Chapter 11 Exploring Slytherin
The corridors of Hogwarts were unusually silent as Liora Potter retraced her steps through the twisting stone passages leading to Slytherin territory. She moved with care, her wand clutched loosely in her hand, though she hadn’t yet felt threatened. The thrill of last night’s discovery—the ability to enter other houses’ common rooms—still pulsed in her veins.
But tonight was different. Tonight, Liora wasn’t just curious about the rooms themselves. Tonight, she wanted to see him.
The memory of Mattheo Riddle lingered persistently. His dark eyes, precise movements, and the strange magnetism that drew her attention despite every warning had haunted her for days. She didn’t understand why she felt so compelled, so… fixated, but the feeling was undeniable. She needed to see him, even from a distance, even without daring to speak.
She approached the familiar Slytherin portrait—the stern-faced wizard guarding the common room. The painting shimmered as if sensing her intent, swinging open to reveal the dimly lit staircase that led downward. Liora hesitated at the top, heart hammering, and took a cautious step inside.
The Slytherin common room was unlike Hufflepuff’s warm, inviting space. It was darker, elegant in a sleek, almost cold way, the greenish tint of the walls mingling with the soft glow of enchanted lamps. Shadows clung to the corners, and the polished stone floors reflected light in subtle, mesmerizing patterns. Liora’s pulse quickened as she stepped carefully over the threshold.
She didn’t have to wait long. From a balcony above the room, she spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood alone, leaning against the railing, his posture relaxed but commanding, dark robes falling around him like liquid shadow. He was reading a book, but his sharp, calculating gaze occasionally flicked toward the room below, as if measuring the space, assessing every detail.
Liora found herself frozen, mesmerized. The way he moved, the stillness that seemed almost deliberate, and the effortless control he held over the room—all of it made her chest tighten. She had been warned by her friends, cautioned about Slytherins and Mattheo in particular, yet seeing him here, aloof and unreadable, made all warnings feel distant.
She crouched behind a low table, careful to stay hidden in the shadows, and allowed herself to simply watch. There was a grace to him, a precision in the tilt of his head, the way his fingers traced the edge of the book. But beneath it all, she sensed something more—a tension, a current of unspoken thoughts that hummed in the space around him.
Liora’s curiosity gnawed at her. Who was he really? What was he thinking right now? Did he even notice her, or was she just another face in the periphery of his life?
Her mind wandered back to their brief encounters: the potion mishap in the dungeon, the conversation in the library, the subtle observation in the shadows of the common room. Each moment had left a residue, a subtle mark that she couldn’t shake. And now, watching him here, she realized the thread of fascination had grown into something stronger—an unexplainable pull that she could neither resist nor fully comprehend.
As she crouched, Liora’s fingers brushed the edge of a table, sending a small notebook clattering to the floor. The sound echoed faintly in the cavernous room, and her heart lurched in panic.
Mattheo’s head tilted ever so slightly, as if sensing the disturbance even without looking directly at her. He didn’t move immediately, but the quiet awareness in his posture made Liora’s skin prickle. She froze completely, holding her breath, praying he wouldn’t notice.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then he returned to the book in his hands, though Liora could swear his eyes flicked in her direction ever so briefly. Her pulse began to settle, though a low, nervous excitement hummed through her veins. He had seen her, or at least sensed her presence, and the realization sent a thrill through her that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
She crept closer, careful to remain in shadow, allowing herself a better view. Mattheo moved with effortless grace, as though the room itself bent to accommodate him. He paused, setting the book aside and gazing out of the high windows at the moonlit grounds. There was an intensity in his eyes that made Liora’s chest tighten—something hidden, something guarded, yet undeniably magnetic.
Her mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts. She knew she should retreat, return to the safety of Hufflepuff, heed her friends’ warnings. But the desire to understand, to see, to know him, overrode every caution. There was a depth here, a complexity that teased her curiosity and challenged every assumption she had about people and magic alike.
She sank lower behind the table, keeping her distance yet unable to tear her gaze away. Liora realized, with both a thrill and a pang of fear, that she was no longer merely curious about the castle. She was curious about him. About Mattheo Riddle, with his aloof demeanour, quiet intensity, and the strange, unspoken connection that seemed to tether them across space and shadow.
The minutes stretched on, silent except for the faint rustle of pages as he picked up his book again. Liora felt herself leaning slightly forward, drawn as much by fascination as by the magnetic pull she could no longer deny. She wanted to speak, to ask a question, to bridge the distance—but the invisible weight of his presence held her tongue, made her still, made her aware of the electricity thrumming between them.
Finally, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Mattheo stepped toward the railing, the lamplight catching his features, sharp and precise, and for the briefest instant, their eyes met. Liora froze, breath caught, her heart hammering. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat, inscrutable, and then he turned away, disappearing once more into the shadows of the balcony above.
Liora exhaled softly, a mixture of relief, exhilaration, and a subtle ache she didn’t yet understand. She had seen him, truly seen him, and in that moment, she understood the depth of the curiosity that now gripped her. There was more here than she could explain—more than she had expected, more than she had imagined.
As she finally retreated to the stairway, her mind replayed every detail: the aloof tilt of his head, the subtle grace in his movements, the almost tangible pull that seemed to hum in the air around him. Hogwarts had always been a place of magic and mystery, but Mattheo Riddle was something entirely different—something she couldn’t define, but couldn’t ignore.
And as she slipped back into the safety of the familiar Hufflepuff corridors, she realized a truth she could no longer deny: curiosity had drawn her here, yes—but it was something deeper, something magnetic, something that would pull her toward him again, whether she wanted it or not.
Tonight, Liora Potter had glimpsed the shadows of Slytherin—and the enigmatic figure within them. And she knew, without question, that this was only the beginning.