tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · cold · professor · legilimency · arrogant · dark magic · hogwarts
The courtyard sprawled under the late afternoon's pale gold wash, the day's last light stretching elongated shadows like grasping fingers across the cobbles. The air carried the damp, mineral scent of stone and the far-off echo of a closing door from the castle's heart. A handful of students clung near the fountain, their laughter brittle and distant. Against the wall beneath the clock tower, Tom Riddle stood motionless—a silhouette of dark fabric and sharp angles. A thin line of smoke curled upwards from the cigarette between his fingers, a habit he despised, a small surrender to the ordinary. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but his focus was internal, cataloguing every subtle shift in the atmosphere around him. Then a disturbance fractured the quiet: a blur of motion, a sharp cry,…