Chapter 21. February 17, 1898

Ominis stood before the massive oak door of the house where he had spent his early years until the age of eleven. He nervously twirled his wand between his fingers, biting his lip as he contemplated whether he should turn back right now. Unpleasant memories paraded through his mind like a funeral procession, contorting his face into grimaces of hurt and anger. Had he embarked on all this for nothing? Lazy footsteps echoed behind the door, and Ominis froze in terror, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. The scared and wounded child inside him panicked, darting back and forth, screaming and crying. But when the door swung open, his face displayed absolute, impassive indifference.

"Ah, little Ominis, look who's all grown up," he heard the quiet, venomous voice of his older brother. Everything inside him turned cold, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might vomit right at Marvolo's feet, but that didn't happen.

"Hello, Marv," Ominis replied, attempting to infuse his voice with firmness, devoid of emotion. In his mind's eye, he recalled the image of Marvolo as he had last seen him: terrifyingly immense, significantly stronger, with a face consumed by hatred and aggression. His ears seemed to ring with Marvolo's insane screams, his threats, and the "Crucio" that followed.

"Well, come on in, little Ominis, how many years have passed?" Ominis heard his brother's voice again as Marvolo stepped back, allowing him to enter. There was a self-satisfied smirk in his tone, hinting at something unpleasant to come. Ominis took two steps forward, and the door slammed shut behind him, cutting him off from the outside world. He took a deep breath, and familiar sensations coursed through him: the scent in the house hadn't changed a bit. It was still the same odor of damp earth, decaying wood, and centuries-old dust that permeated all his memories of this place. He clenched his teeth, releasing air from his lungs in short bursts. His muscles involuntarily tensed, as if anticipating Marvolo's attack, just as in his childhood when he used to be beaten up for trivial reasons. He shuddered when Marvolo placed his heavy hand on his shoulder, patting it roughly.

"So, now we're your last hope, aren't we?" Marvolo chuckled mockingly, leading Ominis through a long, empty hallway. Their steps were muffled by a moth-eaten carpet, but voices echoed from above, growing louder as they encountered no obstacles, "you're in big trouble with the Ministry of Magic, little Ominis... That's so interesting. I can't wait to hear the whole story. Mother was the only one who always believed you'd come back to the family, and here you are. But you look rather tidy for a fugitive, don't you?"

"Well, I attract less attention in London when I look like this," Ominis mumbled vaguely, pondering how to slip away from his brother's bear-like grip. But Marvolo's hold on his shoulder only tightened with each step, leaving him no choice but to endure it. He didn't want to provoke Marvolo any more than necessary. After all, Marvolo could easily throw him back out the door once he had entered. Yet a storm of dark emotions raged within him.

"Surprisingly," Marvolo roughly seized Ominis by the chin, turning his face towards him, scrutinizing him closely, "why don't I see contempt and hatred on your face? Thanks to me, you became a helpless invalid, a crippled wretch..."

"Believe me, I despise you as much as humanly possible," Ominis hissed back, pushing his hand away. Inside him, rage and hatred waged a fierce battle against the choking fear that had never quite left him over the years.

"That's wonderful," Marvolo laughed loudly, finally releasing his grip on Ominis' shoulder. His laughter echoed ominously through the hallway, sending a wave of icy shivers down Ominis' spine, reminiscent of that sinister, gleeful laughter that always accompanied Marvolo's tormenting of Muggles. He wanted to escape from here more than ever. How desperate he must have been to throw himself into the cage with the monster and attempt to negotiate with him?

"Where are our parents?" Ominis asked in an even tone, walking slightly behind his brother and avoiding having Marvolo behind him. He felt that Marvolo had become more composed since their last meeting, but that could make him even more dangerous than in his childhood. They slowly ascended a wide staircase, and Ominis cautiously scanned his surroundings, keeping his wand at the ready but not letting Marvolo out of his sight. Everything here seemed vaguely familiar yet entirely foreign, like recurring nightmares.

