Chapter Text
I had always believed that Hogwarts, the prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry, was a place where I could finally belong. But as the Sorting hat whispered the word ‘Slytherin’, my heart skipped a beat. How could a muggle-born like myself, with no magical lineage to speak of, find a home in the very house known for its pure-blood elitism?
I walked slowly over to the table, trying my best to smirk as if I knew all along that I belonged here.
It was a difficult act to keep up, but I had to try my best to fit in. I had done a lot of reading when I first got my acceptance letter.
I intended to find out everything I needed to know, and now I was trying my best to recall everything I had read about pure-bloods and Slytherins.
I sat down alongside a few other Slytherins that had been sorted before me.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Draco Malfoy.” He smirked and then the girl clinging to his arm spoke up,
“I’m Pansy.” I smiled at her,
“I’m Y/n.” I said with a nod. The professor had called my full name only moments ago, but I was going to have to avoid using my last name as often as I could.
They would know if I was pureblood or not just by hearing it, so the less attention drawn to my lineage the better.
“Harry Potter.” The name was called and everyone went silent. I had read about him, he was in the newspaper I had picked up while getting my school supplies.
His parents were murdered by a dark wizard. He had somehow survived the killing curse and simultaneously defeated the dark wizard – as a baby.
“Gryffindor!” The hat shouted and the Gryffindor table burst into applause. I rolled my eyes, trying to play the part.
“Mattheo… Riddle.” His name silenced the room again. There were some whispers as he sauntered up to the hat.
“Slytherin.” and everyone around me started to cheer, I clapped along with them.
He drifted to our table and chose to sit next to me, of all places.
“How are you related?” an older boy asked as soon as Mattheo settled, and I found myself listening intently.
The question lacked context, but everyone seemed expectant, as if they knew its deeper meaning.
“Black,” was his nonchalant response. His stare was cold, prompting me to realise I needed to research Riddle and Black.
Yet, I didn’t need research to discern his potential danger. The respect he commanded from those around us suggested a reputation far from benevolent.
I decided to focus on my meal and avoid engaging in any conversations. I needed time to assess and find a safe option for friendship. Someone with a modicum of influence but not excessive power.
I couldn't afford to be an outcast; survival in Slytherin required at least one friend. Mattheo reached to grab something and his knee bumped mine under the table, breaking my train of thought.
“Sorry.” I mumbled and shifted away from him slightly, to give him space, I glanced at him and he was smirking but didn’t say anything.
When the meal concluded, the prefect led us to the Slytherin house. “The password is ‘Pureblood.’ Just stand between the torches here, and the door will open for you,” the prefect instructed.
As she uttered the password, the wall slid aside, granting us entrance into the common room.
The expansive space featured floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the fireplace, offering views of the depths of Hogwarts' lake.
It bore the ambiance of an underwater shipwreck, frequented by various aquatic creatures. I refocused my attention on the prefect,
“Follow me down the stairs to our right, and I will assign your rooms according to this list.” She started walking. At the foot of the stairs, a lengthy hallway awaited us.
The ceiling, adorned with windows, cast rippling patterns of light across the walls. ‘Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle,’ she called from the list, indicating their room. They entered while the rest of us continued along.
“Parkinson, Greengrass, Bulstrode, and Davis.” She said, and then we moved on. She then called out another group of boys and then another of girls, leaving only three first-year students needing rooms.
“Riddle and Nott, you’ll be in here,” she pointed to the door on her right, “which leaves y/l/n, lucky last. You get this room.” She pointed to the door on her left.
Entering, I found my trunk already placed there. I had the room all to myself, which didn’t seem bad at all, considering my circumstances.
With only one bed, it appeared intentional, unless the rooms could be magically altered to accommodate the number of students. I made a mental note to investigate this later.
After the first day of lessons, the Slytherins began discussing the various Muggle-born students they were aware of, particularly Hermione Granger.
She gained popularity as a topic because of her active participation in class, they referred to her as a ‘know-it-all wannabe.
I had been staying up late everyday studying Slytherins and Purebloods to the point that I was now a late riser. Always snoozing through my alarm.
This morning, however, as I dashed out of my room in a frenzy, I nearly crashed into someone in the corridor. He looked at me through his messy brown hair. It was Theo, also disoriented from an unexpected sleep-in.
“Late riser today, Theo?” I quipped, chuckling at the unusual sight of him rushing for once.
He grinned, “I guess Hogwarts got the best of me this time.”
Without wasting another moment, they raced down the winding corridors, dodging a few other students on their way to the Great Hall.
Despite their haste, laughter filled the air as they navigated the Hogwarts maze together. Narrowly dodging the corners as they turned.
Breathless and relieved, they arrived before breakfast was finished, they slid onto adjacent seats at the Slytherin table. Sharing a grin as they tucked into their food.
Throughout the day, they found themselves sitting side by side in their classes, it was a mutual silent kind of friendship, we didn’t talk much and just studied.
The more time they spent together, the clearer it became that they shared a deep passion for learning.
