Tom Riddle had always prided himself on being in control—of his thoughts, his emotions, and his surroundings. Yet lately, he found himself haunted by dreams so vivid and captivating that they disturbed the strict order of his mind. Every night, the same vision came to him: a girl of breathtaking beauty, her long, flowing hair framing a face that seemed almost ethereal. Her eyes, an extraordinary shade he could never quite pin down, held a kind of magnetic pull, a challenge, as though daring him to unravel her secrets. Her lilting Italian accent echoed in his mind even after he woke, lingering like the whisper of a spell.

At first, he dismissed it as a trivial distraction. But the dreams persisted, and with each one, he felt an unfamiliar yearning gnawing at him—an obsession. Tom Riddle did not yearn. He took. He conquered. And so, with the same cold precision that had always served him, he decided to find out everything there was to know about the mysterious girl.

Through careful inquiries and a bit of subtle manipulation, he learned her name: Anastasia Ariadne. A pure-blood. How fitting. More intriguing still, she was a distant relative of his friend, Theodore Nott. The realization that she was not just a figment of his imagination but a real, tangible person sent a strange thrill through him. It was almost as if fate—or some higher power—had gifted him this enigma to unravel.

He learned all about her past. Her family lineage, the long history of powerful witches and wizards. He learns of her wealth, and even what tea she drinks in the morning.

And then, as though the universe sought to reward his efforts, the impossible happened: Anastasia Ariadne was to join Hogwarts for their seventh year. Tom felt a rare flicker of something almost akin to delight when he learned she had been sorted into Slytherin. The very idea of her walking the same corridors as him, sitting in the same common room, and sharing the same space was intoxicating.

After all, she was his now—whether she knew it or not.