𝔏𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔞 𝔖𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴: 𝔄 𝔗𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔢
WARNING: severe illness, hospitalization, isolation, death.
*This chapter also contains Hogwarts Legacy spoilers and references, especially to the Sallow and Gaunt family plot lines. ALSO—please try not to mind any typos in this chapter!*
" The autumn chill that wakes me up,
You loved the amber skies so much.
Long limbs and frozen swims,
You'd always go past where our
feet could touch. "
- Marjorie, Taylor Swift
Act I - The Sorting
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Licinia Sallow was unwell.
There was no other explanation the healers would give her nor her family, other than the fact that the growing malady inflicting such searing pain that was beyond the fragile girl's endurance was her own bloodline's fault.
A bloodline long forgotten, respectability lost to the wreckage the past left in its fleeting wake. It whispered to them with the rawness of a soul scorned by its penitence.
History spoke of a young boy moved by the potential of the darkest art, a craft he sought at the depths of his desperation, and in his attempts at mastering the heinous sorcery did the boy lose all he held dear, when the only reason he had sullied his soul had been to keep them close.
Time fleeted by for the Sallow family long after their ancestor's misdeeds. Many knew Sebastian Sallow to have been trialed and locked up for his offences, and as the years went by, their story had been forgotten, heaved into the havoc that came with war and despair.
As the seasons began to come and go, down near the countryside of Northern England, through the hanging ivy that adorned the cracked window of a dimly lit nursery, a baby girl cried out into the early morning light as she flailed in discomfort.
Never would Licinia Sallow's parents ever suspect a thing to be wrong with their precious little girl, their light, their salvation.
Others had begun to welcome themselves into the Sallow family's life once again, to catch a glimpse of the beautiful girl with strong silken hair spun from the darkest tree root, with eyes as bright and green as the walls of her nursery, as the chiming mobile of delicate glass leaves that changed their colours with the seasons.
Richard and Evelyn Sallow had begun to notice how their daughter's complexion had begun to change as well, how her fair skin would slowly pale as the months grew colder, how, as little Licinia reached the age of eleven, her sturdy figure had begun to frail.
The long-forgotten whispers of the past had reached their troubled minds yet again. As Licinia Sallow left to study at the prestigious school of magic in the Scottish Highlands, the Sallows worried if the past had caught up to them simply for the pleasure of tormenting them.
Licinia Sallow was left alone to navigate the walls of Hogwarts castle, the secrets shrouded beneath the antiquity of such a notorious establishment. She wondered what it was that had made her curiosity peak at the notion of exploring such a place, but the girl knew that she would have all the time in the world to quench her curiosities.
Under the grand roof charmed to resemble the starry night sky, an enchanted hat yelled out the house in which Licinia belonged with great certainty.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Licinia had beamed brightly as she skipped over towards the applauding sea of emerald and silver, she had grown quite fond of the colour green.
She found herself sitting near a brooding boy adorned in robes that were a little too loose for his lanky figure, and his dark curls a little too perfectly styled for such a young boy to truly care much about, but his piercing eyes had scrutinized her every move as her bright smile began to falter.
Little did she know of the history their two families had once shared.
The crowd went silent once again as a new young pupil sat herself down on the wooden stool, jittery hands instinctively reaching up to tuck the loose strands of her dark hair behind her ear before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head.
The hat seemed to purse its threaded lips, adding on to the lengthy silence that had overtaken the Great Hall as the hat took the rare moment to think to himself in silence.
This girl has witnessed a great deal of morbidities at such a youthful age, though she has heeded such circumstances with an air of absentmindedness. The wall constructed around the moonless bits of her mind is thickening by the minute, and they are not walls even I, such an ancient, perspicacious hat, can penetrate.
A young soul who wishes to shield her dearest loved ones from harm.
A young soul with wits as sharp as the gleaming ends of a dagger.
A young soul who possesses a kind heart, though only allows such a vessel of vitality to persevere to merely pump the blood she needs to live.
A young soul who would see to it that her heart kept beating until she gained what she desired.
And nothing would keep her from the ambitious path destiny had set for her.
"...SLYTHERIN!" The hat had cried, and the girl hopped off of the stool, smoothing her skirts and picking at the threads of her newly-coloured robes as swinging jhumkas hung from her reddened ears.
It took the room a moment to burst into applause, for the hat had spent a great deal of time silently contemplating what path would best suit the young girl's promising fate, but after a moment, the Slytherin students welcomed the girl with halfhearted smiles and claps.
The girl had silently taken a seat at the table next to Licinia, and the Sallow girl immediately took to smothering her with her kindness and inquisitiveness.
"Hello there! I'm Licinia Sallow!" She beamed, reaching out and grasping the girl's hand tightly as she shook it with fervour.
The girl's dark brows furrowed as she drew her hand back hesitantly and rubbed at the sore spots Licinia's strong grip had left behind.
"Alena Sarbani." She replied curtly, with the essence of a great dignitary not bothered enough to give her a gracious response as she turned away.
Though Licinia did not relent, and as the girl she now knew to call 'Alena' turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes, Licinia followed her gaze until it landed on a girl with smooth, bronze skin standing with the rest of the first years still waiting to be sorted, nibbling on her bottom lip as she bounced up and down on the heels of her feet.
"Who is that?" Licinia leaned in to whisper into Alena's ear, brows furrowed.
Alena was quick to send her a pointed glare as she raised her finger to her lips, signalling for the overexcited girl to stay quiet as she watched the Sorting Ceremony commence.
Professor Albus Dumbledore stood near the hat and stool as he continuously called out the names of the anxious first years with a warm grin. He held up the scroll and squinted as he called out yet another name:
"Darwish, Meena!"
Applause was already heard from one older individual seated at the Ravenclaw table. Zohaib Darwish cheered his little sister on with as much dramatic flair as he could muster, and as Meena's cheeks went red, Zohaib sent Alena a smug smirk as he sat back down, awaiting the hat's decision.
