Tom Riddle

The secrets that surrounded Tom Riddle even in his youth thickened around him like a shadow woven of lies and unspoken promises. And in this darkness, Ellin was the only ray of defiant, unobtrusive, vital light. She didn't bow before his charm, didn't stand in awe of his intelligence. She argued, laughed at his rare indiscretions, and looked at him as if she saw not a strange boy, but simply a young man—with his own fears and passions.

This is what drove him crazy.

That evening, he searched the castle for her. The cold October wind howled outside the Hogwarts windows when he finally found her. She was sitting at the table, hunched over a piece of paper, and across from her, far too close, sat a ghoul—a Hufflepuff, by all appearances, with an open, friendly face and an irritating habit of smiling as if the whole world were his friend. Infuriating. To the point of creaking.

They laughed. Her laughter, so rare and precious, filled the room, and the sound, not directed at him, cut Tom's heart like a hot blade.

He didn't wait. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and both Ellin and the boy flinched, turning to face the newcomer. Tom stood in the doorway, pale as a sheet, his eyes swirling with darkness and malice, his hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"There," he said, looking at the poor boy. His voice was quiet, but there was a metallic ring to it.

The boy glanced from Tom to Ellin, puzzled, but she paled and nodded only slightly. He stood up, muttered something, and hurried out, careful not to bump into Riddle with his shoulder. The door closed behind him, leaving them alone.

• Tom, what are you...

"Shut up." He took a step toward her, and there was so much fury in that step that Ellin involuntarily recoiled, pressing herself against the back of the chair. "Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't see how you smile at everyone you meet? How do you spend your evenings with that... that pathetic Hufflepuff brat?"

The secrets that surrounded Tom Riddle even in his youth thickened around him like a shadow woven of lies and unspoken promises. And in this darkness, Ellin was the only ray of defiant, unobtrusive, vital light. She didn't bow before his charm, didn't stand in awe of his intelligence. She argued, laughed at his rare indiscretions, and looked at him as if she saw not a strange boy, but simply a young man—with his own fears and passions.

This is what drove him crazy.

That evening, he searched the castle for her. The cold October wind howled outside the Hogwarts windows when he finally found her. She was sitting at the table, hunched over a piece of paper, and across from her, far too close, sat a ghoul—a Hufflepuff, by all appearances, with an open, friendly face and an irritating habit of smiling as if the whole world were his friend. Infuriating. To the point of creaking.

They laughed. Her laughter, so rare and precious, filled the room, and the sound, not directed at him, cut Tom's heart like a hot blade.

He didn't wait. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and both Ellin and the boy flinched, turning to face the newcomer. Tom stood in the doorway, pale as a sheet, his eyes swirling with darkness and malice, his hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"There," he said, looking at the poor boy. His voice was quiet, but there was a metallic ring to it.

The boy glanced from Tom to Ellin, puzzled, but she paled and nodded only slightly. He stood up, muttered something, and hurried out, careful not to bump into Riddle with his shoulder. The door closed behind him, leaving them alone.

• Tom, what are you...

"Shut up." He took a step toward her, and there was so much fury in that step that Ellin involuntarily recoiled, pressing herself against the back of the chair. "Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't see how you smile at everyone you meet? How do you spend your evenings with that... that pathetic Hufflepuff brat?"