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whumpflash · 11 months

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Can we see some cerus before his fall?

:) time for actual cringefail overlord?

Umbra: Beginning of the End

cw: war/death mention

Penumbra Masterlist

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"The rebels are gaining ground."

The scroll was small; brusque and to the point. In the last year alone, there had been dozens just like it, ill tidings scrawled across each one.

"The dissidents prevailed today."

"The rebellion has spread to the western end of Feyadel."

"The eleventh legion has fallen, sire."

Cerus tossed the small, curling piece of parchment into the fire, watched it smolder and redden and turn to ash. Defeat was closing in, like the sun setting over the course of the day, spreading slow shadow that would soon cloak the world in an all-consuming darkness.

The end was surely coming for him. It had started with his father's death. Sudden, a broken neck at the bottom of a staircase, leaving Cerus gripped more with fear than grief when he looked upon the corpse for the last time.

For what was he to do now?

He'd been the royal high mage, boosting his father's power with magical means. His father, who was supposed to live for many more years, who was supposed to grow old and hand over the throne gradually, giving Cerus time to learn and grow into the role. His father, who was now a body in the ground.

Most of King Hollowthorn's bannermen left before the grave was even filled in; the rest filed out one by one in the coming weeks. They knew the people of Feyadel were unhappy with the crown, only kept in line by the king's schemes and careful pressures. They knew Cerus had none of his father's experience, that he was weak. That the people would see his faults and find within them an opportunity. Cerus knew too, but now he was alone.

He'd gathered some meager support, elevating a handful of knights to generals and battalion leaders in preparation for the war that was sure to come.

He'd been lenient in his early months as king, conceding to the demands of a few villages for lessened taxes and a lift on the poaching ban. He'd even raised the damned dead in an attempt to cow his subjects into submission. But it wasn't enough.

It never would've been enough.

The first large-scale revolt was in a small town a hundred miles away, on the eve of his coronation, and more acts of rebellion were swift to follow.

No matter how many dead were raised, the spirit of the people outmatched the unfeeling relentlessness of his ghouls.

For six years, he'd sat anxious on the throne, lost sleep over lost loyalty, watched as his hold on his birthright was broken bit by bit.

And with it, his hopes of emerging victorious.

Soon his treacherous subjects would reach the capital city, and then there would be nothing left.

So he'd fortify it. Pull back forces and protect his last true stronghold. If he expended all his energy, he could summon enough undead that it would take all the rebel forces had to oppose them. Even if he was outmatched, his ghoulish soldiers didn't need food, nor rest, nor tending to their wounds, unlike the rebel armies. He'd wait. Let them drain their supplies before launching a counterattack. He still had a chance.

And then when the battle was won, and he stood triumphant over the bodies and the curling smoke, he'd be king of the nothing.

He'd heard some were calling him Shadow King, and whether it was a description or an insult, he didn't know. But if he won, that was all he'd ever be. King of the shadows, of the ruin that would remain of Feyadel.

How had things turned so foul? Hadn't there ever been a time where he thought he could be something more? A better king than his father? A mage that could deal in something other than death and decay?

It mattered little now, if there was ever a chance at all. Could've beens would change nothing. Cerus had to hold on to what he had, what little power remained.

And if he couldn't, he'd die fighting those who dared try and take it from him.

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@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chiswhumpcorner @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them , @pigeonwhumps , @itsmyworld23 , @andromeda-liske , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams , @haro-whumps , @kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @whumpedydump , @mannerofwhump

#poor sad cerus #no friends #loser king #really he never had a chance #and while his methods of trying to stay in control *cough* mass slaughter *cough* are wrong i still feel for him #dont worry buddy it gets worse :)#penumbra: shadow king #villain whump #whump writing #fantasy whump #emotional whump #exhaustion #kira the whump enthusiast #thanks for the prompt c:

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ceru-at-hogwarts · 1 year

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The True Face of Courage (Ominis Gaunt One-Shot)

[SFW, another one-shot about Ominis Gaunt's childhood. What if Ominis was meant to be the Heir of Slytherin?]

