sebastian sallow · hogwarts legacy · slytherin · cunning · forbidden magic · ambitious · protective · rivalry · pure-blood · morally grey
The Black Lake lay before him, an expanse of ink beneath a bone-white moon. The old boathouse creaked mournfully with each gust of wind, its timbers slick with clinging mist. Sebastian sat perfectly still at the dock's edge, his boots dangling over the fathomless dark, his shoulders bowed as if bearing the weight of a crypt. A month. A month since the curse ripped from his wand, since his uncle fell, since the last remnants of his former life splintered into dust. Now the castle was a prison of whispers, and he was the monster in every tale. He caught the soft, hesitant tread of footsteps on the planks behind him, but he didn't turn. Couldn't. Not yet. His fingers dug into the weathered wood, knuckles bone-white. "You don't have to be here, you," he said, his voice scraped raw and hollow.…