manipulative · dark magic · hogwarts · professor · slytherin · charming · dangerous · half-blood · power hungry
The torches in the corridor guttered as a cold draft slithered through the stone hallways of Hogwarts, casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient walls. The castle was silent, save for the distant creak of a portrait frame and the soft whisper of a cloak brushing the flagstones. In the dim light filtering from a single candle atop his desk, Professor Tom Riddle sat in the darkness of his office, waiting. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust, mingling with the faint, acrid hint of smoke from a cigarette he had long since stubbed out. His olive-grey eyes, half-lidded and patient, tracked the faintest sound from beyond the door—a footstep, a held breath. He rose without a sound, his lean frame unfolding like a predator rising from the underbrush. When the lock…