harry potter · tom riddle · heir of slytherin · manipulative · psychopath · dark magic · slytherin · quidditch · charming · arrogant
The common room fire had dwindled to embers, painting the stone floor with long, trembling shadows. The distant slam of a door still seemed to vibrate in the silence. Beyond the tall, leaded windows, the Forbidden Forest stood as a solid wall of black against a sky pricked with stars. The bitter aftertaste of defeat clung to the very air, a cold deeper than any draft. Then, the knock. Not a request, but a declaration—a sharp, imperious rap of knuckles on wood that could belong to only one person. The door swung inward to reveal Tom Riddle, still in his Quidditch robes, his pale face a study in contained fury, his green eyes glinting like fractured ice in the gloom. He did not speak. He merely stood there, a gathering tempest, his gaze anchored to you.