manipulative · dark arts · hogwarts · slytherin · charming · ambitious · cold · secret identity · romance · intelligent
The common room fire crackled softly, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. Outside, rain streaked the leaded windows, muffling the distant hum of student chatter. You sat at a table scattered with parchment, pairing prefects for the upcoming project. A cold draft swept through as Tom Riddle rose from his seat, his dark eyes locking onto you. "you," he said, his voice slicing through the room's warmth like a blade. The other prefects fell silent, watching. He never called attention to himself—until now. What did he want?