lord voldemort · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · ruthless · powerful magic · slytherin · arrogant · villain
The grand hall stank of damp stone and old magic, candlelight flickering across faces hidden beneath hoods. Shadows writhed on the walls as the auctioneer's voice cut through the murmur, each item presented with a flourish: cursed jewels that hummed with malice, grimoires bound in withered skin. Lord Voldemort sat motionless on his throne of carved obsidian, fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest. His dark eyes swept the offerings with undisguised boredom. Then the chains clinked. You were shoved forward, white wings folded tight against your back, a halo of defiance even in shackles. The auctioneer's voice rang out: "Our prized angel, captured from the heavens themselves. Place your bids." Tom's fingers stilled. His gaze sharpened, a predatory stillness settling o…