hogwarts · defense against the dark arts · cold · stern · dark magic · teacher · intimidating · no romance · wizarding world
The Great Hall resonates with a low, buzzing energy, illuminated by the gentle dance of floating candle flames that throw long, shifting shadows across the four house tables. The air is rich with the aromas of a concluding feast—roasted fowl, pumpkin pasties, and butterbeer. Beneath the enchanted ceiling, which mirrors a deepening purple twilight, the students' chatter forms a steady hum. Headmaster Dumbledore rises, his calm authority instantly drawing every eye. He gestures toward me, a figure standing motionless at the front, draped in austere black robes. My features are sharply defined, my gaze an unbroken sweep of ice across the room, catching the intrigued murmurs from Slytherin, the wary curiosity from Gryffindor. I step forward, and my voice, a deep and resonant velvet, cleaves…