Sins of the Father | Sebastian x OFC (Caroline Rookwood) | Ominis x Garreth

Chapter 62: My Love, Mine All Mine

Notes:

Fade to Black type of chapter.

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Ominis

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If there was one thing Ominis could count upon from his family, it was their pride. Despite his known aversion to any opinions and beliefs held by them, one simple fact was passed down from generation to generation: once a Gaunt, always a Gaunt.

Suppressing a shudder as Ominis walked carefully through the woods of the Gaunt estate, he tempered his sigh of relief as his wand warmed under his fingers—he was close to the iron gates—the only way in and out of the property, he thought with a shudder.

It was foolhardy enough that Ominis had chosen to attend dinner again with his family— a decision that had left Garreth seething about on the shores of Tinworth. But to continue to do so after this crusade? Ominis was tempted to complete this task and forsake any idea and mention of them forever. Doing so, however, boded more issues for the ones he loved after because the truth was clear:

Caroline had woken.

Merope remained out of Azkaban.

And he would not allow Sebastian to do this alone.

Lines were being drawn, and quiet disgruntlement thickened the air. But Ominis intended to ensure the people he loved most were far away from his family by being two steps ahead—starting with Aunt Noctua. And so, he came home, flowers in his arm and an apology on his lips.

It was not a surprise when the owls came and bore the order and summons for the families to attend a tribunal.

Merope may have escaped Azkaban's clutches, but Vincent Rookwood demanded that she and Marvolo face the judgment of the deciding members of The Sacred Twenty-Eight.

The original seven families.

The twigs and dirt underfoot always sounded more eerie in his childhood home than the dirt and twigs surrounding Hogwarts Castle. He couldn't quite place exactly what made his skin crawl and his spine tingle— but he suspected it was likely to do with the years' worth of rattling metal hidden far behind the manicured bushes, beneath a pile of ever-present leaves and high above the perfectly placed old trees.

When guests were invited to dinners, his family called them windchimes. Muggle traps–Ominis reminded himself as his appetite dwindled at the talk of 'metal' around the dinner table.

It was not until he crossed the threshold and the creak of the gate closed behind him that he let out a shuddering breath. The air, though damp, musky, and still, was far better than the air anywhere on their lands.

Left foot, right foot. Two more steps.

Unlike his trek through the pristine woods, he was careful not to stray off the carefully carved path his feet had left here after two years. Reaching to feel for the cold stone before him, he traced the lines etched into its surface as he knelt.

Noctua Gaunt.

Two years his Aunt's ashes lay beneath the stone, encased in an urn and marble box—not that his family wanted to give her such respect.

Not that this was any better— he grimaced. He didn't know if his hesitance to search for an exit in the Scriptorium was a blessing when it meant he had absently rescued what was left of his Aunt from the lonely corridor or if his subsequent return of her body to his family had her clucking her tongue in disapproval in the afterlife.