'GRYFFINDOR!' The hat soon called out, and Meena was met with thunderous applause sounding from her new house table as she tentatively made her way over to sit with her housemates.
Licinia took note of the way Alena Sarbani faltered as she slumped further into her seat, and how she frowned deeply as she turned her head away from facing Meena.
"Do you know her?" Licinia questioned, and she heard the way Sarbani sighed deeply with exasperation.
"Yes, she is my cousin." Alena hissed, her frown deepening.
Licinia nodded her head as realization suddenly dawned on her, "Are you sad that you two are not together?" The notion brought a frown to her face as well.
Alena kept quiet for a moment, before she managed to give Licinia a slight nod, not daring to look her in the eye.
Sallow grabbed onto Sarbani's hand beneath the table, "Well, I promise that I'll be here for you instead! It is decided." She smiled.
Alena Sarbani might have rolled her eyes in that moment, but as the years went by, she began to notice just how correct Licinia's promise would turn out to be.
* * *
Act II - The Autumn Chill
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Sallow awoke to the brisk autumn chill that spilled through the cracked window of her dorm room, and as she moved to shut it closed she'd bask at the sight of the amber skies.
She had grown accustomed to the early mornings spent at Hogwarts, how, before any classes were to be held, she was wide awake and smiling solemnly as the golden foliage with their rusted edges fell to the ground with grace.
She began to hack with a fit of coughs as she turned away from the window and made to pull out her uniform and robes from the cupboard she shared with her roommates in the far corner of the room.
Just then, Walburga Black lazily turned her head of raven locks to face the girl, eyes squinted and hardly ever friendly. "If you are going to dirty this room with your phlegmy coughing, at least be sure to not contaminate my dresses and robes." She scowled, before sinking her head back down onto the pillows and shutting her eyes once again.
'The very picture of elegance, indeed.' Licinia rolled her eyes, delicately pulling her uniform from its clothing hanger.
She rubbed the soft wool of her sweater, marvelling in the warmth it radiated as she held it to her cheek, and not minding the odd looks Black was sending her way.
Her second roommate, a dull girl hailing from House Yaxley, glanced her way as she sat by the vanity, choosing between three pairs of gleaming necklaces. She had the decency to smile softly at Licinia as she pulled her sweater on and overtop of her collared button-up, trying her hardest to suppress her sniffles.
"You know, you've been sick for days now. Perhaps you ought to go to the Hospital Wing?" Eloise Yaxley mused, and Licinia's movements came to a halt as she eyed the seated girl with a blank face.
"You know I cannot do that." She retorted, grabbing the handkerchief Eloise handed to her and slumping down onto the cushioned chair beside Walburga's bed, her complexion going red as she tried to regain her breathing, sudden dizziness weighing her down.
Eloise tsked with pity, "And why is that? You're downright flushed and sweating and yet your hands are as cold as ice!" She made her way to the other side of the room to grasp her freezing hands and press the back of her hand to Licinia's temple.
Yaxley sighed at the damp sweat that now wetted her hands, but she could not get herself to stay upset.
Licinia Sallow looked terribly ill.
Before either of her present roomates could say anything more to simply annoy her, Licinia stood up abruptly and ignored the way her head slightly pulsed.
"In the worst case scenario, it is a mere flu that is making me miserable. But, I still have classes to attend and I do not wish to be late!" Sallow made her way to the door.
"Alena and Lolita are probably waiting too. Merlin knows how long Alena has been up and poor Lola has most likely been fighting to stay awake at her side." Licinia shook her head, a slight smile gracing her lips as she quickly dabbed her forehead with the handkerchief.
She heard Walburga groan from her bed, "We all know the reason you will not go to the infirmary is because you do not wish to worry Alena." The arrogant girl pouted mockingly.
Licinia clenched her jaw, "Well, at least she cares enough to worry." She replied curtly, though her brows formed a slight crease as she nibbled on her bottom lip with uncertainty.
Walburga Black's fiendish lips curved upwards, "Oh? But would she, really?" She taunted.
Eloise winced, "Walburga!" She warned with a sharp tone.
Black ignored her roommate's scolds and went on, "It is truly a wonder how you ever managed to befriend that girl. She is an oddity, to be sure. I always question whether or not she truly cares about those around at all." Walburga smirked.
Licinia felt dizzy again, "She cares." She assured, her tone wary as she held onto the doorframe for support, wanting nothing more than to leave the room.
Walburga merely shrugged and finally tossed her covers aside with ten minutes to ready herself for classes.
Licinia quickly shut the door and fumbled with the dampened handkerchief in her clammy hands, and as she made her way into the common area, her eyes searched for Alena.
Sure enough, Alena sat on one of the couches slumped over some last minute homework, Lola at her side resting her pointed chin in the palm of her hand, light eyes still drooping.
The two girls were not the only students in the common room however, and as Licinia made her way towards the two of them, her gaze briefly met Lysander Lestrange's.
Lestrange sent her a small grin as he sat with his legs sprawled on the couch near the corner of the large room, Cyan Avery and Laurent Rosier sitting near him as they indulged themselves in a quick game of Wizard's Chess before their classes began.
Licinia waved at them, and then turned away the moment Cyan raised a suggestive brow at Lysander, who was quick to shut down the boy with a hard glare.
Lolita Bellchant smiled at Licinia as she sat herself down next to Alena, whose dark gaze was solely focused on the paper work in front of her.
Sallow skimmed the contents of the worksheet and then smirked knowingly, "Aah, Third Year History of Magic? I can recall Riddle working on the same assignment at dinner last night."
Alena huffed, "Yes, and I had already finished the assignment before him until I realized I had put down an incorrect answer!"
Licinia narrowed her eyes in confusion, "Then why are you working on the whole worksheet again from scratch?" She questioned.
