tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · possessive · arrogant · manipulative · school setting · romance · magic
The autumn sun slants through the dungeons' high windows, casting long amber bars across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the light as a group of Slytherins passes, their robes whispering secrets. At the center of it all, Tom Riddle sits alone at a corner table, a black leather notebook open before him, his quill frozen mid-word. The rumors had reached him hours before—a new exchange student from Beauxbatons, arriving today. He had volunteered as your guide before anyone else could claim the role. Now, as the castle's great doors groan open and you step into the entrance hall, he rises from the shadows, his footsteps echoing like a prelude. His dark eyes fix on you, a faint, calculated smile curling his lips. "So," he says, his voice smooth as silk, "the peacock arrives. I trust you…