The evening air was cool and still, a gentle breeze whispering through the grass as Ominis Gaunt lay beside the Black Lake. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a deep indigo shade over the world, the twilight sky reflecting off the inky surface of the water. He could feel the chill seeping into his bones, but it was a distant sensation, overshadowed by the numbing emptiness that had settled deep within him.

In his right hand, Ominis clutched an empty Pensieve vial, its glass cool and smooth against his skin. He turned it over and over in his fingers, the motion almost mechanical. He could no longer see the world around him, but he could feel the weight of his memories, the echoes of lost moments swirling in his mind. Each memory was a ghost, haunting him with the might-have-beens and the never-weres.

The vial shattered with a sudden, sharp crack. Ominis felt the jagged shards bite into his palm, the pain a brief, stark clarity in the fog of his thoughts. Blood began to well up, warm and wet, trailing down his fingers to drip onto the grass. He didn't move, didn't flinch, as if the pain were just another aspect of his reality, no more significant than the darkness that surrounded him.

His mind drifted to Imelda, her voice from earlier that day still echoing in his ears. There had been something in her tone, a mixture of playfulness and something else, something he couldn't quite place. It had left him feeling off-balance, unsure of how to respond. And then there was Y/n, the memory of their once-close friendship now a painful ache in his chest. They had shared so much, and now there was only silence between them, a gulf he didn't know how to bridge.

But it was Sebastian who haunted him the most. Their friendship had been the bedrock of his life at Hogwarts, a bond forged in shared struggles and secrets. Now, that bond was frayed, almost broken. Ominis couldn't forget the way Sebastian had looked at him after casting the Cruciatus Curse, his eyes cold and unyielding. He had said it was for us, that it was the only way to escape the confines of Salazar's scriptorium, but Ominis couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted in his friend, something dark and dangerous.

He squeezed his hand tighter around the broken vial, the pain intensifying as the shards dug deeper into his flesh. He remembered the night his family had made him cast the same curse, the way it had felt to unleash that kind of suffering on another person. The horror of it had stayed with him, a stain on his soul that no amount of time could wash away. How could Sebastian bear it? How could he remain so calm, so determined, in the face of such darkness?

Ominis knew that Sebastian was still searching for a cure for Anne, still delving into the darkest corners of magic in the hopes of finding a solution. It terrified him. The thought of what Sebastian might do next, who he might hurt in his relentless quest, kept Ominis awake at night. He was sorry for what had happened, for the way things had spiraled out of control, but he couldn't see a way to fix it. He couldn't see a way to save his friend from himself.

The blood flowed more freely now, pooling in the crevices of his palm before spilling over onto the grass. Ominis closed his eyes, letting the darkness envelop him completely. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of his memories and regrets. The Pensieve had been his refuge, a place to escape the present and lose himself in the past, but now even that was gone and the vial in his hand felt just as empty, just like him. Desperation clawed as he thought about the shattered Pensieve. It wasn't just any Pensieve; it was the only one that allowed him to see the memories, not just feel them. The vivid images, the colors he could never perceive in the real world, were all encapsulated in those memories. Every other Pensieve in Hogwarts had failed him, offering only a shadow of what his personal one could. Fixing it had become an obsession, a desperate need to reclaim those glimpses of a life he could never fully experience otherwise. He had to mend what he had broken, to find a way back to his sweet escape.

"Why does this keep happening?" Ominis muttered, his voice slurring, the words tumbling out in a drowsy haze. "I need it... I need to fix it..."

A soft hiss interrupted his thoughts, a familiar yet unsettling sound that made his skin prickle. It was the same voice that had haunted him since the Scriptorium. "You seek... but you are lost, Gaunt," it whispered in Parseltongue, the words curling around his consciousness like tendrils of smoke. "The past... binds you... consumes you..."

Ominis shivered, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Go away," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "You're ... just a hallucination... go away..."

"You cannot escape... your blood, your heritage... it follows you... alwayssss..." The voice seemed to grow louder, more insistent, each word a venomous bite that sent shivers down his spine.

As he lay there, he could almost hear the whispers of the lake, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. It was a soothing sound, a lullaby that beckoned him to let go, to surrender to whatever oblivion awaited him. But even as he teetered on the edge, something held him back. A faint, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way out of this

Ominis's thoughts wandered again, back to Sebastian. He tried to understand his friend's unwavering resolve, his willingness to cross any line for the sake of his sister. Was it love? Desperation? Or had the darkness consumed him so completely that he could no longer see the light? Ominis didn't know. He didn't have the answers, only the questions that gnawed at his soul.

