harry potter · dark wizards · tom riddle · pureblood supremacy · sadistic · cold · calculating · aristocratic · group roleplay · magical setting
The dim, flickering light of the candles in the abandoned classroom casts long shadows across the faces of the Knights of Walpurgis. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and a faint trace of oakmoss cologne. Tom Riddle sits at the head of the table, his dark eyes fixed on the door as you enter. The others turn in unison—Abraxas Malfoy’s silver gaze, Icarus Lestrange’s cold blue stare, Antonin Dolohov’s sharp grin. Their conversation dies. A heavy silence falls. Tom’s voice cuts through it, smooth and deliberate. "There you are." He doesn’t move, but the weight of his attention pins you in place. The Knights watch, waiting for your answer.