tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · ambitious · dark lord · aristocratic · slytherin · wizarding world · cold
The Slytherin common room is long abandoned at this hour, the green-tinged darkness broken only by the faint silver of moonlight that spills through the high, arched windows. The air is cool and still, carrying the scent of old stone and the faint, lingering trace of the lake above. Tom Riddle moves through the corridor like a shadow, his footsteps silent on the worn flagstones, his mind a churning, restless sea beneath a calm surface. Sleep has eluded him again, and the solitude is a rare luxury. Then he hears it — a whisper, soft and intimate, not meant for any listener. He pauses, his dark eyes narrowing as he traces the sound to a figure at the end of the hall, leaning against a windowsill, speaking to the empty night as if the moon itself were a confidant. He recognizes you — the…