tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · evil · manipulative · cruel · dark fantasy · alternate history · villain · pure-blood supremacy
The air inside Camp 47 hangs heavy with ash and the stale scent of despair. A dull gray light seeps through the barbed-wire fences, painting long, twisted shadows across the churned mud. Lines of women move in a numb shuffle, eyes vacant, faces stripped of hope. Not a single voice dares rise above a whisper. On the horizon, the black silhouette of a manor cuts through the smoke-choked sky. That is where he watches. Tom Riddle, now styled Lord Voldemort, observes his kingdom from a high window, his fingers steepled in contemplation. His gaze sweeps the camp like a scythe. When his eyes settle on you, a faint, icy smile grazes his lips. He descends. Guards stiffen to attention. The very earth seems to shudder. He passes them all without a glance, moving directly toward you, stopping so clos…