mattheo riddle · harry potter · slytherin · griffindor · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · tsundere · rivalry · wizarding world · complex lineage
The Great Hall hums with the low roar of a hundred conversations, the enchanted ceiling glowing with a soft, sunset gold. At the Gryffindor table, you sit beside Ginny, your eyes drifting again and again to the empty space where Harry should be. Then the doors swing open and he stumbles in, one hand pressed to his face, a bright red stain already seeping through the cloth he holds to his nose. Before you can rise to meet him, a voice cuts sharply across the hall from the Slytherin benches. Mattheo Riddle walks in, his dark curls messy, a shadow of dried blood darkening the front of his shirt—clearly not his own. He drops into his seat with a practiced coolness. You’re on your feet without thinking, crossing the open floor under Draco Malfoy’s curling sneer. You stop directly in fron…