"Oh, well, you're quite the model son, little Ominis," Marvolo grinned, casting a curious glance back over his shoulder, "Mother passed away nine years ago: she lost her mind and threw herself out of a window, unable to bear the loss of her daughter. Yes, we did have a younger sister, even though she didn't survive a year. Father isn't exactly in good health, but at least his brain functions most of the time. He couldn't personally write you a reply, but the invitation did come from him," Marvolo explained with feigned sympathy, but Ominis felt nothing inside. He had grown so accustomed to the life of a lonely orphan, to avoiding any mention of his family, even in his thoughts, that he had to remind himself after every sentence Marvolo spoke that he was, in fact, talking about his own family. These people were like a bad dream, from which he had almost managed to escape.

They ascended in silence to the large, dark dining room, which appeared even more unkempt to Ominis than he remembered. A long ebony table with a centerpiece of long-dead flowers in the center resembled a grotesque giant's coffin. The room was dusty and stuffy. Ominis removed his coat and hung it on the chair indicated by Marvolo, to the left of the head of the table. He suddenly felt as though the main danger had passed, but he skeptically pushed that thought away, preparing himself to meet his father. Not that he was nervous or anxious; he was more contemplating how to choose his words so that he wouldn't be shown the door. Ominis had no idea what his father was like; he only remembered a few details of his appearance, the sharp smell of tobacco mixed with alcohol, and the raspy cough, which thirteen years ago hinted at the beginning of health problems.

From behind the door that blended into the wall, their family house-elf, Twinkle, appeared, gently pushing a serving trolley. Silently, without paying any attention to the hosts, Twinkle set the plates and glasses in their places and, just as quietly, withdrew. Marvolo sat down and started eating without waiting for the head of the family. He tried to engage Ominis with questions or remarks, but Ominis, clenching his teeth and breathing deeply, tried not to react. His fingers gripped the back of the chair beneath his coat, and he tapped the floor with the toe of his shoe, feeling irritation building up, accompanied by the suppressed fear. He was afraid of Marvolo's unpredictability even when Marvolo sat unarmed and relaxed. It was akin to the fear someone might feel toward a dog that had once bitten their ankle.

The high door through which they had entered the room a few minutes ago slowly creaked open. Ominis, pointing his wand toward it, sniffed the air and held his breath, seeing a nurse carefully pushing a wheelchair with Gaunt Sr. in it. He didn't look like a weak, old man; his chin was proudly raised, lips tightly sealed, and one of his eyebrows twitched upwards as he glanced at Ominis. Ominis finally exhaled. In his mind, there were frenzied thoughts about whether he should say something, whether it was better to greet him first, or if it was more appropriate to remain silent and wait. However, none of his nervous thoughts showed on his face. He still stood upright beside his chair, with only his fingers gripping the chair's back a bit tighter, turning whiter. When the nurse placed the wheelchair at the table and quietly left, Gaunt Sr. waved a hand toward Ominis, who nodded discreetly and sat down at the table. For a while, they sat in complete silence.

Ominis sipped his wine cautiously, taking small, careful sips and finding it quite palatable. In the meantime, his father and brother dined thoroughly, as if they spent every evening in each other's company, and there was nothing unusual about it. When, after twenty minutes, Twinkle collected the empty plates and brought a cigar and whiskey to the host, who enjoyed a deep drag and exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke, he finally spoke.

"So, you've decided to return? Or rather, you were forced into this, with no other options left? If you had other options, you would never have considered this one," Father spoke coldly and without any expression, elongating his words. His questions sounded more like statements, so Ominis didn't even attempt to answer them, "I knew that if you weren't dead, sooner or later, you'd come back, though I never spoke of it to your mother. No Gaunt has ever permanently abandoned their family while still alive," he chuckled softly and coughed, chasing the cough away with a sip of alcohol.

"Shall we drink to the return of the prodigal son?" Marvolo nodded with a smirk at Father's words, casting a meaningful glance at Ominis and raising his glass. No one at the table joined in, and he casually took a few sips on his own.