By day's end, they both recognized their academic kinship. He was going to be my safe friend.
As days passed, Theo made it a routine to wait outside my dorm each morning, knocking softly on the door.
We no longer needed to rush to the Great Hall when he woke me up on time. It was more like a leisurely stroll every morning.
We just discussed classes and assignments and any other information we found interesting.
As the weeks went by we got our first group assignment for potions.
“Nott, y/l/n, please move to miss Grangers table.” Snape stood at the front of the class giving orders.
“Potter, over there,” he gestured to a table with a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff.
“Weasley. Over there.” Indicating Crabbe and Pansy’s table. Ron shot Theo and I a dirty look as he left, and I quickly chose the seat furthest from Hermione.
“She’s not going to infect you, y/n,” Theo laughed, taking the seat between us. I noticed Hermione’s face tighten.
“I know that. Would you like me to swap seats with you, then?” I chuckled, not wanting to offend Hermione but needing to navigate my survival here.
I caught Hermione’s eyes shifting towards me and offered her a tight smile. My approach to being a Slytherin mostly involved ignoring everyone, feigning a demeanour of nonchalance. It aligned with the Slytherin ethos without necessitating actual cruelty.
“We’re already seated,” Theo replied, opening his textbook to the required page.
“For the Forgetfulness Potion we have a lot of ingredients and we have to constantly stir the potion. So, one of us will need to handle the stirring the whole time. I prefer preparing the ingredients. If one of you would gather them with me, the other can ready the cauldron,” Hermione explained without looking up from her book.
“She’s a bit bossy,” Theo chuckled lightly, flashing a smile my way.
“I don’t mind it,” I shrugged.
“I’ll handle the stirring then. You can deal with miss bossy pants,” Theo quipped, gesturing towards Hermione. He stood up and began clearing the books away, while Hermione, seemingly upset, tore a page from her notebook and stood up.
“Right, come with me then,” she said, rising from her seat. I followed her to the supplies cupboard, where she grabbed a tray and placed her note on it.
“Two sprigs of Lavender, please.” I scanned the shelves and found it, reaching up on the tips of my toes to gently nudge it off the edge into my hands.
Tucking it into my elbow and I removed the lid. I placed two sprigs on the tray, closed the jar, and delicately pushed it back onto the shelf with my fingertips.
“Three Valerian roots,” she requested. I spun around in search, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, because Hermione seemed to clear her throat in annoyance.
She pointed to the bottom shelf. “Oh! Thanks,” I replied with a smile, crouching down to retrieve them.
“Four Asphodel petals, up there.” Hermione gestured to the top shelf again. As I reached up, it seemed further back this time. Despite my efforts, I inadvertently pushed it even farther out of reach.
I looked down at my feet preparing to climb the shelf. Suddenly I felt someone hovering behind me. I glanced up to see a hand reaching for the jar, their body slightly pressing against mine, leaving me no room to manoeuvre. Trapped against the shelf by the person’s other hand, which was placed beside my shoulder, I found myself locked in.
“I’ll get it.” The boy said, as he grabbed the jar and stepped back, I spun around to find Mattheo smirking, offering the jar to me. I stared at him for a moment, watching his cold gaze study my face.
“Thanks,” I smiled, attempting to appear composed while my heart raced. Taking the jar, I collected four petals before he reclaimed it, gathering some for himself. I placed the petals on the tray, noticing Hermione’s widened eyes.
“What’s next?” I inquired, and she shook her head, seemingly snapping out of her thoughts, quickly clearing her throat.
“Um, it’s… one pinch of powdered Moonstone,” she said. I spun around again, searching for it.
“Here,” Mattheo offered, handing it over. I grabbed a vial to place it in. trying my best not to meet Mattheo’s eyes again.
“And one Sopophorus Bean,” Hermione continued, already walking away before I could give her the last ingredient. I sighed and scanned the shelves until I found it.
“Do you need one too?” I asked, extending the jar of beans to Mattheo. Not daring to look up from the jar.
“I swear that bloody Gryffindor git is going to ruin this potion,” Draco stormed into the room, grabbing the bean jar from me without asking.
“Who?” I questioned, glancing at his table. “Oh, him.” I chuckled, noticing Seamus Finnigan seated with Goyle.
“Good luck,” Mattheo said.
I returned to our table from the storage cupboard.
“What took you so long?” Theo asked.
“They put half the ingredients on the top shelf!” I huffed, placing the bean on the tray.
“You’re just short,” Theo chuckled, leaning back on the table with folded arms.
“I’ve already started crushing the Valerian root, so if you could focus on the cauldron, that would be nice,” Hermione spoke sternly. Theo raised his hands in surrender, shooting me another smirk.
“Y/n, get the sprigs and petals. We have to add them all at the same time,” she instructed, lifting her powdered Valerian root over the cauldron.
“Ready?” I nodded. Once everything was added, Theo stirred it three times clockwise and then placed the cauldron on the fire to start boiling.
