#morally grey sebastian sallow

[secretly-a-catamount]

Sebastian: If I ever even look at someone else, please stab me.

MC, cheerfully: I’ll even break your legs so you can’t run away.

Sebastian, nods, turning back to his essay: Thanks.

Random Sixth Year sitting at the Library Table next to them: What the fu—

[x-ladyathena-x]

In the Shadow of His Memory

Chapter 2–The Rhythm of a Broken Heart

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: graphic violence, morally grey sebastian, morally grey reader, angst, fluff, alcohol

Word count: 1k

Summary: It's been 10 years since you were faced with that awful decision: turn Sebastian in for casting an unforgivable curse or lie for him.

You chose to lie for him and take his secrets to your grave, but that wasn't enough-the authorities found out soon after and Sebastian went on the run.

You never stopped loving him and when an unexpected visitor arrives in your home in the dead of night, you realize he never stopped loving you either.

—————

It had been days since your encounter at the acromantula den and your mysterious rescue. Nothing, not even a bump in the night had happened since.

The injury on your head had healed enough to remove the bandage and you were able to diminish the cut with a simple healing charm.

Your footsteps echoed on the cobblestone street and you pulled your bright emerald overcoat tight into yourself as the January wind cut cold down to your bones.

The road into Hogsmead was a short one, but you'd be happy when you reached the Hogshead Saloon's warm interior.

Darkness had long since fallen but even though it was still early in the evening, the streets were unusually sparse of pedestrians.

The after work crowd was your busiest rush on nights that you bartended. You didn't mind though, especially tonight. You needed to get your mind off of what happened the other night or you'd drive yourself mad trying to make sense of it.

The fact of the matter was, it didn't make sense, and you should've been scared, but at the same time a thrill shot through you at the idea that someone scooped you up at your most vulnerable and deposited you back into the safety of your home.

You drug your hand over your face and groaned. What was wrong with you.

The brass bell afixed to the front entry of the Hogshead tinkled when you entered. Your coworker Darius waved hello from behind the bar before going back to pouring pints of ale.

Once your coat and purse were stowed in the break room on a mounting hook, you tied a stained cotton apron around your waist and joined Darius up front.

"Light crowd tonight," Darius remarked.

"Don't jinx it."

"Sorry," Darius threw up his hands jokingly, "where you been lately, anyway?"

"Just needed a few days off."

"You okay?" He asked with concern.

"Fine," you dismissed the topic with a wave of your hand and looked at the two new customers that slid into the open seats in front of you at the bar.

"Double fire whisky." One said in a raspy voice.

"House ale," the second requested.

His voice made you pause, but you shook it off. It had been a long week.

You poured and served the whiskey first. The patron took it and went over to a group at a nearby table. You'd assumed the two Men arrived together but it seemed the second man was alone.

Foam sloshed onto the bar top as you placed the ale in front of the hooded guest. Not unusual for Hogshead goers to dress incognito.

The man reached out for the pint and his hand brushed your fingers, "thank you, Love."

Electricity jolted through your body and you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest.

You excused yourself to the back and gripped the wall trying to catch your breath. It was nothing new to be called a pet name by your male clientele, in fact it was downright common, but "Love" in that voice. Damn if that didn't sound exactly like him.

But that was impossible. He wouldn't be here in the middle of Hogsmead Village on a Thursday night where anyone could spot him.

However...

That voice had been haunting your dreams for near a decade. You'd know it anywhere, anytime.

You mustered up your courage and walked back out but the hooded patron was gone.

"That's for you," Darius called, hoisting an ice bucket over his shoulder. He pointed at the bar top where a shiny gold galleon lay.

You stared at it.

"Cloaked guy left it for you. Maybe I'll get lucky later and get a 500% tip too," Darius joked.

The night wore on and you couldn't stop thinking about the moment your hands touched with the hooded man. You hadn't felt a magical connection like that since, well—

You didn't want to think about it.

Though your time at Hogwarts was bursting with joyful memories, it was also a time when you began to dabble in things that ought not to be dabbled in.

At least not by polite society.

He had introduced you to many things. Many abilities. And when the two of you were working in tandem, it was, well, electric.

The two of you fed each other's powers in a way you'd never known before or since. Everything about Sebastian made you better, more powerful, and visa versa.

The power and passion grew between the two of you and it was addicting. He was addicting. And so was everything he had to offer.

He would've killed for you. He did kill for you. Had Sebastian not ended Solomon, Solomon's curse would've hit you and it would've been your body being carried out of the Scriptorium in a bag, not Solomon's.

Your body worked of its own accord as you lost yourself in memories, until you were sharply brought back to reality when you pumped the tap for ale and nothing but air spewed out.

"Be right back," you called over your shoulder to Darius.

A lone candle burned on the wall as you descended the staircase to the cellar. Water dripped from somewhere overhead, and the sound of mice scurrying over the stone floor made you look around.

"Lumos," you lit you wand and placed it between your teeth while you untethered a fresh keg from the wall.

Feet scurried across the floor, but this time it wasn't mice. It was something big.

"Whose there?" You spun around, shining your wand light into the dark corner of the cellar.

Fear held your stomach in knots as you saw the fringes of a tattered cloak hidden behind crates of inventory.

"Show yourself," you commanded. "I'm not above blasting curses first and asking questions later."

A familiar but somewhat deeper chuckle echoed through the cellar. And a tall, brown haired man emerged from the shadows. The wand light danced over his angular and freckled face, "that's the you I remember."

You froze.

"Need any help with at keg?" Darius' voice called from the top of the cellar stairs making you jump and look over your shoulder, but when you looked back to the crates, no one was there. He was gone.

"No." You called back to Darius while staring at the place Sebastian had been standing, "i got it."

[thatsoanjie]

When the wind settles

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : After Ranrok was ended, a Goblin rebellion happened. This is 5 months after the rebellion, and everyone thought you were gone for good. Sebastian revisits Feldcroft in an attempt to find traces of you again, not knowing what's to come.

Word count : 1.5k

Notes : This one was a little heavier to write! Just had to get this one out of my mind.

TW : Mentions of su!c!dal ideation... read at your own discretion.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The ruins of Feldcroft lay still, a silent testament to the war that had ravaged the land. The village, once vibrant with life, was now a graveyard of memories, its cottages reduced to charred skeletons, its streets choked with debris. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and ashes, a grim reminder of all that had been lost. Snow had begun to fall again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was mourning.

Sebastian Sallow stood in the center of what had once been his home, his heart as cold and lifeless as the stones scattered around him. It had been five months since the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion, five months since he had lost almost everything that mattered. Ominis and Anne were safe, and for that, he was grateful, but the knowledge did nothing to fill the void inside him.

Because you were gone.

The thought was a knife in his chest, a pain that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. You had been his anchor, his hope, his everything. And now you were nothing more than a memory—a ghost that haunted his every waking moment. They had told him you were dead, that you had been lost in the chaos of the battle, your body never found. He had refused to believe it at first, had scoured the wreckage for any sign of you, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the terrible truth had settled in.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt was a constant companion, a weight he could never shake. You had been the best of them, the light that had kept him going through the darkest times. And now that light was extinguished, leaving him to stumble through the shadows alone.

He had come back to Feldcroft because there was nowhere else to go. The world outside was trying to rebuild, to move on, but Sebastian was stuck in the past, trapped in a moment that he couldn’t escape. The ruins of Feldcroft were all that was left of his old life, a desolate reflection of the emptiness he carried inside him. 

He wandered through the village, his steps slow and heavy, his mind lost in the memories of what had once been. He could still see it, as if the echoes of the past were imprinted on the air—the laughter of children playing in the streets, the warm glow of lanterns in the windows, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the cottages. But those memories were like ghosts, insubstantial and fleeting, impossible to hold on to.

Just like you.

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he reached the edge of the village, where the land sloped down toward the river. This had been your favorite spot, the place where you had always come to find peace, to escape from the burdens of the world. He could almost see you there, standing by the water, your hair catching the light as you turned to smile at him.

But it was just a memory. Just another ghost.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest unbearable. He didn’t know how to keep going without you, didn’t want to keep going. The world was a darker place without you in it, and he was so tired of stumbling through the shadows, of trying to find his way in a world that no longer made sense.

But then, through the silence, he heard it—a sound so soft, so faint, that at first, he thought it was just the wind. But it came again, more distinct this time, a footstep crunching in the snow behind him.

His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, afraid to look, afraid to hope. And then he saw you.

You were standing just a few feet away, your figure half-hidden by the falling snow, your eyes wide with shock and something else—something that mirrored the grief and yearning that had been eating away at him for so long.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, to reconcile the image of you standing before him with the brutal reality he had been living in. It couldn’t be real. You were gone. You were a ghost.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice trembling as if you, too, were afraid that this was just a dream, that you might wake up at any moment and find yourself alone again.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not real,” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You can’t be real.”

“Sebastian, it’s me,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion as you took a step toward him, your hand reaching out as if to reassure him, to prove that you were real, that you were here.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening, that you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief and longing. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice raw with the pain that had been festering inside him for months. “They told me you were dead.”

“I almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “I was hurt, Sebastian—badly. But I survived. I made it to one of the camps, and they healed me. After that, I helped wherever I could—healing, rebuilding, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. But my work there was done, I had nothing keeping me there. I had to find you.”

He stared at you, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the grief and love that shone in them. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know how to keep going without you.”

You took another step closer, your hand brushing against his arm, warm and solid and so achingly real. “I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. “We’re both here, Sebastian. We survived.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the tears he had been holding back for so long. “It should’ve been me,” he choked out, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that. I should’ve been the one to die, not you.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice laced with a fierce, desperate kind of love. “Don’t you ever say that, Sebastian. We both fought, we both survived. And now we’re here. Alive.”

