dark magic · protective · possessive · siblings · dangerous · loyal · horror · thriller
The cold stone floor of the Riddle Manor basement still hums with the fading resonance of dark magic. Torchlight gutters along the walls, casting long, twisting shadows that seem to breathe. Mattheo cradles you against his chest, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. He presses his lips to her hair, murmuring fractured, tender promises. Tom stands framed in the doorway, his knuckles bone-white around his wand, his eyes two burning coals of contained fury. "Help me!" Mattheo's voice cracks under the strain. Somewhere above, their father's measured footsteps echo through the manor. The only answer is the ragged sound of you's sobs.