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In the first Potions class, Aesop kept a close eye on the new student, Estelle Ilson. He could already tell she was a diligent student. Not only that, but she caught on well enough and paid greater attention to his instructions than some students that had been there for the past five years. He was impressed by her natural skill in potion brewing.

However, he was rather exasperated when he saw Garreth talk her into doing something for him. At least Estelle went to him and admitted getting him a Fwooper feather. He thanked her for her integrity and hoped she learned a lesson. He did at least commend her for quickly understanding the basics of potion brewing to successfully make Wiggenweld and Edurus potions.

“Thank you, Professor. It’s not that different from baking and cooking in a way,” she had brightly said, smiling from his praise. She wrung her hands as she added, “I’m glad I was able to meet your expectations.”

Aesop had lifted an eyebrow at her hand habit. Why was she nervous? He refrained from voicing his suspicions as this was only her first class with him. He hadn’t even told her that he knew her uncle, that reminder still causing prickling pain up his leg every now and then.

“A rare occurrence,” he pointed out. “And you’d do well to remember that you’re not a Potions master quite yet.” He gestured a little to the vast collection of ingredients behind him. “In addition to having a solid grasp of how to combine various ingredients, you should gain an understanding of the ingredients themselves.” He lifted a finger to convey importance. “Pay particular attention in Herbology. The plants you nurture there are often essential to the potions you brew here.” Estelle nodded, her smile going away for a more solemn expression. “Now, I recommend that you find a safe location in which to practise brewing. You cannot leave a hot cauldron simply anywhere. That’ll be all.”

“Will do,” Estelle readily replied. “Thank you, Professor.”

Aesop’s eyebrows twitched at the way she said it as if she was given orders. Why was she so conscientious? Something told him something wasn’t right, and from then on, he observed how she was in his class.

He sensed there was more going on with her than just the stress of catching up. Eleazar did let him know about such a thing, but he still didn’t expect her to be this greatly affected. Estelle’s shoulders became more rigid and tense while her gaze became more guarded, no longer having that excited shine to learn in her eyes. The way she held her wand as if it were more of a weapon than a tool… It made him think she was more of a fighter than a student. Aesop started to see more of himself in her, actually. She shouldn’t be dealing with anything worse than having to study and prepare for OWLs. What was she going through?

Whatever it was, he made sure she was prepared with the best spells he could with Depulso and Diffindo. He managed to keep from subconsciously touching his scar as the Severing Charm brought back unpleasant memories. When Estelle adeptly casted the two spells, it confirmed in his mind that she was more used to combat than any other fifteen year old should be. Regis’s niece was going to make him grow gray hairs out of worry…

Months went by, and Aesop instantly knew something happened when he saw Estelle enter his classroom. She was ashen faced with dark circles, but what caught his attention was her stiff gait to her cauldron. She kept grimacing as if it pained her to even move her arms or legs, but she tried to hide it the best she could.

Aesop knew the signs of being struck by the Cruciatus Curse, having been hit by one when he was an Auror. He knew how dangerous it could be to let such a lingering effect go unchecked, but he would have to wait.

His gaze swept over his other students, and he curiously noticed Sebastian glancing at Estelle. He thought he saw concern and…was that guilt? Sebastian stiffened at catching Aesop’s eyes on him before he focused back on his potion, helping Ominis too. Aesop lightly drummed his fingers as he saw Ominis’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Something was on his mind, but what? Aesop kept all of his observations to himself, and patiently waited for class to be over.

When the students started to file out, Aesop instantly said, “Ms. Ilson, I need to speak with you.”

Estelle flinched and then refrained from wincing at the movement. “A-alright, Professor,” she meekly replied, nothing at all like how she acted at the beginning of the year.

Ominis and Sebastian were also hesitant to leave. Ominis said something in a low voice to Sebastian, finally making him leave. Ominis started to go over to Aesop with his wand in one hand, and his other hand tightly held the strap of his bag. Estelle nervously walked with him so they both stood in front of Aesop.

“Professor,” Ominis spoke up, “may I speak with you when you’re done?”

Aesop lifted an eyebrow. It had been a long while since Ominis came to him. Maybe the last time was his third year when he gave Aesop that gift before Christmas break. Now, seeing the young man’s solemn expression told him that it was crucial.

He nodded and said, “Very well, Mr. Gaunt. If you wait outside, I’ll see you after I talk with Ms. Ilson here.”