My fiction masterlist | Read in AO3

For all his life, Ominis never forgot the day he came to his magic. It was engraved in his memory, fresh as if it had just happened a moment ago. He was barely seven years old. It was a cold winter day, and he was running as fast as he could in the forest, feeling his way frantically with his bare hands. He fell, he stumbled, and he crawled back up to his feet as quickly as he could. He was running until his chest felt as if it was about to burst. Every breath hurt now, his lung gasping for air. But he could not stop running.

Snow was falling, adding a thick layer to the already-frozen ground. Ominis could feel how his feet sank in it, each step must have left a deep footprint. There were branches and shrubs, and he stumbled upon it. Sometimes a wild branch hit him in the face when he ran through it, unable to see it. He could feel blood trickle from his face, from all the falling, and his shirt torn. He could barely feel his fingers by now. He had lost his cloak earlier.

Around him, every sound felt muffled, except for his frantic footsteps. They could hear him. They were hunting him, and Ominis knew what it would mean to be caught again. With their magic, he could not hear them. The forest was silent in his ears. This was their favourite game, and he was their prey.

“Depulso!” He suddenly heard him shouting behind him, and the blast of the spell hit him squarely in the back, pushing Ominis a few yards forward until he hit the trunk of a tree. The impact made Ominis gasp in pain. From behind him, a strong and rough hand pulled Ominis back to his feet.

They had captured him. Worst, it was him. Ominis could feel the tip of Marvolo’s wand inches from his face, magic pulsating menacingly from it.

“So… the little baby in the family had learned to run now,” hissed Marvolo in Parseltongue. “The game had become much more interesting. Hissy hissy hissy little snake…”

Ominis screamed, trying to escape the strong hand that held him, kicking Marvolo wildly as hard as he could. As his fear mounted, he could feel something boil within him, as if he was about to burst from a new, unfamiliar feeling. Marvolo grunted from Ominis’ kick.

“Little bastard!” Marvolo shouted, this time not in Parseltongue. “You will pay for this! Depul…”

BANG!

With a sudden jerk, Marvolo was repelled from him, making Ominis fall to the ground again. The force of Ominis’ newly awakened magic had thrown Marvolo back a few feet, making him landed on the fresh snow, shocking both of them.

“So… the little baby has his magic awakened now… Good for him, isn’t it? At least now we know he is not a little squib…” Marvolo taunted dangerously. Even when his nose felt half freezing, Ominis could smell his cousin’s filthy, unwashed clothes from a yard away. But he was too shocked still to move, scared even to the newly minted power that was now bubbling within him, ready to burst at the slightest provocation. For Marvolo was nearly a fully grown wizard, armed with a wand and well trained in the art of inflicting pain. And he, Ominis Gaunt, was only a boy of seven, and he had no weapon.

“SHAME ON YOU!”

BANG!

Of a sudden, Ominis felt a slight spell passed beside him and from the grunt of pain Marvolo made, the spell had hit Marvolo square on the chest, throwing the brute a few feet away.

This voice… and this smell of violet and bergamot in the middle of winter…

“A…aunt Noctua?” Ominis whispered, still shocked by everything that had just happened. Aunt Noctua ignored him. He could feel her standing in front of him now, facing Marvolo.

“Shame on you, Marvolo Gaunt! Shame on you for torturing a defenseless child! Our own family nevertheless!” She shouted, her clear and angry voice filling the forest.

Marvolo hissed in anger but did not dare to cross Noctua further. No one except Father dared to cross Noctua Gaunt, even if she was barely sixteen and still a Hogwarts student herself.

“You will regret this, both of you…” Marvolo hissed again menacingly, before disapparating away.

As soon as Marvolo had gone, Noctua turned to Ominis, putting her own cloak around the half-frozen boy. It felt soft and warm and smelled of her. Violet. Bergamot. Flowers whose smells he recognized each time she brought him along for a walk in the garden. It felt like safety. He could feel Aunt Noctua’s magic diffusing within him, slowly warming him inside out.

