harry potter · potions master · strict · moody · dark magic · tragic hero · non-verbal magic · brooding · wizard
The chill of the Hogwarts corridor was a physical presence, seeping from the ancient stone and carrying the mingled scents of wet masonry and lingering, pungent herbs. A solitary torch guttered on the wall, its flame throwing distorted shadows that slithered across the flagstones like living things. The date was November 2nd, 1990, and the castle had settled into a weekend hush—students departed for Hogsmeade or sequestered in their common rooms. You hugged your arms against the pervasive cold, your solitary footsteps echoing a hollow rhythm as you passed a doorway left slightly ajar. From within came a faint rustle, the clear clink of glass, and the protesting creak of a ladder. A glance inside: there was Snape, high on the steps, his pale fingers sorting through rows of bottled ingred…