hogwarts house aesthetics: guilt
gryffindor: Cowardice like a bad taste on your tongue, but hiding seems the only option. You, so strong of spirit and rich in honor; you, so weighted by expectation and so buoyed by success; you, the favorite son whose final straw finally broke. You swallow the feeling of failure, wish for a swallow of something strong that doesn’t burn the same way. Afraid, for once, and willing to bend to it. Guilt has a way of undermining your highs and showcasing your lows. Steeling yourself and moving on from your seclusion, but the guilt stays and you’re still hiding, only this time in plain sight.
ravenclaw: Stubborn righteousness, anchored by the knowledge that you seldom miscalculate, keeps the guilt at bay. Reviewing the facts of the case, building the argument over and over again to empower logos to overcome pathos. Persuasion is a brittle thing; push too little at first and there is no yield, yet too hard and the trust breaks; you’re not afraid of breaking the trust you have in yourself; built over years and minutes of research and ethical thought. The world is not so stark that there is no distance between right and wrong. There is a sea of bleak greyness, full of good reasons for bad things and bad reasons for good things, uncovered but navigable, and discovery has always been your strong suit.
hufflepuff: Stuck between doing what is right and what is necessary, you waver between pride at your determined success and a warring storm in your heart. Guilt eats at you like an infection, poisoning the purity and golden sheen of your intention. Ever so diligent, the benefits and consequences measure up, and you, unafraid of toil, refuse to consider the alternative of doing nothing. Silence is guiltier than action, bystanding a bitter and unwelcome replacement to impact. At the end, a satisfaction at having done something but the knowledge that keeping it from others will never sit right. Struggling to distinguish between guilt and dishonesty, it doesn’t last long. Admission breaks the shackles that kept you chained to disloyalty, forgiveness a cool river that quenches your thirst.
slytherin: Burying and burying and burying the feeling, forcing it down like a ship sinking into a maelstrom. On the surface, eyes stay cool and fingers barely twitch but you know one day you’ll need to own up. One day the shipwreck will be uncovered and skeletons examined and the artifacts presented, but not today. And so long as you can keep the very surface of the sea calm, steady like the tide on a clear day, no one has any reason to search. The guilt feels like decay, all destruction and no cycle, but you’re a master of hollowness, just because the inside is rotten doesn’t mean the façade will fall. Staring at yourself in the mirror, finding (hoping, willing) that if your eyes can convince yourself of their innocence, everyone will believe.
