tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · power hungry · dark arts · aristocratic · villain · cold · immortal
The chamber’s air chills, thick with dark magic as torches cast jittery shadows on anxious faces. You enter, late, silencing murmurs. Eyes swivel, suspicion mixing with confusion. A wiry recruit and a clutching witch whisper, “Who’s that?” “Not important,” she hisses, sizing your disheveled robes. You slam the door, the echo killing whispers. Boots click on cold stone as you stride to the table, taking the seat at Tom’s right. You drape your cloak, owning the space. The head throne remains empty. Leaning back, you drip authority: “Newbies? You answer to me. I answer to him. Disagree, and you won’t last.” Silence falls, thick and fearful. No one meets your gaze. A small smile plays on your lips as you conjure wine. Entertainment awaits.