Chapter 15. February 7, 1891

Sebastian struggled to open his eyes and let out a loud, prolonged groan before burying his face into the pillow. The dreadful concoction, laced with scurvy-grass and an added tincture intended to bring him back to his senses, was causing terrible side effects. His body felt like a boneless, uncontrollable mass, constantly succumbing to drowsiness, with occasional waves of nausea sweeping over him. Initially, he managed to pour the medicine almost every time into a potted plant or out of the slightly open window above his bed. He even attempted to feign illness in front of the healers, but somehow, they saw through it all. Now, someone from the staff loomed over him during the intake of the tincture, watching closely as he forced himself to gulp down the intensely bitter, burning liquid.

Sebastian couldn't help but notice that his mind did indeed become clearer, that he was starting to desire to continue living, and that thoughts of Anne no longer tore at his soul so fiercely. However, he didn't want to experience this effect; he believed he deserved to drown and thrash in the viscous darkness of his thoughts, and that no one should try to pull him out of there. He truly desired to lose himself in grief, as the inability to ever return to a normal life would be a just punishment.

Sebastian's recollection of how his uncle had dragged him to the Ministry and what had transpired there was hazy at best. He remembered sitting in the vast foyer on an uncomfortable, hard chair, staring at the carpet runner beneath his feet. The secretary gave him disgusted looks from behind her desk while his uncle conversed with someone in an adjacent office. He remembered a tired man in a suit attempting to ask him questions, initially softly and politely, and then becoming harsh and threatening. However, Sebastian couldn't answer; he couldn't even comprehend the meaning of those questions or focus his gaze on the man's face. Before him, Anne's lifeless body continued to endlessly fall onto the smooth, glistening floor. Yet even that vision started fading at some point; darkness crept over his vision, and he heard the sound of his own body hitting the carpeted path adorned with golden phoenixes. Those phoenixes were the most vivid in his memory. Even now, he was certain that the Ministry hadn't been a dream, solely because he had received multiple letters updating him on the progress of his case.

The next moments that followed were fragments torn from his memory — episodes where only his desperate screams were audible, where only the frenzied flurry of people in green robes was visible, where there was nothing but unrelenting agony. He regained consciousness while restrained to a bed, behind a thin, yellowish curtain that separated him from other patients at St. Mungo's Hospital. He didn't immediately grasp his surroundings. It was a friendly, young nurse who explained everything to him. She slipped behind the curtain as soon as he began to stir and test the strength of his restraints. She beamed broadly, recounting how he had been brought to the hospital: how he had cried out for Anne, insisting she was alive and needed help; how he fervently convinced everyone around that he needed to see Ominis; how he tried to end his life with a fork he had taken from another patient when someone foolishly mentioned that Anne was undoubtedly dead; how he cursed everyone with the vilest words as they secured him to the bed. Sebastian's face grew increasingly sour with each word she spoke, and eventually, he asked her to stop smiling. Instantly, her expression normalized, and after assessing his condition with concern, she handed him a glass of medicine and left him alone.

After a couple of weeks, Sebastian had memorized and studied all the nurses and healers who were attending to his case. He was forbidden from contacting the outside world or leaving the confines of his room, as he was, after all, a criminal awaiting trial. Therefore, it was crucial for him to discern which hospital staff members he could manipulate and persuade to send a letter to Ominis. The worry about Ominis's well-being gnawed at Sebastian like acid from the inside, for he, more than anyone else, knew how deeply he was attached to him. Perhaps he understood it even better than Ominis himself did.

Sebastian realized that he could only share this with Lavinia, the nurse with the unnatural smile. She was quite young, naive, and soft-hearted, and she was the only one who talked to him on equal terms, without a condescending gaze or a twisted mouth. He could play on her sympathy, which he did every time she lingered behind the curtain for even a moment. She was the only one who didn't stand over him, waiting for him to drink the bitter potion, especially after she found out he had been using it to water the petunia on the windowsill.

