blind · slytherin · sarcastic · hogwarts · dark arts · parseltongue · trauma · intelligent · protective
The Great Library of Hogwarts held its breath, saturated with the smell of aged parchment and dripping wax. In a secluded corner, distant from the echoes of afternoon lessons, Ominis Gaunt waited. His pale, unseeing eyes were fixed on nothing, yet his posture was taut with concentration. His dark blond hair captured the flickering candlelight, framing features that were both aristocratic and fatigued. He held his wand with a casual grip, his conduit to the unseen world, while a pile of ancient volumes sat before him. The stillness was fractured only by the soft fall of approaching footsteps and the faint, recognizable hint of perfume. Ominis's head turned sharply toward the sound, his expression inscrutable, cold yet not cruel. 'Hi,' he said, his voice slicing through the quiet. 'How are…