“Now, once it’s boiling, we have to add the moonstone, and then you have to continuously stir it,” Hermione directed, frowning at Theodore.
As soon as it boiled, she added the moonstone powder, and Theo began stirring clockwise again while Hermione checked her watch.
“Now we wait while you stir,” she said, sitting down to start another assignment. Theodore glared at her.
“How long do I have to stir for?”
“30 minutes clockwise, and then after the bean is added, it’s counterclockwise until the potion turns clear,” she explained. Theo groaned.
“If you get tired I can try and switch with you,” I offered, but Hermione scoffed,
“No. The stirring has to be consistent; if you swap, it could ruin the potion,” Hermione asserted, speaking as if she believed we were clueless.
I scrunched up my nose, and Theo rolled his eyes. Settling back into my seat, I twirled my quill between my fingers and rested my chin on the back of my hand, observing the classroom as others worked.
I witnessed Seamus nearly knocking over his cauldron, Draco’s face flushing red with anger, Pansy was doing all the work at her table, with Ron angrily scribbling in his notebook. Then, my gaze shifted to Harry’s table, where the Ravenclaw girl giggled at everything he said.
Rolling my eyes, I moved to the next table. Mattheo worked alongside two Gryffindor boys—one visibly uncomfortable and the other trying to crack jokes, to which Mattheo seemed unamused. With his sleeves rolled above his elbows, he leaned against the table, stirring the cauldron with one hand.
Returning to my book, I delved into the potion’s properties:
‘–has the effect of erasing memories or modifying them according to the brewer’s intent – usually used in witness protection.’ Why are they letting first years brew this potion?
“Miss Know-it-all, how much time is left?” Theo drawled.
“Five minutes,” she replied without looking up, jotting down another note.
Those five minutes flew by, and Hermione added the bean while Theo changed stirring directions.
“So, do you have any skills other than knowing everything and being bossy?” Theo teased cheekily.
I glanced at Hermione, who seemed flustered by his comment, her cheeks turning pink as she looked over at him.
“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.” Hermione said with her chin high,
“The only source of knowledge is experience.” I thought to myself as I returned to scribbling in my notebook.
Theo began to say something but I didn’t hear it because Hermione’s head turned sharply to face me.
“What did you say?” Hermione fixed her gaze on me. I paused and glanced up at her. I realised I had accidentally said it out loud instead of in my head.
“I said you just admitted you know nothing,” Theo repeated, chuckling, but Hermione wouldn’t divert her attention from me. I bit my lip.
“It was nothing,” I shrugged, and she narrowed her eyes, maintaining her stare. The weight of her stare felt like it was crushing me until Theo interrupted.
“The potion is clear,” he announced, prompting Hermione to hop up for inspection. While Theodore fetched Professor Snape, Hermione immediately turned to me.
“Why do you know that quote?” Her question came out in a harsh whisper.
“I just do,” I replied with a shrug.
“It’s a muggle quote,” she stated firmly.
“I know. I just—don’t tell anyone,” I requested, unwilling to reveal the secret. Hoping she’d understand, I had no clue if I could trust her yet, but I prayed she wouldn’t divulge whatever she suspected.
“Alright,” she pursed her lips. “Explain it later,” she demanded before refocusing on her book. Before I could respond, Theo returned with Snape, who inspected the cauldron and nodded.
“Good. Five points each,” Snape declared, vanishing the potion. “You may leave,” he added before walking away.
“Sweet,” Theo said, shoving his books into his bag and exiting. I collected my things and headed for the library.
“Where are you going?” Hermione hurried to catch up.
“The library,” I replied, attempting to sound disinterested. She followed me, fortunately while most students were still in class, so our interaction went unnoticed.
Settling into a back corner, I began arranging my materials. She joined me.
“Explain,” she demanded.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I replied, flipping through my book.
“But satisfaction brought it back,” she countered, and I looked up at her, puzzled.
“What?” I frowned.
“That’s the other half of that quote,” she clarified.
“Right, well, now we’re even,” I stated pointedly, returning to my book.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me. You asked me not to tell anyone, but I don’t know what I can’t tell people,” she insisted. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“Look,” I whispered, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot. “I don’t know how I ended up in Slytherin, but I’m just trying to survive.” I hoped that would satisfy her curiosity and she’d drop the subject, but her frown deepened, and she persisted.
“What, Slytherin isn’t the house you wanted?” Her voice was hushed, matching mine. “That doesn’t explain why you knew that quote. Are you a half-blood pretending to be pureblood?” She rolled her eyes at the end, and I clenched my jaw, annoyed.
“Swear you won’t tell a soul,” I demanded, glaring at her. She nodded. “We are the same.” I admitted before turning my attention back to my book, avoiding her reaction. Her gasp made me close my eyes in frustration.
“So you’re—”
“Shh!” I interrupted, quickly covering her mouth.
“I think I understand. Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to test out,” she said, reaching for her bag. What could she possibly want to test now? She retrieved two books.