He thought about Imelda again, her touch lingering on his skin, her words a confusing mix of comfort and unease. What did she want from him? What did he want from her? The questions were like the broken shards in his hand, sharp and uncomfortable, without easy answers. And then there was Y/n, the friend who had once been his confidant, his anchor. How had they drifted so far apart? Was it his fault? Or was it just the inevitable consequence of the choices they had made?

The pain in his hand was growing, the blood loss making him light-headed. He knew he should do something about it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was easier to lie here really.

But as the shadows deepened and the night grew colder, a small, stubborn part of him refused to give up just yet. He had kept it together this long, through all the pain and loss, and he could survive a little longer they'd be out of university soon and from there he could do whatever he wanted he could move far far away from this place, start over.

God.

With a trembling breath, he forced himself to sit up. The world spun around him, the darkness pressing in from all sides, but he held on. He could feel the broken glass in his hand, the slickness of his own blood, and he used that pain to anchor himself, to pull himself back to reality.

As he prepared to leave, a faint, humming noise reached his ears. It was a melody so delicate it seemed to blend with the rustling of leaves and the murmur of the lake. For a fleeting moment, Ominis thought he heard Y/n's voice, and he called out her name, his tone hopeful yet tinged with uncertainty.

The humming ceased abruptly, replaced by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. "Ominis," a familiar voice called out, its timbre laced with curiosity. "You seem... off?"

Imrelda's presence was as unmistakable as her voice. Her footsteps drew closer, a calculated grace in her movement that Ominis could almost picture in his mind. He turned slightly, facing in her direction even though he couldn't see her. "Imrelda," he acknowledged with a hint of weariness in his voice. "I'm... just tired, that's all."

"Tired."

Imrelda's keen senses didn't miss the subtle signs. The faint glaze to his eyes, the tremor in his hands—it was clear to her that Ominis wasn't just tired from physical exertion. She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Tired?" she echoed, her voice lilting with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "Or is there something else bothering you?"

Ominis hesitated for a moment, his thoughts swirling in the turmoil of his mind. The mention of his family brought forth a flood of memories, memories that intertwined with Imrelda's presence in ways he couldn't quite ignore. They had been close once, their families intertwined through shared traditions and mutual respect. As children, they had played together, shared stories, and even dreamed of their futures. But as they grew older, Imrelda had begun to embody more of her family's values—values that clashed with Ominis's own beliefs and aspirations. Their friendship had waned, replaced by a polite distance. It was a shame really Imrelda was a nice girl back then he remembered her laughter, bright and contagious, echoing through the halls of their childhood memories. They had often spent time exploring the world with wide-eyed wonder. As they grew older, however, Imrelda drifted towards the expectations set by her family, while Ominis forged his own path, guided by his own convictions. The shift was gradual yet unmistakable, marked by moments where their conversations turned stilted, weighed down by unspoken differences so when Imrelda unexpectedly approached him in class the other day, her demeanor carrying a hint of flirtation, Ominis was taken aback. It was as if a fragment of their past had come alive again, but now in the context of their altered selves. He felt a mix of nostalgia and uncertainty, wondering what her intentions were after all these years of silence. Her smile, once so familiar, now held a complexity he struggled to decipher—a blend of shared history and the uncharted territory of their changed personas.

He glanced in her direction, though his sightless eyes didn't meet hers. "Imrelda," he began cautiously, "you know how things have changed between our families."

Imrelda's expression flickered with a hint of nostalgia tinged with something colder. "Yes," she acknowledged coolly. "Things change, people change. But some things remain constant, don't they?"

Ominis nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "Indeed," he replied, his voice tinged with a trace of bitterness. "Some things are meant to endure."

Imrelda studied him intently, her gaze probing yet guarded. "And what about you, Ominis?" she asked softly. "Have you changed? Or are you still holding on to those... quaint values of yours?"

A flicker of defiance sparked in Ominis's expression. "Some values are worth holding on to," he asserted firmly. "It doesn't matter if it's not the same as theirs."

"But still, you've always been proud of your family's legacy?"

Ominis nodded slowly, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "Proud...," he murmured. He sensed her studying him, her gaze probing even in the dim light. "Not exactly."

"Well you should be," Imrelda continued, her tone almost wistful. "Your family has left a profound mark on wizardkind, especially for our house, It's a legacy many would envy. I thought for that reason I'd see you at the game tonight if not for them then at least for me and Sebastian."

