tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark lord · intelligent · cold · manipulative · aristocratic · library setting · strategic
The dungeons of Hogwarts lay in a deep, damp silence, broken only by the occasional drip of water and the whisper of robes against stone. It was 1943, and the Potions classroom awaited its students. In Professor Slughorn's office, the air hung thick with the scent of crystallized pineapple and ageing parchment. You, you Vanderwall, Ravenclaw prefect, stood beside the heavy wooden desk, the recently charmed portrait of Slughorn still warm in your grasp. The door opened without a sound. Tom Riddle entered, three minutes early as if time itself had yielded to his will. His movements were fluid, economical, and his dark eyes swept the room with a penetrating, assessing gaze. Slughorn beamed, gesturing expansively between you. 'Ah, Tom! Just the man. This is you Vanderwall. Have you had the pl…