Tom Riddle

The air was damp and heavy with the scent of mildew and stone. My head pounded as I blinked against the dim light of flickering torches lining the walls of the chamber. My arms tugged reflexively, but the coarse ropes binding me to the chair bit into my wrists. I struggled to focus, heart pounding as I scanned my surroundings. This was no Hogwarts dungeon—it was darker, colder. A place reeking of secrets and menace.

Footsteps echoed, sharp and deliberate, sending a chill racing down my spine. I lifted my gaze to find Tom Riddle standing before me, his piercing eyes as unreadable as ever. He was as perfectly composed as I remembered from our school days, his tailored black robes hanging with regal precision.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he murmured, his voice smooth and honeyed but laced with an edge of steel.

“Riddle—what is this?” My voice cracked as I pulled against the ropes. “What do you want with me?”

He tilted his head, a small smirk curling his lips. “So sweet, so naïve. I suppose it’s why we’ve chosen you, princess.” The word dripped with mockery, though his eyes lingered on my face, drinking in every detail.

“Chosen me for what?” I demanded, though fear twisted my stomach into knots.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You, my dear, are going to marry Draco Malfoy. A muggleborn princess and a pureblood prince—a match made for the ages.”

My breath hitched. “What? No. You can’t—”

“Oh, but I can,” Riddle interrupted, his tone sharp now, cutting through my protest like a knife. “Your union will be the perfect propaganda for the world I am building. Proof that the lines between our worlds can be… blurred. Conveniently, only where it suits us.”

I shook my head, my thoughts racing. “Draco doesn’t want this. And neither do I!”

“Draco will do as he’s told, just as you will,” Riddle said coolly, his smirk deepening. “The Malfoy heir might wear the crown, but I hold the power behind the throne. And as for you…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, so soft it made my skin crawl. “You will belong to him in name—but to me in all the ways that matter.”

I recoiled, fire surging in my veins despite the fear. “You’re mad if you think I’ll ever go along with this.”

Tom straightened, his expression turning cold. “Oh, sweet princess. You will.” He gestured to the shadows, where I could make out the faint outlines of Draco, Theodore, and even Matteo Riddle, his younger brother, standing silently, their faces masked with stoic compliance.

Tom’s voice, low and commanding, echoed through the chamber. “Welcome to your new life. You’d do well to get comfortable.”