Ominis clenched his jaw at the mention of Sebastian,
"I'm not talking to Sebastian right now," he replied tersely, his voice revealing more frustration than he intended.

Imrelda hummed softly again, this time a tune devoid of warmth. "You should reconsider," she suggested lightly, her words carrying an undercurrent of tension. "It's a shame to see such a strong bond strained over... misunderstandings. He's a clever man he could teach you a lot."

"Of What?" Ominis snapped, whipping round to look at her. "Unforgivable curses?"

"Thats not what I meant."

Before Ominis could respond, Imrelda's attention shifted. She noticed something glinting in his hand, a blue bracelet he had picked up earlier before coming out, he'd exchanged his own sorting ceremony bracelet for Y/n's back in the first year almost like one would a friendship bracelet. "What's this?" she asked, her voice sharpening with interest. "A memento from a friend?"

His grip tightened around the bracelet, a surge of protectiveness rising within him. "It's none of your concern," he retorted. "Im just keeping it safe for someone."

Imrelda's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "You know your family wouldn't approve of her," she commented casually, though the implication was anything but. "They've always valued their house pride wouldn't like you hanging out with a girl like her, what's next? Mudbloods?"

Ominis felt a surge of anger rise within him at Imrelda's
callous remark. Her audacity to speak so openly about blood purity, echoing the beliefs of her house founders, grated on his nerves and it reminded him of why he didn't talk to her anymore. Granted she had never been so blunt about it. In fact he wasn't sure he'd ever seen imrelda act so callously. The fact that Y/n, his once-close friend, was a half-blood unbeknownst to Imrelda only fueled his frustration further.

He turned to face her, his blind eyes betraying the intensity of his emotions.

"Your ideals are not mine," he snapped, the frustration boiling over. "Leave me alone."

"These aren't your ideals, they're hers." She sneered. "Ever since you met her you've gone soft."

"My ideals have nothing to do with anyone else," he retorted sharply, his tone cutting through the tension between them.

Imrelda's sneer deepened, her voice laced with disdain. "Oh, come off it, Ominis. Ever since you met her, you've gone soft. Your priorities have shifted, and it's all because of that girl."

Ominis felt a pang of confusion and anger. "What are you talking about? Who is 'her'?" he demanded, his blind eyes searching Imrelda's face for answers she seemed reluctant to give.

Imrelda's expression hardened, her gaze cold. "You know who I'm talking about," she spat, her frustration matching his own. "That girl—Y/N. Has turned you against everything we stood for. Our families, our traditions—they mean nothing to you now. I mean nothing to you."

Ominis shook his head, disbelief mingling with indignation. "Y/N has nothing to do with this," he insisted firmly. "And why do you dislike her so much? What did she ever do to you?"

Imrelda's lips curled into a bitter smile. "It's not about what she did, Ominis. It's about what she represents—a threat to everything we've been raised to believe in."

"I can't believe you're blaming Y/N for everything," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "She's been nothing but supportive of me."

Imrelda's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched with simmering resentment. "Supportive? She's leading you astray, Ominis," she countered sharply. "You're blind to it because you're infatuated."

"Infatuated?" Ominis sighed incredulously. "This has nothing to do with that. She opened my eyes to different perspectives, ones that challenge the narrow-mindedness I've seen in our families."

"You're abandoning our traditions, our values," Imrelda accused vehemently. "And for what? Some girl who doesn't understand our world?"

"She understands it better than you think," Ominis retorted, his own frustration mounting. "Maybe if you tried to see beyond your prejudices, you'd understand why I value her opinion."

Imrelda scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're deluding yourself, Ominis. This isn't about her opinion—it's about you losing sight of who you are and where you come from."

"So, all those times you were against her during our first year—it wasn't about Quidditch at all, was it? It was about me?"

Imrelda's expression hardened, her features set in defiance. "You were different back then, Ominis. We all saw it,"
Instead of backing down, Imrelda's resolve seemed to strengthen. She took a step closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm just being honest and I'm asking you to think about what I said," she urged, her words forceful. "And our partnership... have you reconsidered?"

"What are you talking about?"

Imrelda's intensity and the weight of her words left Ominis bewildered.

"The Minister for Magic? Backing our family's proposal?" She spoke.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Imrelda's intensity only seemed to grow, her eyes narrowing slightly as she searched Ominis's face for any sign of recognition. "Your mother said she'd had this conversation."

Ominis shook his head, feeling increasingly lost. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Imrelda. My mother hasn't mentioned anything about you."

Imrelda's expression flickered with surprise and then frustration, her confidence momentarily faltering.

