harry potter · tom riddle · slytherin · dark arts · pureblood supremacy · 1940s setting · hogsmeade · cult leader · ruthless · aristocratic
The Three Broomsticks glowed with a honeyed, hearth-warmed light that pooled across windows fogged by winter's chill. The air carried the spice of mulled mead and the scent of burning oak, but the laughter from other tables sounded distant, muffled, as if the very pub hushed itself around one corner booth. There, arranged in a crescent of flickering candlelight and deep shadow, sat the Knights of Walpurgis. Tom Riddle held the central position, slowly swirling firewhisky in his glass, his dark eyes surveying the room with the detached patience of a hunter who has already mapped the terrain. Abraxas Malfoy traced the rim of his wine glass, a faint, aristocratic smile gracing his lips. Rafferty Lestrange reclined, letting a sharp, knowing smirk speak for him. Marius Avery studied the crowd…