when you need her?”

“In the Hospital Wing,” Ominis answered. Ever helpful. 

“Look. I’m human… and you’re human, right?”

“Yes?”

“So, that makes us the same.”

“Yes…”

“Muggle borns are wizards. And human… just-just if that wasn’t clear,” Sebastian said. “We’re all human, so we’re all the same.”

Ominis frowned again, confused and clinging to the fabric of his robes, twisting anxiously. This ideology felt confusing and backward… but oddly right. “But-”

“No! No, we’re all the same,” He insisted, awkward, but firm. “It doesn’t matter if you’re pureblood or muggleborn, or a boy or a girl… it doesn’t matter if your skin is a different color or if your eyes are blue or green. None of it matters! Because we’re all humans and that’s that. See?”

“I-I think so.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can explain it any better than that.”

Ominis laughed softly. “Thank you for not punching me in the face to teach me.”

“I don’t think the message would have sunk in… too many bigots got to you first.”

“What’s a bigot?” 

“What you were before this conversation.”

“Oh.”

 

And it should be noted that this Gryffindor girl, whom he never really came into direct contact with again, received a shower of chocolate frogs that night, purchased for her through a Slytherin older than himself.

 

 

 

Now, my friends and dear readers, I’ll be honest in admitting that not much else important really happened that first year at Hogwarts for our four little Slytherins. Suffice it to say that Ominis, Anne, and Sebastian grew thick as thieves. They snuck into places they shouldn't have, pranked teachers, and stayed up far too late. Ominis, with his extensive knowledge of the castle’s floor plan, showed the twins a secret room hidden beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom he called the Undercroft. It became their little hideout. 

As for Irene? Well, she mostly kept to herself. Anne invited her to do all sorts of things with them, but most often she declined. But they were all eleven then and didn't worry themselves too much about it. 

 

Thus, all this has been an overly lengthy way of saying Once Upon A Time …

Perhaps I could have written this whole opening better. But I'm not a professional. Perhaps point of view should remain fixed. But I'm not a professional. Perhaps all stories should start at the very beginning. 

 

But I quite disagree with that. 

 

Because so rarely do we come into another's life at the beginning of it. Lives are messy, scary, uncomfortable things that we hide in our closets when company comes by. No one is omniscient, and reality is a matter of perspective. 

 

Perhaps I should have written this opening better… but beginnings are messy, scary, uncomfortable things. After all, you never know when they're going to happen. 

 

So, here I am, your unreliable narrator Sebastian Sallow, here to tell you… That this was only the beginning, and it only gets worse from here.