He hesitated, his heart warring with his mind, his grief and guilt battling against the overwhelming relief of having you in his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he finally let himself believe what he was seeing, let himself believe that you were really here, that this wasn’t just a cruel trick of his imagination.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your touch grounding him, anchoring him in the reality of the moment. “I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken sob, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow make up for all the lost time, for all the moments he had thought he would never have with you again. You clung to him just as fiercely, your tears soaking into his shirt as you buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he had been holding them back for too long. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I was too scared, too afraid of what might happen. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I always have, Sebastian. And I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring all of his love, all of his grief, all of his yearning into that one kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of tomorrow, with the hope of a future that he had thought was lost. And as he held you in his arms, surrounded by the ruins of Feldcroft, the wind swirling around you like a shroud, he knew that he had found you again.

And that was enough.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Requests are open.

[morelikeravenbore]

✨Mr & Mrs Sallow (part 2)

Photos by me using UUE unlocker mod by Otis_inf :)

[my-infinitelove]

Found this awesome character sheet and filled it out for my OC Ash. Blank template below as well.

[witchywriter18]

My Sebastian Sallow brainrot is slowly dwindling and now becoming a Percy de Rolo brainrot. But honestly, who could blame me?

Look at him!

HOW COULD I NOT FIND HIM ATTRACTIVE?!

My brain can literally become obsessed with anything if given the opportunity.

So, sorry Seb, I have a new morally grey character to fawn over 😊

[minikkicries]

Best, Beloved pt 3

Sebastian/MC 

darkfic! morally grey MC

 Here’s the ao3 link.

MC speaks to Ominis and gets a strange strange reaction.

The next morning I woke up surrounded by warmth. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I stayed still for a while, appreciating the moment before doubt began to fill my mind. What if last night was a mistake? Yes, they’ve always had a certain chemistry but Sebastian was still grieving. His life was so chaotic right now, I couldn’t expect anything. I should leave before I made things worse.

  When I began to wiggle my out he linked his arms together. “Where do you think you’re going? You don’t get to kiss me and disappear.”

  His reflexes were quick. Had he been awake this whole time?

I smiled, despite myself. Sebastian never left room for self doubt. I admired that about him, how sure of himself he was. I hope one day it’ll rub off on me.

“How did you sleep?” I asked, nuzzling myself back into bed.

  “Better than I have in a long time. Maybe in my whole life.”

“Good, then have to keep this up,” I snorted, half joking.

  “If you didn’t I would have to strap you down.”

“Would you really?”

“Yeah.” 

I elbowed him, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Biting my lip, I realized I would let him do it too.

I started wearing scarves to hide the marks he loved leaving down the sides of my neck. Sebastian was not a subtle person. He made it very clear to everyone around us that we were an item. If I carried a stack of textbooks he would take it from me, when we entered a room he would grab the door. I was a very independent person, so the sudden change in treatment was a bit hard to get used to. At first I wanted to make any excuse to stop him from extending his care. He wouldn’t have any of it. It was nice being doted on by him. Even if it meant letting my guard down.

  No one seemed surprised, it was more like they were waiting for it to happen. Our classmates all seemed very supportive of this, minus one. Ominis, for whatever strange reason, would give us a perturbed look whenever we passed each other in the halls. I was used to his cold shoulder, and already learned to not take it to heart, but this was somehow different. He didn’t look annoyed, more like concerned. I couldn’t really place why. Externally Sebastian seemed to finally be doing okay after Anne’s untimely death. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Maybe it was Ominis who had not been doing well. I felt selfish for forgetting about his pain. Thinking back to the day of the funeral, he had not been doing well at all. Unlike Sebastian he did not have anyone to confide in. Not that he wanted to, but perhaps needed to. It was not my responsibility, but I couldn’t help but want to extend my grace.

  I waited till after class to approach him. He was always the last to leave, which made it easy to pin him. Once most everyone cleared out I went in.

  “How are you doing? I know Anne’s passing has been hard on you. Sebastian and I are here for you if you need support.”

He glanced up at me, rolling his eyes. I expected that. Still, I couldn’t let him suffer alone.

  “I mean it.”

“Oh,” he scoffed, “I know you do. But him?”

“Er,” I think I stepped into more than I was prepared for. “Sebastian has been doing better recently. Maybe we could all meet up together sometime if there’s still some unresolved feelings left. Talking about things helps me when I’m in a bad place.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to say anything to me. Not if you’re around.” He glanced at the doorway, then began packing his things.

  I looked at the doorway and saw Sebastian patiently waiting outside the classroom. He smiled and waved.

  “He seems fine to me.”

  “Of course he seems fine to you.” With that he got up. He gave Sebastian a peculiar look at the door, then left.

  I met Sebastian at the door, nervously fidgeting with my bag strap. I didn’t know what to make out of that interaction. It seems all I did was make things worse. Was something going on I didn’t pick up on?

“What were you two talking about?”

Sebastian was quick to question me.

“I went to see how he was doing after what happened…” I was careful to avoid the sore subject. “He didn’t seem interested in talking to me.”

“Don’t think anything of it.” Sebastian assured me. “He’s always been like that. It’s not something you should worry about.”

“Hm… maybe you should talk to him? I know you two use to be close, maybe he misses you. Everything has been a lot, on everyone.”

Sebastian looked up, eyes searching for a hidden piece of information. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll speak to him alone. It’s a bit hard for me to think clearly when you’re around. I hope you understand. I think that's what he's going on about. Still, I don’t see how it’s any of his business.”

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Biblically accurate Sebastian Sallow

(featuring my A1 photoshopping skills because I didn’t take a photoshop class in college for nothing)

[girl4music]

Of course I love Sebastian.

But I love him in such a way that I love all my favourite evil/villainous or morally grey characters. Because you’re able to learn from them for WHAT NOT TO DO. It’s very much just a case of loving fictional characters for being representations of the human condition and how easily and quickly humanity can be corrupted.

If I knew Sebastian in real life.

Yeah, I’d hate his guts. 😂

[morelikeravenbore]

THIS LITTLE SHIT:

hey so we put your morally grey character in a fandom. yeah half the fanbase makes them into a perfect angel who did nothing wrong and the other half depicts them as a cartoonishly evil villain who hurts people for fun. no we dont know how to explain that people can do bad things for good reasons or good things for bad reasons. sorry man

[accio-bagel]

Ellie Crawford

Quick OC Facts

✧ ABOUT ✧

Name: Elizabeth Crawford Nickname: Ellie Pronouns: She/her Birth date: 23 October, 1874 Age: 15-16 in-game (17-18 in AU) Sign: Scorpio Sexuality: Bi Birthplace: London, England Nationality: English Blood status: Half-Blood House: Slytherin

✧ APPEARANCE ✧

Eyes: Hazel Hair: Dark brunette Height: 5’7” (170 cm) Body type: Athletic/slender Markings: Freckles; after 5th year, she has a scarred left eye and burns/other scars on her body

✧ PERSONALITY ✧

Sociability: Extroverted introvert (ambivert?) Morality: Grey/chaotic neutral Positive traits: Confident, cool under pressure, determined, funny, intelligent, kind-hearted deep down, loyal, perceptive, resilient, resourceful, and witty Neutral traits: Ambitious, charismatic, competitive, criminal tendencies (used for both good and bad), cunning, flirtatious, independent, passionate, persuasive, and sarcastic Negative traits: Blunt, cocky, deceptive, emotionally guarded, manipulative, power-hungry, stubborn, somewhat selfish, untidy, and vengeful Likes: Animals/beasts, the night sky, the seaside, coffee, food (especially chocolate), potions, exploring, flying, Quidditch, spending time with close friends Dislikes: Anyone who hurts her loved ones, poachers, Ashwinders, boredom, authority and the status quo, peas, her parents, waking up early, and Binns’ droning voice

✧ MAGIC ✧

Wand: Cherry wood, Phoenix feather, 11 3/4", swishy Patronus: Crow Animagus: Black cat Boggart: Inferi who look like her loved ones Ancient Magic: Selective use, loves her lightning powers Dueling style: Agile, strategic, lots of taunting, and occasional use of Dark Magic

✧ EXTRAS ✧

Activities: Quidditch (Keeper), Crossed Wands Scent: Green apple shampoo, a hint of fresh lilac, and smoke Pets: Owl named Willow, a white & ginger cat named Cinnamon Brooms: Moon Trimmer for leisurely flying, Sky Scythe for Quidditch

✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧

Close Friends: Poppy, Natty, Ominis, Sebastian Friends: Imelda, Garreth, Amit Love interests: Sebastian Sallow (5th year); @freddiestheproblemchild Freddie Harpis (7th year AU) Enemies: Hobhouse (one-sided from him), the Beasts class bullies, the children of Ashwinders/poachers who hold a grudge against her and the Ashwinders/poachers themselves Family: Estranged parents

✧ BRIEF BACKSTORY ✧

Born an only child born to parents who didn’t want her and didn’t love each other. When it became apparent she had no magical abilities by age 11, they cast her out as a Squib and moved away to avoid the shame. Struggling to take care of herself after being abandoned by her family, she resorted to petty crime to survive and discovered she was actually good at it. At age 15, her first accidental magic outburst involved a chase with authorities after pressing her luck one too many times, resulting in Professor Fig finding her on the streets of London, panicking after she'd suddenly turned a policeman into a chicken. He took her in during the summer before term began at Hogwarts and became her mentor and pseudo-father figure.

✧ FUTURE ✧

Career: Curse-Breaker; Charms Professor Residence: World-traveller; Hogsmeade Spouse: TBD Children: TBD

💚 Thank you for reading

Dividers and formatting inspiration from @rypnami

[secretly-a-catamount]

My ideal dynamic for Sebastian and MC

[x-ladyathena-x]

In the Shadow of his Memory

Chapter 1–Ghosts

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: graphic violence, morally grey sebastian, morally grey reader, angst, fluff, alcohol

Word count: 927

Summary: It's been 10 years since you were faced with that awful decision: turn Sebastian in for casting an unforgivable curse or lie for him.

