The Keeper's Legacy | Ominis Gaunt | Sebastian Sallow

Chapter TWENTY EIGHT - The Honeydukes Haul

"Where's Sebastian?" I plopped down onto a stark white chair with dainty painted flowers, feeling the discomfort of the hard metal seat, given the absence of any cushions to soften the unforgiving surface.

"He couldn't sit still after downing a double shot of coffee. He went to post his daily letter to Anna, but he'll be back soon," Ominis responded, his eyes fixed on the pages of the Daily Prophet, paying little attention to my arrival.

"He still writes to her every day?" I asked areaching for the drinks menu to distract myself.

"Without fail," Ominis confirmed, his gaze finally leaving the newspaper. "Although, as you might expect, he hasn't received a single reply since... well, you know." There was an unspoken understanding between us.

"Considering it was their uncle, forgiveness won't come easily," I muttered, my agitation evident as I absentmindedly folded and creased the corners of the menu.

Ominis folded the newspaper and placed it on the table, retrieving his braille maker and slipping it back into his pocket. With a somber tone, he turned to me. "No, forgiveness doesn't come easily for either of us," he confessed.

I was taken aback by his admission. Despite Ominis' profound disagreement with Sebastian's actions and even contemplating reporting him to the headmaster at one point, he had remained steadfast in his friendship. He had not abandoned Sebastian, choosing instead to stand by him.

"I thought you had managed to forgive him," I said, genuine surprise in my voice.

"I strive to support him every day, Ophelia. Sebastian and I have weathered many storms together. I believe that by standing united, we can guide him toward redemption. But not a day goes by when I don't question whether I made the right choice," Ominis confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, a middle-aged witch with her hair tightly bound in a bun. We immediately ceased our discussion and shifted our attention towards her. With a forced smile, she took note of my order—a simple strawberry lemonade—and cast a dubious glance at the worn-out menu. Hastily, she scurried off to attend to the next table, leaving us in a momentary silence.

Not in the mood to delve into such somber matters on this pleasantly warm autumn day, I redirected my curiosity towards the newspaper resting on the table. Flipping through the pages, my eyes landed on the final sheet, and I was taken aback by its contents.

"Have you read the back?" I asked, my voice filled with intrigue.

"I haven't reached that section yet. Why?" Ominis responded, his brows furrowing as he detected the excitement in my tone.

"Augustus Willow, the esteemed 85-year-old curse-breaker hailed for his triumphant conquest of the nefarious Egyptian mummy curse, has officially announced his retirement," I read the first line of the article. The wizard's vibrant image stared back at me from the page, emanating determination and a sense of accomplishment.

Ominis caught on to the significance and his expression shifted to one of understanding. "Ophelia," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness, "Sebastian mentioned that they had exhausted all avenues, even consulting a curse doctor."

"And was that curse-breaker world-renowned?" I asked, my resolve intensifying. "Look, I'm not guaranteeing that he can help, but it's worth a shot."

"But he just retired," Ominis countered, voicing his concern.

"Yes, but I know these types of individuals. Present them with an enigma that has stumped everyone else, and they'll be irresistibly drawn in," I explained with conviction.

Deep in thought, Ominis nodded contemplatively. "Alright, let's send him an owl. But please, don't mention it to Sebastian. I don't want to raise his hopes prematurely.

As if choreographed by fate, Sebastian emerged from the post office, his figure catching my eye as he approached us. "Ominis, fold the paper and stow it away," I called out, urging my friend to conceal the news we had just absorbed.

"Welcome back, Ophelia," Sebastian greeted me with a warm smile. "Did you manage to acquire everything?"

With a nod, I confirmed my success and seized the opportunity to propose a final visit to Honeydukes. The sun cast its enchanting glow, hinting at the imminent arrival of twilight, leaving us with a mere two hours to indulge in our confectionery desires.

Excitement ignited within us as we ventured towards the candy shop, the tantalizing aroma of confections permeating the air with every step. In a gesture of gratitude for their unwavering support yesterday, I declared that today's treats were on me.

Sebastian, never one to miss a chance for mischief, couldn't resist a cheeky remark. "Even if I decide to empty the entire shop?" he playfully quipped.

Chuckling playfully, I retorted, "I doubt Flume would permit such a feat." With that, we dispersed, each drawn to our preferred sections, like children in a candy paradise.

Remarkably, our preferences diverged greatly. Personally, I reveled in the delectable combination of sweet and sour, relishing the miniature explosions within the mouth. My particular weakness was the rose-lemon flavor, which never failed to enthrall my taste buds. On the other hand, Ominis was drawn to the allure of the cookie display, eyeing a particularly bold and punchy selection.

As I approached Sebastian, I found him cradling multiple boxes of Berti's all-flavored beans, his gaze fixated upon a mountainous pile of chocolate frogs.

With a cheerful demeanor, I waddled over to join him and couldn't help but comment, "Chocolate frogs are an excellent choice."

He looked back at me, a hint of sorrow flickering in his eyes. "Chocolate frogs were Anne's favorite," he remarked softly.

"Oh..." My words trailed off, sensing the weight of his words.

"She used to collect the cards of famous wizards, you know?" he continued, a tinge of nostalgia coloring his voice. "It started when we were little, receiving a chocolate frog from our parents every Sunday after lunch. I didn't pay much attention to the cards; it was the chocolate that interested me. Anne collected the cards on my behalf. Even after our parents passed away, we carried on the tradition, sharing a frog every Sunday. Until Rookwood cursed her," he concluded, his gaze darkening with the memory.

I offered a sympathetic shrug. "It sounds like a lovely tradition. I'm sorry it came to an end."

"Me too," Sebastian sighed, placing the piece he held back onto the towering pile.

Lost in thought for a moment, I reached for the same chocolate frog and extended it towards him. "Sebastian," I began, holding the frog out to him, "I know Anne doesn't respond to your letters, but what if you were to enclose a chocolate frog with each one? I don't believe that would end up in the trash. Besides, chocolate is known to have a mood-enhancing effect."

"Brilliant idea!" Sebastian exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement as he started scooping up chocolate balls.

"Need a hand? How many would you like?" I offered, ready to assist.

"All of it," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "After all, you're still paying, aren't you?" he snickered from behind the towering stack he held.

"Of course," I replied with a smile, and together we made our way to the counter, where Ominis joined us, his assortment of sweet treats in hand. Tilting his head curiously, he attempted to take in the scene unfolding before him. I aided him in organizing his treats, ensuring we had ample space to accommodate the multitude of chocolate frogs.

"Oh, why am I not surprised," Ominis jested, his voice tinged with mock astonishment and a playful grin adorning his face.