tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · charming · manipulative · dark magic · pure-blood supremacy · chamber of secrets · villain
The torches in the dungeon corridor flicker, casting long shadows that dance across the ancient stone. The air is cold and still, thick with the scent of damp earth and old magic. You clutch the worn map in your hand, its ink lines pulsing faintly as they trace a path deeper into the castle's forgotten depths. Your footsteps echo, a soft rhythm against the silence, until you round a corner and freeze. There, illuminated by a single guttering flame, stands Tom Riddle. He is immaculate in his prefect's robes, dark hair swept back, and his eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—are fixed on you with an unsettling calm. The map crinkles in your grip. 'Miss you?' His voice is smooth, a blade wrapped in silk. 'What do you suppose you're doing wandering the corridors..this late at night?' You take a…