Lola sighed deeply as she rubbed her eyes harshly, "Alena kept me up all night with her scribbling. The rest of you are lucky you are deep sleepers." She groaned, resting her wary head against Alena's shoulder and growing surprised at the fact that she had not shrugged her head away.
"Anyways," Lola yawned, "Alena woke me up as soon as I had closed my eyes—"
"Thank you, Lola. For making me out to be such an awful person—"
"—To tell me that she needed me to come with her to Professor Binns' classroom to get a new worksheet because she had accidentally ripped the corner and was positively outraged." Lola drawled, and only them did Alena finally push her head off of her shoulder as she tried to concentrate on her work once again.
Licinia giggled, "Poor Professor Binns, and couldn't you have just fixed it? You know you're clever enough to." She nudged Alena's other shoulder.
Sarbani sighed, "I could have. But with all the crumpled edges and mistakes I had scratched out and then smudged, I just could not take it anymore." The thirteen-year-old frowned deeply, feeling rather embarrassed that her jumbled mind had not thought to simply use magic.
But Licinia knew much about the contents of Alena Sarbani's mind, as well as the way it worked. She knew of the anxieties that pressured the girl, even if Alena herself would never choose to admit them, so Licinia patted her hand gently with a soft smile.
Laurent snorted from the other side of the room, "You're an abnormal woman, Sarbani." He smirked, before gasping loudly as Cyan's pastry left thin flakes all over the chessboard as he took a bite.
"Has your mother taught you nothing you disgusting troll?" Laurent exclaimed as he leaned over the board to wipe away the crumbs.
Licinia cleared her throat as she took note of the way Alena had stopped working, how her frown had deepened.
"Do not worry, you have the whole morning to finish this, do not forget!" She comforted, and Alena nodded as she finally relented, gathering her supplies from the table and placing them into her satchel once again.
Sarbani allowed herself a moment to slump further into the cushion, holding back a yawn as she glanced over at Licinia.
"You're quite pale, what's happened?" She asked, and Licinia shrugged.
"Most likely a cold." She dismissed with a wave of the hand.
In that moment, she felt her heart swell the tiniest bit as she realized what Alena had asked her.
Her blank eyes, laced with the slightest hint of concern for her.
Walburga was wrong, Alena Sarbani did care. In her own genuine, albeit complicated, way.
And Licinia Sallow has known that for the mere three years of school she had slowly gotten to know her.
As Alena pulled a tired Lola up from the couch with a roll of her eyes, Licinia could not help the bright and genuine grin that had graced her pink lips, and as she stood up to follow her two friends, her gaze met Lysander's once again, her smile still just as radiant as she nodded his way.
Lysander Lestrange pointedly averted his gaze as Licinia made her way out of the common room, and he bit his cheek harshly to stop his own smile before either of the two boys sat before him could notice.
He now knew exactly who he had his eye on.
* * *
Act III - The Strangest Riddle
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
If Licinia Sallow knew one thing, it was surely that the main source of Alena's anxieties rooted from the most malignant boy she had ever had the displeasure of setting her gaze upon: Tom Riddle.
Sallow had grown accustomed to his constant feigns of kindheartedness, his sickening ability to craft such a compelling mask forged by his falsehoods and hoaxes, all to gain what he desired.
She could not describe what it was that she had seen swimming in his eyes the first time she saw him at the Sorting Ceremony four years ago, but she grew perturbed at the sheer malevolence she had witnessed when he glared at her, a mere boy at the age of eleven, causing a revolting sensation to run down Licinia's spine.
When she had met Alena, she knew her mind to be troubled. Sturdy, unrelenting walls had risen, and not even the strongest blasts of magic would have them felled.
Sarbani had forever been a resentful girl, one who kept to herself and simply observed with vacancy, and one could never tell if their demise was being thoroughly plotted behind those eyes of umber, past those walls guarding harrowing trepidations.
But Licinia knew, she knew Alena to not ever be the type to let herself succumb to her sorrows, to her animosity.
That is why Licinia Sallow knew she had to keep Tom Riddle away from her.
Though it seemed Professor Horace Slughorn had other plans, and the girl watched with tight lips as Riddle raised a curt hand to stop Alena from crushing Bloodroot in her mortar and pestle.
While the rest of the Fifth Years listened to Slughorn's dull instructions, Sarbani and Riddle had been pulled aside to brew an extra special poison for their potions instructor—for academic purposes, he was quick to assure them, not that it mattered to either of the inquisitive students.
As the Professor's flamboyant tone filled the room, his hands gesturing wildly at the instructions he left for them on the clouded blackboard, Licinia could not get herself to listen.
They stood side by side, statures taut as well as their movements, and though Licinia knew Alena's loathing for the boy was evident, their forms stood together, their equally mechanical ministrations to the poison, almost made the girl believe that Slughorn had been right in assigning the pair together.
No distractions, no baseless conversation other than the sharp remarks whispered hastily every now and then. Alena Sarbani and Tom Riddle seemingly worked well together, against Licinia Sallow and the universe's utter dismay.
Because all knew what that meant, what grim probabilities could be caused.
Alena had been spending more and more time with them.
Cyan Avery and his unnerving, flat gazes, analyzing whether or not you were truly worth his time. Damian Mulciber and his tendency to beguile in untoward ways, though Alena knew how to avoid playing his twisted game. The splenetic Nott siblings—the eldest, Eleanor, had always strayed close to Walburga Black, Licinia was quick to pointedly steer clear of the audacious girl—and how they wielded their status and spite with a firm grip. Laurent Rosier and his ambiguous two-sided mask, never truly knowing which side he'd maintain within the duration of a mere day.
And of course, how could she forget the obnoxious man that was—
"Sallow?" A breathy voice snapped her back to reality, and there stood Lysander Lestrange, his notoriously lopsided smirk gracing his pink lips as he gazed down at her through long, dark lashes with narrowed eyes.