You chose to lie for him and take his secrets to your grave, but that wasn't enough-the authorities found out soon after and Sebastian went on the run.

You never stopped loving him and when an unexpected visitor arrives in your home in the dead of night, you realize he never stopped loving you either.

There it was again.

You sat bolt upright in bed, having been awoken again by some unexplained noise coming from outside your window.

It couldn't have been a pedestrian, you lived far enough away from the main Hogsmead foot traffic that it would've been unusual for someone to have accidentally wandered by your window.

Even tipsy patrons leaving The Three Broomsticks and wandering off the main road.

Carrot, your fluffy orange cat yawned and stretched out his front paws, also awoken, but for him, it was because you got out of bed and disrupted the blankets. He glared at you sleepily as you lit a candle and walked to the window.

Nothing but moonlight peered back at you from the small window and you felt like you were going crazy.

You sat back down on the edge of the bed and let your head drop into your hands. You'd been dreaming of him again.

Sebastian.

It had been 10 years since that night in the slytherin dormitory when Sebastian made his escape. 10 years since you watched the love of your life disappear, never to be seen again.

And he truly was the greatest love of your life. Sure other men had come and gone over the last few years. And there were even some that you'd cared deeply for, but no one that you would ever love like him.

The memory of Sebastian hung in your mind like a ghost that never gave you peace.

Because you knew he was still out there somewhere. If he'd have died, surely a body would've been recovered by now. And if he'd been arrested, they'd have plastered it all over the Daily Prophet.

No, he was alive, you could feel it.

Gravel crunched just outside your door and this time Carrot heard it too.

So, you weren't crazy. Someone or some thing really was out there.

You swung your house coat on over your thin cotton night gown and pulled it tight to stave off the cold air.

Embers from last evening's fire burned low in the hearth, but they weren't enough to warm the late night chill.

Carrot watched you retrieve the candle from your nightstand and walk to the door, your wand in your other hand and at the ready.

The door handle was cold in your hand, you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

You took a deep breath and swung the door open wide with your wand raised.

Nothing.

There was no one or nothing there. Just the quiet empty street.

You sighed in relief but before you could close the door, Carrot darted outside.

"CARROT!" You hissed. "Get back here!"

But the cat was gone.

You groaned in aggravation, "Accio slippers."

Your house shoes flew into your hands and you slipped them on your feet as you ran out the door after the cat.

"Carrot!" You called as you watched his fluffy tail disappear into the forest.

The Forbidden Forest.

"Why?!" You complained as you ran after the cat.

"Accio."

"Levioso"

"Arresto Momentum"

Spell after spell danced passed the cat. Ugh magical companions and their abilities. If he didn't want to be caught, he wouldn't be.

"Arres— ow"

The smell of dirt and decaying leaves engulfed your senses as you found yourself face down on the forest floor.

You'd tripped over something.

Your hands dug into the soft ground as you pushed yourself up. To your horror, you realized it was a spiderweb that you'd gotten tripped up on.

The web was tangled around your ankle and before you could utter a word to free yourself, something sharp pierced your shoulder.

An acromantula venom dart.

The acromantula scuttled toward you as more of the enormous spiders burrowed up from the ground.

"Confringo!" You yelled, and a bright beam of red burst out of your wand and hit one of the spiders. The beam broke into two more beams and hit two of the others next to the first.

They flipped over onto their backs and screeched.

You managed to free your legs with incindio but by the time you stood, you were fully surrounded.

You hadn't faced this formidable of a foe since your time At Hogwarts. But that time you had help from—

It didn't matter. You could do this.

You cast spell after spell, including a few unforgivable curses, and the spiders fell one by one.

As you faced off with the final spider, you couldn't help but notice it was more intelligent than the others. It moved differently.

Almost as if it were being controlled?

No that couldn't be.

You raised your wand to deal the death blow but the spider was faster. It slung out its web onto a nearby tree limb, ripping the limb free and bringing it down on top of you.

Everything went black.

When you came to, you realized it was morning and you were back in your bed.

Back in your bed??

You sat up but your head ached where the limb had hit you.

As you reached up to inspect the wound, you felt a bandage covering it.

You ran to the nearest mirror and as sure as the sun shone, someone had dressed your wound and brought you back home.

Your slippers sat next to the front door, muddy, your house coat hung on its hook, ripped from the fight with the spiders. And Carrot lay curled at the foot of your bed sleeping soundly.

Who did this?

Whoever they were, must've left the same way they arrived:

Like a ghost.

[thatsoanjie]

Lessons in tension

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : You and Sebastian resolve the skirmish in Feldcroft, where Sebastian gets to witness your magical abilities firsthand. Family drama ensues. Back at Hogwarts, will things have changed for good between you and Sebastian? Or will the friendship last the lessons in tension?

Word count : 6.3k

Notes : Whew! Glad to get this one out there. This was an idea i've been sitting on for a while. Enjoy!

CW : Writing in details about a part of the In The Shadow Of Time quest... 1-2 lines that are gorier if you're not too fond of it lol.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The distant rumble of battle reverberated through the air as you and Sebastian hurried along the path to Feldcroft, the familiar cobblestone crunching under your feet. In the distance, you could see the dark plumes of smoke rising from the small village, curling like tendrils of a nightmare. The sky above had dulled, casting the entire landscape in an eerie, muted glow. There was a chill in the wind, one that cut through your robes and sent a ripple of unease through you.

Sebastian’s expression was grim, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face stood out sharply. He hadn’t said much since the first signs of attack reached Hogwarts, but you could feel the worry radiating off him in waves. The desperation to protect what was left of his family—of his sister—was palpable, and you felt it too.

As the village came into view, chaos unfolded before you. Goblins swarmed the streets, their voices harsh and guttural as they gave orders to one another. Solomon’s home stood at the far end, fortifications shimmering as he worked tirelessly to hold off the onslaught, protecting Anne, who you knew was tucked safely inside.

Sebastian slowed, scanning the scene. “They’ve breached the perimeter,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His hand hovered near his wand, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action. “Anne’s inside. She’s safe. Solomon’s strong enough to hold for a while, but...”

His words trailed off as his eyes flicked to you. There was a silent understanding between you. There wasn’t time for hesitation. Without a word, Sebastian drew his wand, and you both plunged into the fray.

You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, his wand a seamless extension of himself. The spells that shot from his fingertips were precise, sharp, and relentless. He dodged a goblin’s swing with effortless grace, retaliating with a barrage of quick-fire hexes that sent his opponent sprawling. His movements were so fluid, so practiced, that for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to simply watch.

He was relentless—driven by something deeper than the need to fight. His need to protect Anne, his need to redeem himself for past choices, all of it was in the way he fought, his expression a storm of determination and pain.

You followed his lead at first, relying on your own wandwork, though the familiar hum of ancient magic buzzed faintly under your skin. You’d told him once, about the magic you could wield. The kind that didn’t rely on incantations or hand movements. The kind that answered to something far more primal. But Sebastian had brushed it off, teasing you at first, then simply chalking it up to exaggeration, to the overblown tales that often circulated among students. He had never believed it fully.

Not until now.

A goblin lunged at you from your left, its weapon raised high, and instinct took over. You sidestepped, your wand flicking as you sent a blast of Depulso into its chest. The goblin staggered back but didn’t fall. There were too many. They kept multiplying, flooding the village like a relentless tide.

Your magic stirred again—stronger this time. And you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to stop holding it back.

Sebastian glanced at you between spells, the same flicker of concern shadowing his features. He didn’t say it, but you could tell he was worried. Feldcroft was slipping, and you both knew that simple spells wouldn’t be enough. Not for long.

Another group of goblins surged from the far end of the village, overwhelming the villagers and the few Aurors who had managed to arrive. You cast another spell, but the creatures barely slowed. And then, just as one raised its axe toward Sebastian, you acted on instinct.

You didn’t shout an incantation. You didn’t need to.

The ancient magic surged forward as if it had been waiting, thrumming through your veins, your fingertips tingling with raw power. You raised your hand, and the air around you seemed to ripple, distorting for a brief moment. The goblin was lifted off its feet, caught in the invisible force, and before anyone could react, you slammed it into the ground with a deafening crack. The earth trembled beneath your feet, and dust rose from the crater left in the goblin’s wake.

For a second, everything stopped.

Sebastian turned toward you, his face drained of color, eyes wide. There was no teasing in his expression this time—only disbelief, awe, and something darker, something closer to fear. He had seen you cast powerful spells before, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, ancient power, and you could see the realization dawning in his eyes.

But there wasn’t time for him to fully process it. The battle raged on.

You could feel it now, the pull of the magic inside you, urging you to let it loose. And with each passing moment, the goblins kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. Your wand movements grew faster, more frantic, as the realization struck you that even with this magic, you might not be able to stop them all.

“Sebastian!” you called over the noise, as another group of goblins appeared on the horizon. “We can’t hold them like this. There’s too many!”

He nodded, his eyes still darting between you and the goblins. “I know.” His voice was rough, strained. “But we don’t have a choice.”

That was when you felt it again—the overwhelming surge of power, more potent than before, more insistent. Your ancient magic flared, burning brighter, and you knew what had to be done. Without a word, you stepped forward, letting the magic take control.

The sky above you darkened further, clouds swirling as a tempest gathered overhead. You raised your wand, the air around you crackling with energy. Blue light arced from the tip of your wand, a wild, electric storm forming in the sky. You could hear the low rumble of thunder, the buildup of something immense, something destructive.

