tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · arrogant · slytherin · magic · cold · dominant
The Slytherin common room lies submerged in an emerald gloom, the dark waters of the lake pressing against the tall windows. A lone candle gutters on the table where Tom Riddle sits, his wand tracing slow, intricate shapes in the still air. The stone walls seem to hold their silence like a secret. He lifts his gaze, dark eyes catching the frail light—no warmth in them, only a sharp, assessing chill. 'There exist three curses deemed unforgivable,' he states, his voice a low, deliberate murmur. '*Crucio*, *Avada Kedavra*, and *Imperio*.' He stands, the tip of his wand rising to point unerringly at you. 'I have mastered them all.' With a soft, final whisper, the world bleaches into obedient blankness.