Ominis only shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. "I don't have anything more to say to you."

Ominis turned on his heel before she could reply and walked briskly away from the lake, He could feel Imrelda's eyes boring into his back. He couldn't confirm it, but he sensed her lingering presence before she finally moved away. His thoughts churned with frustration and confusion, the encounter with Imrelda adding to the weight of his already troubled thoughts.

Meanwhile, not far from where Ominis had stood moments ago, Imrelda's attention shifted to a figure approaching through the twilight. The silhouette emerged from the shadows, and as it drew closer, Imrelda recognized the familiar gait and the tousled mop of dark hair.
The fading light cast a gentle glow around him, accentuating the hair that fell across his forehead and his somewhat unsteady steps.

As he stepped into the light, Imrelda noticed a small moodcalf nipping at his trousers, its playful antics causing him to stumble slightly and laugh under his breath.

"Sebastian?" she greeted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Fancy meeting you here."

Sebastian squinted in her direction, his expression momentarily puzzled as he adjusted to the fading light.
He was slightly tipsy and in good spirits from what she assumed were pregame festivities with the Slytherin team, glanced at her with a lopsided grin. "Imrelda," he replied, his tone light but tinged with the carefree demeanor of someone who was clearly drunk. "What brings you out here?"

Imrelda's smile widened, though there was a calculated edge to it now. "Uh- Just enjoying the evening," she replied casually, "What are you doing?"

Sebastian's face lit up with genuine delight. "Preparing for a picnic, actually," he said cheerfully, coming closer from the direction of the castle. "Some friends nipped into Hogsmeade before Spintwitches closes. Thought we'd make the most of this beautiful evening."

Imrelda's expression tightened slightly upon Sebastian's arrival, though she swiftly masked it with a polite smile. "How charming," she remarked, her tone slightly clipped as she glanced between Sebastian and the lake.

Sebastian continued, oblivious to any tension. "You know how it is, seizing the moment!" His gaze shifted to Imrelda, extending an invitation. "You should join us sometime. It's always fun to have more company. You know what they say the more the merrier!"

Sebastian continued, oblivious to any tension. "You know how it is, seizing the moment!" His gaze shifted to Imrelda, extending an invitation. "You should join us sometime. It's always fun to have more company. You know what they say, the more the merrier!"

Imrelda's smile widened slightly at Sebastian's invitation, her eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. She leaned in a fraction closer, as if confiding a secret. "That does sound tempting," she murmured softly, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. "But I think tonight, I have other plans in mind. Something a bit more... private."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Imrelda's suggestive tone. He chuckled lightly, not entirely catching the subtle shift in her demeanor. "Ah, mysterious plans then," he replied, his curiosity piqued. "Well, I won't keep you. Just don't have too much fun without us!"

Imrelda's laughter rang out, a touch more sultry than before, though she quickly composed herself before leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "Have plans for after the game?"

Sebastian's expression shifted, a hint of confusion crossing his features before he shrugged nonchalantly. "Meeting up with the Claws!" He cheered. "And a few of the slytherin guys of course."

Imrelda's smile faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. "Ah," she echoed, her tone carefully neutral. "Isn't it... odd for you to be spending so much time with those two? Shouldn't you be mingling with your own house after a match? Celebrating with them?"

"Well, you know how it is," Sebastian finally replied, attempting a casual tone. "They're good company, and Y/N's insights on magical theory are always intriguing."

Imrelda's facade of neutrality slipped further as she fought to keep her frustration in check. "Magical theory," she echoed, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "It seems they're always at the center of things lately."

Sebastian frowned, sensing the tension beneath Imrelda's words. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to provoke her further.

Imrelda sighed inwardly, realizing her annoyance was showing more than she intended. "It's just... shouldn't you be wary of who you associate with, Sebastian? Especially considering their reputations?"

Sebastian bristled slightly at the implication but chose his words carefully. "Y/N and Cel are my friends, Imrelda," he stated firmly. "Their reputations? I value their perspectives and their loyalty."

Imrelda nodded slowly, her expression softening marginally. "I understand," she said, her tone gentler now.

Sebastian's brows furrowed slightly, his thoughts momentarily clouded by the effects of alcohol. "I'm not bound by their house ties and blood status." He replied vaguely, though the alcohol dulled his awareness of the implications of his words.

Imrelda pretended not to notice the slip, masking her inner satisfaction with a casual laugh. "Of course not," she replied smoothly, though her mind raced with possibilities of what exactly that meant.