“Are you all right, Ominis?” Noctua asked worriedly, healing his injuries while holding him. Ominis could only nod, taking comfort in her arms around him. “I swear, the next time that brute cousin of ours did this to you again I will murder him.”

“Aunt Noctua, I… I think… my magic… I think I have my magic now,” Ominis said quietly, still shaken from all that had just happened. Aunt Noctua did not reply for a while. When she spoke again, her voice sounded sad and worried.

“I know. I have been observing you for a while. I have seen signs of it coming for quite some time now. I am afraid that this day will have to come one day… Only not that soon… Buy you more time before what’s about to come. But the alternative that it would never come would not be better. For you know very well what it meant to be a Squib in this family of ours,” she said finally, her voice quivering a bit. “Now that you had come to your magic… Oh, Ominis… If only I could bring you away, away from all this…”

Ominis did not reply. No one could escape Father. Not even Aunt Noctua. But there was something more in her voice that frightened Ominis. He never heard Aunt Noctua sound scared, not even when she was having a shouting match with Mother. And he did not dare to ask. It must be terrible if she was scared for him. He felt a knot in his stomach.

“I do not think it would be wise to hide this from your father, Ominis. He will notice it, and Marvolo will talk. Your father would be very angry if we try to hide this. I think… I think it’s best we tell him. I can try to delay what’s about to come as long as I can, to plead with him and your mother.”

For a very long while, none of them said anything more. Ominis absorbed every moment of it, storing them in his memory to be recalled later. Her smell. Her warmth. The firm yet gentle way she held his body against her. How she held his hands without ever letting them go even once. Her magic buzzed around them, enveloping both of them in a bubble of warmth.

“We should go now, it is nearly dark and your parents will be angry if we do not come home soon,” she said finally, sighing. “Hold on my shoulder.”

Ominis felt the nauseating feeling that churned his stomach as they disapparated, and a few seconds later he nearly fell to his knees as solid ground materialized under him. Apparating was always a very uncomfortable experience, it disoriented him and made him feel completely lost, but they had no choice. Aunt Noctua helped him back to his feet. He could feel her repairing his clothes with magic, his torn collars and cuffs and shirt repaired, the dried blood stains cleaned. She let him keep her cloak on him.

None of them spoke as they navigated the entrance hall of the manor where the clock was ticking, the long corridor where their footsteps echoed, in a house that is both familiar yet made him felt like a stranger all his short life.

Finally, they stopped. With an audibly nervous sigh, Aunt Noctua knocked three times on Father’s library door. Its sound was muffled, the door being heavy and thick, yet the sound still surprised him even after all these times. It sounded like a bad omen, his intuition told him.

The door slowly opened, and in the silence Ominis could feel Father’s presence, standing beside the fireplace. He quivered.

“Marvolo Gaunt had chased Ominis again through the forest,” Noctua said firmly, trying to sound as brave as she could.

“We do not speak of him in this house. We do not speak of that inferior branch of our family, a disgrace, under my roof,” Father hissed in Parseltongue. “Ominis will learn to deal with him on his own. To be a hunter you have to know what it meant to be prey. Until he learns, he will have to live with it.”

Aunt Noctua quivered slightly, but she held Ominis’ hand even more firmly now and stood her ground. For a while, she said nothing, then finally she replied in Parseltongue, knowing the weight of each word that was about to come.

“That he did. He had come to his magic today,” Aunt Noctua said quietly, carefully. Mother gasped audibly from beside Father. She sounded pleased.

For a very long time, Father did not say anything. When he spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically soft and dangerous.

“Then the time has come. It is time for him to learn how to fulfill his duty as a member of this family and to his bloodline. Soon he will attend Hogwarts. A big task awaits him there. Our family’s legacy. Especially for one in his condition… His eyesight, or lack thereof, is probably a blessing. He must be prepared for that moment.” Aunt Noctua gasped audibly as Father took Ominis from her. “Do not follow us now, Noctua, his trainings start now.”

