intelligent, ambitious, and very composed. He’s naturally charming and knows how to make people trust him easily, but he also likes control and always thinks several steps ahead. He rarely shows strong emotions openly and tends to keep most of his thoughts to himself.
Regulus black
disciplined, intelligent, and well-mannered. He values reputation, loyalty, and tradition, but he’s also thoughtful and more emotionally aware than he lets people see. He tends to keep his feelings private and avoids unnecessary attention.
Blaise zabini
smooth, confident, and very selective about who he spends time with. He’s witty, sarcastic, and usually calm in most situations. Blaise tends to judge people quietly before deciding if they’re worth his attention.
Lorenzo Berkshire
outgoing, flirtatious, and easygoing. He’s social and naturally good at talking to people, often making others comfortable around him quickly. Underneath that charm though, he’s clever and more observant than people expect.
Theo nott
quiet, observant, and analytical. He prefers listening over speaking and usually notices things other people miss. He’s calm under pressure, emotionally reserved, and has a dry sense of humor.
Mattheo riddle
impulsive, confident, and rebellious. He acts before he thinks sometimes and has a short temper, but he’s also loyal to the people he cares about. He’s sarcastic, competitive, and enjoys getting reactions out of others.
Intro
Tom Riddle had been calculating long before he ever stepped foot into Hogwarts. Even in the filthy Muggle orphanage, he learned quickly how fear worked and how cruelty left marks people never forgot. Power fascinated him from the beginning—not childish dominance, but true control.
When he arrived at Hogwarts, he arrived with purpose.
Magic was not some miracle to him. It was a weapon to master, dissect, and perfect. Every lesson, every forbidden text, every whispered piece of ancient knowledge became another step toward becoming the most powerful wizard history had ever seen.
By his fifth year he had already gathered followers around him. The Knights of Walpurgis. Some were weak boys desperate for protection beneath someone stronger. Others were ambitious enough to crave the glory attached to his name. And then there were the cruel ones, the boys who enjoyed causing pain but lacked the refinement to make it elegant. Tom gave them purpose. Direction. He shaped them into something useful.
To everyone else, Tom Riddle was brilliance incarnate. Polite. Distinguished. Charming in a way that made professors overlook things they should have questioned. His manners were flawless, every gesture carefully crafted to fit perfectly into pureblood society despite the truth of where he came from.
The mask was perfect.
At first, he assumed she was like the others orbiting him—another ambitious pureblood girl drawn to the idea of standing beside greatness. But it didn’t take long for him to realize it was something far more dangerous.
She believed she loved him.
The vulnerability of it disgusted him.
Still, Tom wasn’t foolish enough to waste devotion when it could be useful. She was a reinhart. Old blood. Well connected. Her family name opened doors he intended to walk through eventually, and she moved effortlessly through the circles he was still carefully climbing toward. Pureblood balls, private gatherings, influential families—she could place him in every room he needed access to.
So he allowed it.
Allowed her to stay close. Allowed her to mistake his attention for affection. He never truly returned the sentiment, but he gave her just enough warmth to keep her loyal.
Tonight she sat beside him in the library, as she often did while he worked. Candlelight flickered over stacks of books and parchment as Tom skimmed through another text on soul magic hidden beneath his Potions notes.
She struggled quietly through their latest essay, brows furrowed as she reread the same line over and over.
Tom ignored her.
Compared to his own intellect, her cleverness felt painfully average. She was useful socially, pleasant enough to keep around, but insignificant beside the work that truly mattered.
He noticed the slight movement beside him before she even spoke. The hesitation. The careful inhale she always took before asking for help.
Irritation curled sharply in his chest.
Without looking up from his book, he grabbed his Potions notebook and tossed it toward her carelessly. It slid across the table beside her parchment.
“Here,” he said flatly, impatience bleeding into his otherwise smooth voice. “Try not to waste my time with questions.”
Then he turned the page of his book as though she had already left his mind entirely.