And then, with a single motion, you brought your wand down.

Light blue thunder, brilliant and blinding, streaked down from the heavens, striking the goblins in front of you with terrifying precision. Four of them collapsed instantly, their bodies convulsing in the electric storm before they lay still, smoke curling from their forms.

The village fell silent. Even the remaining goblins hesitated, staring at the destruction you had wrought. The storm above you dissipated slowly, the last remnants of the blue light fading into the clouds. You stood there, breathless, your hand still tingling from the raw energy that had coursed through it.

Sebastian was staring at you again, but this time, he wasn’t moving. His wand was still at his side, forgotten. His face was unreadable, a storm of emotions fighting for dominance. He swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward you.

“You… you weren’t exaggerating,” he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wide, still locked onto you as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had seen. “I thought you were just—” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. “That was...”

You waited for him to continue, unsure of what he might say. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of goblins, and yet, all you could focus on was the way he looked at you now—both terrified and captivated, both in awe and at a loss for words.

Sebastian finally stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were darker now, filled with something deeper. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured, a hint of something accusatory in his tone. But then his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile, and he added, “Not that I would’ve believed you.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh, feeling the tension slowly ease out of your body. “I did tell you,” you reminded him. “You just didn’t want to listen.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet aftermath of the battle, the sounds of distant conflict fading into the background. The magic had left its mark on both of you, but there was a new understanding between you now. A shift that neither of you could ignore.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “But I do now.”

And in the lingering silence, you knew that things had changed. This was no longer just a fight for Feldcroft. Something far deeper had been unleashed—something that neither of you could walk away from.

The goblins' numbers had dwindled, their forces scattering like shadows as the last of their kind fell beneath the weight of your combined spells. The crackling tension in the air began to settle, but the smell of smoke and blood still clung to the village. Your chest heaved with the effort, each breath pulling in the heavy scent of battle as you and Sebastian dispatched the final goblin together.

But before the adrenaline could fully subside, a new danger emerged. In the corner of your eye, you saw her—Anne. She had stepped outside the house, no longer under Solomon's watchful guard. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, weakened and unaware of the goblin charging toward her, its jagged blade raised high.

Sebastian’s body moved before yours could react, his expression darkening with the speed of his choice. His wand snapped out in a motion that was almost instinctive, and with a sharp flick, he cast the spell you never expected him to use.

“Imperio!”

The curse shot from his wand, striking the goblin mere feet from Anne. Time seemed to slow, and in an instant, the goblin’s wild charge halted. Its eyes glazed over, the frenzy of battle drained from its features as Sebastian’s control took hold. The goblin’s hand, still gripping its weapon, trembled slightly as it turned, locking eyes with Sebastian. There was no sound, no words spoken aloud, but you could feel the silent command pass between them like a whisper in the air.

The goblin raised the blade to its own throat.

And with a sickening, fluid motion, it dragged the weapon across its neck. Blood sprayed the ground as the goblin collapsed, lifeless, at Anne’s feet.

For a long moment, the village fell into an eerie silence. The only sound was the soft gasp of breath escaping Anne’s lips as she stared at the scene before her, wide-eyed, her face ashen with shock.

Sebastian was panting beside you, his wand still raised, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes were wild, filled with equal parts relief and fury. He had saved his sister. But in doing so, he had crossed a line.

You could see it in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if the weight of the curse itself had pressed into him. He turned toward Anne, taking a step forward, but before he could reach her, a cold, familiar voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Boy, what have you done?”

Solomon’s voice was thick with disbelief, his expression one of horror and anger as he stood in the doorway, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He had witnessed everything—the curse, the bloodshed, the moment Sebastian had made his choice. His eyes locked onto Sebastian, and there was something bitter in them, something that stung deeper than mere anger.

Sebastian flinched at the sound, spinning to face his uncle, but the defiance was still there in his eyes. His hand tightened around his wand as he faced Solomon, unrepentant.

Sebastian shouted, his voice raw with emotion. “Saved my sister, I—”

“With an Unforgivable Curse!” Solomon's voice boomed, drowning out Sebastian’s protest. His face twisted with a mix of fury and betrayal, his eyes flickering to the blood-soaked goblin on the ground. “From that damned book, no doubt!”

You watched as Solomon’s words hit Sebastian like a physical blow. The mention of the book—Salazar Slytherin's personal book of spells and magic —seemed to pull the air from his lungs. For a brief moment, you saw the boy you had known for so long, the one who was always so sure of himself, crumble under the weight of Solomon’s accusation.

Solomon shook his head, disgust etched into every line of his face. He turned toward Anne, who still sat on the ground, her hands trembling as she stared blankly ahead, clearly in shock from the ordeal. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with the fury radiating from him, Solomon bent down and scooped her into his arms.

Anne didn’t resist. She didn’t say a word. She only looked at Sebastian as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Sadness? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it cut through the air between them like a knife.

“Your father would be ashamed,” Solomon said bitterly as he straightened, cradling Anne against him. His voice was quiet now, but no less harsh. “You’ve gone too far, Sebastian.”

Sebastian took a step forward, his face pale, his hands trembling. “Solomon, I—”

“Stay away from her.” Solomon’s voice was ice, his eyes burning with an unyielding anger. He looked at Sebastian with such disdain that it made your stomach turn. “From all of us.”

And with that, Solomon turned his back on him, leading Anne back inside the house without another word. The door shut with a dull thud, leaving the two of you standing alone in the fading light of Feldcroft.

Sebastian didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the closed door, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. His wand hung limply at his side, and for the first time since the battle had started, you saw the weight of his actions crash down on him all at once.

The silence between you was deafening.

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that could fix this—nothing that could take back what had just happened. You watched him, waiting for something, anything. But he just stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the house where his sister and uncle had disappeared.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I had to.”

There was no conviction in his words. No fire. Just the raw, unfiltered pain of someone who had believed, truly believed, that they were doing the right thing—only to be cast out for it.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to ground him in the present. “Sebastian…”

But he pulled away, his face twisting into something desperate and broken. “I had to,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself more than you. His voice cracked, and for the first time, he looked at you—not with the stubborn defiance you had come to expect, but with the hollow, haunted look of someone who had lost everything.

You stood there, watching Sebastian as the last light of day slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the two of you in a twilight that felt colder than it should have. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might reach him, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. What could you say to someone who had just been cast out by his own family?

“Sebastian…” you began softly, trying to keep your voice calm, steady. You reached out again, tentatively placing your hand on his arm. “You did what you thought was right.”

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pain, maybe even relief. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same indignant fire that had been burning in him since the moment Solomon had spoken.

“Don’t,” he snapped, shrugging your hand off his arm as if it burned him. “Don’t try to make this better. You saw what happened.”

“I know,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “I was there. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I saved her!” Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising. “I did what I had to. You heard him—he would’ve let that goblin kill her if it meant sticking to his precious rules.”

You could feel the tension building between you, thickening with every word. He was spiraling, his emotions crashing together in a storm that he couldn’t contain. You’d seen this before—the way he lashed out when he felt cornered, when he didn’t know how to deal with the mess of feelings inside him. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes were higher, and the damage was already done.

“I know you did,” you said, keeping your voice low, trying to pull him back from the edge. “But Imperio, Sebastian? You—”

“What?” he barked, rounding on you, eyes blazing. “You’re going to lecture me now, too? I did what I had to. What was I supposed to do, let her die?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t,” he snarled, his chest heaving with anger. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I saved her. I saved my sister, and I’d do it again. I don’t care what Solomon thinks.”

His words stung, more than you wanted to admit. You weren’t trying to make him feel worse, but it was like he couldn’t see past the hurt and rage burning inside him. Every attempt you made to comfort him seemed to ricochet back, twisted into something bitter.

“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing,” you said carefully, taking a step toward him. “But you have to—”

“I have to what?” His voice cracked, the emotion pouring out in sharp bursts. “I have to follow their rules? Their pathetic rules that don’t protect anyone? Look where that got us!”

“Sebastian, I’m trying to help you—”

“Well, don’t!” he shouted, cutting you off again. His face was flushed now, the anger radiating from him in waves. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t true. But right now, Sebastian was too blinded by his own pain to see anything else.

“You’re not thinking straight,” you said, your own frustration starting to seep into your voice. “You’re upset, and I get that, but—”

“Of course I’m upset!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My uncle just threw me out of my own family, in front of my sister, for saving her life!”

You stepped closer, trying to close the gap between you. “But I’m here, Sebastian. I’m with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something raw, something vulnerable that he was trying to hide. He turned away from you, his hand running through his hair, gripping at the strands as if he could pull himself back together.

“I need space,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d been so focused on getting through to him, on making him see reason, that you hadn’t expected him to pull away like this.

“Sebastian—”

“I need space,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. He finally turned to face you again, his eyes dark, filled with the same turmoil you’d seen in him since the skirmish started. “I can’t… I just can’t deal with this. Not with you, not with anyone.”

The finality in his voice struck deep, and before you could respond, before you could even process what he was saying, he had already pulled away from you entirely.

He took a step back, his wand raised slightly. “I need time to think.”

And then, with a sharp twist, he Disapparated, the familiar crack echoing through the village, leaving you alone in the quiet devastation of Feldcroft.

The moment Sebastian vanished, the quiet in Feldcroft became unbearable. The weight of his words, the tension that had crackled between you—it all lingered in the air, settling into your bones like the cold creeping through the evening mist. The village around you felt distant now, the battle's aftermath fading into the background as your mind raced.

You glanced toward the sky, feeling the familiar tug of your broom at your side, and without hesitation, you mounted it, kicking off the ground and soaring into the air. The wind whipped through your hair, the cold bite of the evening air sharp against your skin, but it did little to clear your thoughts. Each beat of your broom’s ascent felt heavy, your heart still pounding from the argument that had just unfolded.

