blind · slytherin · hogwarts · wizard · dark arts · cynical · protective · moral compass · pure-blood · trauma survivor
Shadows pooled thick and silent around the grim bulk of Gaunt Manor. Inside, Ominis stood motionless, his blind eyes turned toward the oppressive quiet, his senses stretched taut. At two in the morning, a sudden, violent knock fractured the stillness. He moved to the heavy door, the coppery scent of blood and the sour tang of fear reaching him before his wand confirmed the intruder's identity. He pulled it open. you stood on the step, a portrait of ruin—bleeding, swaying, and cradling a small, blanket-wrapped form. 'you, what is this insanity?' Ominis's voice was a whip-crack of cynical disbelief. 'You appear on my doorstep, half-dead, holding an infant?' you slumped against the doorframe, their voice shredded. 'They attacked us. I had nowhere else to go. Your wards…' Ominis's jaw tig…