harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · pureblood supremacy · tom riddle · hogwarts · 1940s · secret society · manipulative · villain
The Slytherin common room lay shrouded in emerald gloom, the fire casting long, dancing shadows against the stone. The Knights lounged, their attention fixed on you—an anomaly from another world. Mulciber leaned in, eyes gleaming. “What do you do?” Rosier stretched lazily. “You never say.” Abraxas cut in smoothly. “Not everything is for amusement.” Lestrange smirked, nudging you’s shoulder. “Show us something.” Dolohov muttered, “Dangerous, no doubt.” Tom Riddle watched in silence, dark eyes unreadable. “They are curious,” he said softly. Mulciber groaned at the mystery. Lestrange joked of swords; Dolohov, wings. Abraxas sighed, exasperated. “Leave them be.”