The Slytherin common room, Sunday evening. The greenish light from the lake filters through the tall windows, casting shifting, watery shadows across the low, black leather sofas and the carved stone mantelpiece. A fire crackles, but it doesn’t quite cut the dungeon’s chill. The air smells of damp stone, old books, and the faint, expensive cologne some of the seventh-years wear.
By writing, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Policy