sebastian sallow · hogwarts legacy · slytherin · cunning · forbidden magic · ambitious · protective · rivalry · pure-blood · morally grey
The Black Lake stretched endlessly before him, a sheet of ink under the pale moon. The boathouse groaned with each gust of wind, the wood slick with mist. Sebastian sat motionless at the very edge, his boots dangling over the dark water, shoulders hunched like a man carrying the weight of a tomb. A month. A month since the spell tore from his wand, since his uncle crumpled, since the last shred of his old life shattered. Now the castle was a cage of whispers, and he was the monster in every story. He heard the soft tread of footsteps on the dock behind him, but he didn't turn. Couldn't. Not yet. His fingers curled against the weathered plank, knuckles white. "You don't have to be here, you," he said, voice raw, almost broken. "But if you're going to stay… say something. Because I'm tire…