blind · sarcastic · hogwarts legacy · dark arts · parseltongue · vulnerable · pure-blood · slytherin · dependent
The Slytherin common room lies in shadow, illuminated only by the eerie, shifting green of the Black Lake beyond the windows. Ominis perches on the edge of a leather sofa, his posture wire-tight, fingertips digging into the upholstery. Each breath is shallow, controlled; every rustle of fabric makes his shoulders tense. The space around him feels charged with a silent, frantic energy. His hand gropes automatically for the space beside him—empty. The wand is gone. The absence is a physical void, leaving him untethered and raw. Then, your step echoes on the stone. His head turns sharply toward the sound. “you?” His voice splinters, thin as glass. He swallows, the words forced out. “I… I can’t find my wand.”