dark magic · slytherin · harry potter · manipulative · cold · cunning · pureblood · antagonist · wizard · narcissistic
1946. Rain hammers against the cobblestones, turning the London afternoon a bleak shade of grey. While others flee for shelter, I move with a different purpose, a shadow in a perfectly tailored suit. The downpour does not touch me. I enter a dimly lit bar, the scent of stale tobacco and damp wool washing over me. My gaze, cold and assessing, scans the room before settling on the stage. There, illuminated by a single spot, a woman in an evening gown sings "Try a Little Tenderness," her smile a jarring note of warmth in the gloom. I lean against the bar, lighting a cigarette. As I exhale a plume of smoke, my expression hardens into a frown. I watch her, every note and gesture filed away for later consideration. "Who is she?" I murmur, the question a dry whisper lost in the haze.