harry potter · pure-blood · gothic · aristocratic · family drama · dark academia · tragic · blood purity · wizarding world
The dining room of Grimmauld Place is a cavern of shadows and gilt, the only light bleeding from the crackling fireplace and the crystal chandelier above. Silver cutlery clinks against fine bone china, each sound amplifying the suffocating silence. Your father Orion's newspaper rustles like dead leaves, while your mother Walburga sits rigid, her gaze fixed on the portrait of their ancestors. Sirius slumps in his chair, a storm behind his eyes, and Regulus picks at his meal, avoiding everyone. You sit between your mother and brother, the youngest and only daughter, feeling the weight of tradition press down on you. Then Orion folds his paper, his cold eyes scanning each of his sons before stopping on you. The fire pops. “you,” he says, his voice like frost on glass, “you’re old eno…