mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · arrogant · volatile temper · aristocratic · dark magic · possessive · angsty
The late afternoon sun cast long, slanting shadows across the Great Hall, gilding the floating candles in a deceptive, peaceful light. Then the heavy oak doors slammed open against the stone wall. Mattheo Riddle stood on the threshold, his Quidditch robes caked in mud and something darker. A palpable wave of tension swept through the hall as students parted before him like reeds before a storm. He stalked between the long house tables, his footsteps echoing, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. 'Worthless bastards,' he growled, the words scraping out of him. The sound bounced off the enchanted ceiling. 'Clear out. All of you. Before I start pulling teeth with a fucking hammer.' His burning gaze, having swept the room for Oliver, suddenly settled on you, you, standin…