“There’s a charm I saw; it creates a connection between books, allowing us to write to each other. Whatever is written in one book will appear in the other.”
She laid the books out on the table, then pointed her wand at each of the books, casting the incantation. Both books glowed before the light faded
“Why would we need to communicate?” I questioned.
“I intend on helping you. I’m sure you’d appreciate a friend who understands.” She offered, smiling at me.
I chose not to respond, wary of getting my hopes up. She opened both books and wrote ‘Hello’ in one; a few moments later, it appeared in the other.
“Here you go,” she said, offering me the book. As I reached for it, a thought crossed my mind.
I gripped my wand and directed it at the book. “Obliviate verbum,” I uttered, holding the spell for three seconds before stowing away my wand.
“Good idea!” Hermione echoed, casting the same spell on her book. I watched as the ‘Hello’ vanished from her page, checking mine to find it still there, clear as day.
“Thank you,” I muttered, returning my attention to my notes. She smiled and walked away. It felt comforting to have someone share my secret, yet I couldn’t shake off my anxiety. With one person aware, the news could easily spread. Sighing, I resumed writing notes.
After delving into my research for a while, I sat up and stretched, gazing at the book I was engrossed in.
“Are you skipping dinner?” A voice interrupted. I looked up and was met with Mattheo’s brown eyes staring into mine.
“It’s dinner now?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Crap.” I hurriedly packed my belongings.
“Calm down. It’s just food,” Mattheo chuckled.
“I missed lunch too,” I confessed, attempting to move past him, but he blocked my path.
“What did Granger want earlier?” he inquired, causing my heart to skip a beat.
“Just discussing the potion from earlier,” I lied, hoping it didn’t sound too obvious.
“She gave you a book,” he pointed out, and I shrugged, scrambling for an explanation.
“We have the same book. We accidentally swapped them in class,” I improvised, trying to manoeuvre past him.
“Let’s walk together,” he proposed. My step faltered slightly, but I managed to play it off with a nod.
“Okay cool.” I replied and continued to walk. As we walked into the dining hall. A few students glanced our way but quickly averted their gazes.
We headed towards the Slytherin table, eyeing a seat next to Theo, but Mattheo beat me to it. Letting out a sigh, I attempted to move around him towards the free seat beside Pansy, but he caught my wrist.
“There’s plenty of space here,” Mattheo offered, gesturing to the gap between himself and Theo. Theo shifted slightly to make more room.
Squeezing between them, I hoped dinner would go smoothly. Theo, who had become a close friend in the first few weeks of school, was easy to talk to, his tone of voice was never menacing,
“Where were you?” He looked at me, prompting a response.
“Just the library. I lost track of time,” I replied casually, attempting to focus on my meal.
“I’m glad you remembered to eat dinner today.” He chuckled, Then he turned his attention to Mattheo.
“What about you?” He nodded at him and I turned my head to look at Mattheo and he smirked at me,
“I was planning to skip, but it was too good to refuse,” Mattheo stated, his gaze fixed on me. I shifted my focus back to my food, trying to eat despite the discomfort.
Lately, I’d unintentionally skipped meals frequently due to being engrossed in studying and researching topics I felt were essential. I didn’t consider it too concerning since I always managed breakfast.
“I’m excited for our flying lesson tomorrow,” Theo remarked, and I almost choked on my food.
“That’s tomorrow?” I exclaimed, tapping my chest a few times to ease the discomfort. Fear of heights lurked within me, but I knew it was part of the curriculum. Forgetting it was scheduled so soon had caught me off guard.
“I’ve been flying since I was little, it’s really easy,” Theo laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Anxious, I started bouncing my knee under the table.
“You’re right, it’ll probably be fine,” I attempted to brush it off, but my unease lingered.
“They don’t let first years fly too high,” Mattheo chimed in, his expression unreadable. I couldn’t discern if he was serious or trying to mislead me into a false sense of security. The thought of unexpected high-flying tomorrow had me on edge.
“Really?” I asked, unintentionally letting my distress seep into my voice before quickly clearing my throat and shifting my gaze away.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, and then I felt a sudden weight on my knee.
Mattheo’s hand rested there, and I realised I’d been inadvertently bumping him with my knee the whole time.
Now, everything was still. I tried to ignore his hand and focused on finishing my meal
Afterwards, they both accompanied me back to our dorm. I had been making a good effort to avoid Mattheo so far this year.
That first night, I’d done my research and discovered he was the son of the Dark Lord and Bellatrix Lestrange, belonging to the house of Black as much as the Riddle house.
His mother was imprisoned in Azkaban, while his father was either dead or in hiding, presumed deceased by most.
Given his likely alignment with his parents’ beliefs, I opted for safety by keeping my distance. It proved challenging as his room was across from mine, but I consciously chose to sit apart from him in classes and at meals.
In every interaction, I treated him like anyone else, striving to conceal my fear. Yet, he seemed to sense it, always smirking at my most vulnerable moments.
