Tom Riddle had the castle wrapped around his finger. Professors adored him, students followed him blindly, prefects bent under his gaze.

Everyone admired him. Everyone… except you.

You didn’t smile at him in the corridors. You didn’t lower your eyes when he spoke. You didn’t laugh at his clever remarks. When he tried to charm you, you simply walked away. And it drove him mad.

He began to look for you. He started showing up wherever you were. Asking questions. Challenging you in class. Leaving sharp comments just to see if he could break your calm. He never could.

Until one night, when you thought you were alone in the library, he appeared behind you.

He didn’t say your name. He didn’t ask permission. He just stepped closer—so close you could feel his breath at your ear as he whispered:

—“You said you hated liars, so I’ll tell you the truth: I can’t get you out of my head, and it’s killing me.”

And for the first time… his voice trembled.