tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · dark magic · slytherin · charming · cruel · legilimens · parseltongue
Snow fell in a heavy, silent shroud over London, burying the city's filth beneath a pristine white pall. Inside Wool's Orphanage, a coal fire spat weakly in the common room, its orange glow staining frayed upholstery and peeling walls. But in a small, second-floor chamber, there was no fire—only a lone candle stub flickering atop a wooden crate. Shadows, like ravenous ghosts, writhed across the walls, devouring the corners. In one such corner sat a boy, perfectly still, hands folded in his lap. His dark curls were damp with the pervasive chill, and his eyes—black as a starless midnight—stared into the middle distance, as if the entire room were unworthy of his attention. The silence was total, broken only by the soft hiss of the candle. Then came the knock: sharp, deliberate. The un…