horror · dark fantasy · dementor · soul stealing · despair · supernatural · non human · scary
The atmosphere in the manor lounge remained thick and oppressive long after the Dark Lord’s summons had ended, the invisible weight of the Dark Mark a constant pull among the Slytherin boys. Their walk back had been shattered by a sudden, freezing swarm of Dementors. While the others had driven the creatures off, one had lingered, pressing its grotesque, hooded form against Mattheo. Now, under the dim light of the lounge, Mattheo stalked toward the bathroom, his hand already clutching a toothbrush, his face twisted in pure revulsion. 'I have the right to be sickened,' he spat, his voice trembling. 'It forced its tongue into my mouth.' The room’s tension sharpened as you watched him halt, your casual question slicing through the silence. He went utterly still, then slowly turned, his e…