Chapter 10. January 10, 1891

Anne reclined on her bed, idly flipping through "A History of Magic" yet again, her face a canvas of sheer boredom. While she wasn't attending classes at Hogwarts, the school administration had conceded to her situation. They had allowed her to sit for the O.W.L. exams at the close of her fifth year, hopeful that this might prevent the curse from irreparably dismantling her life. Anne chuckled softly at the irony of it all; post-school employment seemed like a distant dream. Still, she made an effort to study and prepare for her exams, mostly to appease both Sebastian and her uncle Solomon. The two of them stubbornly clung to the notion that her time wasn't running out. Turning another page, she rolled onto her back, holding the book aloft, when a distinctive tapping sound at her window caught her attention. Lazily shifting her gaze, she spotted an unfamiliar owl perched outside. In a swift motion, she rose from her bed, inadvertently allowing her textbook to tumble to the floor. Her heartbeat surged like a galloping steed as she hastened to the window, flinging it open to admit the avian messenger. Glancing downward towards the backyard, where uncle Solomon had been immersed for the past couple of hours, she observed his figure disappearing around the corner of the house, presumably heading indoors. Naturally, she realized he must have spotted the owl. Decades of service as an Auror had honed his senses, rendering him acutely attuned to his surroundings; not even the faintest whisper could evade his notice. Her fingers gingerly unraveled the string attached to the letter, fortuitously not too tightly bound. She recognized Sebastian's handwriting instantly. The ink appeared somewhat smudged, as though it hadn't completely dried, and the words danced in various directions, betraying the urgency and excitement with which they had been penned. She swiftly scanned the lines: "Anne, we know where the relic is. I'm sure it will lift the curse. You have to escape from uncle and come tomorrow at midnight to the west entrance of Feldcroft. Use Revelio. When you return home cured, he'll forget all his grudges, forgive us, and everything will be okay again, you'll see. Destroy the note as soon as you read it, don't let him read it. Love you, Sebastian."

On the steps leading to her room, hurried and heavy footfalls echoed. "Wand, where's my wand?" Anne's panic-driven movements swept across the room as she desperately searched for her magic wand, the one she needed to incinerate the letter before uncle Solomon arrived at her door. Anxiety left her gasping for air, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm from the tension. Her eyes darted restlessly, scanning each corner in a meticulous but ultimately fruitless search, as if a veil of unease blurred her vision.

As the footsteps approached her door, she tore at the letter in a frenzy, rushing to the window to dispose of the torn pieces. In the midst of her actions, however, the door collided forcefully with the wall, swinging wide open. Then, a stern voice followed.

"Anne, stop!" he had instantly divined her intentions, his wand already aloft, directed towards the window. His command resonated with authority, "Colloportus!"

The window slammed shut with a loud crash, narrowly avoiding catching the tail of the owl that had managed to slip out at the very last moment. Uncle Solomon gazed at Anne, his face a blend of disappointment and irritation. His rapid ascent up the stairs had left him slightly out of breath, and he stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on his perplexed niece. She clutched the torn shreds of the letter behind her back. "Sebastian, why did you have to send it now? Couldn't you have waited a couple of days for me to write to you myself?" she thought to herself. Her lower lip started to quiver, and a surge of resentment welled up in her throat, directed at her uncle, who would undoubtedly thwart her brother's plans, and at Sebastian, who hadn't spared a thought and, as usual, had acted on impulse without considering the consequences. Slowly edging back toward the window, she cast a beseeching look at her uncle, her head shaking from side to side, still holding onto a sliver of hope that he might sigh in frustration, dismiss her with a wave of his hand, turn around, and leave. However, he remained silent, extending his hand, silently awaiting her to place the remnants of the letter into his palm.

"Please, uncle..." she murmured softly, remaining rooted in place, unmoving.

"Anne, if this is just a regular letter from Sebastian, there's no need for either of you to be afraid. I'm not a complete monster; I can understand things. Sebastian needed this lesson to realize what he might lose if he continues to delve into the dark arts. But I never intended to isolate you from each other forever. And now, hand me the letter so I can make sure there's nothing dangerous in it," her uncle said, taking a step forward, his outstretched hand a demand before him.

Anne's face contorted, and she silently spilled the paper scraps onto his palm. "Reparo!" Solomon incanted, and the fragments of the letter whirled, reuniting seamlessly. Anne watched with frustration, her fingers clenched, and her teeth gritted. It wasn't about her uncle getting angry or exerting more control; it was about her inability to inform Sebastian about this. He would be waiting, inevitably getting entangled in trouble due to this situation. Her uncle meticulously scanned the lines, then did so again, even more deliberately. He furrowed his brow and let out a deep sigh of disappointment, returning the note to Anne. She pressed the sheet to her chest, her eyes on the brink of tears, her lower back against the windowsill, almost as if she wished to follow the owl out the window.

