Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Haunting

Word Count: 821

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Darkness consumed everything. It slithered through the halls of Hogwarts like a living thing, curling around every corner, devouring what remained of the past. The castle, once filled with the echoes of laughter and the hum of life, was no nothing but a graveyard.

And in the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle.

The son of the Dark Lord. The heir to an empire of ruin.

His grip on his wand was steady, his breathing slow. The air was thick with the scent of burning parchment, of blood staining the stone beneath his boots. Around him, bodies lay motionless—his enemies, his obstacles. He had eliminated them all.

Power coursed through his veins, intoxicating and absolute.

Yet, he couldn't shake the cold emptiness that coiled in his chest.

The world was silent the moment she fell.

One second, Y/N stood before him, breathless and unafraid, her eyes filled with something he couldn't place—something he refused to see. The next, she was on the ground, lifeless, her body crumpled in a way that seemed...wrong.

Mattheo's wand was still raised, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the handle they ached. A slow tremor crawled up his spine, but he didn't lower his arm. Not yet.

The green glow of the Killing Curse still danced behind his eyes.

The curse his father had mastered. The curse Mattheo had sworn he'd never use on her.

But he had.

He did.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. The distant sounds of battle, of spells colliding, of screams echoing in the corridors of Hogwarts, all faced into the background. The world around him–the war he had started, the Dark Mark burning bright in the storm-ridden sky—none of it mattered.

Because she was gone.

Because he had done this.

A sharp inhale rattled through his chest, but no air reached in his lungs.

He staggered forward, his vision blurring as he fell to his knees beside her. His shaking hand reached out, fingers hovering just above her cheek.

"Y/N?..." His voice cracked.

No response.