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lainatanbunny · 2 months ago

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This has me in tears, you guys NEED to read this masterpiece🛐

#hogwartslegacy #Auror #warden #harrypotter #sebastiansallow #sebastian #reader # fanfiction

Weaponized | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Part One

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As a Warden, you're one of Canada’s elite magical enforcers, sent to the British Ministry for tactical support. You were trained to be a weapon. Obedient, lethal, unfeeling. But from the moment you arrive, it’s clear you’re not welcome. Your squad resents you. Your every move is ridiculed and critiqued. And then there’s your lieutenant, Sebastian Sallow: arrogant, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly attractive for someone so insufferable.

He thinks you're dangerous. You think he's arrogant. And unfortunately, you're stuck working together.

But as a string of failed missions, smuggled artifacts, and suspiciously redacted files begin to point to a buried conspiracy within the Ministry itself, you realize your presence here was never about support. And somewhere between hostile standoffs, late-night confessions, and one very smuggled cat… something between you and Sebastian changes.

He wasn’t supposed to care. You weren’t supposed to let him in. But now you're both in too deep, and if the truth doesn’t destroy you, the feelings just might.

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Trauma, No Hogwarts House, Post Hogwarts, Auror!Sebastian, Auror!MC, Modern AU, Female Reader Insert, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Forced Proximity, Ancient Magic, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Betrayal, Reconciliation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Divergent

Beta: @dreamy-gal-30 <3<3<3

Auror Division Headquarters – London

The mess hall was subdued, the usual din of conversation dampened by the weight of what had happened last mission.

Sebastian Sallow sat at his usual spot, a half-eaten meal in front of him, his paperwork scattered across the table. He should have been focusing on his report, but the words blurred together, drowned out by the relentless pounding in his skull.

Across from him, Ominis Gaunt, the most skilled Cursebreaker stationed at the London Auror base, was eating methodically, his quill set neatly beside his own unfinished report. To his right, Garreth Weasley, one of Sebastian's fellow Auror Lieutenants, was shoving forkfuls of meat pie into his mouth.

Sebastian rubbed at his temple, jaw tight. It should have been a routine operation. A simple sweep. The kind of mission he could do in his sleep. Instead, his squad walked into a trap. The smugglers had been far more prepared than expected, and three of his teammates were in the infirmary. If the enemy had been any stronger, or if Sebastian and his team had been just a little slower, a little less lucky…

He exhaled sharply. No use in going down that road. The last thing they needed was to second-guess themselves. And yet—

“—getting a Warden?”

Sebastian’s head snapped up.

Across the mess hall, a group of Auror Officers sat hunched together, speaking in hushed but anxious voices.

Sebastian wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Ominis’s fork hovered mid-air, his brow furrowing slightly. Garreth set his meal aside.

The three men exchanged looks. Warden. That was not a word thrown around lightly.

Sebastian straightened slightly, listening.

“Everyone’s talking about it, it has to be true,” one of the Officers was saying.

“Do you really think it’s necessary?” another asked, sounding uneasy.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, turning back to his table. “Do either of you know what they’re on about?”

Garreth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and snorted. “Come on, Sallow. Surely you know what Wardens are.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Of course he did.

In the 21st century, the British Ministry’s Auror Division had evolved into something more akin to a military force than the old detective-policing unit it had once been. Magic had advanced, the world had changed, and with the rise of more sophisticated magical threats, they changed too. As a Lieutenant, it was Sebastian’s responsibility to be well-versed in the different types of combat-trained magic operatives from around the world, both allies and enemies.

In France, the Défense Enchantée were masters of political warfare and subterfuge, blending into the highest echelons of society to eliminate threats.

In Norway, the Skyggevakter were feared for their ability to track and neutralize dark wizards using Norse runes and enchantments.

In New Zealand, the Ngā Kaitiaki drew on the wisdom of Māori tohunga, making them unparalleled in dealing with magical creatures and curses tied to the land itself.

And then there were the Canadian Wardens.

Canada’s vast, untamed land made centralized magical enforcement all but impossible, and in response they formed the Wardens: solitary survivalists, relentless hunters, and master trackers who operated alone for weeks, even months, with no reinforcements. To even be considered for the rank, candidates were left in the wilderness with nothing but their magic and their instincts, expected to survive twelve months without aid.

