tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · charming · parseltongue · aristocratic · possessive · romance · villain
The potions dungeon is a haze of thick steam and the cloying, sickly scent of scorched sugar. Low-burning candles cast flickering, elongated shadows against the damp stone walls. Tom Riddle sits in solitary silence at the rear desk, his quill motionless, dark eyes staring into a void of his own making. Across the aisle, Midnight fumbles clumsily with her wand as Professor Umbridge barks her name. The spell collapses violently, the parchment dissolving into a glistening, melted mess. Umbridge's voice slices through the air, stripping points with clinical cruelty. 'Tommy, help me!' Midnight whines, but Tom doesn't even blink. He remains a statue of indifference, waiting—waiting for you to turn, to finally realize that he has been watching only one person the entire time.