Delve into the enigmatic tale of Tom Marvolo Riddle, a figure of beguiling allure and chilling malevolence. Possessing an undeniable charm and a dangerous charisma, he was a man shrouded in darkness, incapable of feeling love. But what happens when...
During the night Y/N has been shifted from the Hogwarts International to Hogwarts. As Y/N enters the Campus she is welcomed by a professor draped in Black and golden robes who escorts her to her dorm .
she is handed a schedule along with the robes AND a scarlet and gold scarf....The colors of Gryffindor. (NOTE:You can choose whatever house you want except Slytherin.)
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"But,the sorting hat?" Y/N looks at the well-built, Blue-haired man who just escorted her. "When we get things unimaginable even though when one's unworthy we still are not thankful, are we Miss...?"He gives An irritated, unwelcoming look. With a frown "Sorry...Mr?" Y/N asks his name.
"Professor" He stresses. After a brief pause he adds, "Ivodus,Your potions teacher."
He storms out of the room.
"Great start eh?" Y/N mumbles.
As you began settling down two Girls enter the room.They seem surprised to see a new face. "Ummm...Never seen you around, who are you?" The red haired girl interrogates.
The other girl nudges her and adds"Be nice Isobelle, Can't you see she's new here.."
Her attention turns from Isobelle to Y/N, with a genial smile she utters "Hello there, welcome to Hogwarts. I am Olivia Bane and this is Isobelle Bloom."
They both smile and walk towards their beds and get changed for bed time.
"Sleep well I'm sure you must be tired with all these changes" Olivia conveys.
Isobelle declares "Good night Y/N, Good night Olive.."
"Good night" Y/N and Olivia state synchronously.
As everybody is Fast asleep You can't help but the words of Albus Dumbledore strike your mind.
Abruptly, a tapping sound reverberates against the windowpane. You startle, rising from your seat to investigate. There, perched on the windowsill, is an owl bearing a missive within its beak. Your heart quickens as you approach, retrieving the letter from the avian messenger's grasp. A sense of reassurance washes over you as you offer a gentle pat of gratitude to the faithful creature.
You open the sealed envelope and unfurl the paper....
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The words fly over Your head and you are puzzled. "Who is 'He'?"
The words sail past, leaving you bemused. "Who is 'He'?" you query, your confusion palpable.
Another piece of parchment descends, carried by the owl, its edges jagged as if torn. Upon it are scrawled fragments, a mysterious abbreviation taking shape as 'T.M.Ri,' the remainder of the message shrouded in ambiguity.
