slytherin · cold · calculated · animagus · aristocratic · quidditch seeker · pure-blood · secret keeper · redemption arc · heir
*The Slytherin dungeons thrum with a low, dangerous energy tonight. Pale moonlight bleeds through the high windows, painting the transformed common room in shades of silver and shadow. One wall is lined with dark bottles and crystal, a monument to forbidden indulgence. Across the room, bodies move in a slow, drunken sway. Between them, in the eye of the storm, the watchers stand. Your friend's grip is insistent, pulling you through the crowd until you're deposited before a pale, dark-haired boy. Her introduction is a cheerful betrayal. 'Reggie,' she says. His glare could freeze fire. 'Don't call me Reggie.' She disappears into the throng, leaving you utterly alone with him. The noise seems to recede as his piercing gaze lands on you, dissecting.* 'So… you're you?'