And with that, Father took Ominis with him, half dragging him to the Manor’s entrance, before both of them disapparated into the darkness.

Ominis could feel a hard and cold stone floor materialize from under him as Father and himself apparated. He did not know where they are. The room’s smell felt unfamiliar, damp, and cold. From the echo of water dripping, the place was massive. Were they in a cellar? A hall? Were they still in the manor? He did not know.

“I had waited for this day to come, since the day you were born,” Father hissed quietly. “You will carry our family’s duty as soon as you went to Hogwarts. And you will do us proud. But for now… you will learn what it meant to be a Gaunt. Your lessons start today.”

Ominis felt a wand thrusted into his hand. Whose? What was he to do with it?

At that moment, he heard the noise of chain rattling, and someone whimpering, not so far away from him. A woman.

“Muggles,” Father hissed simply. “Do not let them scare you. You should learn to inflict fear on them. It is your duty and your right as one born into such illustrious family of ours. And this is your first lesson today. I will teach you a spell. And you will cast it on them.”

Ominis did not dare to speak. Quietly he fingered the wand, scared of it. He could feel its smooth handle, the texture of its wood. It felt cold under his hand. Not far from him, the woman whimpered again. He could hear that it was a young woman, probably about the same age as Aunt Noctua. He could hear her breathing loudly, fear emanating from her.

“The spell is called the Cruciatus Curse. It is the right way to remind Muggles of their place in this world. That they should fear us.” Ominis could hear Father moved toward the chained Muggle. Suddenly, Father shouted in a loud, clear voice. “Crucio!”

There was a blast from Father’s wand and the Muggle screamed in pain. Ominis could hear her chain rattling loudly as if she was writhing on the floor in pain. It felt like an eternity before he could not take it anymore.

“Stop! Father, please make it stop,” he begged, the Muggle’s scream drowned his voice. He could feel Father’s gaze was now turned on him.

“Stop? Why should I? They could endure this much longer before they break. And if a toy breaks, you will simply replace them. There is an unlimited quantity of them in any case. You should know this. This is a sport, Ominis. One that you will learn to enjoy,” Father hissed, but at least he broke the curse and the woman stop screaming, now whimpering in horror. “Very well, you had witnessed enough of how it is performed. Now you will do it. Remember, the incantation is Crucio.”

“No… no… no… Please… Please don’t make me do it, Father,” Ominis begged, his stomach churning at the thought of inflicting such pain on another human being. He remembered the pain Marvolo had inflicted on him, by constantly repulsing him toward objects in his hunts for him. He remembered the worst moments of it, the fear, the pain, the desperation of being chased.

This woman’s scream told him that all the pain and fear he had endured so far pale compared to what she had just lived through. The sheer magnitude of this shook Ominis to the core. There he was, begging to spare and to be spared.

But Father was not pleased. “Probably, this will persuade you better to do what you are told to do,” he hissed. “Crucio!”

This time, Father’s spell was directed toward Ominis. Of a sudden, Ominis felt pain as he never felt before. With a loud thud, he fell to the floor. His head felt as if it was about to burst. It felt like millions of hot knives flayed his skin away from his flesh. His bone felt as if it was melting. He screamed more loudly than he ever had before. All he wished now was for the pain to stop. He would even welcome Death as a preferred alternative at that very moment.

All of a sudden, the pain stopped. Ominis gasped for air, feeling lingering pain shaking his body violently. In a sudden movement, Father pulled him back to his feet not too gently. Ominis struggled, disoriented, trying to not crumble back to the floor, now too afraid of displeasing Father even further.

“Now you will do what you are told to do, or you know what’s the consequences if you fail.” Ominis could feel Father taking his hand in his, directing Ominis’ wand to point in the direction of the whimpering sound where the woman must have lied on the floor.

Ominis hesitated, feeling anguished as he had never known before.

“DO IT NOW,” Father ordered.

“C…Crucio!” Finally, Ominis mustered his courage, feeling himself falling into the deepest of his fear. It was me or her. It was me or her. I am too scared. Please, please, please. Please spare me from this.

