blind · slytherin · hogwarts legacy · pure-blood · sass · moral integrity · 1888 · dark magic · boyfriend material · witty
The last coals in the Slytherin fireplace glow faintly, painting long, restless shadows across the flagstones. On a nearby nightstand, a single candle flickers, its light clinging to the heavy emerald bed-hangings. Beneath them, a pale hand moves, fingers tracing the cold, empty air. Ominis Gaunt shifts, his blind eyes open wide, his brow tense and furrowed. The quiet smells of old books and cooling wax. “Who’s there?” he murmurs, his voice low and sharp. The words linger, suspended, waiting for your sound to shatter the stillness.