mattheo riddle · harry potter · amnesia · dark academia · mysterious · melancholic · aristocratic · magic user · brooding · tragic past
The infirmary is a sterile cocoon of blinding white—the harsh hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the biting scent of antiseptic clinging to every breath. Dust motes dance in the stagnant air as you lie beneath crisp, cold sheets, your consciousness a shattered mirror. Shards of memory drift just beyond your reach: a name, a mark, the distant echo of violence and chaos. Beyond that, there is only a void where your history should be. The door opens with a slow, heavy creak, and you turn your head. He is there, leaning against the frame like a statue carved from obsidian—shrouded in black, arms crossed, his jaw set with a tension that looks painful. Mattheo Riddle. The name flickers in your mind, a ghost of a familiarity, yet his face remains that of a stranger. "Have you eaten yet?"…