The girl blinked several times, shaking her head slightly as she cleared her dried throat, "Yes?" She glanced over to where Alena stood once again, barely noticing the way the stringy, pulp-like substance she'd been kneading with her gloved hands stained her robes as she absently rolled her sleeves up, and Riddle glanced at her dirtied robes with a blank stare.
The boy chuckled lightly, and it was a distant sound, only then reminding Licinia of how many more inches Lysander had on her, how she found herself craning her neck to fully meet his gaze as she raised an expectant brow at him.
"Slughorn was just saying..." Lestrange's smirk faded for a minuscule moment as his gaze moved past Sallow's shoulder, narrowing at Cyan and Laurent as they raised their brows at him suggestively.
His nostrils flared as he wrenched his gaze back to Licinia's, "H-He was saying that we should all partner up to make potions today, and since Alena has been paired with Riddle today, I was wondering..."
Lysander Lestrange was not used to a woman's mere presence perturbing him, even as he towered over the girl, he felt his stomach swoop with a sickeningly steep drop, causing his breath to hitch as he parted his lips, urging the words to reach her perfectly curved ears without incoherency.
He heaved in a sharp breath, "I was wondering if you wanted to be my partner?" He forced a charming grin, praying that his tentativeness did not show, masking it with an unfaltering sense of machismo that he hoped would do just the trick to appease the girl.
Licinia bit her cheek, forcing back fits of laughter that threatened to surface.
He seemed genuine, and she had taken note of how attentive he had been becoming since their Third Year, how his dark eyes seemed to soften and fawn over her every movement, and yet pulled away the moment she ever dared to catch his gaze, his tanned complexion reddening.
She chanced one last glance at Alena, she had finally noticed the sticky mess adorning her robes, and she hastily shrugged it off, rolling up the sleeves of her dress shirt, her smooth skin shining in the yellow light of the classroom. Tom glanced at the robe she had carelessly discarded on the wooden floors, then lingered on the vermillion residue staining brown skin, resembling that of pulpous blood, that made the pair residing at the table next to them eye the Pashtun Witch with horror.
Tom shook his head lightly at the lack of serenity and control.
Licinia furrowed her brows nonetheless, her focus on the back of Riddle's head as she thought of the way his gaze lingered on the slightest hint of skin Alena showed.
Incredibly untoward, if you ask me, especially for the likes of Tom Riddle. Licinia glared at the ebony locks as if they had shamed her. She grew more vigilant over Alena in that moment. Simply the defensiveness of a loyal friend, that was it.
Lysander followed her gaze, and he raised a brow. "I will admit, I believed Slughorn's methods today to be quite questionable, pairing those two together." He laughed lightly.
"But, I'd say they work quite well together." He acknowledged, and Licinia Sallow refused to agree.
She sighed deeply, glancing up at the ticking clock, "Well, I have wasted enough class time that you could have used to work on the potion. I am sorry." She said sheepishly, and Lestrange's lips quirked upwards as he shook his head.
"Not at all," He dismissed, lowering his head slightly so that she may hear him better, "My potions grades are...tolerable. But, knowing how well you have performed in the past, I could not hold back asking you to assist me, just for today." He added.
Licinia chuckled lightly, her hand immediately going to a strand of her hair as she twisted it absently, "And...you still wish for me to assist you? I have wasted nearly six minutes of valuable preparation time."
His smile grew wider, bright teeth gleaming as he nodded swiftly, "I do, yes." He glanced at Avery and Rosier again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Laurent sent him a thumbs up, nearly dropping his ladle into their bubbling brew.
Licinia allowed herself a smile that matched his own, "Alright then." She gathered every ounce of self-control and turned away to gather ingredients, not once looking over at Alena.
Lysander Lestrange was precise, as well as assertive. As charming as he was humorous. And for the first time, Licinia Sallow found herself enjoying the presence of a housemate other than Alena and Lola.
Throughout their class time, he had elicited as many laughs as he did scoldings from her, due to his natural air of undoubted morale.
When Alena Sarbani gathered her things at the sound of the bell, she moved towards Licinia's station and raised an amused brow at her radiant smile, "You seem...happy." She noted, and she watched Lysander leave the room, sending her friend one last look with an equally vibrant grin.
Alena laughed then, an elegant rarity. A sound as saccharine as the sweetest delicacy. As devilish and immoral as sin, her favourite jhumkas swaying gently as her head was thrown slightly back.
Licinia froze, her friend's laugh gracing her ears, and she watched her turn towards the door as a heavy weight made her lashes flutter, her vision blur, her stomach drop, her chest swell.
A week went by, and Licinia sought out Lestrange's presence more and more, hoping that acquainting herself with others might do her some good, might help her break free from the undeniable fixation she had with Sarbani, the only friend she ever allowed herself to have, to cherish.
Of course she was possessive over her, Alena was the only constant in her life, but that did not mean Licinia was in hers. And if her speaking to Bellchant, to Avery or Rosier, to her cousin Meena—to Riddle even, was a disturbance to Licinia's very soul, perhaps after learning to let her worries loosen in her tight grasp for a while, all would be well.
Lysander become the new constant in Licinia's life. She smiled brighter, laughed harder, and more colour seemed to rush to her pale face than ever before when he was near.
The night he had first kissed her, on the darkened streets of Hogsmeade, lit by the flickering sconces, with the Knights and Alena stood nearby, a faint, warm, fuzzy feeling ignited in her abdomen at the feel of his gentle lips on hers.
The boys had cheered, save for Riddle, who distantly stood near Alena's side, colourlessly watching such a public act of unwavering affection with a hint of shock.
And Licinia smiled into Lestrange's mischievous kiss, her hands lacing around his neck, fingers running through his windswept hair.
And Alena had laughed, her hand flying to her mouth as she tore her widened gaze away.
And there it was, the sickening swell of her chest, as her kiss began to falter.
An elegant rarity indeed, ricocheting off the walls of her psyche, its unrelenting echo persevering. It haunted her that night as she laid in the arms of Lysander Lestrange, and kept her wide awake.
