The Light in My Darkness ||Ominis Gaunt X OC||

Chapter 23

The tension in the chamber was palpable, clinging to the air like a thick fog. Each word exchanged was sharp, loaded with the weight of tradition, expectation, and defiance. Ominis could feel his father’s gaze on him, a smoldering crimson presence at the edge of his awareness, a silent warning, heavy with disdain. The recent clash between them lingered like the echo of a curse, his father’s bloody red aura a constant reminder of the cost of defiance.

As the discussion shifted to magical rights, labor laws, and relations with Muggles, Ominis felt his jaw tighten each time his father’s contemptuous voice cut through the chamber. Lord Gaunt dismissed any notions of progress, undermining ideas of inclusion with his cold, authoritarian tone. His voice sliced through the room like a blade, leaving behind a trail of simmering disapproval. Each sneer, each dismissive comment was a reminder of the power Lord Gaunt wielded and the legacy he sought to impose on his son.

Ominis’s frustration grew, his fingers curling unconsciously against the polished wood of his seat. The voices around him ebbed and flowed in various shades—some warm, others jaded. He found a faint comfort in the golden hum of Charlotte’s aura beside him, her warmth a steady, grounding presence amid the swirling intensity.

It wasn’t until the subject of magical creature rights arose that Ominis felt his resolve harden, his hand clenching in quiet defiance. A familiar, simmering fire ignited within him. This was more than just a topic of debate. It was a deeply personal issue, one that he had wrestled with since his first encounter with magical creatures outside the safety of Hogwarts. His hand tightened around Charlotte’s, and she glanced at him, sensing the shift in his demeanor, the quiet intensity that settled over him like armor.

He could feel his father’s aura from across the gallery, dark and controlled, a simmering red that pulsed with every word uttered. Lord Gaunt had always believed in maintaining a strict hierarchy. Creatures, to him, were lesser beings, mere tools in the magical world.

Lord Gaunt’s voice cut through the murmurs, sharper and colder than before, each word laced with an edge of disdain. “To suggest that creatures deserve rights equal to ours is absurd,” he declared, his voice carrying a menacing, dark red aura that seemed to fill the chamber with an oppressive weight. “Creatures serve their purpose. They fulfill a role, and we grant them what they need to do so. We owe them nothing more.”

Ominis’s jaw clenched, his entire body rigid as he listened to his father’s cold dismissal. Lord Gaunt’s words echoed the very beliefs that had haunted Ominis throughout his childhood, a stark reminder of the harsh doctrine he had been raised under. But this… this struck a different nerve. It was more than just ideology; it was the cruelty that Ominis had come to despise, a cruelty he had witnessed firsthand.

He glanced around the room, catching flashes of auras, Lord Rosier’s sharp red, Lady Selwyn’s icy blue. These were wizards who shared his father’s sentiments, who saw creatures as nuisances or, at best, beings to be dominated.

But as the Chief Warlock called for other perspectives, Ominis felt a memory surface, unbidden yet vivid, pulling him back to a different place, a different time.

He remembered the thick scent of pine and damp earth, the soft, spongy ground beneath his boots as he walked through the wilderness of northwest America. Rain had pattered lightly against his skin, a gentle, persistent drizzle that seemed to seep into his bones. He had been twenty at the time, barely finished with his Obliviator training, but already one of the best. He was skilled in Legilimency, his uncanny ability to pinpoint exact memories with ease made him invaluable to the Ministry.

In the wake of the Great Sasquatch Rebellion of 1892, he had been sent to help Obliviate Muggles who had witnessed the creatures during the chaos. But it was more than just a clean-up mission. It was a journey into a world he hadn’t fully understood, one that lingered with him still. He could remember the Muggles he encountered, their auras tinged with the familiar, muted gray, their memories filled with confusion and fragments of the Sasquatches’ earthy green auras.