Sebastian turned his attention back to the Officers. “Oi. Who, exactly, is ‘getting’ a Warden?”

The table of recruits tensed. One of them, Officer Evans, fresh out of training and a new member of Sebastian's troop, swallowed hard before answering.

“One of our squads, apparently. It’s all over base, sir.”

Sebastian exchanged a glance with Garreth before scoffing. “According to who?”

Evans hesitated. “No one official. Just… talk going around, sir.”

Garreth rolled his eyes. “Right. Because the best way to learn about major personnel decisions is from a bunch of underpaid field officers and not, you know, from our actual superiors.”

Sebastian sighed. Garreth was right. If it were true, if the Ministry was actually sending a Warden to their division, why the hell was he hearing about it for the first time from his subordinates?

“Bloody ridiculous,” Sebastian muttered, rubbing at his temple. “And we don’t even need a Warden.”

Garreth nodded in agreement. “Seriously. We’re the fucking Auror Division, not some second-rate security force. We’ve been handling the smuggling cases ourselves from day one. If the Ministry thinks we’re too incompetent to manage our own investigations and needs to bring in an outsider to clean it up, maybe they should be taking a hard look at their own bloody leadership instead.”

Sebastian didn’t disagree. The last mission had been a disaster, yes, but not because of them. The British Aurors were the best of the best. They trained harder, fought smarter, and had proven time and time again that they were world class soldiers.

But they had been sent in blind.

The enemy was stronger than expected, their magic more sophisticated. If the Ministry had actually listened to their own operatives, to Sebastian, in getting more intel, maybe his teammates wouldn’t be in the infirmary.

But what did the Ministry do now? Instead of fixing their own failures, they brought in a foreigner and expected the entire base to just accept it? Sebastian scoffed. Fuck that.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Before you two work yourselves into a rage spiral,” he said, “let’s consider the implications. If the Ministry really has called in a Warden, then this situation must be worse than we thought.”

Sebastian shot him a look. “Oh, come on. You’re on board with this?”

Ominis exhaled slowly. “I’m just acknowledging the reality of the situation. If the Canadian Ministry actually agreed to send one of their own, it means the higher-ups think whatever we’re dealing with is beyond standard Auror capabilities.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. Beyond our capabilities? Fucking ridiculous.

“I still don’t buy it," Garreth countered. "Wardens do things their own way, on their own bloody terms. When has the Ministry ever willingly worked with someone like that?”

Ominis shook his head. “Not often. Which tells me they don’t have a choice.”

Garreth let out a harsh breath, arms crossed. “No choice, my arse. This is political. The Ministry wants to look like they’re doing something so they bring in a foreigner with a fancy title to make it seem like we’ve got things under control.”

Ominis took a sip of tea. “Even if that’s the case, dismissing a foreign recruit before they’ve even arrived won’t do us any favors. Anyone who survives Warden training is not to be underestimated.”

Sebastian pushed his tray aside, his patience already wearing thin.

“I don’t care how well trained they are,” he said. “They don’t know our people, our protocols, our tactics. How the hell are we supposed to work with someone who doesn’t even operate under the same chain of command? And more importantly, who the hell are they being assigned to?”

Garreth hesitated, panic flickering across his face before he shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor.

“It better not be my team,” he muttered, already moving.

Sebastian blinked. “Garreth—”

“I’m going to find out,” The redhead snapped, striding toward the door.

Sebastian wasn’t about to be left in the dark. Grabbing his wand, he followed, his boots striking hard against the floor as he kept pace with his fellow lieutenant.

The walk to their Captain’s office wasn’t far, yet it stretched endlessly. Garreth muttered curses under his breath the entire way.

“I swear to Merlin if they’re sticking me with some overhyped foreigner who doesn’t even know how we operate—”

He didn’t finish the thought. The moment they reached the office door, Garreth shoved it open without knocking.

Auror Captain Catherine Hale didn't even up look up from her desk, the surface of which was cluttered with mission reports, clearance requests, and maps covered with notes. Her expression remained impassive as if completely unsurprised by their abrupt entrance.

“Whatever this is,” she said flatly, “it had better be important.”

Garreth didn’t hesitate. “Tell me it’s not my team.”

That got her attention.

Hale’s quill stilled against the parchment. Her gaze flickered up and Sebastian didn’t miss the way her expression shifted.

