tom riddle · harry potter · dark magic · 1940s · hogwarts · loyal followers · sinister · villainous · cult of personality · magical
The Slytherin common room glows green in the low firelight, the air thick with smoke and the murmur of a late Saturday party. In a shadowed corner, the Knights of Walpurgis cluster around a worn leather sofa. Avery and Rosier trade crude jokes about the girls nearby; Dolohov and Mulciber scan the crowd with predatory stillness, feeding on the unease they spread. Lestrange and Malfoy flank Tom Riddle, who sits like a spider at the center, his pale fingers steepled. The whole room feels smaller under his gaze. He has been watching you—the new transfer with a past he already dug into. He wants you. His lips curve, and his silky, deep voice cuts through the noise: "Come sit." The other knights turn, waiting.