He needs space. That was the last thing he’d said, his voice raw and defensive. He couldn’t even look at you when he said it. But the way he’d stormed off, the fire in his eyes—it wasn’t just anger at Solomon, or the situation. It was directed at you too. That’s what hurt the most.

You flew faster, the familiar outline of Hogwarts in the distance growing closer, but the rush of wind and speed wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in your mind.

Why didn’t he listen? you thought, replaying the conversation in your head, again and again. Every word felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. You had been trying to help him—trying to make him see that he wasn’t alone in this. But he couldn’t hear you. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

Your hands tightened on the broom handle as the memory of his voice, sharp and bitter, echoed in your mind. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” The way he said it—it felt like he was pushing you away on purpose. But why? Was it just the heat of the moment, or was there something deeper?

The wind howled in your ears as you banked sharply to the left, circling over the Forbidden Forest. The trees blurred beneath you, but your mind stayed locked on him. Sebastian had always been stubborn. He’d always acted out when things didn’t go his way. But this… this was different. There had been a darkness in his eyes back there, something you hadn’t seen before. Something that unsettled you.

He’s not thinking clearly, you told yourself, trying to make sense of it all. He’s hurt. He’s scared for Anne. That’s why he lashed out. But even as you thought it, doubt crept in. The look on his face, the way he had recoiled from you when you tried to comfort him—it was more than just fear or anger. It was something deeper, something that felt like betrayal.

You flew faster, pushing your broom harder, the wind stinging your eyes as Hogwarts loomed closer on the horizon. The castle, usually a comforting sight, felt distant now, its towering spires indifferent to the turmoil brewing inside you.

You couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What if I pushed him too far? What if trying to help only made things worse? You replayed the moment he pulled away, the way his voice cracked when he said he needed space. What if that space turned into something more? What if he didn’t come back? What if, in trying to help him, you’d only driven him further away?

The thought chilled you more than the wind cutting through the air.

You were nearing the castle grounds now, the familiar stone walls and sprawling courtyards coming into view. The students milling about below were oblivious to the chaos you’d just left behind, to the storm raging inside your mind. The last of the daylight faded, and the lanterns along the grounds flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths.

But you didn’t land.

Instead, you hovered above the grounds, circling aimlessly, unable to bring yourself back down to reality. You needed to calm down, to think clearly. But the more you tried, the harder it became to silence the thoughts spiraling through your head.

Was this all your fault? You had tried to make him see reason, to stop him from slipping further down the path he’d been walking ever since he found that cursed book. But had you pushed too hard? Was there something else you should have said? Something else you could have done?

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself. He’s the one who cast Imperio, you reminded yourself. He’s the one who made the choice. But the justification felt hollow. You had known Sebastian for years. You knew the weight of his choices, how he carried every decision like a burden. And now, after what happened with Solomon, that burden had only grown heavier.

The cold wind brushed against your face, bringing a shiver as your broom slowed, drifting above the castle’s silhouette. You sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on you as your mind raced with possibilities.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe he just needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. But there was a part of you—an ever-growing part—that feared he wouldn’t come back. That the darkness you’d seen in his eyes tonight had taken root, and no amount of space or time would pull him back from it.

You lingered in the air for a long moment, staring down at the familiar grounds of Hogwarts below, where everything seemed so normal, so untouched by the chaos that had unfolded in Feldcroft.

The weekend had stretched out in front of you like an endless expanse of silence. You hadn’t seen Sebastian since he Disapparated from Feldcroft, and though you’d spent those two days trying to focus on anything else, your thoughts kept returning to him. Each moment alone was a reminder of the unresolved tension hanging between you, like a string pulled too taut, threatening to snap.

Monday morning came, and with it, the cold clarity of routine. You entered the Potions classroom with a knot of nerves coiled tight in your stomach, trying to steel yourself for what was bound to be an awkward day. The moment you crossed the threshold, your eyes instinctively sought him out, and there he was—Sebastian, sitting beside Ominis near the back of the room.

They were quiet, both of them. Ominis had that usual calm presence about him, but there was something different in the air today. The easy banter between them was missing, replaced by a muted stillness. Sebastian hadn’t said a word since you walked in, though you could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow in the room.

You chose a seat farther from them than usual, trying to give him the space he’d asked for. It felt unnatural, the distance between you, but you respected his need for it. Every part of you wanted to bridge that gap, to reach out and talk to him—to fix things—but the memory of his voice, sharp and defensive, echoed in your mind.

I need space.

So, you gave it to him. You sat through the first half of the class in silence, your attention only half on Professor Sharp’s lecture. Occasionally, your gaze would flick toward him, but he never once looked your way. He and Ominis exchanged a few quiet words, but otherwise, the two of them seemed almost as isolated as you felt.

Your mind wandered to Feldcroft, to the skirmish, to the way Sebastian had looked at you after Solomon’s outburst. His face had been so full of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, hurt. You wondered if any of those feelings still lingered. Or if he had simply shut them all away, the way he sometimes did when the weight of everything became too much.

Professor Sharp’s voice droned on in the background as you absently twirled your quill between your fingers, your thoughts far from the classroom. It wasn’t until a sudden jolt of motion beside you that your focus snapped back to the present.

A cauldron at the front of the class had begun to bubble over, its contents spilling out in a cascade of thick, green smoke. Professor Sharp muttered something under his breath, trying to contain the mess, but the fumes had already started to spread through the room, filling the air with a strange, acrid scent. Students began to shift uneasily in their seats, some coughing, others pulling their robes tighter around themselves to shield from the stench.

You grabbed your wand, instinctively readying yourself to cast a charm to clear the smoke, when a sharp tug of laughter reached your ears.

It was Sebastian.

He was laughing, quietly at first, but the sound grew louder as the chaos in the classroom unfolded. You looked over at him, and for the first time all day, you saw a flicker of something familiar in his eyes—amusement. Ominis had a bemused smile on his face too, though he remained much more composed.

Professor Sharp was too preoccupied with the cauldron to notice, but you couldn’t help it. You chuckled, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. It was ridiculous, really, the scene in front of you. A class full of advanced students, and here you all were, helpless against a puff of noxious fumes.

Sebastian must have caught the sound of your laughter, because his gaze flickered toward you, just for a moment. Your eyes met across the room, and there was something in his expression—something softer, less guarded than it had been all morning.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, Can you believe this?

The gesture was simple, but it was enough to crack the ice that had settled between you. The knot in your stomach loosened, and for the first time since the fight, you felt like you could breathe again.

Professor Sharp finally managed to clear the smoke, waving his wand with a flourish that was a bit too dramatic for the situation. The class settled down, students murmuring amongst themselves as they tried to recover from the brief interruption.

You caught Sebastian’s eye again, and this time, there was no tension in his gaze—just the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was a start.

Ominis, ever perceptive, leaned toward Sebastian and muttered something under his breath, and though you couldn’t hear what he said, you saw the way Sebastian’s lips twitched in response, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the class, but the silence between you felt different now. Less heavy, less strained. There was still so much unresolved, so much left unsaid, but that moment—the shared laughter, the glance across the room—it was enough to remind you that not everything between you was broken.

When the class finally ended, students began filing out, chattering amongst themselves as they headed to their next lessons. You lingered for a moment, gathering your things slowly, not wanting to rush off just yet.

Sebastian and Ominis stood by the door, talking quietly. Ominis gave Sebastian a gentle nudge, and though you couldn’t be sure, it looked like he was encouraging him. And then, before you could fully register what was happening, Sebastian’s gaze found yours again.

This time, he didn’t look away.

He nodded, a small, almost tentative gesture, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You nodded back, the corners of your mouth lifting in a tentative smile.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to give you hope.

The evening was quiet, the soft hum of the common room fading as students retreated to their dormitories for the night. The day had been long, and though your body ached for rest, your mind was still too restless to surrender to sleep. You lay in bed, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting silver streaks across the room. The events of the day played in your head on a loop, but none of it felt settled. The space between you and Sebastian, though cracked, still felt like it hung in a delicate balance.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral again, a gentle tap at the window broke through the stillness. You sat up, recognizing the familiar silhouette of Sebastian’s owl, Brescia. Her dark feathers gleamed in the moonlight as she pressed her beak to the glass, an unmistakable glint of impatience in her eyes.

You hurried over to let her in, heart already quickening. With a soft flutter, she landed on your desk, a letter tied to her leg. Her gaze followed your movements with a knowing look, as if she was privy to all the unsaid words between you and Sebastian.

With a slight smirk, you untied the letter, your fingers brushing against the parchment as you unfolded it. His handwriting, sharp and deliberate, sprawled across the page:

---

I suppose you’re still fuming at me for Disapparating like that? Or maybe you’re grateful I saved you the trouble of lecturing me any further?

Anyway, I’ll spare you a thousand apologies, as I’m sure you’ve already rehearsed a list of reasons I’m an idiot. You’re not wrong, of course. But if you’re keeping count, I did technically save the day… in my own way.

Don’t give me that look—I know you’re reading this with a sigh.

I won’t pretend to have everything figured out, and yes, I’ve made a mess of things. But you already knew that about me, didn’t you?

Rest easy, yeah? You’ll need your energy if you plan on scolding me more tomorrow.

— S.S.

---

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky tone, though the corners of your mouth lifted in a smile. There was a warmth in his words, a familiar playfulness that felt like the Sebastian you knew—sharp but softened, still the same boy beneath the layers of pride and defensiveness.

Grabbing a quill and parchment, you leaned over your desk, quickly scribbling a response:

---

Fuming? Perhaps just a little. I’d say you have a flair for dramatic exits.

But you’re right—you are an idiot. I’ve known that for a while. And just so we’re clear, you saving the day doesn’t absolve you from everything else. So, no, don’t think you’re getting away that easily.

