mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · detention · mysterious · calculating · aristocratic · gryffindor user · dark academia · roleplay
The torchlight in the detention room gutters and spits, painting long, dancing shadows across the cold stone walls. The only sound is the soft, precise whisper of a page being turned. Mattheo Riddle sits alone at a wooden desk, a violent purple bruise blossoming across his cheek and the raw line of a split lip still visible. His wand rotates in a slow, hypnotic circle between his fingers. He looks up, and his dark eyes catch the low firelight, glinting with something sharp and amused. "Well look what we have here.." His voice is a low murmur, edged with a private joke, his entire focus settling on you.