* * *
Act IV - The Malady
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Sebastian Sallow had been restless.
Stepping foot into Hogwart's hallowed halls every year was a dire, constant reminder of the lingering absence of his sister.
House Sallow had been deemed a modest family, residing on Scottish soil for as long as seasons changed in turn.
Two professors had conceived twins, not long before succumbing to their ill-fated deaths.
Their children were taken in by their ex-Auror uncle, an irritable man with a cynical outlook on his niece and nephew's lives, one who bared the habits of tiring his soul with work and drink as the years flew by.
The twins had inherited their parent's insatiable desire for knowledge, and Sebastian had especially enjoyed indulging himself in the mastery of complex curses and jinxes, revelling in the power and ancient proficiency such magic held.
The trio had never expected their simple life to take such a grim turn.
A twisted goblin by the name of Ranrok had been terrorizing the Wizarding community of Great Britain during Sebastian and Anne Sallow's schooling years, and one fateful day, frenzied loyalists had raided the Sallow home, resulting in Anne Sallow's demise.
For years, Sebastian Sallow blamed the goblin for his sister's incurable ailment—a Blood Malediction—and sought out a cure for his her, immersing himself in the craft of the Dark Arts more than ever before, hoping, praying frantically that it would lend him the answers he desired.
Sebastian's wrath grew, and the ones he kept close took note of his uncontrollable eagerness for revenge, for a cure.
His uncle Solomon, his weakened sister Anne, even his closest friend, a sightless young Wizard by the name of Ominis Gaunt.
Ominis had greatly differed from his family in many ways. The reputable Noble House of Gaunt, comprised of monstrous souls set on the path of darkness and serpentine eminence.
The Gaunt boy had witnessed firsthand the atrocities of the darkest sorcery, and a bubbling loathe for the craft had asseverated him to be the family's outcast, the black sheep.
Ominis and Sebastian had grown close since their first encounter, and his distrust for dark magic had yet again turned those he cared for against him.
Many conflicts had arisen between the two boys as Sebastian let himself become consumed by the broken promises devilry had assured.
"The Dark Arts seem harmless until it is too late!"
Gaunt's attempts at saving Sebastian's blackening, shrivelled soul became fruitless.
He reminded his dear friend of his own impairment, how magic could not save him from his family's resentment and abuse. How, instead, he had accepted that using his magic to help him cope with his unfixable reality had served him a tolerable comfort, a profound understanding that only he could allow himself to make due with what he had, that fighting for more was a fool's errand.
Sebastian lied to his comrade, tainting his soul even further as he took on the opportunity to exploit and use more close friends to gain what he wanted.
He had unlocked more truths, like how a thieving, conniving Wizard by the name of Victor Rookwood had truly been the one to curse Anne, to ruin her life.
He has confronted his uncle, who had grown disappointed by his nephew's antics and pleaded him to see reason, to accept that Anne could never be cured.
Sebastian hunted down dark relics to his uncle's dismay, and as fury settled inside the grieving nephew, his own uncle's murder was at his hand.
Ominis grew outraged, believing Sebastian's futile mission to have ceased, for his association with the Dark Arts to be over.
"You're a liar, Sebastian. I heard everything. You swore you'd never engage in anything to do with Dark Magic again!"
"No I didn't. I said I understood you wanting that. I'd never give up on finding a cure for Anne."
"There is no cure! When will you accept that?"
"Never. I can never accept it."
Even when new, promising magic had arisen in the hands of another student Sebastian had grown close to, his friends had seen the darkness in his heart, and all his pleads for help were finally refused.
Even Anne Sallow, with her unbearable pain and her face shifting from pale and bloodless to cherry red and scorching, over and over again, had lost all faith in her brother.
"You've made your choice." She had turned his back on him, her blood, her brother, a brother she could not recognize.
Anne Sallow was never cured, and Sebastian Sallow has been locked up for his crimes, the weight of his guilt as well as his darkness a heavy burden on his mind and soul forever.
And the years went on, Anne Sallow had still found her happiness despite her sorrow, the family line had endured, but not without magic's foreboding price.
The Sallow line had comprised of men for a long while, which was why, when Richard and Evelyn Sallow had welcomed their little girl into the world, their past came back to haunt them.
The Malediction passed through the Sallow Witch genes, its magic stronger and more unpredictable as the years went by. It snuck up on the new parents, laughing wickedly at the fate of their daughter.
As Richard and Evelyn sent their daughter off to her School of Magic, they bided their time, their worry only flourishing in the face of their fears. They watched Licinia with immense scrutiny during every minute she was by their side, dreading any sign of affliction.
And for five whole years of Licinia's schooling, all was well.
Then the constant colds became worse, more unbearable. The sweat that lined the girl's hairline and the feverish, clammy skin became prominent. Licinia began to scratch at the skin of her arms, nails digging deep into the flesh, throng to satiate the discomfort that seemed to thrive beneath the surface.
Licinia wrote a letter to her parents, expressing her concern, her fear. She wanted this to end, she wanted it all to disappear, all the pain, all the discomfort, all the exhaustion.
Her parents wrote back to her, revealing every melancholic truth to their Licinia, to their only daughter.
The letter arrived late in the evening. Licinia had already been lying awake, the cool breeze drifting in through the open window doing nothing to quell her insufferable fever, her thin nightgown drenched in her body's sweat.
She hurriedly skimmed her parent's letter before she stopped, and went to read it again.
Three times. Five times. Seven times.
There was nothing that could be done, nothing to fix this growing ailment.
Her homely state caused the girl to realize that she had lived up to her surname.
She gazed at Alena's slumbering figure, the image blurring as tears welled in her eyes. She longed to wake her, but she knew better than to worry her.
A peculiar feeling began to rise, a pit of dread drilling itself deep into her abdomen, making her mind fuzzy.
The pain she felt would stay with her forevermore.
Licinia Sallow was dying.
* * *
Act V - The Truth
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Licinia needed to help her.
