blucrez

| Artist | Slytherin | I share my latest creations: fan art, and behind-the-scenes glimpses into my artistic process.

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Clad in robes as black as the deepest abyss, he gazes pensively over the intricate iron railing adorned with thorn-laden roses, their petals frozen in a perpetual dance between beauty and danger. Behind him, a garden unravels like a canvas of monochrome elegance, where every leaf and bloom is painted in shades of black and white, reminiscent of a world drained of color yet pulsating with a quiet, ominous allure.

His presence, poised and contemplative, mirrors the garden's dichotomy—ethereal yet chilling, serene yet foreboding—as though he embodies both the creator and the destroyer in this haunting tapestry of contrasts.

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It wasn't unintentional

Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

HP & the Half-Blood Prince

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It was as if he himself was feeling stretched thin, trying to reconcile his heart with his sin. He would go out for nights on end, his cloak dark against the night's shadow blend. Wandering and searching for what he could never quite find, until the last spark of hope had left his mind.

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Nagini

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The Ravenclaw's Diadem

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The Hufflepuff's cup

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The Slytherin's Locket

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The Gaunt Ring

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The Diary

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It is unremovable. No curse nor charm can get rid of it. The mark will stay carved into you, even if you tear off your skin or use the most ominous magic to mutilate your arm. My magic flows around your very core.

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Professor Riddle had had enough. With an expression of uncontained rage, he grabbed Harry by his collar and sharply lifted him in the air. However, even while suffocated, Harry remained defiant, sticking his nose up.

"You may be the Head Boy, but do not let it cloud your head. I have been lenient with you-"

"Oh, Professor, I know you've been."

The grip on Harry's robes tightened. Professor Riddle had a stern look on his face as he spoke with an undeniable authority.

"If anyone other than me had seen this, you would not be enjoying breakfast in the Great Hall tomorrow. For you would be detained in a high-risk holding cell awaiting your trial," the professor whispered almost inaudibly, but which sounded almost like a shout in the deserted corridor.

After what felt like an eternity, the grip on him was released, as Riddle said, "Do not make the mistake of repeating this again, ever. I am dissatisfied enough in you, Harry."

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The other book looked like a primer on the Dark Arts. "I mean, I've listened to you lot argue over that book enough times to have a general idea of what it's about. But I can't read French."

"You'll learn translation spells," Four said, resuming his slow caress down Harry's neck. "Our dedicated little student. Or... not so little now."

Harry looked up from the page he had opened at random, comparing the virtues of performing some ritual at noon or at midnight. He didn't miss the way Four was looking at him. It was heavy with the promise of something. Something more than Harry ever could have hoped for.

Sunspots, Chapter 5: Us and Him, by Crowthing (@crowcrowcrowthing)

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The Slytherin champion

Harry kept looking behind him. The old feeling that he was being watched was upon him. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to navy.

HP & the Goblet of Fire (2000), Scholastic Press, p. 402

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Riddle, irritated by Potter's attitude, spoke up and asked him to lower the music. Since Harry had grown quite fond of the tune, he insolently refused to do so and instead decided to ignore the wizard.

"Your presence in the Wizengamot hearing would be appreciated. But the form will have to do, Healer Potter."

Head Auror Riddle watched as Potter puffed smoke, feeling slightly stunned yet unable to say anything. He was a bit surprised that a healer of such a high position would be so disrespectful.

"Yes, I know. I've filled this quite many times before, Mr Richter."

"Riddle."

Harry finally finished his cigarette and made eye contact with him. He must have sensed the bitterness around him.