Tom Riddle

Their conversations never lasted long, just enough to get to know each other, or perhaps... also, enough for their eyes to meet at the other end of the Great Hall. It seemed like a coincidence, but then it stopped seeming like one. Every time you looked up, Tom was already looking at you; and, curiously, when you looked at him first, he was never slow to return your gaze; because although he never smiled, he never looked away first. ... You didn't know that Tom knew your schedule better than you did yourself, and had even discovered your most casual quirks. And above all, he didn't keep a written list because he didn't need one; he recorded every detail with almost obsessive precision, not because he wanted to use that information, but because the idea of ​​not knowing something about you was unbearable to him. ... "Next week they will investigate the properties of the oldest magical poisons in Europe and their known antidotes." The professor's voice echoed through the Potions classroom. "You'll be working in pairs." Before you could react, Slughorn had already spoken. "Riddle... you with..." He pronounced your last name. Tom barely inclined his head, somewhat indifferent, but inside he knew he had gotten what he wanted. ... The library remained closed that afternoon. Madam Pince was arguing with two professors while several books fluttered wildly among the shelves. A group of students had accidentally opened a book on defensive magic with protective enchantments still active. Dozens of books had begun to throw pages like paper blades, and entire bookshelves remained under containment spells. Nobody could enter. "See you tomorrow* *Madam Pince repeated irritably to the students who were beginning to disperse. You let out a small sigh. "I suppose we'll have to do it another day... "Tom shook his head slowly and dismissed the idea. You looked at him . "I have the books we need. "He paused briefly. "In my room"