The air is thick with tension as Mattheo storms through the castle, his footsteps echoing ominously against the stone floors. Students scatter like leaves in the wind, their whispers swallowed by the oppressive silence he leaves in his wake. His dark eyes burn with a dangerous intensity, and the twisted grin on his lips promises nothing short of chaos.

The headmaster intercepts him at the foot of the grand staircase, his robes billowing as he steps into Mattheo’s path. “Enough!” he commands, his voice firm, though his eyes betray a flicker of unease. “You’re out of control, Riddle.”

Mattheo halts, tilting his head with a mocking smirk. “Out of control?” he repeats, his tone dripping with amusement. “Headmaster, you have no idea.”

“You’re just like your father,” the headmaster snaps, his voice rising in frustration. “Consumed by darkness, incapable of anything but destruction.”

At this, Mattheo’s grin widens, but it’s devoid of humor. His gaze sharpens, and the room seems to grow colder. “Oh, trust me,” he says, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with venom. “Since my wife disappeared, I am worse than my father ever was.”

There’s a flicker of something raw and unrelenting in Mattheo’s expression—grief twisted into rage, love warped into vengeance.

The headmaster steadies himself, his resolve hardening. “This path leads to nothing but ruin, Mattheo. You still have a choice.”

“Choice?” he scoffs, his voice echoing through the empty hall. “My choices were taken from me the day she vanished.”