Theo’s childhood best friend was Draco – who displayed anger issues. And he now seemed to have gotten close with Mattheo, since they shared a room. I felt that I had to trust his judgement.
So far Draco hadn’t proven to be too horrible of a person – although he was rude, arrogant and conceited, he seemed to be tolerable.
So if Theo genuinely liked Mattheo, he couldn’t be all bad, even though he was the most unapproachable person in the school.
I thought of how it must look to outsiders, for now we were just three Pureblood Slythrins walking back to our room. If only they knew.
I hugged my books tighter, I was sure Hermione would have already written a note to me, I just wasn't ready to start communicating in front of anyone.
Not that they could read what I wrote, but I was wary of anyone noticing it, especially Mattheo. He had seen Hermione give me the book, and if he noticed it was unreadable too, it would raise questions.
As we strolled through the underwater corridor towards our rooms, I marvelled at the way the light danced on the walls and floor, a mesmerising sight. It was my favourite thing about Hogwarts so far.
Reaching my door, I gave a small wave to the boys, stepped inside the room and promptly locked the door. Flopping onto my bed, I mulled over my plan. Changing the book’s colour might throw Mattheo off. Perhaps I could pass it off as a diary if questioned, although it’d be better if no one noticed it at all.
Scanning through a book containing the spell, I quickly located it. Pointing my wand at the book, I cast, “Colovaria.”
The cover transitioned from black to a Slytherin green. Satisfied, I grabbed my quill and opened the book to find multiple messages already written, which elicited a short laugh.
‘So are you a muggle born or a half blood? I just want to confirm it.’
‘You said you were like me so I will assume you meant muggle born.’
‘I did some research and it's not common for a muggle born to be sorted into Slytherin, but it has happened before. Although I can’t find any information on those wizards or witches which isn’t a good sign. I had to stop searching to go to dinner.’
‘Why is it taking you so long to reply! And where are you? I can’t see you at the Slytherin table.’
‘Are you friends with Mattheo Riddle? I don’t think that is very safe.’
‘I’m going to assume you won't write back until you are back in your dorm, so I’ll wait.’
I sighed, she really seemed to talk a lot, but she seemed nice at least.
‘You did research? I already looked into it and from what I had found, muggle borns were always outcast. I’m sure it's the same within Slytherin.’ I wrote back to her and her writing appeared almost immediately beneath mine,
‘Finally! I was thinking that it actually isn't too bad to be close to Mattheo, I mean, obviously don't be too close to him, but being near him is a lot less suspicious than avoiding him completely.’ She wrote and I rolled my eyes,
‘My thoughts exactly. Although I do try to avoid him.’ I wrote,
‘That's not what I saw today in Potions or at dinner.’ I groaned as I read her message, laying my head on the book.
‘He is in the room across from mine, so it's kind of hard to avoid him. I am friends with Theo though.’ I wrote and waited.
‘Does anyone else know about you?’
‘No’
‘I think it’s a good idea to stay hidden. Who knows what the other Slytherin’s would do if they found out.’ She wrote
‘I did research on everything and have been practising pureblood etiquette too, but it’s difficult so I'm just trying to keep under the radar.’
‘Well you had me convinced until you quoted Einstein. But no one suspects you.’
‘What do they think of me though?’ I wrote and hoped her response would be kind. I was sure I hadn’t been horrible to anyone but maybe everyone thinks I am rude?
‘A lot of people think you are scary actually. Outwardly you seem so cold and you hold your expressions well. It’s fitting for a Slytherin.’
I felt relieved but also saddened by that perception.
I didn’t like people thinking I was scary. Although, the Slytherins didn't seem to think I was scary. So maybe it was only because I’m a Slytherin that everyone perceives me that way.
‘Don’t take that the wrong way! You are doing what you need to do.’ She added after my silence.
‘Would you do this too?’ I asked and she took a while to reply.
‘Actually… I don’t think I would. I’m a Gryffindor, after all. Bravery is one of our traits. But I want you to know I understand the importance of keeping your blood status a secret. If you were sorted into any other house, it might not be a problem if people found out. But Slytherin is different. Being a Gryffindor means facing challenges head-on and standing up for our beliefs, regardless of consequences. So, revealing my blood status was no issue. Slytherins prioritise self-preservation. I’m certain there are other reasons for your sorting there, but self-preservation makes sense for you.’
Her assessment was spot on. Every action I took reflected Slytherin traits. My ambition shone through my determination to navigate Hogwarts without drawing unwanted attention, my resourcefulness in studying Slytherins and Purebloods, and my cleverness in observing each student to discern who might be the safest to befriend. It was becoming clearer that I truly belonged in Slytherin.
‘I think I am a Slytherin. I’m just not… the same as everyone else.’ I sighed, rolling onto my back. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but the impending flying lesson urged me to focus. I couldn’t afford to make a fool of myself.
‘I’m going to study and then sleep. Thank you, Hermione.’ I wrote in the book and closed it, gathering another tome from the shelf.
