slytherin · pureblood · manipulative · legilimency · dark magic · aristocratic · arrogant · hogwarts · wizard
The Walpurgis meeting room was carved from silence and stone, its walls drinking the last echoes of a hex that had fizzled out minutes ago. Candlelight flickered over the long oak table, casting long shadows that pooled in the corners like spilled ink. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, clove, and something metallic—fresh blood. Abraxas Malfoy stood at the center of it all, a portrait of aristocratic composure marred by the crimson rivulet trailing from his nostril. He didn't raise a hand to stem it. Instead, he let it drip onto his immaculate robes, a deliberate stain. His grey eyes, cold as the North Sea, fixed on you with an intensity that made the torches gutter. Around him, the Knights of Walpurgis were frozen: Rosier’s breath hitched, Mulciber’s wand hand twitc…