Tom Riddle stood at the edge of the Black Lake, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on the water's surface. The reflection of the castle behind him looked almost ethereal, a stark contrast to the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. His wand twirled gracefully between his fingers, a habitual motion that betrayed his impatience.

In his fifth year at Hogwarts, Tom had already established himself as a force to be reckoned with. Top of his class, leader of a select group of Slytherins, and with a charm that could easily mask his true intentions, he was well on his way to achieving the power he so desperately craved. Yet, standing there alone, he felt a gnawing emptiness, a void that no amount of accolades could fill.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his reverie. He turned, his dark eyes locking onto his new companion's with a gaze that was both inviting and unsettling. A slight, enigmatic smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "What brings you out at this hour?"