Chapter Text
“ My name is unimportant,my story is everything I shall be known for.” - Solaris Carrow
It was a brisk summer day on the British isle,and a birthday was rapidly approaching one that would change life as this young man would know.
Solaris Carrow tossed and turned in his bed. The clock on his nightstand read 4:30 a.m. The birds, usually loud at this hour, were eerily silent. Only the distant hoot of owls echoed across the morning hush.
A soft tapping came at the window. He sat up, half-asleep but fully alert. He had waited for this day for years his family had prepared him for it even longer.
A long-eared owl stared back at him, a parchment envelope clutched in its beak. Solaris’s heart skipped. He knew exactly what it was and what it meant.
He crawled out of bed and walked over to his window carefully opening it and retrieving the letter from the owl who was now resting on the windowsill.
To ms. Serira Carrow
26 grimwald place
London
he sat there looking at it. Debating on opening it. What felt like hours by was only mere moments passed as he broke open the wax seal.
Dear ms, Carrow
we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry
please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment
term begins September 1st we await your owl no later than July 31st.
He sat there glaring at the name, the pronouns, everything that made Solaris feel like his world was crashing down around him.
He was about to come of age and be deemed the heir of the house Carrow. A house in which his family wanted him to be proud of but the scars on his body screamed that it was anything but.
Luckily he wouldn’t be alone this year his friend was turning twelve and would be joining him in this hell. Which he was greatful for.
Regulus Black his closest friend and ally in life. Some might say these boys completed each other. Always spotted together or entering one another’s homes. They were raised closely together.
The thoughts came crashing down when his door opened, it was his family’s house elf . “did mother send you?” Solaris said sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Yes”
“Why”
“The Black family is joining breakfast plans”
“Thank you for telling me”
The house elf was dismissed and went back downstairs. Solaris sat on his bed still , soaking in the information when he heard muffled yelling.
“He’s a Carrow, not some common street rat! He’ll wear the crest and he’ll answer to the name I gave him!”
The words hit like curses. Solaris flinched, his knuckles whitening as he crushed the letter in his fists. The wax seal cracked under the pressure with a soft snap final, like a door slamming shut.
He wanted to scream. Or vanish. Or hex the next thing that spoke to him.
Great, he thought. She’s already angry.
He stared at the floorboards beneath his feet. They were polished to a shine, reflecting the outline of his figure distorted, like he didn’t belong in his own skin. His chest felt tight. The name she’d used still rang in his ears.
Serira.
He hated it.
Every letter of it dripped with her expectations, her control. It was a name stitched into the hems of his old robes, etched into the gold-embossed family books in the library, engraved into the family’s cursed bloodline.
Not his name.
The owl still sat on the windowsill, ruffling its feathers. It turned its head, meeting his gaze. Solaris wondered, absurdly, if it was judging him too.
He forced himself to stand. His legs felt hollow, as though they might give out. He moved slowly, as if delaying the inevitable could somehow undo it.
Then came the voice again, louder, sharper:
“Serira! Get down here this instant!”
The chandelier above him trembled slightly. Magic in the house always stirred when she lost her temper.
Solaris closed his eyes. Just for a second. Just to center himself. You are not her puppet, he told himself. You are not her project. You are not Serira.
He slipped the crumpled letter into the pocket of his dressing gown, smoothed the fabric over it, and stepped toward the door. The hallway beyond was dimly lit by enchanted sconces, casting flickering shadows along the walls lined with ancient Carrow portraits. Their painted eyes followed him, their expressions sour and disapproving.
“You disgrace the family,” one of them muttered as he passed.He didn’t even look at it. He was used to that.
As he descended the grand staircase, the smell of burnt tea and polished silver filled the air a scent he associated with punishment. His mother’s voice rang again from the dining room, this time less shouting, more venomous whisper.
“The Black family will be here any moment and she’s still hiding upstairs like a coward”
Solaris stepped into the doorway, and everything went quiet.
His mother stood near the hearth, dressed in deep emerald silk. Her hair was pinned up like a crown, and her lips were drawn tight into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Two cups of steaming tea sat untouched on the table, and the silverware gleamed with charmwork.
She turned slowly, her gaze raking over him like a scalpel.
“There you are,” she said, voice cold. “Fix your hair. And stand properly. The Blacks will not see my daughter looking like she’s rolled out of a coffin.”
Solaris didn’t move.
“I got the letter,” he said quietly.
Her expression didn’t change. She already knew.
“Of course you did. You’re a Carrow. No surprise Hogwarts accepted you.” She paused, then added, almost offhandedly, “You’ll be fitted for your robes this afternoon properly fitted.”
Solaris stiffened. He heard what she wasn’t saying. The word she didn’t speak, but always meant: feminine. Wrong.
Before he could reply, the bell at the door rang out with a deep, echoing chime.
“They’re early,” his mother snapped. “Straighten up, Serira.”
He met her eyes.
“It’s Solaris,” he said.
There was silence a thick, choking silence. Her expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“We’ll speak of this later,” she said, turning toward the door.
No, we won’t, Solaris thought.
Because for the first time, he had a way out.