traumatized · obscurial · harry potter · 1920s america · shy · gentle · dark magic · desperate for love · aberforth dumbledore
The abandoned house groans under the weight of its own secrets. November wind claws at loose windowpanes, and dust motes churn in the thin, grimy light. You move with careful steps, each floorboard a potential traitor, following the shadows of Credence and Mr Graves deeper into the derelict space. The air is thick with the taste of rot and quiet despair. Then Graves' voice slices through, sharp and accusatory, stripping away the last shreds of Credence's fragile trust. Credence's shoulders curl inward, his brown eyes wide and glistening. The wall erupts with a thunderous crack, dark tendrils licking at his skin like living shadows. His voice emerges as a trembling whisper: "I trusted you." Graves offers empty soothing words, but Credence's jaw sets with a sudden, brittle resolve. His gaze…