Garreth saw it too, and his entire posture changed. He exhaled loudly. “Oh, thank fuck. ”

Sebastian turned to Hale. “So it’s true?”

The Captain tapped her quill against her desk. “Yes. The Canadian Ministry has sent us a Warden,” she said crisply. “Assigned to your unit, Sallow. Effective immediately.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth.

“Why me?” he demanded. “If not Weasley, there are ten other squads you could assign them to. Why mine?”

Hale sighed as flipped through paperwork. “Because your unit is the most experienced.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Bullshit. If this was about experience, you’d have sent them to Ashford’s team.”

“Fine,” Hale sighed. “If you’re going to make me say it, your squad is the best we have.”

Sebastian didn’t so much as blink. That wasn’t news to him. He knew his unit was the best. Highly trained, disciplined, efficient. They worked like a well-oiled machine, and that was because he kept a tight leash on them. He expected perfection, and for the most part, they delivered.

Hale continued, ignoring the annoyed look Garreth was giving her from the corner of the room. “Frankly, in her own jurisdiction, this Warden outranks every Auror we have on the Smuggler Case. Putting her anywhere else would be a logistical nightmare. So unless you want her marching around giving orders to every unit on this base, she needs to be placed somewhere she’ll be kept in check.”

Sebastian’s brain caught on a single word.

Her.

Sebastian's entire squad was men. That alone would make things more complicated, not to mention the fact that she technically outranked them.

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw ticking. “You could have warned me."

Hale arched a brow. “And what? Given you time to throw a tantrum about it before she even got here?”

Garreth snorted. “Honestly, Cap, I would have paid to see that.”

Sebastian shot him a withering glare. “Get fucked, Weasley.”

Garreth grinned.

Sebastian turned back to Hale. “Put her on another team.”

The Captain sighed. “You’re acting like you have a choice, Lieutenant. Let me be clear: you don’t. This decision was made above my pay grade. You don’t have to like it. You just have to deal with it. And frankly, I don’t have time for whatever territorial pissing contest you’re working yourself up to anyway.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how these things worked. Politics. Optics. Bureaucracy. But this? Dropping some foreigner into his unit, some Ministry-sponsored operative who hadn’t bled with them, hadn’t earned their trust? It was a slap in the face.

“Whoever this recruit is, they don’t know our people,” Sebastian insisted. “They don't know our methods. And now I’m expected to just trust them?”

Hale’s expression didn’t waver. “You're expected to act like a professional.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine,” he bit out. “But if she slows us down—”

“She won’t,” Hale interrupted. “The Canadian Ministry doesn’t send us dead weight.”

Sebastian barely resisted the urge to scoff. We’ll see about that.

“Now,” Hale continued, voice growing sharper, “I assume I don’t need to explain to you two the importance of classified information, so tell me.” She leveled them both with a look. “How did you find out about this before the official announcement?”

Garreth snorted. “Oh, come on, Hale. This place leaks information faster than the bloody Prophet.”

Hale’s jaw tightened. She exhaled sharply before pinching the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known."

Sebastian folded his arms over his chest. “So when is she getting here?”

“She’s already here.”

Both men froze. Hale didn’t bother hiding her smirk.

“She’s in the briefing room,” she said, nodding toward the hallway. “Major McDonald and Major Iverson are filling her in on our current operations.”

Sebastian’s stomach tightened. Already here. That meant she was already getting inside information.

Garreth let out a low exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well shite.”

Hale gave him a flat look. “A very professional assessment, Weasley.”

Sebastian barely heard them. He was already calculating.

He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know her face. Didn’t know what the hell kind of person the Ministry had deemed fit to throw into his unit without so much as a discussion.

But he knew what she was.

A foreigner. A political pawn. A weapon, forged elsewhere and dropped into his hands without so much as a say in the matter.

Sebastian exhaled sharply. Fine. But if this Warden thought she could just waltz in here, sit at their tables, fight at their sides, and act like she was one of them, she had another thing coming.

Hale must have seen something in his expression because she sighed. “Don’t scare her off on the first day.”

Sebastian scoffed. “That depends on her, doesn’t it?”

Hale rolled her eyes, already dismissing them with a flick of her hand. “I’ll see you in the briefing room, Sallow. Ten minutes.”