As the Witch watched Alena Sarbani extricate herself from the suffocating common room and back up to their dorm room, she knew something had happened.
And it was all the fault of Tom Riddle.
Alena had been wasting her time with guileful serpent, unknowingly falling prey to his corrupt, Machiavellian world of deception.
Licinia had no idea what had suddenly sueded her into spending her time with him, a boy nearly everyone knew she loathed, but now, as Sallow eyed Riddle's every move the moment Alena had left the space, she could sense his irritation, for mere seconds after she left, he too sat up abruptly and left to brood in his room.
Licinia sighed deeply as she tapped her impatient feet on the floors whilst manically picking at her whitening skin. Lysander glanced down at her as she rested her head on his shoulder, his auburn brows forming a crease as he winced and gently pulled her hand away from her arm.
He was growing restless, and ever since a sobbing Licinia had informed him of her illness, he had become a constant at Hogwart's Library, which immediately became a surprise due to the students and staff alike, for the boy had rarely set foot into the room during his six years at the school.
But Sixth Year was coming to an end, and despite Licinia's pleas for him to simply leave it be, he wanted nothing more than to find a way for his beloved to make it past graduation.
Alena, on the other hand, had been avoiding Licinia ever since the word of her illness got out. Licinia would feel her eyes boring into her whenever they were sat in the class, and though Licinia wanted to believe Alena would come to her, express her feelings of worry, of fury, of whatever else...she knew that was not possible, not for a Witch like Alena Sarbani.
Not to mention, that in their frenzied state of unease, Licinia's parents had sent the British Ministry of Magic her information, pleading for assurance and support. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes claimed there was nothing they could do, but without their daughter's consent, opened up a space in St.Mungo's Hospital should her situation ever become so dire.
That, unfortunately, did not mean the Ministry was done with her and her tragic tale. It was evident in the way an awareness article by The Daily Prophet had been funded by her parents and the Ministry itself to bring as much attention as possible to her illness.
Alena had been grasping that very same newspaper tightly, minutes before Riddle had entered the common room and she had ran to isolate herself yet again.
She could not take it anymore, she just couldn't. She could not hold back her...feelings any longer—and as she gazed up at Lysander, as she caught the evident adoration and solicitude swimming in his eyes, she knew that one day she would inevitably break him.
She stood up, causing Lestrange's tired arm to flop on the cushions and elicit a groan from the boy, "Where are you going, love?" He questioned, and Licinia held her breath as she kept her back turned.
"Just...going to check on Alena." She explained faintly, her gaze solely focused on the stairs leading to the women's dorms.
Her voice trailed off, and Lysander frowned deeply as she stood there, back turned, hands quivering, waiting for him to speak.
Then, she glanced back at him.
"I..." She bit her lip, her hands going to pick at her nails as she instantly attempted to evade any maladroitness.
"...I'll be back shortly." She breathed, restraining herself from rushing up the stairs as she timidly made her way towards them, not waiting for Lysander's response.
She turned a corner, and slumped against the wall. Each step felt like torture, her body screamed at her to fall limp and rest on the dirtied carpet.
Licinia gritted her teeth and held back a cry as she pushed herself off the wall, trudging towards her dorm room as she turned the knob with shaking hands and leaned against the wood of the door as she caught sight of Alena gazing vacantly out the window, eyes puffed and red.
Sarbani immediately shot upwards, "Licinia—what are you doing?" She exclaimed, moving to help her off of the door and into a chair, crouching down and raising the back of her hand to press against her damp forehead.
"You have...you have a fever again, Licinia. You should be at the infirmary—why did Lestrange not take you?" She scoffed, and as she roughly wiped her eyes and stood back up, reaching for Licinia's arm as soon as her own hand went to itch and pull at it.
Licinia managed to shake her head, "No! No, no, no—Alena please." She gasped, coughing as the dryness of her throat left her feeling utterly disgusting. She realized it had been a mistake to come and face Alena, she could not bare to have her see her like this.
Alena shook her head in disbelief, holding her hands up in surrender as Licinia pushed them away. "Please what? Licinia, just tell me what's wrong—"
"Do you care for me?"
At that moment, Licinia could not deny the tears she had been holding back due to her pain from rolling down her cheeks. Her hand flew to her eyes, immediately shielding her display of vulnerability from Alena's view.
She doesn't understand. She doesn't care. There's nothing she can do.
Alena froze, her brows furrowing, her lips parting...no words came to her.
She watched as her friend shook with agony, the constant pain shooting through her whole being never subsided the more her Malediction grew. Licinia sobbed as she grasped the padded head of the chair, leaning her pounding head against it and squeezing her eyes shut so she would not see how Alena was reacting to the utter mess that she was.
Her words of desperation that she had blurted out...she wondered if Alena would ever forgive her. She wondered if Lysander would ever face her again.
Alena tentatively crouched down, trying to meet Licinia's eyes. And as the light seeping in from the windows reflected on her face, Sallow opened her eyes and saw the dried tears that lined her cheeks, all the way down to her throat.
"What?" Alena questioned gently, her voice barely above a whisper.
Licinia's sobs began to cease, though her hands still shook as she sighed shakily, more tears threatening to ruin her once again.
"The first time we ever spoke, the day of our Sorting Ceremony, I made you a promise, Alena." Her voice was hoarse, but she endured. For she had to know the truth.
"I promised I would be there for you, no matter what. And you were so reluctant to let yourself ever become my friend, which I understood, for you had lost your cousin to another House, and we were all new faces in such a large, intimidating castle." She laughed quietly, shaking her head as she reminisced over the days when they were younger, without nearly as many worries as they had been burdened with now.
"But, as our years of schooling flew by, more of our peers began to severely question my judge of character," She continued darkly, "Which, in truth...made me worry if I was truly wasting my time with or not." Licinia frowned, eyes darting away from Alena for but a mere moment as she held back a wince at what might have been a hurtful statement towards her.
