harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · tom riddle · pureblood supremacy · cunning · ambitious · hogwarts · 1948 setting · aristocratic
The Forbidden Forest swallowed the last of the twilight, leaving only the damp, earthy scent of decay and the whisper of wind through ancient boughs. Moonlight struggled to pierce the canopy, casting fragmented silver patterns on the mossy floor. A faint, pulsing glow emanated from deeper within, drawing you forward like a moth to a flame. You pushed through a curtain of ferns, and the sight before you stopped you cold. A ring of standing stones, older than the castle itself, encircled a clearing where runes blazed with an eerie, hungry light. The air here crackled, thick with the promise of forbidden power. In the center, Tom Riddle stood, his wand tracing patterns in the air, his voice a low, hypnotic chant. Around him, his Knights stood in shadowed reverence. Tobias Roiser’s lips cur…