Estelle looked more tense and terrified. And not for the first time, Aesop wondered what happened to her both before and during this year at Hogwarts. Was she prone to fear the worst? Or was it just because of him? He knew he intimidated students, but he remembered she didn’t act like this in the first few classes.

Ominis bowed his head. “Of course, Professor.” He turned and left the classroom, and Aesop waved his wand, nonverbally charming the door to close behind him.

He put down his wand and interlocked his hands, resting them on the table. He looked up at Estelle, and she started to wring her hands. He saw even that habit of hers cause her pain and discomfort.

“So when were you Crucio’d?” He bluntly asked.

She jolted and stared at him with eyes as big as a doe’s. “Y-you know?”

“I don’t need to be a Legilimens to know what happened,” he reasoned. He grunted as he forced himself onto his feet. He limped to his inventory and gestured with two fingers for her to follow him. She did so, keeping her pace to be behind him out of respect. “An Auror knows more about curses and Unforgivables than the average witch and wizard.”

“I-is that how…?”

He wryly smiled as he knew what her trailed off question was. “No,” he answered as he made it to the door. He opened it and limped into the room. “That was a special curse. However, ten years as an Auror, and you’re bound to come out more injured and scarred than when you started.”

Estelle stayed quiet as she stayed by the door. She was still loosely wringing her hands while he searched his personal stash.

“When were you cursed?” He asked as he perused the vials for a specific one.

“Er…yesterday,” she softly answered.

“I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re dealing with out there, but I sincerely hope you never have to be hit by that dreadful curse again.” He picked up a small vial, hardly longer than his pinkie, and the liquid inside was pure black. He handed it to Estelle, and she grimaced more. “This is more effective than a simple Wiggenweld. This will stop the tiny, ceaseless pain in your nerves. It does taste awful, but the best medicines often do.”

She sighed and took the vial with a small “thank you”. Then she uncorked it and quickly downed it. She gagged shortly after and put a hand up to her mouth. They waited for a few seconds, and she was able to let out a long breath, now fine.

“Those spells that Professor Hecat and I taught you will come in handy if you are in a bind,” Aesop reminded her as he took the vial back from her, setting it onto the table. She nodded, and they walked out together. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, sir,” she reported. She grimaced. “The pain stopped, but…I’ve got that dreadful taste in my mouth…”

“I recommend you make your way to the Great Hall and get rid of the taste with water and food,” he advised. Estelle nodded and started to head out. “Ms. Ilson.”

She stopped and turned to him. “Yes?”

Aesop saw her russet brown eyes were rejuvenated from recovering, but he still saw the hardened gaze most Aurors had. Including her uncle…

More pain shot up his leg as he held his tongue. “Remember shortcuts lead to shortcomings.”

She gave him a small smile. “Of course, Professor. Thank you.”

With that, she walked out of the classroom, and Aesop sighed, running a hand down his face. Maybe he should just ask Eleazar what was going on. That old professor seemed to always be coming and going, leaving for the Ministry one day and staying to work on something. He remembered that Eleazar talked to him about goblins, and—

Aesop stilled. Was there more going on than just goblins? Was Estelle having to deal with it all? He certainly hoped not; she was a child.

Approaching footsteps made him lower his hand. Right, Ominis wished to speak with him. He cleared his throat and limped back to his table to gather his wand. He heard Ominis following after him.

“What is it you wished to talk to me about, Mr. Gaunt?” He asked. He didn’t want to drop formalities just yet until they had more privacy. The door was still open, after all.

He started to wave his wand for the door to close when Ominis took a deep breath and said behind him:

“I found her.”

Aesop flinched at hearing the door slam harder than he first planned. He slowly turned around with his heart hammering with wary optimism. “What?” He choked out.

Ominis lifted his chin, with his grip still tight on his wand and bag. “I found her remains, Sharp,” he quietly elaborated.

Aesop breathed shakily, moving his hand back to lean hard onto his table. Ominis found her? After all this time…

His eyebrows furrowed. “Does that mean you found the…?”

“Yes,” he solemnly affirmed. “The Scriptorium is here in Hogwarts.”

Aesop took a deep breath, feeling a forlorn ache in his chest. All these years, all this time, Noctua perished here, in this school? Students, professors, ghosts, everyone was going about their lives, not knowing someone died here.

Aesop then re-processed what Ominis said, and his worry flared into overbearing protectiveness. “You went into the Scriptorium?” He quietly demanded. “How-? Why?”

