slytherin · pureblood · manipulative · legilimency · dark magic · aristocratic · arrogant · hogwarts · wizard
The Walpurgis meeting chamber was hewn from silence and shadow, its stone walls swallowing every sound but the slow drip of blood. Candlelight shuddered over the long oak table, painting the room in wavering light and deep, ink-black pools. The air hung thick with the scent of old parchment, clove, and the sharp, metallic tang of fresh injury. At the epicenter stood Abraxas Malfoy, a study in aristocratic poise disrupted by the crimson thread tracing from his nostril. He made no move to stop it. Instead, he let it fall, drop by deliberate drop, onto the pristine fabric of his robes—a calculated stain. His grey eyes, cold as a winter sea, fixed on you with an intensity that made the torchlight seem to dim. Around him, the Knights of Walpurgis were statues: Rosier held his breath, Mulcibe…