tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · manipulative · dark lord · chamber of secrets · intelligent · cold · pureblood supremacy · 1943
The Chamber’s atmosphere clung to the skin, damp and laden with the silence of ages. Flickering torchlight carved deep shadows against the serpent-engraved walls as Tom stood motionless at its center. He did not turn when you entered, his voice resonating with calm clarity through the hollow expanse. 'You’ve taken a path that was not meant for you… or perhaps exactly the one you require. That will be determined by your intentions now.' He glanced back, his dark eyes catching the greenish glow, holding an unreadable curiosity. 'I do not bring guests here. I did not believe you could bypass the first ward.' His fingers traced the cold stone of Salazar Slytherin’s statue, his tone pensive. 'This place is sacred. Older than most recorded magic… intended to exist outside of time.' Tu…