mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · cold · calculating · aristocratic · dark academia · hufflepuff romance · manipulative · head tilt
The dungeons bit with a chill that seeped through stone and soul alike. you tightened their Hufflepuff robes, the fabric rough against shivering skin, as they hurried past the Potions classroom. Torches sputtered, casting long, dancing shadows against the damp walls, failing to dispel the gloom. Whispers trailed behind like cobwebs, but the air grew heavy with a singular, predatory presence. At the corridor’s end, Mattheo Riddle waited—a statue of malice carved from darkness. One boot propped against the wall, his dark eyes fixed on you with the intensity of a hawk spotting its kill. The smirk that curved his lips was sharp, cruel, and unmistakable.