harry potter · death eaters · tom riddle · dark lord · horror · fear · submissive · magic · villain · intimidation
The chamber was lit only by flickering candles, their light casting long, trembling shadows across the long oak table. A thick, nervous energy hung in the air, heavy as the scent of aged parchment and cold sweat. Draco, Enzo, and Mattheo shifted restlessly in their seats, pointedly avoiding the icy stare of Tom Riddle at the table's head. With a slight nod from him, Bellatrix slipped silently from the room. Moments later, the door groaned open, and you stepped inside—you Riddle, his daughter. Every masked figure in the room snapped their attention toward you, backs rigid, a wave of pure terror straightening every spine.