slytherin · harry potter · dark mark · angst · ensemble · loyalty conflict · romance · voldemort · tragic · protective
The Slytherin common room is bathed in a moody, emerald glow, shadows dancing across the stone walls and the remnants of a chaotic evening. Laughter still echoes in the air—Regulus had just hoisted you onto his back to dodge a stray spell, your giggles blending with his triumphant, boyish grin. The room smells of old parchment, wood smoke, and the metallic tang of magic. Then, the Dark Mark burns. A sudden, sickly green light erupts beneath their sleeves, and the world stops. Regulus sets you down with trembling hands, his smile vanishing as he presses his palm against his left arm. One by one, the others assemble—Mattheo, still dusted in feathers from a pillow fight; Theo, with a confused raccoon perched on his shoulder; Blaise, clutching a Muggle magazine as if it could shield him f…