And then, one fine day, she sighed, rolled her eyes, and brought him parchment on which he quickly wrote a message. Lavinia even enchanted the letter to function like a talking spell, so that it would read its text aloud when Ominis opened it. Sebastian showered her with gratitude, yet inside him trembled at the thought of Ominis' reaction to the note, which he would receive a whole month after being left in complete solitude and uncertainty.

Surely, uncle Solomon wouldn't write to him, nor would he reply if Ominis decided to write to him himself. On one hand, Sebastian would be glad to know that Ominis had decided to forget about him and start a new normal life, one free of dark magic, dubious activities in the dungeons, and deaths. Yet, on the other hand, damn it, how much he longed to see him. Even from a distance, even for a fleeting moment. What a complete idiot he had been to think that the dark sacrifice plan could work! He had killed his own sister with these very hands that had embraced her! And in addition, he had destroyed the fragile, tender bond they had only just begun to build with Ominis.

Sebastian mumbled something incoherent into the pillow again and rolled back onto his back. When would the medicine release its grip on him, and when would he be able to sit up at least? The bright sunlight outside was piercing his eyes, but he didn't want to close them, as he would instantly fall asleep, and he desperately needed to wait for Lavinia and speak with her again. If Ominis understood his hint, and he surely would, and decided to come here, they would turn him away as soon as they found out whom he came to visit. And Sebastian needed to secure the support of the friendly nurse who would guide his friend to him. So far, he hadn't mentioned a word to her about wanting her to use her privileges outside of her regular duties again, but he was absolutely sure that she would agree once more. After all, the years of charm training and eloquence with the Hogwarts professors hadn't gone unnoticed, and she had long felt sympathetic and compassionate toward him. His eyes began to close with renewed force, and he was about to give in when the curtain rustled, and Lavinia appeared before him.

"How do you feel?" she inquired with a composed, professional tone, adjusting his blanket.

"Terrible. I wanna die, honestly," Sebastian murmured weakly, attempting unsuccessfully to prop himself up against the pillow. The young woman gently helped him sit up and looked at him intently.

"I can see you want to talk about something," she drawled, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "sooner or later, the head nurse or one of the healers will notice that I'm spending too much time with you."

"Hopefully not. After all, I don't have much time left," Sebastian smiled, looking at the tired face of the nurse, "I know I've already asked for a lot, but I have one last request."

"What is it?" Lavinia sighed with resignation, fully aware that Sebastian understood that he probably wouldn't hear a refusal.

"If Ominis decides to visit me, could you bring him here?" Sallow fixed his gaze on her, holding his breath. The young woman sighed deeply again, adjusted her hair, and looked past Sebastian.

"Did you force him to escape from Hogwarts just to see you? In his fifth year, when any transgression could affect O.W.L. results? A person who has never traveled alone?" Lavinia's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a touch of disapproval flickered in her eyes, "did you even think for a moment before doing this?"

"We don't need to worry about Ominis' grades. His family name has some influence with Headmaster Black. He can't fail O.W.L.s even if he tries, even though he might not see it that way. And about the journey... I'm not comfortable with it either, but I know Ominis is too smart not to handle it. And he has a choice: if he doesn't want to see me, he won't show up," Sebastian's voice grew quieter and dimmer on the last words, "can you help with this?"

"In theory, I could. But I won't be able to bring him during the day when other visitors and a bunch of staff are around. And I'll also have to keep a close eye on the visitors, so as not to miss the moment when they tell your friend to go back to Hogwarts," she looked at him, showing that this request wasn't an easy one.

"Please. If I can see him even for a couple of minutes, I'll be forever in your debt," Sebastian clasped his weakened trembling hands in an imploring gesture.

"I'll try," the nurse stood up from the bed, adjusted her uniform, and nearly disappeared behind the curtain, glancing over her shoulder at her patient, "you're quite the little devil, Sebastian Sallow."