Sebastian turned on his heel. Garreth let out another heavy sigh as he followed. Neither of them spoke until they were back in the hallway.

“This is going to be a nightmare,” Garreth muttered as the door shut behind them.

Sebastian couldn’t recall a time Garreth had ever been more right.

Auror Division Headquarters, Briefing Room – London

The room was sterile. Dim lighting, walls lined with pinned reports, maps still flickering with charms. The air carried the scent of parchment, ink, and stale coffee.

You sat near the far end of a long table, hands folded neatly in front of you. Across the room, Auror Majors Iverson and McDonald had been briefing you for the past fifteen minutes. Or rather, they had been talking at you.

They didn’t trust you. That much was obvious in the way McDonald’s gaze lingered too long, assessing you like an unproven recruit rather than a seasoned operative, and in the way Iverson’s voice carried just a touch too much neutrality, deliberately distant.

Foreign transfers were never welcomed warmly.

It was the same in every elite magical combat force across the world. From the British Aurors to the Japanese Heddohantā, the Mexican Cazadores de Sombras, to the Italian Custodes Noctis. Each division trained their own, built their own operatives from the ground up. The unspoken foundation of any elite unit was the belief that they were the best. That no one else was better suited to the job at hand. So unless it was wartime, to request outside help was to admit weakness.

No one liked that feeling. And you could already feel the resentment coiling beneath the surface.

McDonald flipped open a file, sliding a grainy photograph across the table.

“This was the site of the last attack,” he said, sliding a photograph toward you. “Dockyards in Southwark. What should have been a standard raid turned into a disaster when our Aurors encountered sigils and defensive wards far beyond what smugglers typically use.”

You picked up the photo, studying the scene. The markings on the ground were precise. Too precise for common criminals. The sigils were layered, woven together in a way that suggested intent, not the haphazard scrawling of desperate men.

“Blood magic?” you asked.

McDonald’s pause was almost imperceptible.

“We’re still analyzing,” he said smoothly, but you could hear the careful edge in his tone. He already knew the answer.

You tapped the edge of the photo. “That’s not an ordinary ritual circle. The sigil placement, the reinforcement layers… this was deliberate. Someone planned this carefully.”

“You’re familiar with these markings?” Iverson asked.

“I’ve seen similar structuring before,” you confirmed. “Layered sigils like this are rare, at least outside of highly specialized magical sects. Smugglers don’t use these kinds of defenses. I’d say you’re dealing with professionals.”

The words settled heavily over the table. Even without looking up, you could feel the shift in the room, the way the tension coiled just a fraction tighter.

McDonald’s fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the folder in front of him. Iverson remained still, watching you with a gaze too level to be casual.

“You’re confident in that assessment?” McDonald asked.

You set the photo down and folded your hands. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already suspect as much.”

McDonald’s lips pressed into a thin line. Iverson exhaled quietly through his nose. You leaned back, letting the silence stretch just long enough to see who would blink first.

It was McDonald.

He slid another file toward you. “We’ve had ten incidents over the last three months. All tied to underground magical trade routes. The threat of organized smuggling is rising.”

You flipped open the file, scanning the reports inside. At first glance, the incidents matched what you’d expect from illicit operations: illegal wand cores, rare and dangerous magical artifacts, contraband ingredients that could be used in restricted potioneering. But the deeper you read, the clearer it became that this was more than just standard black market dealings.

Incident #3 – East End Warehouse Raid

Conducting Party: Ashford Squad

Initial Report: A suspected smuggling ring had been stockpiling illicit potions. Aurors sent in for a standard sweep and arrest.

Outcome: Two Aurors critically injured. One suffered temporary blindness, the other convulsions. Later examination revealed the storage area was lined with active sigils across the walls and floors. Several crates of confiscated goods vanished mid-transport before reaching the Ministry’s evidence vaults.

Incident #5 – Knockturn Alley Safehouse

Conducting Party: Weasley Squad

Initial Report: Routine surveillance of a suspected smuggler hideout. No signs of activity for weeks, then a sudden spike in magical energy readings. Aurors moved in.

Outcome: Four missing wizards, all known associates of the smuggling network, found inside. No signs of physical trauma. Cause of death unknown.

