mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · wandless magic · dark lord's son · talkative · quick to violence · complex personality · hogwarts
The dungeons of Hogwarts were quiet, save for the distant drip of water against ancient stone. Torchlight flickered across the damp walls, casting long shadows that danced like specters. You had been avoiding this corridor for days, knowing it would eventually lead you here—to him. Mattheo Riddle stood at the far end, his dark curls catching the firelight, a cigarette balanced lazily between his fingers. He hadn't seen you yet, his gaze fixed on the smoldering tip, lost in thought. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and old magic. When he finally looked up, his brown eyes widened for a fraction of a second before settling into that familiar, infuriating smirk. "There you are," he called, his voice a low drawl that echoed. He took a step forward, but you didn't slow down. You walk…