Sebastian's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze drifting over the darkening horizon. "You know," he began, his voice taking on a reflective tone, "I've always found it rather silly how some people look down on half-bloods. After all, two of the Hogwarts founders themselves weren't purebloods."

Imrelda listened with a practiced air of disinterest, though inwardly, her mind was already calculating her next move. As Sebastian spoke animatedly about his aspirations for the Quidditch team, his eyes alight with enthusiasm, she cut in abruptly, her tone casual but dismissive. "That's fascinating," she interjected, her gaze drifting past him as if searching for something more interesting in the dimly lit room.

Sebastian paused mid-sentence, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features at Imrelda's apparent lack of engagement. "You don't seem too interested," he observed, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to read her expression.

Imrelda sighed softly, a touch of melodrama in her tone as she finally turned her attention back to him. "Sebastian, I know how you feel about Y/N," she stated matter-of-factly,

"What do you mean?" He uttered looking awfully sober all of a sudden.

"Come on Sebastian anyone can see it."

Sebastian's brows furrowed as he struggled to process Imrelda's insinuation. "I- It's not exactly like that," he stammered, his mind racing with a mix of confusion and apprehension.

Imrelda continued, her tone cryptic yet deliberate. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone," she assured him with a slight smirk, enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "But I wouldn't trust her too much."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly, his unease growing palpable. "What do you mean?" he pressed, his voice betraying a hint of urgency.

Imrelda shook her head slightly, feigning disbelief as she chose her words carefully. "You see, she and Ominis... well, they've been... close," she said vaguely, allowing a pregnant pause to hang in the air.

"What are you talking about?" Sebastian demanded, his voice rising with frustration and a growing sense of dread.

Imrelda hesitated, milking the moment for all its worth, before continuing with a calculated smirk. "It's not my place to say," she replied smoothly. "But personally... if it were me, I'd be a little upset."

"Imrelda..." He uttered. "What are you saying?"

Imrelda stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as if to comfort him. With a solemn expression, she cupped his cheek, imploring him to look into her eyes. "Sebastian, I know this is hard to hear," she began softly, her tone tinged with urgency. "But you wouldn't believe me if I didn't tell you this. That little vial Ominis guards with his life? Find a pensive and view it."

Sebastian's eyes widened in astonishment, his mind struggling to grasp the gravity of Imrelda's words. "A pensive?" he repeated, his voice barely audible as he tried to process the implications. "Ominis... what does he have to do with this?"

Imrelda's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, her gaze unwavering. "Ominis broke the only pensive that allows him to view those memories," she explained. "But you... you can access any of them. I implore you, Sebastian. To for yourself."

Sebastian's thoughts raced, his heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The idea of delving into someone else's memories felt intrusive, yet Imrelda's insistence and the weight of her revelation left him torn. Could there be truth in her words? Could Y/N and Ominis be hiding something from him, something that could shatter his trust in them both?

Imrelda held his gaze with an intensity that brooked no argument. "Sebastian, you deserve to know the truth," she urged, her voice pleading. "Don't let them deceive you any longer.

Sebastian's heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing to make sense of Imrelda's cryptic warnings. The implications of her words hit him like a sudden blow, leaving him reeling with a mix of disbelief and betrayal. His trust in Y/N had been unwavering, but now doubts gnawed at the edges of his mind, fueled by Imrelda's insinuations. "Anyway Seb, I must get going. Try enjoy the rest of your evening."

Sebastian's features twisted into something that resembled a smile, though it was laced with uncertainty and a sense of impending revelation. He looked at Imrelda, who stood before him with a mix of expectation and apprehension in her eyes. "Of course. Take care, Imrelda," he replied quietly, his voice betraying the storm of thoughts swirling within him.

As Imrelda turned to walk away, Sebastian watched her retreating figure with a conflicted gaze. There was a weight to her words that echoed in his mind, urging him to delve deeper into the mysteries she had unveiled.

He stood there, long after Imrelda had disappeared from view, his eyes fixed on the tranquil surface of the lake reflecting the fading light of day. The decision loomed large before him, casting a shadow over his once steadfast trust in Y/N and Ominis.

Sebastian was known for his curiosity, a trait that had often led him down unexpected paths of discovery. Now, faced with Imrelda's revelation, he felt the familiar tug of curiosity pulling him towards the truth that lay just beyond his grasp.

He could dismiss Imrelda's words as baseless gossip, burying the unsettling doubts that gnawed at him. Or he could confront the unknown, unraveling the threads of secrecy that had woven themselves around those he held closest.