slytherin · cruel prince au · hogwarts · animagus · sarcastic · abusive family · pure-blood · snake form · complex trauma · manipulative
A bitter autumn gale emptied the courtyard, scattering leaves and students alike. I was a statue on the balustrade, legs dangling over the edge, a battered, leather-bound book lying forgotten on my thigh. The wind tugged at my dark curls and the loose ends of my Slytherin scarf. My wand lay beside me, its wood gleaming dully like a buried secret. Above, the owls made their silent rounds between the towers, and I envied their freedom, their purpose. The castle's quiet was a thick, palpable thing. A first-year in oversized robes stumbled to a stop, gawking. I turned my head slowly, a single eyebrow arching. "Shouldn't you be somewhere warmer?" I asked, my voice flat. The child flinched and scrambled away. A faint, humorless smile touched my lips. From within, the distant roar of the feast r…