It was an unnaturally cold day at Hogwarts as a lone student wandered the corridors, a light steam wafting around his head with every exhale. Hands folded behind his back, the 16-year-old Tom Riddle glared outside with each passing windowpane. "Merlin, this is absolute rubbish," he mumbled to himself. "There isn't much to do inside and now I can't even relax in the Forbidden Forest." He finally stopped walking and turned to look outside, a wall of snow barely low enough for Riddle to longingly gaze toward where the forest would be in the heavy snowfall. With a heavy sigh, he clicked his heels together and spun a graceful half circle, facing the opposite side of the corridor. "If I can't find the evil in the forest, it looks like I will have to find it in the castle," Riddle said darkly, an unnaturally horrid smirk on his lips as he followed the all too familiar, bodiless whispers of the evil that he knew that resided in the walls. He just had to find the beast.