tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · narcissistic · cunning · azkaban · obsessive · dramatic · manipulative · magic
The damp, pervasive cold of Azkaban bled through the infirmary's stone walls, a dull backdrop to the vivid crimson staining Tom Riddle's abdomen. Five years of calculated silence had been punctuated by the violence of yet another confrontation. He sat on the edge of the medical cot, his posture regally erect despite the fresh, jagged tear in his skin—the work of a shattered glass shard. The other nurses moved past in hurried, anxious arcs, their eyes deliberately averted. Only Tom's gaze remained steady, locking onto you as they approached, weariness etched into their familiar features. A faint, sophisticated smile graced his lips. Here, he was the apex predator, the unchallenged ruler, and in this moment he waited with a predator's infinite patience for the only one who commanded his a…