🥀 Roses and Novels | Hogwarts Legacy Fanfic | Sebastian, Ominis and Evander

🥀 - Chapter 21 -🌹

-The Day of Solomon Sallow's Funeral-

(Sebastian's Perspective)

After my uncle's funeral, the guards wasted no time. I was dragged straight to Azkaban.

They shoved me into a cold, stone room, ordering me to strip. Before I could react, a jet of freezing water hit me with such force it stole the breath from my lungs. I screamed in pain and fury—but I wasn't going down without a fight.

I swung at the nearest guard, my fist colliding with his jaw. The impact left a mark—and more importantly, he felt my ring.

"Take his ring! NOW!" he shouted.

Another guard seized my hand, trying to yank it off. That ring—her ring—was a gift from Helena for my birthday.

"NO! Take anything else—anything but that!" I roared.

Kicking the guard off, I snatched the ring from the floor and bolted down the corridor, toward the exit. But it was useless. Within seconds, five guards slammed me to the ground. I was dragged back, shackled, and forced into a prisoner's uniform.

"Number 2034," one sneered. "Smile."

A camera flashed.

They assigned me to the third floor—Ward B. A cellblock for new arrivals.

That first night... I didn't sleep. I couldn't. The prison echoed with chaos. Screams, sobs, laughter that didn't sound human. One man was yelling "murderer" over and over, another moaned for mercy. Somewhere, someone whispered the Cruciatus Curse, and a cackling voice followed. My skin crawled.

I curled up on the icy slab they called a bed, pressing my hands to my ears, rocking against the wall. There was no blanket. No pillow. No peace.

🙟•◦ 🎕 ◦•🙝

-Day 7-

The torture hadn't stopped. That night, I was yanked from my bed and dragged down the hallway. One of the guards hit me with a chain, again and again.

"You deserve this, murderer," he spat, as my skin split and bled.

The food they gave us was barely edible—cold soup, stale bread, a cloudy glass of milk. On night thirty, I snapped. I grabbed my metal tray, hid behind the door, and when a guard stepped in, I struck him across the face. He collapsed instantly.

I ran.

"IMPERIO!"

The word froze my body mid-step.

I was no longer in control. My muscles moved against my will, and I was forced to march back to my cell. I was transferred to Floor Five—Cellblock C.

Weeks passed. I was routinely taken to the highest room in the tower—the Dementors' domain. They didn't just drain your happiness. They tore your memories away—your soul.

Any attempt to resist, and I was hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

After two months, I stopped fighting. What was the point?

Sleep rarely came. And when it did, I was haunted by Helena. Dreams of her ending her life, dreams of her drowning, dreams where she stabbed me—kissed me, then twisted a knife in my back.

And sometimes... worse.

One night, I dreamed of the time I'd really hurt her.

We were in the mountains, on a mission. The goblins had captured us.

They took me to a back room—and cursed me.

Imperio.

I had no control over what happened next. They used me. They made me touch her—violate her.

She didn't know. Or maybe she did.

But if I had ever touched her by my own choice... it would've been with love. With care. With everything she deserved.

Instead, that day ended with her screaming, her magic exploding in every direction. She flung me against the walls, shattered the room. We barely escaped. She had to drag me from the rubble, bleeding and broken.

That moment plays in my nightmares on repeat.

🙟•◦ 🎕 ◦•🙝

-Six Months Later-

"Sallow! You're lucky. Another four months and you're out," a guard growled.

They reduced my sentence on grounds of age and self-defense. I was still a minor when I killed Solomon. Lucky me.

I wrote Anne a letter that day—a lie wrapped in soft words. I told her I was already out. I needed her to believe it. She was sick, and if she thought I was safe, maybe it would help her heal.

But she didn't know the truth. That my life in hell had only just begun.

Any letter she wrote back would never reach me. The guards destroyed everything.

-Letter to Anne-

Dear Anne,

I want you to know that I'm no longer a prisoner in Azkaban.

Whether you want me in your life again is your choice. After what happened with Uncle Solomon, I understand if you don't. I've had time to think. Time to feel everything I should have before.

Azkaban wasn't kind to me. They hurt me—some of it deserved, some of it not. I've changed.

I'll be staying in a house deep in the woods for a while. When—if—you're ready to see me, write. I'll come to you.

Tell Ominis and Helena not to search. I'll find them when the time is right.

Love,

Your brother,
Sebastian

But Azkaban wasn't finished with me.

One day, I stole a wand and uttered the Killing Curse on a guard who beat a younger prisoner.

They chained me in the dungeon.

There was a mirror in the room. They made me watch Anne in it—walking peacefully down a gravel path. Then, men in black robes appeared behind her and struck her with the Killing Curse.

I screamed. I broke.

The next night, it was Helena.

Then Ominis.

They made me watch their deaths over and over, until my screams were hoarse and my heart felt shredded.

One night, they forced me to hold a Mandrake leaf in my mouth for a month. I didn't know why.

They fitted my head with a steel cage, spiked and locked shut.

When the next full moon came, they tore it off, ripped hairs from my head, and began casting the Animagus incantation—Amato Animo Animato Animagus—on my heart. Twice a day. Every day.

After two weeks, I felt a second heartbeat inside me.

They'd forced the transformation.

During a storm, I was dragged back into the dungeon and strapped to a chair. A red liquid was forced down my throat. They spoke the spell again and walked away.

Then came the pain.

Teeth split from my jaw. My fingers stretched and twisted into claws. Bones cracked and reshaped. I screamed and screamed—until everything went dark.

When I woke, I was surrounded by blood.

Three corpses lay at my feet.

Each full moon after, I turned again. I broke my restraints. Shattered bones. Tore flesh. Sometimes it was mine. Sometimes it wasn't.

Every morning, I awoke naked, bruised, and further from the person I once was.

Azkaban didn't break me.

It rebuilt me—into something darker.

And yet, the only thing that kept me tethered... were the faces of the people I loved. Anne. Ominis.

And Helena.

Even if I never saw them again.