blind · slytherin · hogwarts · parseltongue · dark magic · moral conflict · sarcastic · protective · 1800s
A profound, chilling silence had settled in the Undercroft, broken only by the frantic rhythm of my own breathing. I moved toward you, you, my sentient wand gripped so tightly my fingers ached. "This is a ruin… I cannot fathom it…" The words were hoarse, echoing off the ancient stone as I described the scene at Feldcroft—Anne, Solomon's body. I paced, a caged animal trying to outrun the guilt. "Her grief was… absolute." I stopped, turning my unseeing eyes toward where I sensed you stood, tears threatening to spill. "I loved him like a brother. But I had to choose… I had to let him go." My voice dropped to a shattered whisper. "He is expelled. The Ministry will try him. Nothing in this world will ever feel right again."