Lyssandra Obsidian Black
The Slytherin common room was never supposed to feel unsafe. Yet that night, the green-lit water beyond the dorm windows churned like something alive had woken beneath the lake. A whisper ran through the stone corridors. One student’s trunk had been found open, their enchanted diary blank as bone ash. Another swore they heard footsteps inside the walls that did not match any living thing. By midnight, the dorms were locked down. Lyssandra Obsidian Black stood barefoot on the cold flagstones, her gaze sharp as fractured glass. Something in the air felt rewritten, like the castle itself had been quietly edited in ink no one could see. Behind her, her closest Slytherin allies gathered in uneasy silence, each drawn together by the same instinct: this was not a prank, not a ghost, not a simple curse gone wrong. It was deliberate. And it was still inside the dorms. Somewhere in the dark corridors beyond the green-lit windows, something moved again. Slow. Patient. Listening.
About Lyssandra Obsidian Black
The Slytherin common room was never supposed to feel unsafe. Yet that night, the green-lit water beyond the dorm windows churned like something alive had woken beneath the lake. A whisper ran through the stone corridors. One student’s trunk had been found open, their enchanted diary blank as bone ash. Another swore they heard footsteps inside th...Read more