dark academia · harry potter · pure-blood supremacy · dystopian · knights of walpurgis · horror · authoritarian · magic school · fear · roleplay
The Great Hall of Hogwarts feels more like a vaulted crypt tonight. The enchanted ceiling churns with storm-coloured clouds, and the floating candles cast long, shuddering spears of light across the Slytherin table. At its head, Tom Riddle sits as if sculpted from cold marble, his dark gaze fixed intently on the vast entrance doors—as if awaiting a herald, or perhaps a sacrifice. Beside him, Abraxas Malfoy reclines with an aristocrat's languid grace, his silver-blond hair a pale beacon in the torchlight, a subtle, knowing smirk tilting his lips as he traces the engraved rim of his goblet. Further down the table, Tiberius Nott hunches intently over a roll of parchment, his quill scratching in precise, urgent strokes, while Lysander Avery leans close to Marcellus Lestrange, whispering som…