But I suppose you’re lucky I find your cheekiness tolerable. Maybe even charming…

Sleep well, Sallow. Try not to get into any more trouble before the morning.

---

You attached the note to Brescia, who gave you a brief but knowing look before taking off through the window again. You didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, you heard the familiar flutter of wings outside, and sure enough, Brescia returned, another letter in tow.

Unfolding the parchment, you immediately recognized the shift in his tone:

---

Charming, am I? I’ll take that as a victory.

Though, if you ask me, you’re the one who's dangerously charming. Do you have any idea how distracting it is trying to concentrate with you around?

I suppose I’ll have to find a way to get through the day despite it.

But since we’re being honest…

Wouldn’t mind a distraction right now.

Yours,

— S.S.

---

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, the playfulness of his words blending with something more. The tension that had weighed heavily between you seemed to shift, lightening with each exchange. It felt like a dance, a back-and-forth that was so familiar yet laced with new, unspoken feelings.

You grinned, grabbing your quill again:

---

Distracting? I’d say that’s mutual. It’s almost unfair, really.

And I’m certain you’ve mastered the art of being a distraction yourself.

But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find ways to make it through the day.

As for right now… well, I could say the same about distractions. But it’s late, and you’ll have to survive without me for one night.

Try not to get too restless, Sallow.

---

You sent Brescia off again, your heart racing slightly as you settled back against your pillows. The dormitory was quiet now, the soft sounds of your fellow students sleeping filling the air, but your mind was far from calm.

Another few minutes passed before Brescia returned, her claws tapping lightly on the desk. The final letter was slightly longer, the ink on the parchment bolder, as if he’d written it with more intent:

---

You’re making this difficult, you know. But I suppose that’s only fair.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking…

How about we put these distractions to good use? Meet me in the library tomorrow night for some studying. I promise to behave. Mostly.

And who knows, maybe you’ll find it more productive than you expect.

See you there?

— S. S. 

---

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the last line. It wasn’t just the idea of studying—it was the way he asked, the unspoken invitation to put aside the tension and be together again. A subtle olive branch, wrapped in flirtation but carrying something deeper. Something that felt like a step forward.

You quickly penned your response, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrote:

---

Studying? Are you sure you can handle that kind of focus around me?

But fine. I’ll meet you in the library.

Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, Sallow.

Yours,

---

Brescia took off for the final time that night, disappearing into the dark sky, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. You lay back in bed, the warmth of his words still lingering in your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation blooming in your chest.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, there was hope. And perhaps something more waiting for you in the library tomorrow night.

***

Another long one! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, requests are open. Happy month of October!!

[orqheuss]

Even the iron still fears the rot PART 6

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Summary:

What was a stupid man to the will of a god? *** Fire and carnage call your name, and you answer with a smile. God have mercy on the souls who take what is yours.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: murder, dismemberment, immolation (burning alive), body horror, graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of murder, manic behavior, gore, blood, strangulation, disembowelment, decapitation, torture, medieval torture methods, delusions of grandeur, mania, morally grey character, eldritch horror elements, slight cannibalism? kind of, just lots of blood and guts and murder

Read at your own discretion. Seriously.

See authors note at the end

Fire was always your element, that's why it was such a shock when you were sorted into Hufflepuff. Of course, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You weren't brave in the face of danger like Gryffindor, weren't ambitious in all aspects of life like Slytherin, and definitely weren't wise beyond measure like Ravenclaw. But, Merlin, were you loyal, and loyalty came with a certain type of fire that kept you burning. 

There really was no other element that fit Hufflepuff. Sure, earth was stagnant— safe. But, even the ground is failable. The earth cracks— it splinters— it breaks under too much pressure. Fire thrives. Fire breathes. Fire learns. Loyalty comes with the same type of knowledge. You learn how people tick— how the world moves around you and interacts with everything it touches. Those you have touched you had to study first before placing your loyalty in their hands. Their mannerisms, their disposition; anything that gives them that unique other-ness that set them apart from the rest of the kindling around you. You didn’t trust easily, like some of your other housemates. It took you time to learn things about people. But, once they earned your loyalty, there was no question that they deserved it. 

Fire is much the same, in a sense. It was loyal to the wood that burned under its embers— loyal to the air that fueled its hearth. It takes its time to light, letting the friction of another's touch warm their skin first before setting itself ablaze. You needed to be gentle with it, lest it fizzled out before a spark could even be made. But, once it starts, it's almost impossible to kill it before it wishes to die. It can be a small pyre, just enough to warm those brave enough to put their hands near its flame— the caress of a friend, arms wrapped around your shoulders or fingers in your hair. It can also be an inferno, tendrils of heat licking at the sky as it scorches through the trees and buildings of towns, countries, worlds, devouring everything it can reach and so much more. 

Tonight, you were the inferno.

The coordinates in the letter were straightforward enough. You flew south east, taking off from just outside the covered bridge along the south side of Hogwarts and flying down, down, down over the Hamlets until you reached the northern tip of the South Sea Bog. Viering off to the right as the crow flies, you circle the air until an abandoned bothy caught your line of sight. You landed roughly, narrowly avoiding the large tree decorating the center of the space, and touching your feet to the ground with such velocity that it must have created waves. Voices came from your north side— maybe ten, you could hear, maybe more. Their thick cockney accents called into the night like the sound of woodpeckers drilling into a yew. Identical balls of light glowed to life from their stations— one on the roof of a dismally grey building and the other roaming along the exterior wall. If it was another time, a different situation perhaps, you would have taken a moment to marvel at the lovely little feat of magic. 

Creeping closer, you get a better view of the tiny hobble. It was a measly little feat of architecture, maybe the size of a classroom if you had to guess. The entirety of it was made out of grody, dilapidated stone with moss just beginning to peek through the cracks between bricks. Half of its base was sunk into the ground at least a foot or two, giving the small structure a slight tilt on its axis. There were no windows or doors from what you could see, just the neverending grey on grey on grey. Even the moss was tinged grey, like it was dying from just being a part of the terrible walls. No one would have ever found this place if it wasn’t for the coordinates— it was far off the beaten path and unassuming enough that many would deem it a simple ruin. It probably was up until two days ago. No sound could be heard besides the incessant rumble of the men talking and the soft call of frogs along the water's edge. It would be easy to take them out, there were enough stones around to create their own personal rock slide. You could do a number of things with your ancient magic if you focused enough. You could turn them into chickens and take them back to the castle kitchens, make them the size of bugs and squish them into nothing but red stains and bursted entrails on the ground, eviscerate them entirely— just dust in the breeze; none of those options were appalling enough to satiate the hunger burning in your gut. 

Monsters deserved a monstrous death. 

There was a time, a year ago at most, that you could be considered the same— a monster. That’s what Rookwood called you, anyway. A pretty monster. A beautiful weapon. 

He had no idea how true his assessment was. Not until it was his pulse pounding under your fingers, his breaths getting weaker and weaker with each squeeze. He was easy prey. 

Monster. 

How simple. 

There was truly no point in sneaking up on the camp. Not that the element of surprise really mattered, anyway. You wanted them to know you were here— that you were coming for what was rightfully yours. You wanted them afraid of the dark and the cold like a child calling out for its mother, fearful of what could be hunting them in the places that they couldn’t see. They took something from you, and you were going to take their lives as collateral. 

Your first course of action was taking a barrel of smoke powder and slamming it down on the head of the nearest poacher; the bottom source of light blinked out with him. The boom was catastrophic— the light blinding like an asteroid crashing into the ground. Viscera coated the dying earth in a lovely red, the man’s blood painting the atrocious grey building the color of your festering ire. All attention was suddenly on you. 

Good.

The harsh crackle of magic filled the swamp around you, sparks flying to the left and right of your form as you quickly zipped along the treeline, narrowly avoiding death by the skin of your teeth. The villains laughed with each strike, too giddy in their hunt to realize that they were firing into empty air. They were nothing but naive woodland creatures, grazing upon the earth below their cloven hooves and drinking from the stream nearby, unaware of the rifle narrowed at their succulent flanks. Your burning hatred gave you a strength you had never known, even with the thrum of a magic so ancient and uncharted under your skin. Whole trees were lifted with your ire, their bark splintering against the wall of the bothy with each flick of your wrist. Each action was haphazard and chaotic, but filled with purpose all the same. You hoped the cacophony of your destruction made it through the thick stone walls before you. I’m coming, my loves, it shouted. Hold on just a moment more. 

You were toying with the villains, a dance of agony and death— knowing you were there, but never being able to see you. One lone member of the pack came into view, his back to you and his wand poised to strike. Your diffindo struck him perfectly across the neck, his head falling to the ground with a satisfying plop. 

Two down, eight to go. 

You made your move then, taking the break in the chaos to disappear from your original position and reappear atop the slanted house in a fury of twisting light. The two patrolling the space didn’t have the chance to defend themselves before you swished your wand in their direction, summoning your ancient magic from deep within your veins and melting their insides into the consistency of gravy at Sunday dinner. Their screams of pain ricocheted off the tall mountains in the distance, bathing the valley in the sound of murder before pittering off into gargles as their lungs liquified inside their chest. You stepped back from the carnage, avoiding the steaming puddle of goop that was once their eyes and other various internal organs. Two birds, one stone. 

It was oddly calming, taking their lives. Like breathing. 

By now, the other six poachers had noticed your appearance on the roof. A pity, truly. You wanted to continue your little game for a moment longer. No matter, though, you sighed to yourself. Calls to order came from your right, their voices bubbling over with nervous panic. You felt your head whip in their direction, seemingly moving on its own accord. An unearthly smile stretched the skin of your cheeks, something primal glinting in the way your canines caught the ball of light bobbing next to your hand. The three men below you stilled, eyes wide in their sockets as you prowled closer to the edge of the roof. Fear screamed from their bodies like cicadas in the dead of night— their heartbeats slamming against their chests at the speed of a hummingbird. You figured that if you concentrated enough, you could hear them pour from their bodies like water, gushing more and more until the stream stilled and their pathetic forms fell back into the earth where they came from. Delicious. You smiled wider. 

