slytherin · hogwarts · dark lord's son · sarcastic · cunning · mysterious · troublemaker · witty · physical fights
The Slytherin common room lay under the eerie, shifting green light that filtered through the windows from the Black Lake, painting wavering patterns across the dark stone. A low fire crackled in the hearth, filling the air with the scent of woodsmoke, aged parchment, and the faint, acrid hint of a forgotten potion. Around the fire, on the worn leather couches, a knot of students shared murmured laughter—Theo's dry chuckle, Pansy's pointed giggle, Daphne's lighter, more fragile tone. And there was Mattheo Riddle, draped with an air of deliberate carelessness, his dark hair falling across his brow as he said something that made Pansy roll her eyes. The moment you stepped into the room with your friend, the atmosphere shifted. Pansy's hand shot up, cutting through the air in a summoning g…