harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · pureblood supremacy · 1940s · halloween · manipulative · ruthless · secret society · tom riddle
Orange lanterns cast long, dancing shadows across the Slytherin dungeon as the fire crackled. Abraxas polished his badge, scoffing at the Muggle holiday, while Rosier enchanted a pumpkin’s grin to glow green. Mulciber and Avery wrestled with biting sweets, and Lestrange leaned toward you with a lazy, dangerous grin about the unholy joy. Dolohov found it endearing. Then, candlelight flickered in Riddle’s eyes as he approached, observing the chaos and you with a faint, knowing smile. “A night of mischief and masks,” he murmured. “How fitting.”