Chapter 36 Potions Challenge
The dungeon air was damp, smelling of earth, herbs, and a faint trace of something metallic that always reminded Liora of old magic. Flickering torchlight cast shadows across the stone walls, curling around the cauldrons, and the rows of students settling into their assigned benches. The classroom hummed with anticipation, the clinking of glass and murmur of whispered instructions filling the space.
Professor Snape’s gaze swept over the room with his usual cold precision. Liora shrank slightly in her seat as his dark eyes landed on her for a fraction longer than comfortable, but Mattheo Riddle, sitting diagonally across from her, seemed utterly unaffected. If anything, his gaze carried a faint smirk, as though he could see all the chaos before it even happened.
“Today’s exercise,” Snape began, his voice low and silky, “will be a team challenge. Pairs will craft the Felix Ferventia potion—a complex brew requiring precision, timing, and mutual cooperation. Points will be awarded for accuracy, creativity, and efficiency. The top pair will gain extra credit. Failure… will not go unnoticed.” He let the warning hang in the air before moving on to other instructions, leaving a heavy silence.
Liora swallowed nervously. She glanced at Mattheo, who was casually rolling a vial in his hand, unbothered by the professor’s scrutiny. She tried to appear equally calm, though her hands tingled with excitement—and just a touch of anxiety.
“Looks like we’re together,” Mattheo murmured, nodding toward her.
Liora blinked. “Oh. Right.”
He smirked faintly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide us through this. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” she repeated, eyebrows rising.
He raised one dark brow. “I don’t want you to think this is charity.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
As the pairs began to gather ingredients, Liora couldn’t help but notice the efficiency of Mattheo’s movements. He selected the powdered horn of bicorn, carefully measured the mandrake root, and adjusted the cauldron flame with the ease of someone who had spent countless hours perfecting precision. She, on the other hand, struggled with the first pinch of horn powder, accidentally spilling half into the cauldron.
“Oh no,” she whispered, eyes widening as a thin green smoke began to rise.
Mattheo’s hand shot out before she could panic. He tapped his wand over the edge of the cauldron, muttering an incantation. The smoke dissipated, and the liquid inside returned to a stable, silvery shimmer.
“Careful,” he said, voice calm but tinged with amusement. “We don’t want to set off a classroom-wide evacuation on your first try.”
Liora flushed, embarrassed, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Thanks… I think.”
He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “It’s alright. I have to admit, watching you flail a little is… entertaining.”
“I’m glad my misfortune amuses you,” she replied, feigning offense.
“It does,” he said simply, but his tone carried none of the usual sharpness he reserved for others.
They began working together in silence, each small step bringing them closer. Liora followed his instructions carefully, feeling the rhythm of the task settle around them. As they mixed, stirred, and added ingredients, Mattheo occasionally offered subtle hints, his hand brushing hers when passing vials or adjusting the cauldron’s flame. Each touch was brief, deliberate, yet charged with something neither of them commented on aloud.
At one point, Liora reached for the mandrake extract, only to have her hand lightly collide with his. Both paused, and she could feel her pulse quicken.
“You’re too close,” she whispered, though her lips curved into a smile.
“Am I?” he asked, his voice teasing, low enough that the corners of his mouth tilted in that signature smirk.
“You are,” she said, trying not to sound flustered.
“You know,” he murmured, leaning just slightly closer, “I could argue that proximity increases efficiency.”
She blinked at him, caught off guard, and the air between them seemed to crackle for a moment before they both returned to their work, though her hand lingered just a fraction closer to his than necessary.
The potion began to bubble properly as they added the final ingredient: a single drop of phoenix feather elixir. Mattheo held the vial, guiding her hand over the cauldron. The liquid shimmered, glowing softly, and she realized they had succeeded.
“Done,” he said, a rare note of satisfaction in his voice.
They stepped back, and Liora felt an unspoken pride. “We… we did it,” she said, her excitement bubbling despite the usual reserve she felt around him.
“Yes,” Mattheo agreed. “Against all odds… mostly yours.”
“Hey!” she protested, laughing, pointing at him. “I contributed too!”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. You stirred with great… enthusiasm.”
Her laughter filled the dungeon, light and melodic. For a moment, the dark, enigmatic Slytherin sitting across from her seemed almost ordinary, almost approachable.
“See?” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Teamwork isn’t so bad.”
Mattheo regarded her, his usual smouldering intensity softened. “I’ll admit… it’s tolerable. With the right partner.”
“You mean me?” she asked, pretending to be coy.
He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he gave her a look that made her stomach flutter, and she realized he didn’t need words. The acknowledgment in his gaze was enough.
Snape’s sharp voice cut through the warm bubble of camaraderie. “Interesting. A functional potion for once. Well… mostly functional. Ten points to Slytherin.”
Liora’s heart skipped a beat. Mattheo’s smirk widened just slightly, and he gave her a subtle nod.
“You were amazing,” she whispered once the class ended and they were clearing their stations.
“You did well too,” he murmured, voice softer than it had been in public. “Even if you nearly killed the cauldron with enthusiasm.”
She laughed, a full, happy sound. “You were guiding me the whole time.”
“Guidance is… sometimes necessary,” he replied, and then added, almost as an afterthought, “With the right partner, even chaos can be… productive.”
She looked at him, caught off guard by the rare vulnerability in his voice. “I’m glad we’re… partners,” she said.
He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. “So am I.”
And as they left the dungeon together, cleaning up their workspace in silence, Liora felt the bond between them shift—subtle, unspoken, but undeniable. They were learning each other’s rhythms, reading each other’s cues. The tension that had once existed around him seemed to melt away in these small, shared victories.
For the first time, Liora understood that Mattheo Riddle was not just a Slytherin. Not just a name. He was a puzzle—complex, guarded, sometimes dangerous. But for these brief moments, working together, laughing, teasing, learning—the puzzle seemed almost solvable.
And for once, she didn’t mind being caught in the process.