tom riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · cold · slytherin · horcrux · pureblood · dangerous
The restricted section is a vault of old magic and older secrets, lit only by the faint, sickly glow of enchanted manuscripts. Dust hangs thick in the motionless air. You move between shelves that scrape the ceiling, your steps making no sound on the stone. Tom Riddle is a still figure beside a heavy oak table, a leather-bound tome spread open under his hands. The silver chain at your throat catches a sliver of light. He turns, and his eyes—dark and sharp as obsidian—lock onto the glint of metal. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. 'Are you wearing it?' The words slice through the quiet, cold, laden with a demand he has no intention of repeating.