True fright danced in the frigid air around you, ruffling the honey toned sweater clinging to your torso and making your scarf sway in the breeze— a child as innocent as freshly fallen snow covered in the blood of their enemies. One should never trust the illusion of blind naivety. 

The tiny ball of light, barely larger than a bludger, nudged you in the arm as it continued on its predetermined path, drawing your attention away from the cowering men. You picked it up gently, twirling it around in your left hand as you raised it closer to your face. 

“Dear God…” breathed one of the poachers at your feet, visibly recoiling as your grin came into better focus. A Muggleborn like me, you mused. Interesting. 

Your grin stretched wider as a demented laugh poured from your lips. “No,” you sneered. “He is not coming.” 

A pop— you squeezed the light in your hand and bathed the world in total darkness. 

“I am your god now.” 

True black night only lasted for a moment before the three fearful poachers raised their wands into the air, light streaming from the tips like a tiny balefire against the starry sky. They turned their gaze back to the roof, but you were gone, nothing but smoke and the last little tendrils of blue magic fizzing in the air. You could hear their hearts— staccato beats to the symphony of your horror. Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. It was glorious, tantalizing, divine. You were ravenous for their blood. You wanted to spill their hot, life-giving essence across the world in a rainfall of astronomical proportions. You wanted their bodies piled against the stone walls until their skeletons created a terrible bone door like the many hidden in the Feldcroft catacombs. Bone doors, bone stairs, bone decorations…hell, the ivory material would even make a lovely handle for your wand. Maybe you’d gift them to your beloved boys after finally setting them free— a cat dropping a mouse at the feet of its owner after a hunt well done. 

The men remained stone still where they originally stood, backs now turned to the wall and wands waving wildly in front of them for any chance of spotting you in the dark. A dark chuckle bubbled from somewhere inside of you, sounding deep and deranged in the chilled night air. Their heartbeats picked up. You smiled. A flash of light streaked across the ground near their faces— you— and then their wands were gone, and everything was black once again. 

The darkness had a comfort to it, that night. Most are afraid of the dark— of what could come out of the dark. Demons, ghosts, horrors unknown to mankind. It sucked the air from your lungs and left you shivering on the ground, truly scared and blubbering for your mother. The darkness swallowed happiness and light, it hid behind your terror and smelled your fear. You reveled in it— thrived in it. In that moment, feral and begging to choke on the blood of your enemies as you ripped their skin from their throats, you felt at home. 

You were the monster in the dark. 

You were their nightmare. 

You were their god. 

The four horsemen of the apocalypse perched on your shoulders and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, and it sounded like music. 

In that dark— that dread— even you weren’t sure where you were. You were everywhere. You were nowhere. You were both. You were neither. You were all. 

What was a stupid man to the will of a god? 

You picked them off one by one; first the three at your feet, then the three hiding from you in the thicket. They could not hide from fate. 

One went down in a trickle of fire, your hands gripping at their gnashing jaw and feeding the incendio from your wand down their throat. Hellfire cannot kill the beast. 

Two choked on their own tongues, your bombarda launching them through the air and skewering them on the branch of a tree, their limbs limp at their sides and blood dripping from their mouths frozen in a silent scream. Red was beginning to become your favorite color. 

That left the three in the woods, no doubt soiling their britches at the sounds of their compatriots' violent demise. The trees shivered under your harsh gaze, fearful of what your ire would bring to those hiding amongst their trunks. You were beginning to get bored of the chase— it was time to get what you came for. 

Callously casting accio along the treeline, you pulled one of the poachers to you, their face gaunt and their body shaking in horror. Your brows furrowed at the sight, smile finally dropping from your face at the view of only one body instead of three. Anger festered under your skin as you dropped the sniveling man, already annoyed by his pleas for mercy. The smell of urine clung to his form and you cringed internally. Grabbing at the collar of his robe, you pulled him up from where he crumpled to the ground, dragging him until you were face to face. Tears clung to his lashes and it gave you the slightest shiver of vindication. 

“Where are the others?” You said, serene and calm; your face gave a much different tone as your mouth twitched, fighting against the urge to twist your lips into an animalistic snarl. 

“They— they ran.” He stuttered, lower lip trembling. 

You sighed to yourself, finally allowing your visage to drop its neutrality and turn into the terrible thing it desired— all teeth and malice. Coal blazed to life in your eyes. 

“How disappointing.” You sneered in his face, throwing him roughly into the side of the bothy and watching him slide down against the grotesque floor, blood and mud mixing together into a thick viscous paste. 

You could taste his panic in the air around you, mixing with the copper of the ichor plastered against every surface imaginable. It was truly a bloodbath at your feet. You were sure you didn’t look much better; you could see the vibrant crimson liquid dripping down your face and arms in his wet eyes. You bathed in the lives you took, and it looked like war paint. 

Your anger vibrated against your skin, electricity sparking in the air around you and twirling around your body like a macabre dance of death— a masochistic tango. The man whimpered before you, trembling at the image of your glory— your birthright covering your form in foreboding lightning of blues and golds. Now you were a god. 

A beauty of carnage. A vision in red. 

You stalked closer to your prey, teeth chattering and tongue desperate to taste the death rattle that would breathe from his throat at the time of his demise. This one needed to be good— slow. You wanted to take your time. You needed answers. 

“Where is the entrance?” You asked, squatting down and resting your elbows against your knees— the picture of relaxation in the face of danger— a tiger playing with its food before tearing into its flesh. The poachers' shivers grew more violent by the second.  

His mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling for air on land, words beginning then stuttering to a halt as fast as they left his lips. Each syllable wasted sent a spike of rage in your gut— his squeaks of terror no longer giving you a taste of joy, instead filling you with fury. Time was wasting. Ominis and Sebastian could be dead, and he was stalling. 

You pressed your wand harshly into his face, the tip divoting his cheek painfully and the hot wood sizzling his skin. Burnt flesh filled your nostrils. He squeaked out a whimper. 

“Where is the entrance, rat?” Your voice was filled with a dark, tempestuous temper. 

The tears gathering behind his eyes finally spilled down his face, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee. 

“It-It’s around f-front. You ‘ave to t-tap the bricks. Like this.” He said, demonstrating the pattern to you before struggling to lean away. His voice cracked pathetically. “Please spare me. Please. I ‘ave a family— ‘ave kids. I-I’ll tell the others to never mess with ya or ya boys again. Please ‘ave mercy!” 

His voice sobbed into the night, grating against your ears. Your anger felt like a festering boil in your gut, growing more and more until it was fit to burst. He had children? Children like the ones he helped kidnap and torture? How dare he beg for his life using them as leverage. Ominis and Sebastian were your family. They were yours. And he  t o u c h e d  them. You were going to make him feel every bit of pain he could. You wanted to see how much evil evil could take. 

You stood to your full height, your limbs stretching taller than ever before— taller than the sky. Taller than the heavens. Before the useless, weak man stood something reverent. Mania blistered under your skin and whole forest fires screamed behind your eyes. 

You were a wildfire— a blaze in the dark. 

And blazes  b u r n. 

His feet struggled against the muck-covered floor, boots slipping from under him as he tried desperately to run from your imposing form. 

Your smile stretched across your face, cheeks straining against the pressure and teeth glowing in the moonlight. “Pick a god and pray, coward.” 

Fire circled around you, streaming from the tip of your wand like a fountain of deadly light as you raised it slowly over your head. Your arms thrusted upwards towards the blackness above, fingers spread wide like a sinner praying at the pews of his own end. A circle of embers blazed to life around the sniffling man, scorching the ground and drying the earth to clay pottery. The grass caught ablaze and smoke poured into the sky. 

Heavy pants cascaded around you like a waterfall, whimpers and pleas sounding like music to the deaf. “Please! Mercy! Mer—” 

A tornado of flame swallowed the man whole, and the night was filled with screams once again. 

The inside of the bothy was just as dark and dismal as the outside— more grey attacking all surfaces and covering everything in an eerie shade of desolation. The only difference was the presence of natural light and sound; as soon as you entered it was like being trapped in the center of a tornado: peaceful, quiet, calm, but something temperamental lurking on all sides. Behind the coded bricks lay a long hallway, stacks of boxes lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling. The smell of mildew hung heavy in the space, coating the air around you like a thick paste. Each step made it harder and harder to breathe, the only thing keeping you going is the burning hatred boiling over in your chest. Every inch of you felt like a bomb close to explosion— one wrong move and the whole place would go up in flames. 

You moved steadily down the hallway, careful to not jostle anything in your path lest it alert anyone hiding in the shadows. You gripped your wand tightly in your hand, the gilded handle threatening to slip from your grasp because of the blood coating your palms. Blood covered you from the top of your head to the boots adorning your feet, each step leaving a perfect imprint of your heels like deer tracks in the snow. Water trickled down from the ceiling, each droplet ricocheting around the thin, claustrophobic space, and booming in your ears. Your eye twitched along with the beat. Drip, drip, drip. It filled the room with macabre music, beginning your true orchestral ode to death— the magnum opus of your building rage. 

From the left came the sound of scuttering of feet against the dirt floor below. Your head whipped in their direction, eyes wild and teeth bared, ready to tear and rip and devour. You can see nothing in the darkness, just the neverending blackness holding your future victory or death. The sound was to your right now, shoes sliding against the floor like a ghost calling to you. You growled low in your throat— beastly. Feral. 

A strong, heavy voice broke through the stagnant quiet. “Fiat lux.” 