Seated at my desk, I struggled to keep my eyes open while I read. I persisted, but eventually, fatigue won, and I found myself dozing off momentarily. Closing the book, I trudged to the bathroom, preparing for bed before slipping between the sheets and instantly drifting into sleep.
The next morning, a loud knock startled me awake. It had become Theo’s routine to wake me that way, patiently waiting as I readied myself. His early rising indicated an eagerness or habit I had yet to understand.
I shuffled sleepily towards the door and yawningly pulled it open. “Hey Theo, I’ll just—” My words halted abruptly as I glanced up; it wasn’t Theo leaning against the doorframe.
It was Mattheo.
I swiftly closed the door, pressing my back against it. Why did he seem to seek interactions with me so often lately? Could he possibly know about my situation? No, it was probably just a friendly gesture, akin to Theo’s.
“Good morning to you too,” his enigmatic voice carried through the door. Hastily, I scrambled around the room, struggling into my uniform. Attempting to slip on the heel of my shoe, I hopped towards the door and flung it open, finding him still waiting there.
“Ready?” he smirked.
“Where’s Theo?” I inquired, glancing toward his bedroom door.
“He left for breakfast about half an hour ago. Asked me to try and wake you up.” Half an hour! We’d have barely twenty minutes left for breakfast.
If I skipped it, chances were I wouldn’t eat anything at all today. I realised, I’d come to rely on Theo to ensure I made it to breakfast every morning.
I broke into a jog down the corridor, hearing Mattheo’s footsteps close behind. Was he planning to jog alongside me to breakfast?
“What are you doing?” I panted, slightly out of breath, as we bolted through the door to the common room.
“Just making sure you make it to breakfast,” he replied with a smile, not sounding remotely winded.
I realised this situation had a stark similarity to when I first interacted with Theo. I hoped that running through the corridors of Hogwarts wasn’t the only way to make friends.
As we entered the Great Hall, it dawned on me: it was the second meal in a row that we were late for and, seemingly, arriving together.
We entered, and it seemed as though everyone’s gaze had fixated on us. I made a mental note to ask Hermione later if there was any talk about me. Keeping a low profile was crucial after all.
“Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?” I asked, settling beside Theo. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
“I tried. Knocked about five times,” he chuckled, and I realised I must’ve been incredibly exhausted from my late-night study session. I couldn’t recall when I actually fell asleep.
“Oh, sorry about that,” I offered a sheepish smile, and he shook his head, chuckling softly.
“That’s why I got Riddle to do it. He was barely getting up when I left,” Theo said, looking towards Mattheo. I bit my lip, realising I hadn’t thanked him.
“Thank you,” I said, and a sly smirk rested on his face, accompanied by a glint in his eyes.
“Now eat. We’ve only got ten minutes left,” Theo reminded me, nudging my shoulder.
I chuckled and hastily grabbed some toast and fruit. I felt wide awake after our rushed sprint to the Great Hall, my stomach growling for food.
As we exited the Great Hall together, I realised our next destination was our first flying lesson. I took a deep breath, struggling to release it.
“Stop freaking out, it’s really not that bad,” Theo comforted, giving my back a reassuring pat. I attempted to muster a smile at him, though it probably resembled more of a grimace, given his laughter.
We all gathered on the lawn in front of Madam Hooch and she blew her whistle.
“Alright, everyone, I want you to form two lines and each stand next to a broom. Your broom should be on your right side, please Mr Longbottom.”
She said as she walked between the two rows of students that had formed.
“I’ll ask you all to please hold your hand out over the broom and say ‘up’, Your broom should rise up into your hand. Practise now.” She said
My hand quivered over my broom, the adrenaline making my heart race. The broom vibrated on the ground, seemingly eager to shoot up at any moment.
Glancing to my left, I found Theo already holding his broom, offering me an encouraging nod.
“Up,” I uttered, and to my surprise, the broom catapulted up and into my hand on the first attempt.
I looked up and chuckled witnessing Ron getting smacked in the face by his broom, I waited for further instructions.
Across from me, Seamus bent down to snatch up his broom when Madam Hooch’s back was turned.
Rolling my eyes, I scanned the rest of the students. It didn’t take long for everyone to have their brooms in hand..
“Okay! Now once you've got hold of your broom I want you to mount it. Grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —" She blew her whistle and everyone started to rise, I found myself wobbling half way up.
“Just trust that the broom has you, you won't wobble as much. Pretend you’re sitting on a chair instead of being in the air.” Theo advised, and I followed his guidance as best as I could.
As I regained my balance and started to descend, almost back on the ground after a successful hover, Seamus came rushing towards me on his broom.
“Lean only slightly forward, Mr. Finnigan!” Madam Hooch called out, but before any correction could be made, Seamus collided with me. The impact resulted in a sharp crack sound, and I tumbled to the ground, a searing pain shooting through my left calf.
As I sat up, I realised Seamus’ broom had snapped in half, the tip of his broom was buried into the ground with him lying atop my legs, clutching the other half.
“Are you both alright?” Madam Hooch inquired, amidst the laughter from the onlookers.