Ominis clenched his jaw. “Estelle wanted to help give me answers about what happened to my aunt,” he quietly said. A shadow casted over his frost-blue eyes, one Aesop remembered from when Ominis was twelve. One full of pained remorse, as if he heard things he wished he couldn’t.

Aesop put it together and he sighed. “She was hit by the Cruciatus Curse there, wasn’t she?”

Ominis closed his eyes and shook his head, overcome with grief. “That was— That was why Noctua died in that forsaken place,” he whispered. “She didn’t have anyone to cast it on.”

Aesop stepped closer to him. “Did you have to cast it?” Again? He internally finished.

Ominis hesitated. “No.”

Aesop remembered how that Sallow boy looked. With all of this new information, he realized who did, then. “Ah” was all he said. He made a mental note to see Sallow later and offer counseling. He knew how horrible a burden it had to have been for him to cast such a spell on someone he knew he cared for.

“Anyway,” Ominis said before clearing his throat. “I was…wondering if we could bury her remains?”

He eyed Ominis’s bag, confirming in his mind what was in it. “Do you have a place in mind?”

Ominis’s expression shifted back to a blank mask as he said in an even tone, “I thought you would know best.”

Aesop did, in fact, have some ideas. But he shook his head, even if Ominis couldn’t see it. “You’re her dear nephew; I trust your judgement on where she should be buried.”

Ominis passively shifted on his feet. “I know that she loved the outdoors,” he quietly thought out loud. He bitterly smiled as his eyes shone with fondness. “She… whenever she visited, she would always take me outside and we would go to an old oak tree.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want her buried anywhere near our family…”

“I might know a place,” Aesop tentatively started. “It’s rather far from here, but…it’s somewhere I believe she would like to be buried. A nice clearing in the tranquil woods.”

“It sounds like something she would enjoy,” Ominis wistfully said. He roughly met Aesop’s eyes. “I think we should go there. Would it be possible to go this evening?”

Aesop nodded without hesitation. “Once classes are done, come meet me here. We’ll leave the Hogwarts Grounds together, and I’ll take us there.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Ominis said. Aesop noticed a flicker in his eyes as if he wanted to say something. Before Aesop asked, Ominis added, “I’ll see you then.” He left rather quickly out of there, with the tip of his wand blinking red like always.

Aesop frowned, wondering what was on Ominis’s mind. Come to think of it, there were a few moments Ominis acted…off. The boy kept his expression neutral at some points, as if he were keeping from showing anything to Aesop. He never did that before. Did Ominis not trust him? If not, then why? When did Aesop lose his trust?

He sighed and limped to sit down again to get weight off his leg. He groaned to himself and lightly rubbed his knee, feeling a pulsing prickling pain. Why did it always feel like his leg knew something before he did?

As planned, Ominis met with Aesop in his classroom when school was over for the day. They left the classroom and went through the Central Hall, Transfiguration Courtyard, North Hall, and Bell Tower. Whether or not they drew attention, Aesop didn’t care; all that mattered was to be able to do what he or Ominis couldn’t for five years.

“Not much longer,” Aesop told Ominis when they were walking past the North Exit. “The Anti-Disapparition Jinx only spans out to these border walls. So we should be able to Disapparate…right…now.” He stopped and held out his arm, which Ominis took without a problem.

Aesop concentrated on the spot he was thinking of, and with a pop, they found themselves in a clearing of a woods full of ash trees. Ominis curiously sniffed the air while Aesop stared at the fire orange and red leaves of late autumn. So many memories of these woods, and most of them were good, but there was one that…

He looked to the northeast, where he saw an old sturdy trunk of a tree. His chest tightened as he vividly remembered when he was a grieving mess while he sat against it. He closed his eyes and turned away from it.

“What is this place?” Ominis curiously asked while walking around the area. His tentative footsteps sounded with the crunch of fallen leaves underneath him.

“This was a place your aunt visited often when she was younger,” Aesop answered. He limped over the more southwestern part of the woods. He heard Ominis follow behind him, but only after a small pause, as if the boy was unsure to go with him.

Aesop led him to a smaller dell than the one they Apparated in, and he dolefully smiled as he was overcome with a glimpse of a memory. Back when he and Noctua were seventeen, and not long after his birthday, in fact.

“Just hold still!” Aesop said with a small laugh. “I’ve been sitting for hours!” Noctua protested with a giggle.

He playfully rolled his eyes and carefully set down his palette of paints. He walked away from his canvas to go to his belle, who was perched on an above-ground root of the ash tree. She was dressed in a cornflower blue basque waist dress with her overskirts pooling into the daffodils proudly blooming in the area. Her light brown hair cascaded like gentle waves down over her shoulder blades as well as covered parts of her lace open neckline. Her beloved emerald brooch was pinned at her clothed throat, gleaming in the sunlight peeking through the canopy.

