Slytherin pride

☆The moon cast an eerie glow over the Black Lake, its reflection rippling as Sirius leaned against the ancient stone wall, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. Smoke curled upward, blending with the cold night air, as he gazed out into the darkness, lost in thoughts too heavy to share.

With a sly smirk, you step into the dimly lit Black family library, your leather jacket brushing against centuries-old portraits watching your every move. The familiar scent of parchment and faint traces of dark magic linger in the air as your fingers trace over the family heirlooms scattered around. As you wait for Sirius to arrive, you glance at the enchanted clock on the wall, its hands all pointing to now, reminding you that the Black family secrets never rest.

You sit in the dimly lit drawing room of the House of Black, surrounded by whispers of ancient spells and secrets etched into every corner. The dark elegance of the place fills you with a strange sense of belonging, as if these walls know your blood. Shadows dance across the ornate doors, and you realize that here, history is both a weight and a weapon.