“I’m fine,” Seamus responded, getting up. Theo hurried over to assist me, but as I rose, a jolt of pain surged through my calf.
Suppressing any visible reaction, I attempted to avoid drawing attention to myself. I shifted my weight entirely to my right leg, ready to respond to her question, when Neville suddenly flew high into the air. Madam Hooch called out to him, but it was too late—Neville lost control and zoomed toward the castle walls.
“Mr Longbottom! Come back down!” She called but it was too far gone, he had lost control of his broom and was zooming through the sky, running into the castle walls.
Draco was howling with laughter and Harry was shooting him a dirty look.
Suddenly Neville was flying directly towards us all, I managed to move out of the way in time and Neville zoomed past us and back up into the sky.
Eventually Neville got caught on something and then fell down only to be caught again on another sharp wall decoration. His robes ripped and he fell to the ground in a heap.
Madam Hooch ran over to him and it seemed like he had a broken arm.
“All of you must stay on the ground. Don’t touch your brooms until I come back.” She said sternly and helped Neville up off the floor.
Draco reached down to grab a clear ball from the ground, smirking.
“Look what Neville dropped.” He laughed, chucking it into the air a few times. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were laughing along with him.
“If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch.” Madam Hooch said as she walked away with Neville.
“Did you see his face? Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse.” Draco smirked, announcing it to the entire class.
“Give it here, Malfoy.” Harry said, stepping forward.
“No. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” He said and then impressively stepped onto his broom and flew in a circle
“How about on the roof!” He called as he soared into the air. He paused hovering high in the air he called down to us,
“What's the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?” I watched as Harry climbed onto his broom,
“Harry, no way! You heard what Madam Hooch said, besides you don’t even know how to fly!” Hermione tried to talk some sense into him but he flew off before she finished her sentence.
“What an idiot.” She sighed and I turned to watch Harry wobble on his broom high up in the sky.
As I shifted, inadvertently putting weight on my left leg, a sharp pang shot through me again. I took a few tentative steps backward, positioning myself behind the crowd.
With everyone distracted by Harry and Draco, it seemed the opportune moment to assess the damage.
Bending slightly, I raised my robe, only to hurriedly pull it back down, shutting my eyes tight.
My leg bore a significant gash, blood seeping into my sock from the wound that must have been caused by Seamus’ broken broom.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I attempted to focus on anything else. When I opened my eyes, I glanced back at Harry and Draco, catching Harry narrowly avoiding collision with the wall simultaneously catching the ball.
Cheers erupted, but the Slytherins remained unimpressed. Draco landed swiftly, his scowl evident.
“Stupid Potter,” Draco spat,
“You shouldn’t have done that. Show off.” Mattheo remarked, receiving a sharp retort from Draco.
“Shut up Riddle.” Draco said as he turned away from him.
Shortly after, Professor McGonagall emerged, summoning Harry away. As they departed together, Draco’s scoff echoed.
“Good riddance,” Draco snickered, and I rolled my eyes at his evident fragile ego.
Madam Hooch returned moments later. “Thank you all for remaining on the ground,” she said, prompting silent glances among the students, gauging if anyone would expose Harry or Draco.
No one spoke up.
“Now, due to the incident, we have no time left for flying today. I’ll ask you all to head inside to your next class.” Everyone turned to leave and Madam Hooch started to collect the brooms.
Bending down, I feigned adjusting my shoelaces as everyone dispersed. Straightening up, I braced myself and attempted to walk normally. Each tentative step onto my left leg was met with a determined clenching of my teeth.
“Just go. It doesn’t hurt. You’re fine,” I whispered to myself, striving to keep composure. When I reached the Charms classroom, only one seat at the back remained vacant. Silently, I slid into it.
Leaning back, I tucked my left leg under the seat and stretched my right leg forward. Crossing my right arm tightly across my ribs, I brought my left fist to my mouth, biting down on my left pointer finger and closed my eyes, seeking solace in a few deep breaths.
Shaking my head, I refocused my attention on the professor’s instructions.
“Are you okay?” A voice to my left inquired,
Of course I had ended up next to him. Turning to face Mattheo, I summoned the best smile I could muster. “Yeah, just tired.”
He studied me momentarily, his smirk suggesting he didn’t quite buy it. His gaze flickered down to my leg and back up to my face. I shifted uncomfortably reaching down to make sure my leg was covered by my robes.
“It’s nothing,” I dismissed, diverting my attention back to the class as we were tasked with performing Wingardium Leviosa.
I persisted in focusing, yet his penetrating gaze made it challenging.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion erupted from the row in front of us, causing me to startle. In my abrupt jump, my left leg knocked against the chair’s leg, and I silently gasped, immediately covering my mouth with my left forearm.
“Let me see it,” Mattheo leaned in, and I wordlessly acquiesced as he moved to lift my robe.
“Fuck.” he muttered, glancing up at me. “And you call this nothing?”