"And what, may I ask, has happened that makes me open my arms to you?" Gaunt Sr. leaned forward expectantly, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

"I need help. And Gaunts never turn their back on family, even if they despise each other with all their hearts," Ominis mumbled, hoping his words sounded convincing. His mouth felt dry, and he desperately wanted water, but he continued to push through with the wine, trying to appear nonchalant and confident. Leaning back in his chair, he began to tell his tale, the essence of which revolved around him and Sebastian engaging in illegal sales of rare magical relics, and during one such venture, they had to kill the previous owners of a particular artifact. The story needed to be straightforward and not too convoluted but still criminal enough to make Father believe that they might be actively pursued by the ministry. While Ominis spoke, Gaunt Sr. displayed no emotions, but Marvolo found amusement in it, laughing louder after every third word, extracting various details from his younger brother and laughing even harder. The story that Ominis had to kill several people due to a magical artifact, despite his efforts to distance himself from dark arts, particularly entertained him.

"I did tell you, little Ominis, that you would have to kill eventually, and you didn't believe me. Turns out, the older brother can be right," he wiped away tears of laughter and downed the wine in one gulp, gesturing for the house-elf to refill his glass. Ominis gritted his teeth but remained silent.

"I'll give you a chance to regain my favor, Ominis," Father said quietly, raising his hand to silence Marvolo, "after all, you haven't brought shame to our family by joining the ranks of the Aurors or marrying a mudblood. I'll allow you and your associate to seek refuge in our home, but with one condition: if I ever have even a moment of doubt about whether you are worthy of being a Gaunt, I'll throw you right out the door of that wretched ministry. Perhaps, from you, a decent heir of Slytherin can still be fashioned," Gaunt Sr. reverently ran his fingers over the medallion hanging around his neck with a snake writhing on it in the shape of the letter S.

"Oh, I can take care of that," Marvolo hissed ominously, flashing a slightly tipsy gaze in his younger brother's direction.

"Thank you, Father," Ominis lowered his head, agreeing to the terms and completely ignoring his brother's remark, although an unpleasant chill ran down his spine. The thought of willingly returning to the ancestral estate and living side by side with Marvolo, who had been his worst nightmare throughout his childhood and continued to grip his throat with his phantom fingers even when he fled, seemed insane to Ominis. But in his mind, the realization pulsated that he was ready to sacrifice himself for the safety of him and Sebastian, ready to be with him at last, ready to attempt to restore that fragment of the past. His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought, his hand holding the glass trembled, and he hurriedly placed it on the table, hiding his palms on his knees.

For another quarter of an hour, the three of them sat in near silence. Only a couple of times did Marvolo ask Ominis about the details of his fabricated activities, savoring his answers with satisfaction. At the end of the dinner, the caretaker returned to the dining room and escorted the slightly weary Gaunt Sr. to his bedroom, wishing the brothers an enjoyable evening. Ominis rose from the table at the very moment the door closed behind the woman. He quickly donned his coat, not releasing his wand from his grasp, and headed for the exit. Marvolo followed suit.

"So amusing," he began with a slightly tipsy smirk, drawing out his words, "after all these years, little Ominis is back in the ancestral home, but I don't even have the desire to give you a proper welcome. It seems your illegal activities have earned my respect to some extent. But don't get too cocky," he grabbed Ominis by the elbow and turned him toward himself, bringing his face closer to his. Unpleasant scents of wine and roast meat emanated from him, "In our house, you'll have to live by our rules, little brother. And you don't even know them properly."

"Looks like you missed our entire conversation with Father. I've already agreed to these conditions," Ominis pulled his arm, but Marvolo's grip didn't budge an inch. He let out a raspy, condescending chuckle, and only after a few long seconds did he release his fingers. Ominis winced momentarily, suppressing the urge to rub his elbow, which would undoubtedly be sporting deep bruises by tomorrow, "see you tomorrow, Marv."

"I'll be looking forward to it. I'll instruct Twinkle to prepare the finest bedrooms for you and your friend and adorn them with the most beautiful flowers from our garden," Marvolo laughed cheerfully, standing in the doorway and watching Ominis depart. His smirk once again graced his face; life in the empty mansion was about to get much more interesting.

***

Sebastian sat with his legs crossed on the cold, hard floor, his chin held high as he kept his gaze fixed on a sliver of the moon visible through a tiny window near the ceiling of his cell. It was not every night that one could see anything in it, apart from the impenetrable bluish darkness. This trembling moonlight made him feel calmer and safer, so on such nights, he allowed his thoughts to wander down the paths of vague memories a bit farther than usual. It would be more accurate to say that only on such nights could he allow himself to partly unveil the curtain of his memories because on other nights, he felt nothing but fear and pain, which became unbearable if he failed to disconnect from reality in time. He breathed slowly and deeply, ignoring the faint howling and crying coming from the adjacent cell. Unlike him, his neighbor behaved exactly the opposite, becoming more restless on moonlit nights.