Nothing happened. Angrily, Father shook him violently.

“You have to mean it! You have to truly mean it to make it work!” Father shouted.

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!” Anguished, Ominis shouted the incantation, feeling a deep hatred over what he had just been asked to do in equal measure with fear of having to go through the pain himself once again.

Nothing happened still. He could not truly mean it. He could not muster the will to inflict pain on another being.

“USELESS CHILD!” Father’s anger cannot be more palpable. “CRUCIO!”

Once again, Ominis felt the excruciating pain explode within him. He screamed and screamed and screamed for what felt like an eternity. And once again, of a sudden, the jet of pain stopped. Once again, he was pulled back to his feet. The woman on the floor was crying audibly now. Ominis felt the wand thrusted into his hand once again.

Finally, he pointed the wand toward the woman, trying to muster his will to truly mean it, and shouted, “Crucio!”

The woman screamed in pain as soon as Ominis’ spell hit her. He could only maintain it for a few seconds before the wand fell from his hand, feeling engulfed in all-consuming mental anguish for having inflicted such torture on another human being.

Once again, he fell to the floor as the pain hit his own body once again. He could feel Father’s anger, and this time Father did not hold back. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He screamed until his voice breaks and he could not scream anymore. The pain was all-consuming. But even then, he could feel the woman crawling toward him and all of a sudden, throwing herself in front of him, trying to shield him from Father’s curse. The woman was squirming, screaming now, but she held him under her, trying to protect him from Father even as she was engulfed in pain. Ominis could feel her above him, holding her ground.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Father shouted angrily, murdering the woman in a flick of a wand, and by doing so breaking the Cruciatus Curse he was casting on Ominis. He could feel the woman’s lifeless body fell on top of him, and then everything became dark.

***

At first, as he woke up Ominis did not know where he was, only that he was filled with terror and anguish. Everything hurt, the lingering pain of his ordeal stayed in every one of his bones, his skin. His head was pounding and he could not think.

Slowly, bit by bit, he calmed down finally and try to make sense of his surroundings. He could feel a gentle pair of soft hands holding his own. Someone. A person he loved. A person he felt safe with. Violet. Bergamot. A soft surface. A bed. What felt like a cool wet towel on top of his forehead. The weight of a heavy blanket on top of him. The sound of firelogs burning. A radiating warmth from that direction. A voice he recognized, calling his name gently. Aunt Noctua?

Aunt Noctua was crying, he could hear that. She was crying as she held his hands. He squeezed her hands to tell her he's awaken now and it made her sobs. Then it made him finally cried too, releasing all the anguish he had lived through that day. The hunt, what happened in the cellar, everything. It felt as if he could never stop crying. He never dared to show any tears in front of Father or Mother, for fear of punishment. However he was now either dead already or he was with Aunt Noctua, and either possibility was much less frightening than being back where Father was.

“Oh, Ominis…” Finally, Aunt Noctua spoke again after what felt like hours.

“Where am I?” he whispered in reply.

“Back in the Manor. You are in my room. Your father came back without you but he let me fetch you. You’re safe for now, at least for tonight. I can try to fend for you for at least that long.”

“How… how about the woman?” Ominis asked tentatively. He could feel Aunt Noctua’s arms tighten around him.

“She had died, Ominis. Your father killed her,” her voice was filled with sadness and disgust.

“She… she threw herself on top of me to stop Father.”

“I know. I found her still on top of you when I arrived. I gave her a quick burial there. She deserved that at least. I will track her family later but you are my priority. I know… I know what living through that curse means, Ominis. I had to bring you back here quickly. You were halfway to Death’s arm yourself by the time I found where he left you.”

“Who was she…?” Ominis asked again after a while.

“A Muggle your parents had imprisoned for simply being Muggle. She did not choose to be born without magic, as no one chooses to be born with or without Magic. But Ominis, never forget that Magic or not, she had the courage to try to shield you from what she knew as the most excruciating pain your Father was inflicting on you. Even if she had to pay it with her life.”