“Class dismissed!” Professor Flitwick’s voice broke in, signalling everyone to leave. I feigned collecting my books, hoping Mattheo would depart too, but he patiently lingered until the room cleared.
I rose slowly and made my way out of the classroom. Mattheo stood and strolled along beside me.
“This isn’t the way to the Hospital or the Great Hall,” he remarked casually, and I shot him a glare.
“You don’t need to follow me,” I ground out through clenched teeth, my intention being to retreat to my room and seek a spell to heal myself.
He offered no response, trailing behind me through the Slytherin common room, down the stairs, and towards our corridor.
Reaching my room, I opened the door and moved to close it, only to have Mattheo barge his way inside.
I watched in astonishment as he perched on the edge of my bed, casually brandishing his wand to slam the door shut.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” His gaze bore into me, waiting for an answer.
I sighed, making my way over to the chair at my desk. “It happened when Seamus crashed into me,” I explained, then lifted my leg, resting my shoe on the desk.
Inspecting the cut, I realised it was larger than I had thought and still bleeding.
“So, what do you plan to do here exactly?” Mattheo inquired, and since he was already here, I decided to explain my intentions.
“I was going to search for a spell that could heal this,” I replied, shrugging and turning to my bookshelf to find a book on healing.
Luckily it was in reach from where I was sitting so I didn’t need to move my leg.
“I could do it for you.” He offered and I paused to look at him,
“I want to try and do it myself, but thank you.” I said softly, turning back to the book,
“Well, I hope you aren’t planning to use Episky,” he said, smirking as if he could read my thoughts.
“Actually, I was,” I admitted, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Give it here,” Mattheo said, taking the book from me. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found what he was seeking.
“Since you are so intent on doing this yourself, this is the one I use,” he remarked, placing the book on my desk and leaning over me to tap his finger on the spell.
“Vulnera Sanentur,” I recited, and he nodded. “Wait, what do you mean this is the one you use?” I questioned, attempting to twist to look at him, but the movement sent a jolt of pain through my leg, making me hiss.
“Focus on your leg first,” he advised, inspecting my wound.
I retrieved my wand and initiated the spell. Yet as the magic began to mend my leg, searing pain coursed through me, and I couldn’t help but scream, severing the spell.
“Let me help you,” he offered, and I looked at him, setting a condition. “Only if you tell me why you need this spell.”
“I don’t think you’re really in a position to make demands,” he raised an eyebrow, his stare devoid of a smirk this time.
“Okay fine, but I don’t think this spell is supposed to be in the average 12-year-old’s spell knowledge,” I mentioned before inhaling sharply as he stepped closer, pointing his wand at my leg.
In that moment, I realised the situation I had landed myself in: a Muggle-born alone in a room with the Dark Lord’s son, with his wand directed at me.
Yet, I chose to trust him. He had no obligation to show me that spell initially; logically, he had no real reason to do anything but heal me.
He gripped my ankle with his left hand, meeting my gaze directly with his dark brown eyes. “It’s going to hurt, but I’ll do it as quickly as I can,” he warned before focusing on my leg. The way he spoke the words comforted me somehow.
Bringing the collar of my robe up to bite on it, I nodded. “Vulnera Sanentur,” he intoned, and I felt my leg stitching itself together again. A small cry escaped me as I stomped my right foot.
Tears welled in my eyes, and abruptly, the stitching ceased. “All finished,” he declared, stowing his wand away.
Looking over at my leg, I saw it was still bloodied, but no longer sliced open and bleeding. His hand was covered in blood from where he had held my ankle.
“Thank you,” I whispered, a tear sliding down my cheek. Standing up, I found no pain.
“You can go to lunch now; I’m just going to wash,” I said, walking towards the bathroom. I didn’t check if he was leaving; I assumed he was.
Locking the door behind me, I took a shower to wash away both the dirt and blood, being careful to keep my hair dry.
I examined my leg to see a long white scar. Knee high socks were going to be essential in my wardrobe from now on.
Five minutes later, upon returning to my bedroom, I found Mattheo relaxing in the desk chair reading one of my spell books, his feet propped up on the desk.
“You didn’t leave?” I expressed surprise at his continued presence.
“I’m not hungry,” he drawled, still engrossed in reading.
“Then go back to your own room?” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. I walked over to my trunk to find some knee high socks, then closed the trunk to sit on top of it.
“I much prefer your book collection to mine.” His eyes watched as I slid the sock over my scar.
Then, there was a knock at my door. I opened it and found Theo on the other side.
“I thought I’d find you here. Why do you always skip lunch?” he chuckled, glancing behind me. His eyebrow arched as he noticed Mattheo.
I turned quickly with wide eyes, I hadn’t told him not to tell anyone about my leg.
“I’m just borrowing a book,” Mattheo explained casually, rising from his seat and strolling past Theo, shooting me a wink before continuing down the corridor.
“I didn’t know you two were close?” Theo smirked, and I shook my head.
“It just sort of happened,” I replied, watching Mattheo leave. How did I end up in this complicated situation?