"I don't possess extensive knowledge of relics capable of dispelling dark curses... But none among them arises from the realm of light magic," uncle Solomon muttered slowly, lost in contemplation.

"Uncle, I won't go anywhere, I promise. Just please don't go either. Let's just ignore this note. Sebastian will abandon this plan if I don't appear," Anne implored urgently, her hands clasped to her chest. Trembling like a fragile leaf in a merciless gust of wind, hot tears streamed from her eyes, yet she remained oblivious to them. Her aim was to pacify her uncle, to persuade him to stand down. He was as impulsive, impatient, and unreserved as Sebastian. They shared similarities in character while differing in their perspectives on life.

"Abandon this plan?" Solomon let out a bitter chuckle. "He didn't forsake the pursuit of dark magic even when your connection was hanging by a thread! Someone needs to intervene, even if it necessitates employing the most ruthless methods! He won't be able to dabble in the dark arts if we permanently confiscate his wand!"

"Uncle, listen to me, please! We don't need to do that! Let me talk to him; he'll listen to me. Please..." Anne grasped her uncle's hands, attempting to meet his gaze, in search of even the slightest trace of uncertainty in his decision. Yet it seemed that the die had been cast long before this day and was merely awaiting its moment.

Solomon yanked his hands from Anne's grip, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door shut, causing bits of plaster to rain down from the ceiling. Anne slumped to the floor, letting her tears flow freely. Through her sobs, she heard her uncle casting locking charms on her room, which only made her cry even harder. "Please, let Sebastian figure out that something went wrong, please," she silently pleaded with an invisible entity, folding her arms across her chest. She felt responsible for everything that had transpired; if only she hadn't interfered back then, if only she'd run away at the first sight of goblins, things would have stayed the same. Thoughts raced through her mind — how the curse needed to be defeated sooner for everyone's sake. It hurt deeply; she was just a young girl with dreams as big as anyone else's. Had her simple natural wish ruined everything too? The note in her hands had practically turned to mush and was disintegrating into damp, inky clumps, staining her palms. A painful twinge pierced her heart, and Anne let out a moan, attempting to rise and collapse onto her pillows. Her lungs felt like they were filled with murky, salty water, and she coughed heavily, sinking into the cushions. As the bout of coughing subsided, Anne unknowingly drifted into slumber, succumbing to a sudden wave of exhaustion, her mind spinning with plans to escape her uncle's surveillance. Beautiful dreams unfolded before her, where she was healthy again, her parents alive, and their inseparable trio was happily welcoming the end of another school year.

***

Breathless and wearing a determined, gleaming smile, Sebastian burst into the crypt, bringing with him the scent of long-forgotten feathers and the chill of the air. He had tracked the departing owl until it had dwindled to an almost indiscernible point, and his fingers and cheeks had turned into red, numbed icicles. Ominis sat silently in the distant corner, not even turning at the sound. His lips were tightly pressed together, his chin lifted and turned away from the door. He knew that this childish game of "I'm not talking to you" was a foolish endeavor, but he truly didn't know what to say, didn't know what other attempts were left to reach Sebastian. Even restraining him somewhere and not allowing him to leave the room would hardly help. And an increasing sense of unease coursed through him. It coiled like a venomous snake with every passing minute, not letting him think of anything else. Anger. He felt that too. Anger at himself for being incapable of doing something, for involuntarily indulging Sebastian's desires. Could he have just walked away from the scriptorium that time, refused to help him? Probably, he could have. Anger at Sebastian for his absolute obliviousness and overwhelming self-assuredness. How could he disregard the consequences so completely?

Ominis let out a soft sigh, the sound blending with the approaching footsteps. Sebastian plopped down next to him. Swiftly, Sebastian's frigid fingers slipped beneath Ominis' shirt, causing him to yelp in surprise. He tried to spring to his feet but ended up tripping over his own robe, crashing back down onto the floor. Sebastian's laughter echoed through the space, his fingers persistently exploring, until Ominis inadvertently elbowed him in the ribs. Sebastian let out a mock grunt and collapsed onto the floor beside Ominis, his laughter still lingering. He pulled Ominis into an embrace, drawing him closer, and met his gaze with an intentionally mischievous expression, watching Ominis fight back a smile.

"I intentionally kept my hands in the snow to bring them to you like this," Sebastian proudly declared, his slightly cooled fingers brushing against Ominis' cheek. The warmth of Ominis' skin felt scalding against his own.

