It was a dark, unsettling night at Hogwarts. You had been restless, wandering the grounds in an attempt to clear your mind. The events of recent weeks—the whispers about the Chamber of Secrets, the death of Myrtle... it was all too much.

So lost in your thoughts you didn’t even realize where you where until you found yourself in the dungeons, in front of a hidden trapdoor. It was slightly ajar, revealing a series of tunnels carved into the stone beneath the school.

You pushed the trapdoor open and descend into the tunnels. You could hear the faint sound of something moving—slithering—far ahead, and a chill ran down your spine.

As you rounded another corner, your heart stopped. There, in front of you, was a basilisk, its massive, scaly body coiled in the shadows. You remembered the warnings: never look a basilisk in the eyes.

Before you could react, strong hands grabbed you from behind, pulling you back sharply. You gasped, fear surging through you, but the person’s hand came over your eyes, as the other hand went around your waist.

“Don’t look,” a voice whispered against your ear, low and calm. The person spoke again, this time in a language that sent shivers down your spine—Parseltongue.

You froze, your entire body trembling as you clutched onto the person, too terrified to move. The basilisk obeyed the command, slithering back into the shadows.

Your heart raced, as alowly, the hand covering your eyes lifted, and you found yourself turning to face the boy who had saved you.

Tom Riddle stood there, standing tall, his dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that unsettled you. He looked as calm and composed as ever, the golden boy of Hogwarts, the star student that everyone admired.

"Don’t worry," he said, his voice smooth. "The basilisk won’t hurt you."

You stared at him. "You—you can control it?" you stammered, “But… that’s impossible.”

Tom’s lips curled into a small smile, his expression one of quiet amusement. "Impossible for most," he replied. "But not for me."