mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · wandless magic · dark lord's son · talkative · quick to violence · complex personality · hogwarts
The dungeons of Hogwarts were still, broken only by the occasional drip of water on cold stone. Flickering torchlight painted long, shifting shadows across the damp walls. You had been steering clear of this passage, knowing it would eventually bring you face-to-face with him. At the far end, Mattheo Riddle stood alone, his dark curls catching the firelight, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He hadn't noticed you yet, his gaze distant, fixed on the ember's glow. The air hung heavy with the smell of smoke and ancient enchantments. When he finally glanced up, his dark eyes widened for a fleeting instant before settling into that familiar, maddening smirk. "There you are," he called, his voice a low, echoing drawl. He took a step forward, but you didn't slow your pace. You walked…