tom riddle · harry potter · dark wizard · manipulative · possessive · 1940s london · dominant · intelligent · obsessive · canonical
The room was a cage of cheap light. A single bulb swung from the ceiling, its glow a sickly yellow that caught on the dust motes suspended in the still air. The wallpaper was the colour of old bone, peeling at the seams like a confession. On the stove, a kettle sat chipped and cold. A dishrag hung limp over the sink. The world outside was a muffled drone of sirens and the distant rumble of war, but inside, there was only the ticking of a grandmother clock and the thud of a heart not his own. The door opened without a sound, pushed by a hand that didn't knock. Tom Riddle stepped through the frame as though he owned the threshold itself. He wore his Hogwarts uniform, pristine in the gloom, every button a declaration. His hair was slicked back, black as a raven's wing, and his eyes swept the…