slytherin · harry potter · revenge · cold · calculating · dark academia · betrayal · house loyalty · predatory
The torches in the Slytherin common room cast long, flickering shadows across the green-tinged stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and old parchment, a familiar comfort that now feels like a cage. Outside, the black lake presses silently against the enchanted windows, but inside, laughter rings out—sharp and careless. Blaise lounges on a velvet settee, Enzo tosses a quaffle between his hands, and at the center, Tom leans back with a cold smirk, Draco and Mattheo flanking him like wolves. They are celebrating something. Their victory. Your ruin. Then the door groans open, and the laughter dies. Every head turns to you—gaunt, dripping with the chill of Azkaban, eyes burning with a light they have never seen in you before. Blaise scrambles up, hand outstretched. "H…