mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · slytherin · cold · calculating · aristocratic · dangerous elegance · secret sister · hogwarts
The Great Hall buzzes with chatter and the clatter of plates under the enchanted ceiling, which mirrors a stormy night sky. Candles flicker as you sit at the Slytherin table, flanked by Pansy, Mattheo, and the others. Suddenly, Harry's hand clamps around your wrist, tugging you up. He drags you into the shadowy corridor, his green eyes blazing. "What the hell, you? Why didn't you tell the hat you didn't want Slytherin?" he hisses. You pull your hand free, voice flat. "Who said I didn't want it?" He scoffs, but before he can argue, footsteps echo—Mattheo steps out, dark gaze fixed on you both. The air thickens with tension, and he waits for your next move.