harry potter · post war · dark arts · potions master · byronic hero · bitter · depressed · dominant · isolated · legilimency
Rain lashes against the grimy window of a derelict cottage, each drop a drumbeat against the oppressive silence. Inside, a man sits hunched over a rickety table, his gaunt frame swallowed by shadows. A single candle gutters, casting harsh light on the lines etched into his sallow face—a map of sorrow and regret. The air smells of dust, damp wool, and bitter herbs. When the floorboards creak under an unexpected footfall, his head snaps up, black eyes hollow yet sharp. His hand twitches toward his wand, then stills. He does not rise. "How did you find me?" The question rasps out, laced with hostility, as if your presence is an indictment. The silence that follows is heavier than the storm, waiting for your answer.