Chapter 14 Magical Creature Incident
Morning sunlight warmed the Hufflepuff basement, spilling in through enchanted stained-glass windows depicting dancing badgers. Liora, still half-asleep, shuffled through the common room clutching her books. Mina had already gone ahead to breakfast, Josie was still brushing her hair, and Bram had been awake since dawn organizing his notes for Care of Magical Creatures.
Liora made it to the entrance, stepping into the barrel-lined corridor that led upward to the main halls. She felt almost calm again.
Almost.
Because no matter how much she tried to shake it, Mattheo Riddle still lingered at the back of her thoughts like a shadow.
Cryptic.
Intense.
Unexpected.
And undeniably present.
She sighed, stepping into the corridor that led toward the Great Hall. She had double Herbology and then Care of Magical Creatures on the schedule—simple, harmless classes. No dark stares, no strange warnings, no Slytherins lurking nearby.
Simple.
Calm.
Predictable.
She should’ve known Hogwarts wouldn’t allow that.
Care of Magical Creatures
Professor Kettlemire, a cheerful witch with twigs permanently stuck in her robes, waved the first-year class into a grassy clearing behind the greenhouses. Wooden crates hummed softly, as if vibrating in excitement—or warning.
“Gather round, dearies!” she announced. “Today you’ll be meeting something adorable.”
Josie grinned. “Finally! Something cuddly!”
Bram looked terrified. “'Adorable’ usually means ‘dangerous in a way she finds charming.’”
Liora nudged him. “It’s okay. We’re right here.”
Before Kettlemire opened the crate, Liora felt a faint twitch in the air. A kind of… buzz. Like invisible whiskers brushing her skin.
Odd.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to ignore it.
Kettlemire clapped her hands.
“These,” she announced, unlatching the crate, “are Puffhoppers!”
The lid popped open—
And a small, furry creature with shimmering wings and enormous round eyes shot straight toward Liora’s face like a startled hummingbird.
She squeaked, stumbling backward.
Bram grabbed her sleeve. “It likes you!”
“I don’t want it to like me this fast!”
Before she could regain her footing, her elbow hit one of the smaller crates beside her.
The latch snapped.
The lid swung open.
The buzzing-warm sensation in the air exploded into chaos.
A Swarm of Mischief
Tiny, winged creatures—far more energetic than Puffhoppers—burst out in a flurry of colours. Like glowing, overcaffeinated beetles with feathery antennae, they spiralled upward, chittering like bells being shaken too hard.
Professor Kettlemire gasped. “Oh dear heavens—Liora, love, what have you done?”
“I—I didn’t mean to!” Liora said, ducking as three streaked past her head.
The creatures—Glowflits—scattered in every direction.
Straight into the castle.
Screeching erupted from students as the swarm blitzed through the open doors toward the courtyard. Glowflits were harmless, but unpredictable. They loved shiny objects, magical energy, and making messes.
“Everyone stay calm!” Kettlemire cried, which was absolutely ignored.
Josie half-laughed, half-yelped. “This is incredible—oh Merlin, one stole my quill!”
“THAT ONE HAS MY GLASSES!” Bram howled as a Glowflit happily dragged them through the air by one arm.
Liora darted forward instinctively—she didn’t know what she planned to do—but the moment she jumped, another Glowflit zipped low, clipped her foot, and sent her stumbling directly into—
—nothing.
No one caught her.
Except—
A hand shot out, steadying her shoulder before she hit the ground.
A firm, gloved hand.
One that shouldn’t be in this class.
One she recognized instantly.
Mattheo.
The Unexpected Intervention
He didn’t belong here—Slytherins had Charms at this hour. But there he was, lean and tall, dark robes slightly windswept as if he’d taken a detour through a storm cloud. His gaze flicked over her, assessing her quickly for injury.
“Careful,” he murmured.
The word was simple. The tone was anything but.
His hand lingered a second too long before he let go.
Liora’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Y-You’re not… supposed to be here,” she stammered.
Mattheo’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes—like amusement buried under stone.
