Chapter 17 Hidden Staircase
The corridors after dinner were quieter than usual, the usual chatter fading as students drifted back to their dorms. Liora walked alone, hugging her books to her chest, needing air after Snape’s unsettling “talk”—which was less a talk and more a cryptic warning full of implications she didn’t understand.
Her mind replayed his words.
“Mr. Riddle is not someone you should trust easily.”
And that alone had driven her out of the common room, out of the comforting warmth of Hufflepuff, and into the winding stone halls of Hogwarts where thinking felt easier… safer.
Snape doesn’t like Mattheo. That doesn’t mean he’s right.
Mattheo saved me.
Twice.
She didn’t want to be warned. She wanted answers.
But for now, walking helped.
Her steps echoed gently as she moved through an older part of the castle, dustier and dimmer than the rest. Portraits here slept with drooping eyelids, their frames coated in a century of quiet stillness.
Liora’s attention drifted to the architecture—cracked corners, faint carvings of serpents and stars, strange runic markings faintly glowing gold. She hadn’t meant to end up here, but Hogwarts had a way of tugging her along paths she didn’t expect.
As she passed a tapestry of a wizard trying—and failing—to teach a dragon ballet, she felt a soft gust of air brush her cheek.
But there were no open windows.
She paused. Turned.
The tapestry fluttered again.
She stepped closer and pressed her palm to the fabric. It moved inward.
Behind it was a gap—a narrow opening, shrouded in shadows.
“A passageway?” she breathed.
Her pulse quickened with curiosity. She glanced around. The hall was empty.
So she ducked inside.
The moment she stepped through, torches along the walls ignited in a cascading flare, one after another like fire catching thread. The corridor stretched longer than she expected, winding deeper into the castle. Cool air drifted down it, carrying the scent of old stone and forgotten magic.
Liora traced a finger along the wall. “This isn’t on the map.”
It was narrower than most hallways, the ceiling low and arched, carved with sigils she didn’t recognize. Some she thought looked ancient—older than Hogwarts itself. A faint hum vibrated beneath her fingertips.
She felt something—something subtle but undeniable. A presence that made the hair at her nape lift. Not threatening. Observant.
She shook it off and walked deeper.
The passageway led her to a spiral staircase, its stone steps worn by centuries of footsteps. At its base lay another row of torches and a faint shimmer of magic, like starlight lingering in the air.
She took the first step.
Then another.
And another.
She didn’t notice the shadow slip inside the passage after her.
Didn’t hear the soft sound of quiet footsteps matching hers.
Didn’t see the silhouette leaning against the wall just out of view.
Mattheo Riddle followed like a ghost.
He kept several steps behind, hood up, expression unreadable, but eyes sharp. He moved silently, deliberately—making sure she wouldn’t detect him.
It wasn’t coincidence he was there.
He had watched her leave Hufflepuff, watched her follow the older corridors, watched her disappear behind the tapestry. It wasn’t normal for a first-year to stumble into hidden staircases.
Unless something… guided them.
Mattheo’s gaze lowered, thoughtful.
“She shouldn’t be able to open this one,” he murmured under his breath.
But Liora continued upward, blissfully unaware.
When she reached the top of the staircase, she stepped into a circular chamber with a domed ceiling. The walls were lined with bookshelves carved directly from the stone, filled with dusty tomes and scrolls sealed with wax. A single round window overlooked a stormy stretch of sky, clouds rolling across the horizon.
The room felt abandoned, untouched for ages.
Yet somehow… waiting.
Liora exhaled softly. “Wow.”
She wandered toward a pedestal in the centre of the room—a beautifully carved block of marble with an indentation shaped like a hand. The edges glowed faintly as she approached.
She hesitated.
“Should I?”
She lifted her hand—
“Don’t.”
The single word froze her.
Liora jerked back, heart racing as she spun around.
Mattheo stepped out from the shadows of the staircase, hood falling back, eyes darker than the room itself. His expression wasn’t cold or mocking—it was intent. Focused. Something she hadn’t seen before.
“Mattheo?” she breathed, surprised. “What—how long—were you following me?”
“Long enough.” He walked toward her slowly, inspecting the chamber with an expression almost… wary. “You shouldn’t have found this place.”
Liora frowned. “I didn’t mean to break into anything secret.”
“You didn’t break in.” His jaw tensed. “It let you in.”
She blinked. “Let me?”
Mattheo didn’t answer immediately. He ran his fingers along the bookshelves, tracing runes she hadn’t noticed, testing the air like someone checking for traps.
“Do you know what this room is?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
“It’s called the Serpentine Annex,” he said. “Old. Older than Hogwarts’ official blueprints. My father used it once.” He paused. “Tom Riddle.”
Liora swallowed. Suddenly the air felt heavier.
Mattheo looked at her again—really looked at her—and something flickered behind his expression. A mix of annoyance and confusion and something she didn’t understand.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said again, softer this time. “Not alone.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re here.”
He huffed. “Because you don’t know what anything is yet, Potter.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Well I’m learning. And this place isn’t hurting anyone.”
“That thing—” he pointed to the glowing pedestal—“will hurt you. It’s not a toy.”
Liora eyed it uneasily. “What does it do?”
“It’s a magical identifier. It reads lineage and affinity. It can expose things about someone they don’t want exposed.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Or aren’t ready for.”
She looked away. “I wasn’t trying to expose anything.”
“I know.” He moved a little closer, dropping his voice. “Which is why you need to be careful where curiosity drags you.”
Her frustration simmered. “You’re talking like I’m helpless.”
Mattheo gave her a look—annoyed, exasperated, strangely fond and irritated all at once. “You’re new.”
“But I’m not fragile.”
“No,” he admitted, expression shifting. “You’re not.”
Something in his tone made her breath catch.
But then he ran a hand through his hair and turned away, breaking the tension.
“You should go back before someone notices you’re gone,” he said. “Preferably before you decide to touch anything else enchanted and ancient.”
Liora rolled her eyes. “I’m not that reckless.”
“You almost put your hand on it.”
“That was curiosity.”
“That was recklessness with enthusiasm.”
She huffed. “Thank you for the poetic insult.”
“You’re welcome.”
Their banter hung warm in the cold room.
Liora turned toward the staircase, but paused halfway down. “Mattheo?”
He shifted. “Yeah?”
“Why were you following me?”
Silence.
Mattheo looked away, lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer.
But then—
“You wander into places you shouldn’t,” he said. “Someone has to make sure you don’t vanish into a cursed wall.”
Liora smiled. “So you were… protecting me?”
He met her gaze. His voice was a low murmur. “Don’t read into it.”
She tried not to laugh. “Too late.”
Mattheo rolled his eyes and followed her down the stairs—but not too close, not too far. Just in that strange middle space he always seemed to choose.
By the time they stepped back into the normal corridors of Hogwarts, the air felt lighter, safer, warmer somehow.
No danger.
No dark magic lurking.
Just two students returning from a secret neither of them fully understood.
Mattheo Riddle had followed her.
And he cared enough to make sure she didn’t get lost.