He situated her hands to have one over the other on her lap, and he smoothed down any small wrinkles of her skirt as well. He lifted his gaze, and saw her staring back at him with a coy and affectionate smile on her petunia pink painted lips. He was more enticed by the shimmer in her hazel eyes, however, with the fewest golden flecks. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, but his heart was stolen again by his love’s regal and natural beauty.

Unable to help himself, he leaned up to caress her lips with his. She happily returned the quick kiss, before meeting his eyes again.

“Just stay still a little longer, Princess,” he implored in a murmur.

“If I must,” she lightheartedly sighed before tittering. Her eyes started to have a mischievous twinkle to them. “Especially if that’s the kind of reward I get for being so patient.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of her soft hand with his thumb. “Why, of course.”

He snuck another kiss, eliciting another lovely giggle from her, and then he went back to his canvas. He picked up the palette and his brush before looking back at the subject of his painting. Noctua stayed perfectly still with a bright smile soft as sunlight which matched the mirth dancing in her eyes. He smiled back with his heart fluttering with bliss. It still felt surreal to him that she was his, and he was hers.

He carefully started to paint again, hoping he could get close to capturing her grace and elegance onto the canvas…

Aesop took a deep breath as he was back in the present. It felt like a distant dream instead of a memory for there to be so much happiness in his life. A lifetime ago where there was so much color and liveliness. Now dreary and somber. He turned to Ominis, who was curiously tilting his head at his professor.

“Does it flower in this area?” Ominis asked.

“It does.” Aesop searched the ground to where the spring flowers used to bloom. He waved to them, certain Ominis could sense his gesture. “Daffodils, daisies, and other common flowers like that.”

Ominis’s forehead creased in thought as he mulled it over. He decisively nodded. “I think she would love it here, then.”

Aesop smiled, pleased that his time with Noctua could help Ominis find an alternate place to bury his aunt. Hell would freeze over before he had Noctua be buried on Gaunt property.

The Potions professor made quick work of magically digging the soft soil, and Ominis carefully opened the bag. Aesop could see the grimy, aged, black bones and felt a pang at the sight. He thought he knew mourning when he lost Noctua five years ago. But seeing her bones was like another dose of reality he had to swallow. He magically levitated the skeleton and gingerly set it down. He even arranged one hand to be over the other, a tendency he knew she had when she was alive.

Then Aesop covered the hole with the dirt again and conjured a nice, small headstone. After some discussion, the headstone had etched on it: Noctua Celeste Gaunt - A Beloved Aunt.

He glanced at Ominis. The boy stood there with a solemn expression on his face, but he saw his shoulders were lowered. Aesop had to admit he felt better in a way too that they finally found her and could at least bury her.

Ominis carefully held the tip of his wand and casted in a mutter, “Orchideous.” Sprigs of snow-white petals blooming with six on bottom and then four on top with a soft yellow center were conjured into Ominis’s hand. Magnolias, Noctua’s favorite flower. Ominis had a gathering of eight in his hands, and he walked over to place them at the foot of the headstone. He stepped back and held his hands in front of himself.

Aesop softly said, “She did always love magnolia tea, too.”

“She did.”

The two fell into a still silence, their minds drifting to the woman that brought them close in a way. Even the woods around them respected their moment, with not a bird singing or a creature stirring in that short time.

May you rest peacefully now, my love, Aesop somberly thought as he saw Ominis drop his hands.

“If you want to see her at any time, let me know,” Aesop offered.

Ominis regarded him curiously, and Aesop saw it again where he looked wary. That same prickly feeling crawled up his leg. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course. Anything for Noctua’s nephew.”

They walked back to the clearing they Apparated in, and Ominis stopped, turning to Aesop.

“Professor.”

Aesop hummed, letting him know he was listening. Ominis’s eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to figure something out.

“You’ve said in the past you were close to my aunt, correct?”

“Yes, we were close,” he casually answered, even though he was admittedly confused. Why did Ominis need that confirmation?

“You know her favorite things, your patronus is an owl, and she showed you the Undercroft.” He lifted his chin to roughly meet Aesop’s eyes with a frown as he succinctly asked, “How close were you with my aunt?”

