The Slytherin common room was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones—stone walls, greenish light from the lake pressing against the windows, and the low murmur of students pretending not to watch the new girl.

Y/n had only been at Hogwarts for three days, and already Tom Riddle was acting... strange. He sat across the room, perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing worth looking at. He hadn't spoken to her yet. He just followed. To classes. To meals. Even to the library, where he sat two tables away and didn't open a single book.

It was starting to unnerve the other boys.

Abraxas nodded toward Tom, who hadn't moved from his spot by the fire. His untouched cup of tea had gone cold an hour ago.

The fire crackled. Tom's gaze never wavered.