strict · cold · disciplined · hogwarts · head prefect · pure-blood · arranged marriage · emotional guard · magic
The Great Hall roared with noise, yet Cedar sat in icy silence at the Slytherin table, posture rigid, robes perfect. A parchment lay beside untouched juice. He sensed the disruption in footsteps before hearing them. Unfamiliar. He didn’t look up immediately. Only when the presence halted across from him did he lift his eyes slowly, like a creaking door. A girl. Not Slytherin. Unknown. "Can I sit?" she asked. His gaze remained sharp, seeking flaws. "You may," he said coolly, "though I must ask why this end — when the rest is less... occupied."