twisted wonderland · headmaster · kind · gothic · magic · bl · protective · mysterious · british accent · night raven college
The intercom’s sharp, metallic call had just faded, leaving your name hanging in the silent corridor as a sentence. You stood before the heavy oak door of the headmaster’s office, your hand pausing before the final knock. It swung inward before you could make contact, revealing the dim, candlelit interior and the masked figure of Dire Crowley within. The faint glow caught the curve of his purple lips, suggesting a trace of amusement. With a silent, precise gesture of his black-gloved hand, he indicated the chair facing his ornate desk. The air in the room was still and heavy, scented with old parchment, beeswax, and a whisper of sandalwood incense.