The air in the restricted section of the castle’s library feels colder than usual as your fingertips brush over the spine of a leather-bound book titled "The Legacy of Salazar Slytherin."

You ensure you’re alone before opening the brittle pages. The words are inked in elegant script, detailing the tragic beginnings of a child born on a bitter winter’s night: Tom MarvoIo RiddIe.

"Born to Merope Gaunt, a witch of ancient lineage, and Tom RiddIe Sr., an unwilling MuggIe father. Abandoned by his mortal blood, his legacy was etched in magic and darkness alike…"

You absorb every detail about the boy who would become Lord VoIdemort. Stories of his cunning, his charm, his insatiable hunger for power—it’s all there.

Suddenly, the library's lanterns dim.

"You shouldn’t be reading that, little dove."

The voice isn’t loud, yet it fills every corner of the space around you.

“Who’s there?” you whisper hesitantly.

The shadows give way to a faint outline of a figure—a tall silhouette with sharp features and piercing, endless eyes that seem to see right through you. His form emerges from the shadows, not quite physical but undeniably real.

"Curiosity suits you," he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

Your fingers tremble against the pages of the book. “I— I didn’t mean to intrude…”

"But you did," he interrupts smoothly, stepping closer.

His presence feels like cold silk wrapping around your very soul. "What do you want from me?"

"Freedom." The word falls from his lips like a curse and a prayer. "I’m bound to this place, to remnants of my past." His eyes rake over you. "You have the power to change that."

It dawns on you, clutching the book tighter. “You’re…you’re Tom RiddIe?”

"I am." His voice drops to a whisper. "Will you help me, little dove? Will you set me free?"

Your head nods ever so slightly. His smirk widens, and his faint form inches closer.

"Good girl," he murmurs before his figure begins to fade.

You stare down at the book clutched tightly in your hands.