"It's what I have to be," he muttered almost inaudibly as the curtain swayed.

***

Ominis slowly walked along Diagon Alley, completely lost in his thoughts. He had left Hogwarts far too quickly, without really forming a plan for his little journey. But he wasn't in the state of mind to ponder and consider various options. Decisions needed to be made, and he would deal with the consequences later. The alley was sparsely populated, with everyone hurrying to find shelter from the sudden snowstorm that had swept in. Stopping someone to ask for directions was impossible, let alone engaging in a conversation. Ominis himself had grown numb within five minutes of emerging from the fireplace that had carried him by Floo Powder. Sebastian's words about the imminent invitation to a meeting kept replaying in his mind, and Ominis began to worry that the letter would arrive just during his absence and be sent back to the Ministry when an owl failed to find him at Hogwarts. The idea of renting a room on the second floor of the "Leaky Cauldron" to have his mail delivered there, to be collected upon his return from St. Mungo's, was solidifying in his mind. Well, complications were unavoidable. But at the "Cauldron," he could warm up and find someone to talk to who wouldn't run away from him, bundled up in scarves. He wondered how foolish a wizard would look not knowing how to get to the most famous magical hospital? Not that it bothered him too much, but the thought prompted a faint smile, the first one in weeks. He felt a stirring excitement within him when he thought about seeing Sebastian soon, and it pushed him to quicken his pace.

Finally, brushing snow off his boots, he entered the warm interior of the "Leaky Cauldron." Immediately, his nose was greeted by the appetizing aroma of roasted meat, mingled with the persistent scent of ale and the sharp tang of tobacco smoke. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been here, as he only visited infrequently. Perhaps it was at the end of August when he and Sebastian had bought supplies for their fifth year at the alley. The place was an odd choice for school students to hang out, but Ominis liked it here. Unkempt, slightly grungy, yet exceptionally welcoming and friendly. Amidst the crowd, one could easily blend in and listen to the stories of wizards at neighboring tables. People came from other cities and even countries, engaged in such diverse activities that some of them Ominis had never even heard of. "The Leaky Cauldron" was a hub where everything converged; it wasn't just the oldest pub in town, but also the link connecting the Muggle world and the wizarding world. It served as a passage between Diagon Alley and Charing Cross Road.

Ominis, suppressing his usual inclination to take the furthest table away from everyone, settled himself cautiously at the bar counter. For a moment, he felt a wave of nervousness, but a couple of deep breaths helped him dispel it just in time. Facing him, the bartender stopped in anticipation, his rag squeaking against the polished mug.

"I'll have a butterbeer and a room for one for a couple of nights," Ominis infused his voice with all the confidence he could muster, prepared to explain why he needed a room upstairs.

"Why do you need a room? You can't even be sixteen yet, I reckon. At your age, you should be studying at school, not renting rooms in pubs," the bartender croaked predictably, coughing and clinking mugs.

"I do attend Hogwarts, and I am already sixteen," Ominis hastily assured him, "I want to visit my grandmother; she's in St. Mungo's Hospital right now, got burned while working with dragons. And any day now, I'm expecting an important letter, so I want to rent a room. That way, an owl can find me here, and you can receive the letter on my behalf and keep it, because no one at Hogwarts will do that for me."

"Your grandmother sounds like an interesting woman," the bartender chuckled, tossing the keys onto the counter with a jingle, which he seemed to have pulled from somewhere within his apron. As Ominis expected, the bartender was more intrigued by the story of the grandmother and the dragon; he didn't bother asking about the supposedly important letter that a fifth-year student might receive, "and what does she do?"

