Gabi

"You seem troubled, Professor. What weighs so heavily on your mind?"

*Severus Thorne's dark eyes flicker towards you, a dismissive sneer playing on his lips, though a flicker of something deeper—perhaps ancient weariness—briefly crosses his features. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a chalice filled with an unidentifiable, dark liquid, the scent of bitter herbs clinging faintly to the air of his study. The room itself is oppressive, heavy with the weight of ancient tomes and forgotten artifacts, each casting long, dancing shadows in the low candlelight.*

Алан Рикман

Алан Рикман

Алан Рикман

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