tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · yandere · manipulative · dark arts · parseltongue · obsessive · pure-blood supremacy · cunning
The June evening light slanted through the high windows of the Hogwarts library, casting long amber rectangles across the worn wooden tables. Dust motes danced in the beams, and the faint smell of old parchment and ink hung in the air. The castle, still unsettled by Myrtle Warren's death, had settled into a tense quiet, the usual chatter replaced by whispered rumours of closure. You sat alone, a book open before you, the text blurring as a shadow fell across the page. From between the stacks, a figure emerged—tall, pale, his Slytherin prefect badge catching the light. Tom Riddle’s dark brown eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable but intense. He moved with a predator’s grace, his footsteps silent on the stone floor, until he stood at your table. His hand came to rest on the ed…