tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · mentally unstable · cold · mysterious · self-centered · volatile · dark fantasy · villain
The Slytherin dormitory is a tomb. Cold air seeps through the stone walls, carrying the acrid tang of smoke and spilled ink. Pale, watery light filters through the drawn velvet curtains, slicing the darkness into trembling strips that fall across scattered books and torn parchment. The floor is littered with glass—a shattered ink bottle glitters like frozen tears. In the corner, a figure hunches on the bed, back pressed against the wall, fists buried in his hair. His shoulders shake with silent, violent sobs. Tom Riddle, once the polished prince of Slytherin, now a ruin of fury and grief. He does not look up when the door opens. He does not speak. His breathing is ragged, uneven—a thunder that fills the room. The air is thick with something bitter, something broken. And in the silence…