From the nothingness came a blaze of light, blue and twinkling like the stars above. One of those glowing circles from outside began to take form, wisps of magic circling around and around until a solid shape formed. Before you stood a brute of a man, eyes narrowed against yours and grin thin and cracking across his face like shattered porcelain. His arms were crossed against his chest, biceps thicker than the trunks of live oak trees and no less strong and powerful. 

“You’re a long way from home, little rabbit.” He sneered, gravel thick in his voice like he swallowed rocks. 

You leveled your wand at his chest, a clandestine smile stretching your cheeks. 

“Where are they?” You purred, the picture of innocence if not for the death that hung from you like a second skin. 

This man was not a danger to you— he was nothing. You were something holy in this place of hellish savagery. He would soon kneel at the pews of your righteousness just like the others did. 

The man tisked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s no way to start a conversation. How about we try a ‘hello’?” 

You grit your teeth, tone still sickeningly sweet and dripping with the deranged vivocity that lay under your skin since Ominis and Sebastian had been taken from you. “How about you step aside before I grind your bones into dust?” 

He laughed, grating and rough against the sensitive skin of your ears. You didn’t want his laughter, you wanted his screams. 

“You’re different from what I expected.” He mused, drawing his wand and twirling it between his fingers. His laissez faire attitude singed the ends of your veins, setting your sinew alight in a fiery storm. “They talked about you, you know. How much they loved you— how they prayed you’d come save them. It was pathetic, really, how much hope they had.” 

Your ears twitched at his use of past tense. 

Loved you.

Prayed for you. 

Hoped for you. 

The connotations made you feel vicious. 

God help this wretched filth if they took what you loved away from you. 

If the brute wanted a reaction, he would get one. 

He twirled the ball of light in his hand now, revealing his mangled face and disintegrating teeth to the world. You laughed in his face at his pitiful attempt of intimidation.

That cocky, full of himself look in his eyes made you want to squash his weak larynx under your foot. 

His pompous attitude was beginning to get tiring. You raised your wand in front of you, wordlessly casting lumos and hovering the tip near your face. As soon as your bloody visage came into view his eyes widened, lids stretched from his cheeks to his brows and eyeballs threatening to pop out of their homes like a corpse baking under the sun. It was glorious. His sudden nervousness flooded the room with the smell of sweat, and you couldn’t wait to take a swim in those cataclysmic waters. 

That never ceasing smile on your face stretched somehow wider until it reached a point of madness. You stepped closer to the poacher, now minutely quivering in his large boots under the intensity of your gaze. In the low light, your pupils seemed to glow like a predator hiding in the tall bushes— demented glee turning the once muted colors a startling vermillion. Ancient magic coursed under your skin and sparked into the air. Luminous blue and encompassing red swirled under your feet until everything blended into an otherworldly purple, dyeing the room like stained glass in a cathedral. Manic energy twinkled in your eyes, and your hands longed to write entire scriptures on the walls in his blood. 

The weak little poacher attempted to straighten his shoulders, making a big show of standing tall and resolute in the stone doorway between you and your prize, and you couldn’t help the barking laugh that bubbled from your chest. What a pathetic waste of space. 

His eyebrows twitched, eyes still filled with fear but voice tinged with animosity. “What did you do, you little shit?” 

His snarl fell to deaf ears— nothing but the madness inside consuming you. You laughed again, maniacal and hysteric like a hyena on a hunt, and began slowly pacing back and forth, making sure to keep your eyes trained on him as you inched closer and closer.

“Oh, a little of this. A little of that. I can go more into detail if you’d like?” You stopped then, standing an arms width from the man and twirling your wand between your fingers like he did earlier. The smile never left your face, and you doubted it would for some time. “The screams were my favorite part.” 

He growled, jowls dripping saliva and wand poised to strike— the ball of light unceremoniously dropped from his hand and floated peacefully in the air. “You’re going to pay for that, and when I’m done with you, I’m going to go back to your little boys and crush their skulls under my boot.” 

You flipped your own wand around in your fingers, tip pointed upwards towards his face and arm lax. A serene calmness flooded your body once again as you prepared for what was sure to be another short lived duel. “I’d love to see you try.” 

His blinding anger was met with indifference, your eyes rolling on their own accord, easily deflecting the cast he sent your way with a dazzling show of sparks. Each spell he sent towards you was sent back tenfold, your blazing magic cracking against the mediocre shield the man threw up moments before you retaliated. As you stepped forwards he stepped back— a deadly game of cat and mouse that could only end in complete annihilation. You toyed with him more, smile never once leaving your lips and eyes nearly unblinking as the poacher's ragged face became more and more gaunt with distress. It was enjoyable, leading him through your little game— playing with your food before going in for the kill, like a wolf chasing a rabbit through the thicket. 

With a flick of your wrist you sent your ancient magic in his direction, letting your malice carry the tendrils around his form before moving your arms in the shape of a large X. With each stretch of your arm came the loud thump of the weak little man slamming against the unforgiving ground below. His yells of pain were magnetic, drawing you closer to his torture as the smell of fresh, oozing blood filled your nostrils. You licked your lips with delight— glorious death. 

Again, your mind chanted. Again again again. 

For a moment the man didn’t move, the only sound breathing through the room being the delicate drops of water falling from the slanted ceiling. Some part of your twisted, idled mind believed you could still hear the beat of his heart thrumming in your ears. Maybe you could. Maybe it was your own heartbeat. At this point, nothing truly mattered anymore. 

The brute groaned on the floor, arms carefully picking himself up and legs trembling as he raised to his full height again. Blood dribbled from the corners of his lips as he spit a chunk of flesh to the ground, watching his own tongue wiggle for a moment before falling still. A thick, muddled growl grumbled low in his throat at the sight. 

“Awe,” you cooed. “What a pity.” 

With a flash of movement the man threw his wand to the side, eyes wild and teeth bared in a snarl as he charged. A terrible yell screamed from his throat, no vowels or consonants able to be said without the piece of muscle once connected to his mouth, just the grotesque sound of rage and carnage. You easily side stepped as he blew past you, his hands grasping for your arms with no luck, leaving streaks of fingerprints in the blood marring your skin as he feebly fought for purchase. He slammed into the boxes behind you, tumbling heavily to the ground with another pitiful groan. You laughed heartily at the sound of his demise. 

Tired of your new toy, you watched him stand to his feet once more, a look of boredom glazing over your eyes. The pathetic man snarled once again, steam nearly coming from his nose like a charging bull as he geared up to attack. This time you saved him the energy, easily throwing him across the room and into the other tall stack of boxes. He laid still again, breaths entering and leaving his lungs with heavy pants. You stalked towards him, prey finally in your clutches and a look of pure mania bleeding through your face with an intensity that would scare even the most deplorable of villains. His body slumped as you toed him over, eyes glazed as they stared at you, all the fight once in his body now sinking into the ground like toxic waste. 

Your smile turned strained, the corners of your lips twitching in irritation. It was only fun when they fought back. 

“Beg,” you said, voice empty. “Beg for your life.” 

From his red-painted lips came a watery gargle, teeth stained the color of his fate. The chasm that once held his precious tongue now bare and splattered in crimson. 

You tisked, condescension steadily dripping with each click of your intact tongue. Your foot carefully slotted itself in the space between his chin and his chest, pressing down against his Adam's apple. 

“Can’t do it?” You asked. “What a shame.”

With a slash of your wand, blood began to bloom across his pudgy stomach, the slice from your silent diffindo digging deep under the layers of his skin and muscle until it reached the tightly knit knots of his intestines. 

Pointing at the mess of flesh, you ignored the gargled sobs coming from under your heel as you spoke. “Levioso.”

With the steady hands of a medic, you levitated the dying man into the air by his longest organs, dragging him higher and higher into the sky until his entrails were able to wrap themselves around the ceiling beam above.

“Incarcerous.”

The flesh followed your direction. From the beams he hung there, arms spread wide at his side and legs dangling feebly in the air like a phoenix rising from the ashes. You released the body, letting gravity take hold as you watched his intestines hold strong to the stretch of wood they were tied around. Blood fell from the wound like rainfall before pooling on the ground in an incarnadine pond. 

For the first time that hellish night, a bit of disgust slithered its way into your gut. 

This monster was as much a part of you as the person who fixed their lover's little black button was. 

Panic began to bubble inside of your chest again after hours of lying dormant, your eyes banishing the clouded malice that resided there for a moment before the storm struck again. Resolute determination covered your face like a mask as you shook it all away— there would be time to dismantle your evil and cry for your corpse-heavy soul later. 

The poachers' blood began to seep under the door as you turned towards your future.

AN: Firstly, I want to say thank you so much to all of you who have continued to read this story even though its been A YEAR since I updated. Yea. Oops. I'm real sorry y'all. I wish I had one of those Ao3 writer things like "sorry I was in a cult lol" or "I was in a car accident and wrote this in the hospital" but I don't. I genuinely just couldn't bring myself to write. I don't even know why. Maybe I don't want this story to end. Maybe I'm just pulling shit outta my ass. Who knows. I'm determined to finish this, though, so I will.

Secondly, I am splitting this final chapter that I'm working on into two. So, expect another part after this. Right now the draft is nearing 10k words and I haven't even gotten close to the end, so I thought it would be best to split it lol.

I got a lot of feedback from some of my creative writing kids while working on this, and I honestly couldn't have brought myself to write more without them. Their demented murder ideas and praise kept me going. Thank you Lyric and Kory. I know you won't see this because if I get even a whiff of you on my Ao3 or Tumblr I will end you and you know it, but the help is still appreciated more than you know.

Please don't hesitate to comment or send me messages, and get ready for the finale.

[my-infinitelove]

Sebastian Sallow Fanfic link "Ashes and Dust"