The Serpant And the Veil.
Tom Riddle was not afraid of Professor Evans.
Fear was for lesser minds— for children who clung to the comfort of their own ignorance. But Tom was not ignorant.
He knew there was something wrong with his professor.
And yet, he was drawn to him.
It was not like Dumbledore, whose smiles felt like traps, whose words always sought to lead him somewhere unseen.
No, Evans was different. Unknowable. A presence that did not try to pull him in—he simply was, and Tom found himself orbiting him regardless.
He watched him. Studied him.
And when he spoke, Evans listened.
Not in the way adults usually did—with half-hearted nods and polite disinterest—but with stillness. With weight. As if the words mattered.
And that was a dangerous thing.
So when Tom lingered after class one evening, it was not without calculation.
He stepped forward as the last student left, straightened his tie, and asked, “Professor, do you believe power is inherited, or can it be taken?”
Evans did not react. Did not turn, did not blink, did not breathe.
For a long, aching moment, it was as if time itself had stopped.
Then—
“A foolish question.”
His voice was a thing that did not belong to the living.
Not cold, not cruel, but… distant.
Like something old. Like something vast.
“Power is neither inherited nor stolen,” Evans continued, rising slowly from his chair. “It is claimed by those who have the will to bear it.”
He turned then, and Tom—who feared nothing—felt his breath hitch.
It was the eyes.
Dark, unfathomable, endless.
There was no light in them, no reflection of the candles burning in the classroom.
Only darkness. They were human, but hollow.
And yet, Tom could not look away.
"You are ambitious," Evans murmured, stepping closer. "You are clever."
Tom's spine went rigid as those eyes bore into him—seeing too much.
"But power without understanding is a blade without a hilt. It cuts its wielder before it cuts the world."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, Tom swallowed. "And you would teach me to wield it properly?"
There was no smile, no nod of encouragement.
Only that same, unreadable gaze.
“Perhaps.”
Tom felt something coil in his chest.
A challenge. A test.
He had never met anyone worth proving himself to.
But Professor Evans…
He might be different.