He was taken aback, completely stunned. He winced as the prickling intensified, as if it were an omen. In the moment he was rendered speechless, Ominis reached into his robes. He pulled out a wand Aesop knew anywhere: A spiral cherry wood, nine inches long, with dragon heartstring and a polished alabaster stone wand handle. Ominis securely held the wand by the ends.

“We found her wand with her, of course,” Ominis said in an even tone. “Estelle gave it to me shortly after…” He sighed before squaring his shoulders and continuing, “I was holding the wand and…” He moved his hand from the tip down to the wand handle. Then his thumb and index finger wrapped around as if he were holding something. Whatever it was seemed to be disillusioned—

Aesop’s heart sank as he realized what it had to be. He was a fool! How could he have forgotten?

Ominis pulled the object off the wand, and the glamor spell went away.

He was holding a wedding band with the gold tarnished with age.

“So…” Ominis frowned at him. “How close were you two?”

Aesop felt his mouth go dry. This was why his leg was acting up; it sensed the underlying guilt that would resurface so soon. This was not how he wanted this conversation to start. How long could he have kept it from him, though?

Ominis’s stern mask was starting to crack as his eyes were cloudy with distraught betrayal. “She read to me Muggle fairy tales and poems. She helped me understand color despite my blindness. She shared with me discoveries of Muggle innovations. She told me everything.” He held up the ring. “And yet…she never told me about this.”

“We…” Aesop swallowed hard, wishing he was better prepared for this. “We were going to tell you when you were older.”

“That’s always a pleasant way to start,” Ominis dryly remarked. He certainly wasn’t the same nervous and shy boy from a few years ago. He lifted an eyebrow at Aesop. “Did you two officially marry, then?”

“We eloped,” Aesop solemnly answered.

“When?”

“…Not long after we graduated.”

Ominis looked away with a clenched jaw. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He quietly asked.

Aesop’s heart panged at his small voice. “We couldn’t afford anyone knowing. Her father was already upset at her somehow nullifying her marriage contract with Yaxley. If I could, I would have taken her away from her family, but—”

“But what?” Ominis sharply asked, facing him again. He glared up at Aesop with a pained look in his eyes. “But I came along? Ruined your plans?”

“No!” Aesop sighed and ran a hand down his face, admonishing himself for his poor choice of words. “Your aunt loved you, Ominis. When you came into this world, she was adamant about not leaving you.” He reached out and put his hands on Ominis’s shoulders, trying to convey how serious he was. Ominis looked so dubious, though. “We were happy, yes, but whenever she talked about you…” Aesop swallowed thickly as dozens of memories manifested before him. “She was full of joy and devotion. It was as if you were her own child, and she wanted nothing more than to have you with us.”

Ominis breathed shakily, and he closed his hands into fists, tightly holding onto the ring and Noctua’s wand. “W-why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I be taken in by you and her? Why did I have to stay?”

Aesop’s heart started cracking, and he bowed his head. His leg was aching as if all of the nerves were burning from within.

“Like your siblings, you’re also put into a marriage contract. With a…Selene Carrow.” Ominis grimaced; maybe he already knew about the dreadful ordeal. “It’s more complicated than the one your aunt was under. And in that same contract, it mentions you’re ‘property’ of your parents until you’re married.”

Ominis dejectedly sighed. “Then I fathom I would be Carrow’s property.”

“Your aunt and I had been trying to find a way to make it null and void when we could,” Aesop explained. “We’ve tried looking into quelling the corrupt work your family has done, and untangle so many webs.” He stared imploringly into Ominis’s eyes full of uncertainty. “I haven’t stopped, Ominis. I intend to do all I can to find a way to free you from your family.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow, and his eyes harden. “There’s something else,” he muttered. “I can hear the guilt in your voice.”

Aesop stiffened, knowing Ominis’s perception was always improving as he got older. Ominis sensed his reaction, and that made him frown.

“What is it?” He asked in a low, eerily even tone. He let out a sharp breath and impatiently repeated himself, “What is it, Professor?”

Aesop tried to collect himself as he feared how Ominis would react. His leg was perfectly sensing his inner turmoil, making it incessantly sting all over. He lowered his gaze in shame.

“Before…she left,” he despondently started, “we met at a cafe. She told me she found where the Scriptorium was.” He was haunted by that memory from time to time, and it was as vivid as visiting a memory in a Pensieve. “She asked me to make a promise.”

“…What kind of promise?” Ominis warily asked.

Aesop moved to stand tall, meeting Ominis’s eyes. He wasn’t going to evade this any longer, nor dance around it. He would never lie to Ominis either. It was time for him to finally and truly face his guilt and regrets from five years ago.

