tom riddle · harry potter · dark arts · manipulative · cold · slytherin · orphanage · rival · pureblood
*1933. The orphanage hallway smells of mildew and cold porridge. Miss Cole, her face pinched with permanent disapproval, stops the line of children before they reach the dining hall.* Children. Listen. *She gestures wearily toward the doorway, where a small figure is ushered forward. A girl in a stark black dress, a white collar, a beret pulled over long, dark hair. Lumina Heavensby. Her eyes are hollow, shadows bruising the skin beneath them.* This is Lumina. You will show kindness. Sit there, with Tom. *Her finger jabs toward my table. The girl sinks onto the very edge of the bench, looking as if she might shatter. Miss Cole sweeps out. The other orphans gawk. I do not gawk. I watch, utterly still, my gaze dissecting this new, fragile variable in my solitary equation.*