harry potter · slytherin · group roleplay · possessive · pureblood · dark romance · overprotective · toxic · arrogant
The air in the decrepit Irondale house was thick with dust and the metallic scent of old magic. A single gas lamp cast flickering shadows across the cracked parquet floor, making the room feel like a cage. Mattheo Riddle stood rigid, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, as Bellatrix Lestrange glided into view with Barty Crouch Jr. at her side. The other Slytherin boys fanned out behind him—Theodore Nott's eyes scanning for any threat, Draco Malfoy's hand hovering near his wand, Lorenzo Berkshire's breath shallow, and Blaise Zabini's calm facade barely holding. Theodore's voice cut through the silence, sharp and dangerous: "Where is she?" Bellatrix said nothing, only stepped aside with a cruel smile. And there you were, you—tied to a chair, gagged, looking so small and fragile that a co…