War, Love, and Riddle //Mattheo Riddle x OC

Chapter Twenty Two - Dobby Is A Free Elf

The manor felt wrong.

Mattheo noticed it the moment the heavy doors closed behind him, sealing him once more inside the cold, sprawling prison that had raised him. The air seemed thicker here, saturated with old magic and older cruelties, carrying the scent of candle wax, polished stone, and something metallic lurking beneath it all that always reminded him of blood. His footsteps echoed through the corridor as he made his way toward the dining room, each step pulling him further away from the memory of Emma curled against his chest and deeper into the version of himself he hated most. By now he knew the performance by heart. Emotion was dangerous in this house. Affection was dangerous. Love was a death sentence. If he wanted Emma alive, then Mattheo Riddle had to disappear for a little while. The boy who loved her had to be buried beneath layers of indifference and arrogance until there was nothing left for Voldemort to find.

The doors opened before him, revealing the long dining room bathed in flickering candlelight. Death Eaters lined both sides of the table, their conversations dying instantly as their attention shifted toward him. Mattheo felt their eyes follow his movements while he crossed the room, but he ignored them all. Bellatrix's obsession. Lucius's caution. Yaxley's curiosity. None of it mattered. The only person worth watching sat at the head of the table waiting for him.

"My son has returned home to me."

Voldemort's voice drifted through the room with unsettling calm, and Mattheo fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. Home. The word itself felt almost insulting now. Home wasn't cold stone corridors and whispered threats. Home wasn't fear disguised as loyalty. Home wasn't this table, these people, or the creature sitting at its head pretending to be a father. Home had raven black hair and green eyes. Home laughed at his terrible jokes and tangled her fingers in his curls while she read beside him. Home slept curled against his chest with her heartbeat beneath his palm. Home was Emma.

"If by returned you mean summoned, then yes."

The response earned several uncomfortable shifts around the table, but Mattheo barely noticed. His attention never left Voldemort, whose expression remained eerily unchanged. After a long moment, the Dark Lord's gaze drifted toward the others.

"Leave."

The command sent chairs scraping against stone as every Death Eater rushed to obey. Within seconds the room emptied, leaving only father and son alone beneath the trembling candlelight. Silence settled between them immediately, heavy and suffocating, and Mattheo knew better than to be the one who broke it. Voldemort enjoyed silence because people eventually filled it with fear. They rambled. They explained. They confessed. Mattheo had spent his entire childhood learning how to survive these moments. So he sat perfectly still while crimson eyes studied him from across the table, dissecting him piece by piece as though searching for some hidden weakness beneath his skin.

"You're going to be a big brother."

The statement struck him with surprising force.

For a moment, Emma vanished from his thoughts entirely. The war disappeared. The Horcruxes disappeared. All he could see was a small child somewhere inside this manor. A cradle sitting beneath these cursed ceilings. Tiny footsteps running through these hallways. A little boy or girl learning to flinch whenever doors slammed too loudly. Learning fear before love. Obedience before comfort. Mattheo knew exactly what kind of childhood awaited that baby because he had survived it himself. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Great."

The sarcasm escaped before he could stop it.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed immediately.