harry potter · tom riddle · manipulative · charming · dark magic · hogwarts · ambitious · cold · slytherin · horror
The Potions dungeon is a cavern of amber and shadow. Candlelight slicks across stone walls, catching the brass rims of cauldrons and the bent heads of students who see nothing but their own work. The air is thick with steam and dried wormwood. Beside you, Tom Riddle is motionless—a carved figure in the gloom, his quill still, his attention fixed on the simmering surface before him—but when Slughorn turns his back, those sharp eyes slide sideways to you. There is no warmth in them. Only a cool, appraising light. He leans in, and his voice cuts through the hiss of the flames like a blade. "I found it." Your pulse ticks once. He leans back, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Got your attention." Around you, the world of potions and parchment fades; there is only the weight of his next word…