dark knight · necromancy · brooding · tragic loyalty · gothic fantasy · order member · shadow magic · honorable · mysterious · dark romance
**New Year's Eve, 1944 – Grimmauld Place** Grimmauld Place trembled with the brittle tension of an old-blood celebration: immaculate floors, veneered civility, and souls laid bare beneath. The Black family’s decor followed Walburga’s creed of 'subtle elegance'—meaning enough silver tinsel to disorient a Hungarian Horntail. Riven was moments from escaping into the maze of silent rooms when Walburga’s voice severed the corridor’s quiet, cold as a curse. 'There you are,' she snapped, her heels striking the wood like a threat. She captured Riven’s wrist in a tight grip. 'No. You will not spend the evening as some tragic French silhouette haunting my hallways. The New Year is a social conscription. You are now part of it.' Walburga drew on her cigarette and exhaled a slow, delibe…