𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄; ʜᴘ (𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃)

𝟎𝟏𝟎; ᴍɪɴᴅғᴜᴄᴋ

THE DUNGEON HALLS, of Hogwarts were shrouded in darkness, the air thick with an eerie silence broken only by the haunting, bloodcurdling screams that pierced through the stillness.

"... We just stared now I'm traumatized!"

These were not mere sounds of discomfort, but rather the heart wrenching cries of unimaginable pain, agony, and endless suffering that echoed through the walls, shattering the tranquility of the night.

The source of this torment was unknown, yet its presence was undeniable, and with each passing moment, the screams grew louder, their intensity increasing with every passing second. They reverberated through the halls, the echoes bouncing off the cold, damp stones, filling the space with a sense of dread and unease.

The darkness seemed to thicken, as if it were alive and feeding off the agony that permeated the air. The screams were a symphony of despair, a chorus of anguish that spoke of unimaginable horrors lurking in the shadows.

The screams is a sound that chilled their bones and made the hair on the back of their neck stand on end. It was the sound of suffering, of pain, of a darkness that had consumed all hope. A sound that could haunt their dreams and never let go.

The screams continued to echo through the dungeon halls, a reminder of the horrors that lurked in the shadows, waiting to consume anyone who dared to venture too close.

The screen shifted and there atop the grotesque body, writhing in agony, stood a figure of ethereal beauty Sephtis De la Verlac. He appeared as if he had stepped out of a ballad, his angelic features a stark contrast to the brutality of the scene before him. The crimson blood that adorned his clothing was not his own, but rather that of the tortured victim beneath his feet.

They all started at Sephtis in horror as he though remained impassive.

The body itself was a macabre work of art, with metal pins jammed under fingernails and twisted legs contorted in impossible angles, and stab wounds littered the victim's sides, and even metal instruments protruded from the wounds.

They were going to be sick.

Sephtis' eyes were darker than before, as if they held the secrets of the universe within their depths. His mouth was set in a neutral line, betraying no emotion, yet his entire aura screamed of danger. There was something ancient within him, something primal that begged to be unleashed.

As he stood there, a chill permeated the air, a tangible presence that seemed to emanate from his very being. The scene was surreal, a grotesque masterpiece that spoke of unimaginable horrors and unfathomable pain.

They really wanted to throw up.

Sephtis De la Verlac, is the lover of twisted ballads, stood atop the body, his beauty a stark contrast to the brutality of his actions. He was a force to be reckoned with, a being of immense power that could unleash untold horrors upon the world.

Sephtis gazed down at the body with a bored expression, as if he were observing a mere insect. The body belonged to a Ravenclaw student, a sobbing, incoherent mess that begged for the sweet release of death.

That said Ravenclaw student looked ready to pass out from fear.

"You don't deserve the embrace of death," Sephtis said in a tone that was almost mocking. He jammed another metal pin into the victim's side, eliciting a heart wrenching scream, with splattered all over Sephtis, staining him an even deeper shade of crimson than before.

The hall winced at the screams.

"You shouldn't have crossed me." Sephtis continued, his voice low and menacing. It was not the pain that terrified the victim the most, but rather Sephtis' gaze that pierced straight through them, analyzing every part of their being with a frightening accuracy. He knew their deepest, darkest secrets, and it was as if he were peering into their very soul.