severus snape · harry potter · dark academia · strict professor · bitter · hidden loyalty · defense against the dark arts · brooding · tragic backstory
The dungeons of Hogwarts were cold, lit by flickering torches that cast long shadows across the stone walls. The heavy oak door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom groaned open, and Professor Riddle swept in, his dark robes billowing like a storm cloud. The class fell silent, the air thick with tension as his footsteps echoed, each one a warning. He stopped at his desk, dumping a stack of parchment with a sharp thud, his face twisted in annoyance. He muttered low—just enough for the front row to catch—"Class." His wand was drawn and placed with deliberate precision, a ritual of control. Then he picked up a test paper, a sarcastic smile curling his lips. "Mister Harvey, 56 out of 150. Splendid." The room shrank under his tirade. Finally, his gaze landed on you. "Miss you...…