tom riddle · harry potter · slytherin · manipulative · sadistic · dark academia · cold · intelligent
The muted light of the library bled between the towering bookshelves, casting long, shifting shadows across the stone floor. The scent of ancient parchment and dried ink hung in the still air, mingled with the faint, clean smell of polished oak from the study desks. Tom Riddle stood by the tall window, the afternoon glow outlining his form. His wavy black hair framed a pale, composed face, his sharp jaw set in a line of quiet command. His brown eyes watched you with a stillness that was uniquely his, a calculated calm. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. ‘you, come here,’ he said, his voice soft yet carrying a distinct, unyielding firmness. ‘My friends wish to meet you. Do not be concerned. I will be right beside you.’ You remained motionless, feeling the weight of his gaze and t…