Return of Sebastian Sallow | 10 Yr After Hogwarts

Chapter 121: Christmas Eve, 1891

C H R I S T M A S   E V E   -   1 8 9 1

There are few students at the castle for Christmas this year. Last year, it just made sense to stick around and stay immersed in everything I was doing with Professor Fig and Sebastian. And Sebastian stayed around for a lot of Christmas, too, because he hated being at home with Solomon. But this year, given that my Aunt Sarah is remarried now, and given the cost of travel to the states, even with magic — not to mention the time it would take for just a short visit – getting back to New York was simply too prohibitive.

In the golden light of the sparkling trees and candlelight of the Great Hall, there are a handful of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, just a few Hufflepuffs, and precisely three Gryffindors. At the far end of the table sits a private and awkward first year boy who I don't know, Roland Tinworthy. I think he spends a lot of time in the arithmancy classroom. And then across the table and down about six seats from me is Pickterty Parsons. Pik for short. Fourth year. Nice girl. Sings in the choir.

And then, of course, there's me.

Sigh.

In an effort to bolster our spirits (I think) the House Elves were directed to create a full Christmas Eve Feast for us! Upon the four tables are platters of ham, turkey, pheasant, fruits and vegetables, meat pies, so many puddings, and a variety of starch-laden and carbohydrate-rich side dishes that ooze and shimmer with unfathomable amounts of cheese.

It's delicious, if not a bit overwhelming. And though I understand the well-intentioned sentiment of making sure those spending the holiday at the school aren't left feeling without, it does make it seem a little melancholy to have such incredible bounty with so few to enjoy it with.

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Ominis –

Merry Christmas Eve! Or, HAPPY Chrsitmas eve as you all say here. Hope you're surviving the manor. Maybe next year your parents will be convinced I'm not a total pit stain on society and/or 'freak of magical barbarism,' was it? God your mother has a way with words.

Anyhow. Just sitting down for dinner in the Great Hall and thinking of you. Without you. Feels extra lonely this year, you know?

See you soon, my darling friend!

April

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When I'm finished writing, I move down to the part of the long, empty Gryffindor table that actually has food on it, but I keep myself to myself. I really don't feel like pretending with Roland or Pik, nor does my tarnished soul and broken heart have any bandwidth for making new friends.

I resolve to send the note later, maybe even much later, because I know I've put Eustis through his paces these past few days that I haven't had Ominis at the castle with me. Batty old bird could use a breather.

In fact, I've sent Ominis at least one note or letter a day since school got out and his family arrived in a carriage that I swear was gilded in actual silver. They swept him away with furrowed brows, sneering lips, and noses raised high above everyone else's. Oh how they hate the way their 'little snakelet' is developing his own identity, entirely separate from them.

A deep, resounding voice from behind me interrupts my daydreaming, scaring me shitless. "Another for Mister Gaunt?"

"Fuck!" I gasp, reflexively, putting my hand on the parchment next to my place setting and looking behind me to see the ever-intimidating form of Professor Sharp looming behind and above me.