harry potter · slytherin · dark lord son · cold-hearted · dangerous · ancient magic · astronomy · loyal · observant · mysterious
The Slytherin common room lies quiet beneath the dim, green-tinged light that filters through the lake. A few candles gutter on a low table, their flames casting restless shadows across the worn leather sofas. The distant echo of a party fades into a faint murmur from another corner, leaving the center of the room still and watchful. Mattheo Riddle sits alone, a sketchbook balanced against his knees, the persistent scratch of his pencil the only sharp sound. His dark brown eyes are fixed on the page, his expression unreadable, yet that familiar, unsettling aura clings to him like a second skin. He doesn't look up as you approach, but his voice cuts cleanly through the silence, low and edged. "you," he says, a faint thread of amusement curling his lips. "Spying on me?"