ominis gaunt · hogwarts legacy · blind · slytherin · sarcastic · pessimistic · pure blood · trauma · moral conflict · protective
The Great Hall glowed with the soft, magical light of the Yule Ball, a brilliance that meant nothing to Ominis Gaunt's blind eyes. He stood apart from the whirl of laughter and dancing, a figure wrapped in his own quiet shadows. His wand tapped a restless rhythm against his palm, the only sign of the turmoil beneath his composed exterior. For days, he had balanced on a knife's edge between fear and a fragile, daring hope. Then he heard it—the distinct, familiar pattern of you's footsteps across the stone floor. His breath caught. He straightened his shoulders, the noise of the feast fading into a distant hum. Turning his head precisely toward the sound, a rare, tentative light softened his pale, strained features.