Alena simply remained stoic, her eyes flickering from left to right and searching Licinia's face. Though her stomach seemed to churn with discomfort, she seemed to brace herself for the inevitable, the confrontations she had dealt with her whole life on whether or not she truly was an unfeeling girl with too many scars, and whether or not the weight of her nightmarish past and her even more macabre mind, would always be too much for others to ever want to carry.
This was it, her one friend, the one person she had ever truly cared for—despite her lack of certainty—was going to let her go, just like what so many others had done in the past.
Alena nodded stiffly as she noticed Licinia's silence, "Go on." She pushed softly.
Licinia's world had stopped spinning, perhaps since the moment she found out about her sickness, her time in this worked slowly running out, or perhaps it had jolted to a halt the minute she asked aloud if Alena even cared. Perhaps the whole universe froze, holding its breath as Alena Sarbani was given her first test on showcasing her humanity, or alienating herself from such displays altogether, closing herself off entirely with no hope for retribution.
For the first individual had failed long before the universe began relying on her. The first individual, malignant and cunning, had let the Fates down, and whether or not he would ever be given a second chance, perhaps in the near future, hope would not bother becoming a faithful weapon in his arsenal.
Licinia Sallow looked Alena dead in the eye, and for the first time, she allowed her to watch as newly fallen tears graced her pale face.
"But despite so very many warning me to stay away from you, informing me that you were a lost cause...I could not ever find it in myself to leave you, Alena." Her voice broke, Alena's face became a blur.
Four words that would haunt Alena Sarbani for the rest of her days.
"I love you, Alena."
That there, was the dawn of Sarbani's ruination.
A choked sob, a hand shaking even more violently than before rising to cover Licinia's mouth as she embraced her own ruin.
"Licinia..." a gentle whisper.
"For so long all I've wanted was for you to let me in." The girl wept, "This whole year, you've been hiding from your past—do you truly believe the topic your boggart was not endlessly discussed?"
Alena winced, tearing her eyes away.
"But I did not wish to pressure you! I did not wish to cause you discomfort! All I wanted was for my presence to be enough for you, Alena!"
Licinia thought of Lestrange.
Oh God, Lestrange.
"...But then, my presence was not enough, not anymore. Can you not agree?" Licinia did not wait for Alena's eyes to meet hers, she simply strained to regain her breathing, strained to push away the pain she felt in her body only for it to be replaced with another type of pain one could only feel in their very soul.
Alena felt screaming, a million discarded speeches she could've said to her wrote themselves in the depths of her mind. She did not know how to feel, what to say, and it killed her.
Her only friend.
The only one seemingly brave enough to love her.
She shook her head, "No," She protested, her tone a seething whisper, "Your presence was the only thing that ever could have gotten me through anything—"
"Then why did you go to him?" Licinia shouted.
"Why did you go to him?" Alena cried back.
Both girls froze, the beating of the hearts quickening, though one grew more wary, more weak by the minute.
"Do you love Riddle?" Licinia questioned, failing at keeping her tired voice from breaking.
She was tired, so very tired.
Alena felt her throat go numb, the acidic remains of an empty stomach making her feel just as squeamish as she let out a scoff.
"Never, in my life, will love ever be a possibility." She whispered solemnly.
Open your eyes, Alena. Please.
"Do you love Lestrange?"
Licinia tried to laugh through the pain, but she could not, she could only cry out in pain as her body grew more fatigued.
"I think that, based on what I have told you, you already know my answer to that."
"Licinia, please! I cannot! I cannot do this to you, and you cannot do this me!" Alena ran a hand through her dark waves, she was going to scream, she was going to scream.
"Cannot do what, Alena?" Licinia pleaded.
"I cannot leave you to die! I cannot love you! I cannot love anyone! I will not allow myself to damage any heart with the utter pestilence that my love is! But I will not let them take you, I won't be able to live myself if they took you!"
In the end, she did not scream.
Alena Sarbani cried before her friend, which was just as excruciating.
She did not know what had happened to her, the sixth year of her schooling was perhaps the most abysmal experience she had ever had to endure, and the feelings that had broken free were too dangerous to overcome.
She felt Licinia's hand grab hers, and she wished to pull away for she could feel the strength it took for Licinia to even hold onto her.
"Your love is not a calamity." Licinia Sallow told her.
For a moment, Alena almost believed her.
"And I only hope that, if not my presence, then my absence is something you'll learn to live with." She mused sadly.
Licinia Sallow had let her go first, never getting the answers she most desired, and breaking the hearts of those she cared for, as the inescapable cycle of House Sallow continued.
She only hoped that when Death took her shaking hands, the pain would cease.
She hoped that when the Healers took her away and left her to slowly meet her fate, the pain wouldn't be forevermore.
* * *
Act V - The Fall
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
And they did take her away.
Lysander Lestrange was held back in the arms of Cyan Avery, tears streaming down her cheeks, his face red and fuming.
Licinia Sallow had taken his heart with her. Hers to mould and then shatter as she saw fit.
Alena Sarbani had left the dark confinements of her silent room to observe the distress. When she met the eyes of Lysander, she nodded at him with as much sentiment as her torpid heart could've mustered.
Weeks went by, and Lestrange was called in by St.Mungo's to say goodbye.
Lola Bellchant had stood at the other end the door leading into her dorm room, knowing that the person she sought was not there at the other end.
Alena has been forced to leave, Meena Darwish had told them the night Lysander had left.
As Licinia lay trapped in a room with no ventilation, no windows, and dim lighting that flickered above her, Lysander Lestrange sat by her bedside.
She did not speak, not anymore.
Her body had succumbed to the numbness of constant seizures and pain, the convulsing sensations that wracked her body reaching her brain, shutting it down almost entirely.
She could not move anymore either, her limbs strapped to the stiff mattress to keep her from shaking as much. The only solution the Healers had come up with.
