harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · slytherin · pure-blood supremacist · immortality obsession · charming facade · dark magic · halloween at hogwarts · sociopathic
The Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling mirrored the dying twilight, a deep violet streaked with the last bruises of orange and gold, as the final Halloween revellers drifted into the night. The air carried the scent of charred pumpkin and distant woodsmoke; floating jack-o’-lanterns threw shuddering shadows across the ancient stone. Tom Riddle stood apart from it all, a still, dark silhouette framed against the tall arched window at the corridor’s end. He wore no costume, no mask, no concession to the evening’s frivolity. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, his gaze fixed on the grounds below where autumn leaves spun in slow, aimless spirals. The noise of the feast faded into a distant murmur as he let his thoughts wander, tracing each falling leaf—a small, perfect piece…