“That if something happened to her…I was to look after you until you got to Hogwarts.”

Ominis’s eyebrows furrowed. “But you didn’t look after me until I was in Hogwarts.”

“I know. And I have no one else to blame but myself.”

Ominis stepped back and away from him, realizing what he was saying. He shook his head a little in shock, his eyes showing how overwhelmed he was by this truth.

“Not only did you not go with my aunt to the Scriptorium,” he murmured as he gave him a dejected and incredulous look and raised his voice, “but you also failed to keep a promise you made to her?”

“I was a wreck, Ominis,” he tried to explain. Ominis didn’t want to hear it and turned, starting to walk away. “I loved your aunt, Ominis! With all my heart, and when she—” He stopped, feeling his throat tighten from his heartbreak and remorse. He took a deep breath and stared at the boy’s back. At least Ominis stopped and stayed where he was. “Noctua was everything to me,” he choked out. “If I had known what would have happened, I would have done all I could to help her.

“She tried to send me a message,” he faintly continued as he felt his vision blurring from tearing up. “Right in front of me, I saw her raven patronus turn into mist. I was devastated. I-I didn’t know how to live with the grief that kept pulling me under. I tried to drown away my sorrows so I could be numb and not have to feel my heart be wrenched. I wasn’t in my right mind, and I was selfish…”

He saw Ominis turn his head a little, as if he were trying to listen more intently. He added in a tight voice, “I didn’t consider how her death would have affected you, or how you would have been treated in a short span of just a few months. That guilt will always eat me up, Ominis, especially since I know that without your aunt being there, nor me to help protect you, you were at the mercy of your family.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of there as soon as I should have, Ominis.”

He was only met with silence, but it was now stifling. This boy that Aesop started to care about as if he were his son, the boy that Noctua loved as her own too, now wouldn’t say anything. Aesop wasn’t a Seer, but he saw this coming from miles away. He didn’t blame him. He failed Ominis. He failed Noctua.

Aesop leaned on his other leg, at least grateful that his injured one wasn’t acting up anymore with the truth out in the air. “I was constantly plagued with ‘what-if’s and ‘should’ve, would’ve, could’ve’,” Aesop solemnly said in a small tone. “I kept telling myself that if I had just insisted on going with her, then maybe—” He tightly closed his eyes. “And then I tried to keep her promise by helping you at Hogwarts. I know I was too late to help you at first, but I intend to do what I can for you now.”

Ominis stayed quiet.

Birds started to tentatively sing throughout the woods.

A stag even stopped roaming and watched them, not threatened by their presence in the slightest.

It was starting to become unbearable to Aesop. He just wished Ominis would yell at him, curse him out in Parseltongue, throw hexes, just anything but give him a silent treatment.

“You…were always there for me when I was younger,” Ominis finally said. He slowly turned around and looked in Aesop’s direction. His gaze wasn’t hardened anymore, showing only his vulnerable, hesitant trust. “I…felt like you were the only adult I could turn to after…” He trailed off and lowered his head, still holding tightly onto his aunt’s wand. “You always looked out for me these past few years.”

Aesop’s heart cracked as he heard Ominis breathe shakily again. He slowly limped toward him, not acting as a professor or as Noctua’s husband.

This time, Aesop acted more like a father.

He carefully wrapped his arm around Ominis’s shoulders to offer comfort. Ominis tensed up for a second before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the man. As grown up as he was, Ominis was still a lost, scared boy. He silently rubbed the young wizard’s back, hearing Ominis try in vain to tamp down his sobs. He could only imagine the torment and turmoil he was going through.

“I’ll always be here, Ominis, if you need anything,” Aesop softly vowed. “I know I didn’t keep my promise to Noctua as well as I could have. But as long as I live, I promise to be there for you in any way, Ominis.”

Ominis sniffled before whispering, “I believe you.”

Aesop’s heart started to heal as he caught the accepting tone in his voice and knew he also meant:

“I forgive you.”

Aesop stared up at the canopy of trees and blinked many times as he tried to keep tears from falling. He merely lifted his hand to cradle the back of the boy’s head, aiming to comfort and console him for as long as he needed.

His injury, from then on, didn’t send any more prickling or incessant pain up his leg.

When it was time to go back to Hogwarts, Ominis insisted on a change to the headstone before they left. Then they Disapparated away in the evening, with the headstone now saying:

Noctua Celeste Gaunt

A Beloved Aunt and Dear Wife