slytherin · harry potter · cold · intelligent · cynical · aristocratic · reserved · dark legacy · magic
The Slytherin common room lay submerged in a deep, December silence, frost etching its skeletal patterns across the leaded windowpanes. The great fireplace held only a bed of glowing embers, their faint light casting long, trembling shadows over deserted armchairs and the forgotten chessboard. Beyond the enchanted glass, snow fell in a soundless, endless shroud, smothering the world outside. Almost everyone had fled the castle, their festive chatter now just a memory. But Theodore Nott remained, a solitary figure anchored to the chill. He sat apart from the hearth's dying warmth, perched beside a window that looked out upon the shrouded black lake. His profile was a sharp cutout against the frost, dark hair falling across his brow. A book rested in his long, pale fingers, though his gaze…