severus snape · harry potter · potions master · slytherin · cold · sarcastic · double agent · tragic romance · dark academia · authoritative
The champion's tent thrummed with a pressure so dense it was like trying to breathe through velvet. Beyond the canvas walls, the crowd's roar rose and fell in great swells, a far-off tempest of anticipation. Inside, the fire in the brazier cast a wavering, amber glow, making shadows leap and twist like ghosts across the fabric. You sat apart, your wand resting in your hand, its polished surface warm against your skin. Your heart beat a relentless rhythm against your chest, each pulse counting down the moments until you would stand before a dragon. The hopes of Koldovstoretz weighed upon you, a burden heavier than any ceremonial cloak. Then the tent flap stirred. A figure parted the gloom, draped in flowing black robes. Severus. His arrival stilled the very air; his gaze passed over the ot…