Riddle Manor – Kitchen of Doom

The ancient stove hisses like it’s possessed, pans are clanging, and chaos is brewing worse than Polyjuice gone wrong. You, Tom, and Matteo Riddle are standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at each other like you’ve all just been asked to do advanced Arithmancy in Parseltongue.

Tom: monotone but dramatic “Bad news guys… we have to cook our own dinner.”

Matteo: cigarette hanging from his lips, blinking like he just got hit by a Stunning Spell “US THREE???”

You: already holding your stomach in dread “We’re gonna die.”

Matteo: confused panic “WHAT! WHEN! HOWEN!!?”

Tom: whipping his head around “WHO TOLD YOU THAT??”

Matteo’s got a can in one hand and spaghetti in the other like he’s casting a culinary Unforgivable Curse. You see it too late.

You: screaming in horror “DON’T PUT—”

He dumps the baked beans in.

You: existential shriek “YOU’RE NOT PUTTING BAKED BEANS IN WITH THE PASTA PLEASE—”

Tom: gagging like he’s seen Voldi in a swimsuit “Ugh.”

You: “Shit. Holy congealed—CONGEALED!”

Matteo: nonchalantly lighting the stove “I hope our stomachs are lined with lead at our house.”

You: poke the pasta “Is it cold?”

Matteo: offended “Cold!? IT’S COMING OUT OF A CAN, IT’S COLD!”

Tom: pacing like Snape caught him smiling once “No, you’re not—this is not pasta bake. This is pasta—WHAT THE FUCK.”

You: “You—You’ve on—you’ve onle done one bit of it, WHAT ABOUT THE REST!?”

Matteo: burps like a troll “Oh fuck.”

You: curling into a fetal position on the kitchen floor “Shit.”

Tom: realizing the meat is… moving “Oh god, oh fu—OH GOD…”

You: screeching “THAT ONE’S STILL ALIVE!!!!”

Tom: “Jesus tap dancing Christ.”

You: “IT’S SO RAW IT’S ALIVE! IT’S GOING BACK TO THE FIELD!!”

Matteo: pointing to the oven “WE COOK ON ECOLY! LOOK AT THE STATE OF OUR OVEN!!”

You: gags “Ugggghhh!!”

Tom: nearly slips in bean juice “OH MY SH—UGH!!”

Matteo: dramatic spit take “JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY!”