There was not much that could have been done for her pain. Licinia was force-fed the drugs with effects that lasted mere minutes before the pain overtook her senses yet again.
Society had been shaken by the Sallow girl and her mournful tale.
When Lestrange sat by his love for hours on end, Licinia's parents were hard at work, pleading for assistance, letting their daughter's story be known as their daughter rotted away, helpless and hurting.
The Ministry had claimed Licinia's Sallow tale, sharing with the civilians their plans to aid the poor girl and her family in their times of need, and their graciousness had earned them infinite respect and gratitude from the Wizarding society torn apart by war and prejudice.
'Your Ministry remains strong.'
The words of Minister Leonard Spencer-Moon, a dashing, trustworthy grin gracing his moustached face as thousands cheered his name, cheered for the Ministry, cheered for their people.
They had overcome the turmoil war had brought them, they celebrated the salvation Albus Dumbledore had promised them as him and his tightly-knit crew of renowned Wizards and Witches hunted Gellert Grindelwald down.
They celebrated Licinia's life, the solace such wonderful Healers were providing her.
It was all over the news, and Alena Sarbani had read it all.
She recalled her last night at Hogwarts, late May, while she was scrambling to pack her own bags, Lysander Lestrange burst into her room with his trunk readily loaded.
He had sat them down on the floor, silence overtaking them for a long moment before the boy began to warn her of what was to come.
"I do not understand, Lestrange. The Hospital has taken her in, she will be safe and comfortable now. Not to mention the Ministry supporting her and her family!"
"You truly believe all of that bullshit? I thought Riddle had taught you better."
"Do not speak of him, Lestrange. Anything he taught me, I already knew to extent, he was only fuelling my knowledge."
Lysander had tried not to feel any resentment towards the girl. He knew that his love's heart lied with her, despite her not sharing any affections.
His animosity grew, as did his stress. His train was set to leave at any minute.
Her anxiety slowly got the best of her, and with no Licinia to hold her hand, she felt like falling. She had to leave, now.
"The Ministry always lies to us, Alena." He spoke in a hushed tone.
"You already know of their cravenness. How they were so quick to decide on closing the school after Tom released the Basilisk. It was Tom who saved our asses, you cannot deny that."
Alena pursed her lips with distaste, but said nothing.
"They are cowards. Complacent cowards who manipulate with their flowery yet empty promises."
Now that, was something Alena could not deny.
"Why are you telling me this, Lestrange?" She questioned.
"Because now that Licinia is gone, the more the media will scramble to record everything. Lies and propaganda will rise, causing a tear to form in Licinia's reputability."
Lysander sighed, daring to look Alena in the face.
"I want you to promise me that you will not let your wrath feed on the lies the news and the Ministry will try to tell you. I want you to promise me that you will not repeat what you have just done." He glanced down at the sanguine that stained her sweater with a deep frown.
Alena bit her cheek, "Did Riddle send you?" She seethed.
"You know that what you have done will have consequences. You do not have any plan other than fleeing, I know that. I simply hope that you stay away from any more trouble, for Licinia's sake—"
"Licinia is fine! Lysander, I know you are hurting, but she's being taken care of!"
"Don't you get it? They're lying to us, they're lying to her! They will not even bother to help her and she will die in that room, Alena! She will fucking die and you will not care one bit!" He screamed at her, decorum be damned.
Alena closed her eyes, shaking her head.
She cared, she cared, she cared, she truly cared.
She was going to miss Licinia Sallow more than she ever thought possible.
And when Licinia Sallow had passed through the veil, the Wizarding society of Britain mourned her loss, without ever knowing that nothing was done to ease her pain, pain that stayed with her until the very end.
It was not long before her obituary had reached the print. The Sallows praised their lovely girl, voicing their sorrows. Families like the Bellchants and the Notts were touched by Licinia's spirit, and vowed to stand with the mourning family in their time of anguish.
Lysander Lestrange was unavailable for comment.
And Alena Sarbani gripped the soiled newspaper she had found lying a puddle tightly, tears of wrath and grief igniting a burning passion in her heart, a passion to seek revenge.
The first step had already pushed her to commence her journey, and as Alena's eyes skimmed past the pages of Licinia's obituary, a report from journalists near the town of Hogsmede spoke of a Ministry official found dead with a cracked skull just behind The Three Broomsticks pub.
His corpse was found the day Alena had left for good.
A week ago.
As Alena rested the newspaper on her knees, and sat in the mud as storm clouds began to form above her, she thought of Lysander Lestrange's last words to her as other civilian walked right past her hurriedly, entering and exiting the Ministry of Magic.
She knew from then on that her promise would not be kept, but she found that she was not afraid of the repercussions she would face as soon as they found her out.
Unlike the Ministry's empty promises, the promise of vengeance was one that Alena Sarbani vowed to keep, no matter how long it took her to gain it.
Drops of rain kissed her cheeks as she stared up at the towering buildings that made up the Ministry of Magic, and she slowly curved her lips into a sinful grin as the magical projection of Spencer-Moon began to falter and fade from view due to the rain.
She laughed at the sight, and she let her eyes flutter shut as the rain began to pour harder, thunder and lightning only adding to the macabre picture that unveiled itself.
Alena Sarbani's set fate had shifted, and the skies roared with terror.
She wondered what Tom Riddle would've said had he seen her at that very moment, hair drenched, dark eyes bloodshot.
The rebirth of Alena Sarbani had been a tragically beautiful sight to behold.
Thenceforth, Hell had gained a new Queen that day, and her spiteful Hellions would terrorize the Wizarding World as they fought back against the lies and tyranny with little promise of remorse.
* * *
This was painful. And terribly long.
I took a different approach when it came to the formatting of this chapter, but Licinia was definitely one of my most favourite characters to write so obviously I had to make her chapter as pretty and unbearable as possible.
I'm a sucker for angsty sapphic ships so the licinialena anthems are 100% maroon, question, and marjorie by Taylor. Licinia is very much evermore coded as a whole.