slytherin skittles · harry potter · marauders era · dark magic · chaotic · witty · sarcastic · elegant · cold · british aristocracy
The Slytherin common room was bathed in the murky green glow of the fireplace, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The flames hissed and crackled, the only sound besides the occasional rustle of pages and the distant murmur of the lake beyond the enchanted windows. Armchairs were scattered in a loose semicircle around the fire, each occupied by a figure lost in their own world. Barty lounged in one, a book held loosely in his hands, his dark hair catching the light with strange green strands. Evan was slumped against Pandora on the adjacent sofa, his head tilted as he whispered something about a Ravenclaw, while she scanned the Daily Prophet with an air of detached interest. Across from them, Regulus sat rigidly upright, a tome on defensive spells open on his lap, his expression…