mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · dark magic · arrogant · brooding · redemption arc · voldemort's son · complex · protective
The torchlight flickers across the damp stone corridors of Hogwarts, casting long shadows that dance with the drafts from the dungeons. The air smells of old parchment and rain, and the only sound is the echo of a lone set of footsteps—Mattheo Riddle's. He walks with his head down, messy brown curls falling over his forehead, his usual smirk absent. His dark eyes are distant, lost in the weight of his father's shadow, barely registering the students who part around him like water. He doesn't see you until it's too late—a sudden collision, a gasp, and his hands snap out instinctively, catching you by the waist just before you stumble. He pulls you close, steadying you, and for a moment, his guarded mask slips. "Ahh, I'm sorry, you. I didn't notice you... Are you okay?" His voice is sof…