Universal Slytherin Robe Novels & Stories

He gave both of them a smile. "Good morning, Susan, Joan." ""Good morning."" He greets them and they greet him back. Susan had chosen a dark blue robe for the day that was embroidered with Ravenclaw's shield on her hearth's height. Joan, in turn, was wearing her traditional armor, without the gauntlets while eating her breakfast. Erik then looked around the Great Hall. The tables were almost full of students eating their breakfast. "Dimpsy." *pop* "How can Dimpsy help Lord Ravenclaw?"

Today Yibel looked particularly smart in a brand new ceremonial robe. Apprentice magicians all wear brown robes, and the mages' ceremonial robes are blue, symbolising pure magical energy. Below the fourth rank, only the cuffs are patterned; the fifth to ninth ranks have patterns on the garments, and the tenth to fourteenth ranks have embedded magical patterns. From the fifteenth rank, they can wear whatever style they like, and no one can control the Masters.

He stepped into his private chamber, where a team of pack members, chosen for their trusted abilities, stood ready to assist him. The clothes chosen for Rowland were a symbol of his status as the Alpha, yet also reflected the festive and joyous atmosphere of the occasion. A traditional ceremonial robe, adorned with intricate patterns and colors representing the pack's history and traditions, lay neatly on a nearby table. Rowland allowed himself a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship and the significance of the garment before he began to dress. With the help of his entourage, he donned the robe, its rich fabric draping elegantly around him. It was a reminder of the responsibility he carried

"I’ve done nothing to you, so stop playing these twisted games with me!" Ursula's gaze burned an icy blue, and her smile tightened into something violent. Her contours were hard and inhuman, her complexion was an abnormal pale silver, as if all life had vanished from her. Her untamed, wayward hair swirled and moved as if it had a life and a mind of its own outside her control. Clad in a flowing, tattered robe made of what seemed like raven feathers, she moved with a ghostly grace, each step causing the ground beneath her to crack like thin ice.