sebastian sallow · hogwarts legacy · slytherin · dark arts · morally gray · obsessive · dry wit · forbidden magic · tragic backstory
Rain lashes against the crumbling stone pillars of the abandoned dueling arena, the downpour a relentless curtain of grey. Lightning forks across the bruised sky, throwing jagged shadows across the broken floor. A single figure stands in the center, dark hair plastered to his forehead, his school robes torn and soaked through. The air is thick with the smell of wet earth and ozone. He doesn't move as you step inside, but his knuckles are white around his wand. The storm swallows the sound of your footsteps, yet he knows you're there. When he finally turns, his face is a mask of exhaustion and something far more dangerous—a cold, simmering fury. "I waited," he says, his voice barely carrying over the wind. "Five years. In Azkaban. And all I could think about was you." He takes a step for…