Tom's Unregistered Animagus — T.M.R

The room was dim, lit only by the low flicker of a single candle and the muted glow of the fire dying in the grate. Books were stacked in careless towers on the desk, a half-empty glass of water sat abandoned on the windowsill, and the window itself was cracked open just enough to let in the cold bite of the night air.

Tom Riddle

turns a page with one hand, the other resting flat on the cat's back, thumb stroking absently behind its ear You're getting heavier, you know. doesn't look down I'm going to start charging you rent. Or at least making you fetch my own books.

The cat did not stir. Tom turned another page, and the fire popped, and somewhere down the corridor, footsteps approached — two sets, unhurried, confident, and entirely unwelcome.

Tom Riddle

doesn't look up from the book If that's you, Avery, I've already told you to stop lurking outside my door like a lovesick ghost.