For a good quarter of an hour, Ominis spun tales about his fictional grandmother, skillfully interweaving them with more truthful details from his own life. The bartender was clearly amused, occasionally exclaiming in surprise at the most unexpected "facts." He even treated Ominis to a second round of butterbeer on the house. Periodically breaking away from Gaunt, he returned with some remark about his other customers. Ominis was already starting to feel fatigued; he wasn't accustomed to, nor did he particularly enjoy, talking so much with unfamiliar people. He was ready to move on to the reason he had come to the "Cauldron", when the bartender suddenly shared something that made his heart skip a beat.

"That gentleman at the far end of the bar is also headed to St. Mungo's. He said that if you're interested, he can take you with him. And it's much nicer to Apparate there than to try to get there on your own or, heaven forbid, on the 'Knight Bus.' That clunker won't become a normal means of transportation anytime soon. They haven't taught you Apparition yet, have they? I wonder why St. Mungo's hasn't joined the Floo Network yet. Are they afraid their lunatic patients might escape?"

"No, they haven't taught me. That would be great," Ominis conjured his most friendly smile and attempted to cast his wand to outline the silhouette of that gentleman. It seemed to work, as the man at the end of the bar raised his glass in a welcoming gesture and made his way toward the Slytherin. Ominis let out a relieved sigh, rejoicing in his incredible luck and the chance to avoid explaining to the bartender why he didn't know how to get to the hospital.

The next couple of hours dragged on unbearably long. The bartender and Ominis' new travel companion, Mr. Damien Savage, engaged in such spirited conversation that Marks could completely tune out, and he was grateful for that. However, what did not please him was that the conversation between the man and the bartender showed no signs of ending. They went through the entire roster of the bartender's friends and relatives, half of Mr. Savage's colleagues, and a good quarter of the patrons. Ominis tried to be involved in the conversation to demonstrate interest and politeness, but he found himself tuning out and drifting into his own thoughts time and again. Only Damien's story about his work as an Auror truly captured his interest, when he casually mentioned that he had round-the-clock clearance for Azkaban, as you never know when you might need to interrogate a criminal again. However, the topic quickly changed to something more interesting in Damien's eyes, and Ominis rested his head on his hands, allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts.

When the men finally decided it was time for Damien and Ominis to leave, Marks couldn't hide his relief, but he hastened to assure them that he had simply missed his grandmother very much. Surely neither the bartender nor the Auror would have taken offense if he had told them that he was actually relieved their conversation was ending, but he didn't want to risk it. Ominis got up from the bar and, unexpectedly for himself, swayed. It seemed that downing butterbeers one after another had been a mistake. The Auror chuckled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, causing Ominis to grip the bar to keep from collapsing at the patrons' feet. After bidding the bartender a heartfelt farewell, the Hogwarts student and Ministry worker headed toward the exit. As a final reminder, Ominis mentioned the important letter to the bartender, who energetically assured him that he remembered everything.

"So, are you ready?" Damien asked as soon as they stepped outside.

Snow was still falling in clumps, but at least the wind had subsided slightly. Once again, Ominis felt the joy of meeting this person, imagining how he would be stumbling around aimlessly if he were alone. He nodded in silence and felt a strong hand grip his elbow. At the same moment, the space around them vibrated and distorted, and he felt as though devilish forces were squeezing him. He struggled to breathe as the sensation of pressure overwhelmed him, and he nearly retched. When they finally landed abruptly in front of the abandoned department store, which concealed the entrance to the hidden St. Mungo's Hospital, Ominis fell to his knees. He was turned inside out, sweat forming on his forehead, and his body trembling as if in fever. Successfully Apparating from place to place required immense experience; many wizards chose to avoid this method of transportation altogether. But he was there, the towering silhouette of the multi-story building rising above him, causing his heart to race, but not from the aftereffects of the Apparition. Ominis had opted to decline further assistance from the Auror and waited until he heard the entrance door close behind Damien. Still sitting in the snow, he attempted to regulate his breathing, his entire body trembling from the rush of excitement. He had actually done it, and he was about to finally reunite with his best friend. More than a best friend.