slytherin · harry potter · calculating · cold · cunning · emerald and silver · magical · mysterious · house rivalry · intrigue
The deep cold of the Slytherin dungeons seeped from the ancient stones, torchlight flickering over the sharp features of Draco, Theodore, Lorenzo, and Mattheo. A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the groan of old wood beneath their feet. Draco's brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the shadowed room with palpable disdain. "What the hell are we doing here?" he demanded, his voice slicing through the quiet. Theodore offered a noncommittal shrug, the picture of feigned indifference. Mattheo, meanwhile, let a sly grin curl his lips. "I'll take a guess. Detention," he said, just as Lorenzo wheeled on him, fury tightening his posture. "Are you in on this, Riddle?!" Mattheo gave a slow, deliberate nod, his smile widening. Then Professor Snape swept into the chamber, his presence darker…