Incident #8 – Missing Transport Convoy

Conducting Party: Whittaker Squad

Initial Report: A Ministry convoy carrying confiscated dark artifacts went missing en route to a classified vault. The route was secure, the convoy heavily warded.

Outcome: The convoy’s last recorded location was on Ministry grounds. Security wards never detected a breach. No distress signals were sent.

Incident #10 – Southwark Dockyards

Conducting Party: Sallow Squad

Initial Report: Intelligence suggested a major drop off was planned at the docks. Aurors were deployed to intercept the shipment.

Outcome: Three officers went missing before reaching the docks. The missing Aurors were found hours later in different locations across the city, disoriented, drained of magic, completely unaware of how they got there.

A chill settled beneath your skin, but before you could say anything more, the door swung open.

Captain Hale entered first. Behind her, a group of Ministry officials followed, their robes pristine, expressions unreadable. Diplomats, most of them. High ranking representatives from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And then there was him. Auror Lieutenant Sebastian Sallow.

The moment he stepped into the room, you knew exactly who he was: sharp-eyed, broad-shouldered, undeniably handsome, his presence cutting through the room like a blade.

You'd read about him on the plane.

A decorated Auror, his file had been far more extensive than that of a typical Lieutenant, filled with commendations and detailed reports of high-risk operations. Sallow was known for his sharp tactical mind, aggressive field strategies, and a tendency to solve problems in ways that often ignored standard procedure. He was resourceful, quick-thinking, and from what the report had mentioned, relentless when hunting a target. If it weren’t for the red tape of bureaucracy, you had no doubt he’d already hold a higher rank. On paper, he was exactly the kind of person you’d want to work with in the field. In person, he was looking at you like he already regretted breathing the same air as you.

Hale cleared her throat, cutting the tension before it could settle in too deeply.

“Lieutenant Sallow,” she said. “This is—”

“The Warden.”

He said it like an accusation. The Ministry officials exchanged glances. Hale sighed.

You tilted your head slightly. “I have a name.”

Sallow didn’t blink. “I’m sure you do.”

You swallowed down your response.

Hale moved to stand at the head of the table, eyes landing on you. "I understand that under the Warden ranks, you hold the title of Major,” she said, "However, as I’m sure you’re aware, our divisions operate differently and as such your rank will be adjusted accordingly. You will serve under Lieutenant Sallow’s command.”

Your jaw tightened slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. You had expected this. Your rank, your experience, it didn’t matter outside your own jurisdiction. The moment you stepped into another division, you were just the foreigner. A guest to be tolerated, an inconvenience to be managed.

You nodded. "Understood."

McDonald shifted slightly, as if relieved you hadn’t argued. Hale nodded. "Good."

One of the Ministry officials, a man with a sharp nose and the kind of practiced neutrality that reeked of bureaucracy, spoke next.

“We are very pleased that the Canadian Ministry agreed to this partnership,” he said smoothly. “Given the… unfortunate nature of our recent losses, your particular expertise will be invaluable.”

You resisted the urge to arch a brow. Unfortunate losses. A sanitized way of saying that people had been dying, and they didn’t know how to stop it.

“We’re all on the same side, after all,” he added, offering a diplomatic smile.

You nodded. Because despite their skepticism, despite the thinly veiled distrust, you were on their side. That was why you were here. You were willing to do whatever it took to help your allies, because once, not so long ago, they had done the same for you.

Early in your career, before you had even earned your Warden insignia, the Canadian Ministry had called in British Aurors to assist with a crisis along the northern border. You had seen firsthand how they operated: efficient, relentless, disciplined. They had saved lives, yours included. You had respected them ever since.

But the feeling clearly wasn’t mutual.

Even without looking, you could feel way Sallow’s stare lingered on you. He didn’t trust what he hadn’t built himself, and you, dropped into his hands like some foreign experiment, were an unwelcome disruption.

Not that you had much say in it either.

Ever since the day your ancient magic had surfaced, the Canadian Ministry had made you their first choice for foreign deployments. Their weapon, their super soldier, sent abroad when diplomacy required a show of strength. It wasn’t about you, not really. It was about what you represented, the undeniable proof of Canada's power, their superiority, the Warden they paraded when they needed to impress, to remind the world that their operatives were worth ten of anyone else’s.

You had never asked for that title. Never wanted to be their shining example. But that was the price of being useful. And right now, you had a job to do.

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