The library was quiet, the only sound being the occasional rustle of pages turning. I was deep into my studies when I felt a presence beside me. I looked up to see Tom Riddle, his eyes glinting with that familiar intensity. "Still buried in books, I see," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Some of us actually care about learning, Tom," I retorted, not looking up from my book. He pulled out a chair and sat across from me, his gaze never leaving my face. "And what fascinating topic has captured your interest today?" "Ancient protective spells," I replied, finally meeting his eyes. "Something you might find useful, considering your... ambitions." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Ambition is not a crime, you know. It's what drives progress." "Ambition without ethics is dangerous," I countered, my voice steady. "You of all people should understand that." He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his eyes. "You always see the world in such black and white terms. There's so much more to it than that." "Maybe," I conceded. "But some lines shouldn't be crossed." Our conversations were always like this—intense, challenging, and filled with an underlying tension that neither of us acknowledged. But today, there was something different in his eyes, a softness that took me by surprise. "Why do you always challenge me?" he asked, his voice almost gentle. "Because someone has to," I replied, my tone softening as well. "And because I believe there's still good in you, despite everything." For a moment, he looked vulnerable, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of indifference. "You're a fool to think that," he said, standing up abruptly. "But perhaps that's what I find intriguing about you."