"O-mi-nis... An-ne..." Sebastian pronounced these two names syllable by syllable, trying to remember why these names held some special significance for him, even though both had caused him the most unbearable pain among all the names he knew and heard. He raised his hand and touched his cheek, the one that the beautiful man with the same name as in his memories had touched yesterday. It was the same person, right? Ominis from his memories and yesterday's visitor. Why was he crying so desperately? Had Sebastian hurt him in the past? But then why did he come back, and moreover, promise to get him out of here? Sebastian's head spun with a multitude of questions and the absence of answers to them. Anne. Who was she? Yesterday's Ominis had said she was Sebastian's sister, and it seemed logical, as he knew for sure that they looked very similar. But he felt such an overwhelming emptiness and sorrow inside when he began to think about her. Had he done something wrong to her, something he regretted? Why didn't Ominis tell him about her yesterday? Sebastian pressed his fingers to his temples and applied pressure, trying to quell the throbbing headache. Maybe if Ominis really did get him out of here, he could remember everything. He shuddered at the fear that emerged from somewhere within him, whispering, "do you really want to remember?" Sebastian wasn't sure, but Ominis' words about everything being fine and them being happy sounded very convincing and appealing. At the very least, he wouldn't have to sleep on bare stones in the brutal cold and eat strangely smelling concoctions anymore.

Suddenly, like a lightning bolt, a vision from the past pierced his brain. As if in reality, he saw before him flaming undead in a long, dark corridor, smelled the scent of burning flesh and ashes, and felt the unbearable heat from the raging fire on his skin. His hand tightly gripped someone's moist palm. He cast a quick glance to the side and saw a teenager in a school uniform, so eerily similar to his visitor from yesterday, who was covering his face with his sleeve, holding a magical wand in front of him. Sebastian's heart throbbed painfully, but he continued to sit, frozen and barely breathing, taking in every detail of this vivid vision. And it instantly shattered into sparks to be replaced by the next one. Here he stood facing this blond schoolboy, their hands clutching a strange pyramid-shaped object with golden facets that gleamed brightly in the candlelight. This object was mesmerizing and drew all of Sebastian's attention, but he forced himself to look at the boy standing before him. Sallow bit his lip until it bleeds, feeling that despair is beginning to consume him and pull him down into the abyss of pain. But he had to see it through to the end; memories had never been so clear to him before.

"Can you feel its power?" he whispered softly, simultaneously in the past and in the present. His hand reached forward, touching the face before him. Ominis' face. On this face, concern and tenderness blended together. It was beautiful. Sebastian trembled, tears glistened on his eyelashes. His heart was gripped by the black tendrils of sorrow, slowly cracking open, releasing streams of crimson blood from the cracks, causing Sebastian to scream and writhe in pain. He tried to grasp onto the elusive memory, but suddenly heard that unpleasant voice inside his head again, "you need to get out of here, you need to numb your pain." He shook his head, but his hands, seemingly of their own accord, reached for a shard of glass that had been left behind by the previous occupant of this cell, presumably suffering from a similar affliction. His screams, intermingled with the laughter that pierced through them, mixed with the wails and cries of his neighbor, echoed through the corridor, drawing the attention of the Dementors. Sebastian trembled all over as he drove the shard into his ankle and, twisting it, screamed even louder. Blood welled through his fingers, warming his numbed limb. The vision of the past finally dissolved within him, leaving behind only pulsating pain in his head and a profound sense of loss. He crawled to the wall, breathing spasmodically, and pressed his palms to his face, muffling the quiet sobs, staining tears in the crimson color of his own blood. He was so tired of this pain, of the need to mutilate himself to stay sane, of the absence of memories, and the burning desire to remember.

"Please, get me out of here," he whispered through tears, cowering in the corner of this unfriendly, cold room, addressing that beautiful stranger who knelt in front of his cell, the anxious boy whose fingers had once been intertwined with Sebastian's in the past.