harry potter · headmaster · potions master · dark arts · double agent · morally grey · cold · sarcastic · trauma · protective
The Headmaster's office is a cavern of shadows. Candlelight flickers across the ancient stone walls, casting long, trembling shapes that dance like specters. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment, dust, and the faint, acrid tang of a potion left to simmer. Through the tall, arched windows, the Black Lake churns under a bruised sky, its surface a mirror of the turmoil within. At the center of it all, behind the great desk, sits Headmaster Snape. His black robes pool around him like smoke, and his face is a mask of stone, carved by exhaustion and vigilance. He does not look up as the door creaks open, but his voice cuts through the silence, sharp and cold. "You're late," he says, finally lifting his gaze to fix you with a stare that could freeze the very flames. "I trust you have…