"And why is all of this happening?" came a rhetorical question, touching on everything and nothing at once. Ominis brought his hand up to Sebastian's face, once again admiring his features in his own way. It was a battle that couldn't be won, no matter how hard he tried. Resisting anything about Sebastian was possible only until he touched you, until he whispered something with his seductive tone.

"What exactly?" Sebastian moved his face so close to Ominis', leaving almost no space between them.

"All of this. You with your dark magic, your stubbornness, your... kisses and such," Ominis fervently pressed against Sebastian, hiding the tremor in his lips. He wrapped his arms around him, hooked a leg around his waist, and buried his face in Sebastian's shoulder, mumbling something.

"Ominis, everything will be fine. We'll heal Anne, and I'll quit all these dark dealings, I promise you. And you and I will always be together," Sebastian held him tighter, seeking comfort in their embrace.

"I wish everything could be exactly like that," Ominis murmured softly, burying his face in Sebastian's cloak.

"Did you say something?" Sebastian asked, to which Ominis only shook his head.

Sebastian tenderly smoothed Ominis' hair as his friend gradually drifted into slumber, attuned to the rhythmic beat of Ominis' heart within his chest and the calming cadence of his breath. "It would be wonderful to lie in a soft bed now, rather than on this cold floor," was the final coherent thought that flitted through Ominis' mind. Sleep, however, was far from Sebastian's grasp. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts regarding the righteousness of his chosen course of action, the justice he sought to enact. "For the successful execution of the ritual, a dark offering must be made, signifying the violent death of one of the participants," the manuscripts declared. When Sebastian first encountered these lines, he had nearly howled in despair, convinced that all was lost, that his last hope had crumbled at that moment. Yet, returning to these words day after day, churning them over in his mind repeatedly, contemplating the impending doom that Anne faced if he took no action, he endeavored to find some kind of solution, a way to circumvent this condition. What if he attempted to sacrifice an animal? Or employed the ashes of a deceased person? Perhaps conjure the ghost of someone who had met a violent demise? Each of his theories shattered against the unyielding, uncompromising lines: "The offering must be made during the ritual, in the presence of the one afflicted by the curse and the performer." The days stretched out, one after another, fraught with unbearable agony over his inability to discuss this with anyone. To speak of this condition would mean severing any fragile support he still had from Ominis and Anne. Then, one night, a terrifying plan unfolded before him: to offer Solomon Sallow as the sacrificial victim.

Sebastian was profoundly afraid to even slightly open the dark, cobweb-veiled door of his own consciousness, from which the sounds of potential solutions to the situation persistently echoed. Yet, for the sake of Anne, he allowed this door to creak open gradually, permitting the shrouded darkness behind it to seep into his soul, all in the hope of granting his sister a long and happy life. Fear and doubt gnawed at him; he sought to convince himself that Anne's life was far more valuable than that of their uncle, marshaling countless arguments in his favor. Ultimately, leaving within himself a gaping, unhealing wound oozing black blood and pus, the decision took root. He would do this for his beloved twin sister, for her promising future, even if it meant forfeiting his own sleep and serenity for the rest of his days. Sebastian understood that he couldn't openly kill uncle Solomon in Annaes presence; she would never allow it to happen, even if he managed to somehow drag him into the depths below. But he could engineer a situation where uncle Solomon came to the right place, bringing Anne along, as she would undoubtedly follow, concerned for her brother. Sebastian would provoke him, arranging everything to appear as though he was acting in self-defense. Yes, his sister would never forgive him under any circumstances, even if the killing was "accidental," but at least, through the element of surprise, he could bring the plan to fruition, doing for her what he must. Ominis... Despite their profound closeness, he couldn't predict the reaction of his dearest friend. Would Ominis continue to feel anything beyond revulsion and disdain when Sebastian carried out his plan? But one thing he knew for certain: no one must learn that Solomon Sallow would be intentionally killed.

Sebastian held the peacefully slumbering Ominis close, his lips brushing against his friend's hair, pondering that he might be doing this for the last time. He inhaled the scent deeply, whispering something on the exhale, trying to etch this moment into memory down to its minutest details. A solitary tear slid down his eyelashes. It was a pity that he might not be able to have another heart-to-heart conversation with Anne, not once more embrace her and make her laugh. Was it worth it? To obliterate himself, his own life, which had revolved around these two dear souls? He despised himself for this decision, for the pain it would inflict on Anne and Ominis, how far it would push them away from him. But perhaps they shouldn't be around a creature like him. A bitter smile curved Sebastian's lips. How damn painful it was. How damn terrifying. And how damn regrettable. Uncertainly, yet resolutely, he was moving toward a path from which there was surely no return. Could it be that his life, not his uncle's, would become the main offering at this unholy ceremony? He couldn't bear to contemplate it further. The decision was made. He had to heal his sister, at any cost.