“Your creatures made quite an entrance,” he said, glancing up at the glittering swarm spiralling above the courtyard. “I heard the screaming.”
Liora flushed. “It—it was an accident.”
“I assumed.” His gaze swept the area, calm while everyone else was scrambling like panicked Nifflers. “You’re not the type to unleash chaos on purpose.”
The implication—that he knew anything about her—sent a shiver down her spine.
Professor Kettlemire ran past them, waving her wand wildly as she chased the swarm toward the castle. “Liora, dear, help wrangle them! Students, try to keep them low to the ground!”
Liora raised her wand, but another Glowflit zipped dangerously close to her face, and she yelped, stumbling again.
Mattheo caught her elbow silently.
Again.
This time, she looked up fully.
He was right there. Close enough that she could see the faint scar along his jaw, the way his eyelashes cast shadows under his eyes, the intensity of his presence like a quiet storm humming beneath his skin.
He held her steady. Firm, unshakable.
“Try not to tumble into every catastrophe,” he said softly, “or you’ll end up collecting enemies instead of Glowflits.”
“I was trying to help!” Liora protested.
One corner of his mouth twitched upward. Barely. Almost a smile.
Almost.
“You’re going to get hurt,” he murmured, voice dropping. “You rush in without looking.”
She swallowed. “How do you know that?”
His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unflinching.
“I’ve been watching.”
Her breath caught.
He seemed to realize what he’d said a beat too late. His jaw clenched, expression shuttering behind a cool mask.
Before she could respond, his hand slid away from her arm.
With a subtle flick of his fingers—not even a full wand movement—a wave of controlled, shadow-like magic swept up and around her.
Glowflits froze midair.
Every single one.
Josie gasped. “What spell is that?!”
Professor Kettlemire skidded to a halt, eyes bulging. “Who—what—how—?!”
Mattheo didn’t answer. He simply closed his fist gently, and the frozen Glowflits drifted downward like falling leaves, settling harmlessly onto the grass in soft piles.
The entire class stared.
Liora stared hardest of all.
Mattheo took a single step back, his expression back to cold neutrality. “Be more careful with what you open.”
His tone suggested he wasn’t just talking about crates.
Then he turned, cloak swirling behind him, and walked away without waiting for thanks or acknowledgement. Students parted instantly, giving him wide, reverent, fearful space.
He didn’t look back.
But Liora did.
She couldn’t help it.
Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, her pulse buzzing with an emotion she couldn’t name—fear, awe, curiosity, something warmer—
Something dangerous.
Aftermath
Kettlemire eventually regained her voice. “W-Well then! That was… efficient. Five points to—erm—whoever that was?”
Josie leaned toward Liora, whispering frantically. “Liora. Liora. Liora.”
“What?” Liora croaked.
“You’re telling me Mattheo Riddle just saved your life again?!”
“He didn’t save my life—”
“He practically shadow-hexed a small army of Glowflits for you!”
“That wasn’t for me,” Liora whispered weakly.
“Oh?” Mina said, absolutely unconvinced as she approached, arms crossed. “Then why did he appear the second you panicked? Why did he only talk to you? Why did he freeze the creatures directly above your head?”
Liora opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Because she didn’t know.
Bram pushed up his newly reclaimed glasses. “This is not normal.”
Josie squealed. “It’s romantic!”
“It’s concerning,” Mina corrected sharply.
Liora couldn’t respond.
Her mind replayed the moment Mattheo’s magic swept over her—dark, powerful, controlled. Nothing like the spells she’d seen in class. Nothing like anything a first-year should be able to do.
Why was he even there? Why did he help? Why did he say he’d been—
Watching?
Her cheeks burned.
Her heart thudded.
And somewhere in the depths of Hogwarts, where sunlight didn’t reach and secrets clung to cold stone…
A Slytherin boy with dark eyes paused in the shadowed corridor.
For a brief moment,
Mattheo Riddle allowed himself a small, private smirk.
Liora can’t shake his words—or the feeling that she’s just stepped onto a path she can’t turn back from. And Mattheo? He’s just decided she isn’t someone he plans to ignore.