Ominis felt tears run down his cheeks as he nods slowly, trying not to make his head hurt more.

“We cannot choose the family we are born to. Pureblood, Muggle, Half-Blood, it is purely by chance that we are born as either of these. However, never forget that whatever bloodline or family you are born to, you always have a choice. Never forget that even under such circumstances she had chosen to shield you and by doing so, knowingly take the excruciating curse and your Father’s wrath upon herself. That, Ominis, is the true meaning of courage. Never forget that.”

Ominis gulped, feeling guilt enveloped him for having pointed the wand and performed the curse himself toward the woman. Noctua sighed, knowing what he was feeling. Earnestly, she took Ominis’ hands in hers.

“Ominis look. I wish I could protect you from all of this. I wish I could simply hold you in my arms and protect you from our family for the rest of your life. I wish you did not have to live through the ordeal you had tonight. But I cannot protect you from your father, and time is running out. I will have to leave tomorrow. Listen to me carefully. The day you were born, your parents realized you are blind. They know you are a Parseltongue, as expected of those coming from our bloodline. Today you had come to your magic. For all these reasons, your parents decided that you are the perfect heir to the legacy of our family. And you must not let it happen.”

Ominis laid quietly on the bed, not sure he understood. Everything was still hurting. But at least now he felt much calmer, feeling Aunt Noctua’s warmth beside him. However, Aunt Noctua’s voice was even tighter now.

“Soon you will come to age to be sent to Hogwarts. As you know very well, we are the direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. We speak Parseltongue. Your parent had told you about the Chamber Slytherin left, intending to purify the school from the so-called Mudbloods. They had told you what’s inside the chamber, didn’t they? Your mother told me so. They might not tell you why they told you all of that. However, for years they had been preparing you for the day that you should be the one to open the chamber and do the unthinkable. To hate the Muggleborns so bad. Soon they will explain to you exactly how to do it. And you must never do it.”

Ominis did not know what to say, he felt shocked and confused more than anything else. But Aunt Noctua did not stop. With urgency she squeezed Ominis’ hand now, her forehead against him, whispering.

“Think about it. All of these beliefs … of pureblood superiority and Muggleborn inferiority are misplaced. Who are we to be proud of which family we are born into? We should be ashamed of what we had become. And I believe, even your parents and mine are wrong about all of this. I am quite sure Slytherin’s intention was more than just pure blood superiority.” Her voice is quite feverish now. “Tomorrow morning I will have to leave you to go back to Hogwarts. I still have one year left there, one last year to find out more about all of this. And I will prove that all of these are the madness that must be stopped.”

Ominis said nothing. At that moment, none of it made any sense to him. For many long years afterward, this conversation echoed in his mind as he thought about and relived this very moment. He regretted not pressing more about the matter, and that all he wanted was for her to stay by his side forever, to feel safe, to feel loved.

Somehow, he suddenly feared losing her forever.

“Do you truly have to leave tomorrow?” he asked in a small voice, feeling scared and alone.

Aunt Noctua sighed as if snapped out of her thoughts.

“Yes,” she said sadly. Quietly, she kissed his nephew’s forehead and held him in her arms, thoughts racing in her heads.

I am intent on finding and destroying that blasted chamber, and all other hidden secrets Slytherin left to stop all this madness. Curse his parents for refusing to tell me about the Chamber’s location. I think they somehow fear what I might do. But at least, I have some lead for the Scriptorium. I must do this and put an end to all this. For Ominis.

Oh Ominis, If all else fails, I will bring you to live with me as soon as I left Hogwarts. We might have to run away far from here. Probably somewhere far to the south. Far away from all this place. I will keep you safe. One more year for you to endure, Ominis. Wait for my return.

Without any word, Ominis fell asleep in her arms. Outside, the first ray of light had started to light the winter sky. Soon, she had to leave, and he would wake up alone in bed. However, for now, this very moment, she was with him and it was all that mattered to him.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #noctua gaunt #ceru-writes #my writing #that was the year she did not return #and he always waited for her deep in his heart #but she never did return

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