Chapter 62 Rumours in the Corridors
The first morning back at Hogwarts after the winter holidays carried a crispness in the air that made the castle feel unusually still. Snow clung to the towers outside, and the corridors gleamed with a faint layer of frost that reflected the early morning light. Students hurried through the halls, chattering excitedly about gifts, vacations, and the inevitable rumours that always swirled after a break.
Liora made her way to the Hufflepuff common room, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Even from the distance, she could feel a subtle change in the atmosphere—an undercurrent of curiosity and tension that hadn’t been present before the holidays. She hesitated at the entrance, noticing whispers among the younger students, the flickers of looks being cast toward the Slytherin corridor.
“Have you heard?” one first-year whispered to another. “Mattheo Riddle’s back. They say… you know… his family’s—”
Liora’s steps faltered as she caught the words. She had heard whispers before about the Riddle name, about the dark history attached to it, but this felt sharper, heavier somehow. Her chest tightened slightly, a knot of worry forming, but she forced herself to continue, telling herself that she already knew Mattheo. She trusted him.
Her resolve was tested when a group of Hufflepuffs hurried past, clearly animated by the rumour. “I saw him in the Slytherin common room during the holidays,” one said, “and you won’t believe who he was talking to!”
Liora’s hand gripped the strap of her bag a little tighter. The implication was clear: her proximity to Mattheo had not gone unnoticed. She felt a mixture of irritation at the gossip and a surge of protectiveness toward him. She had spent enough time with him to know that his reputation was not always deserved, and she wasn’t going to let hearsay dictate her feelings.
As she entered the common room, she noticed Mattheo sitting in the far corner, eyes focused on a parchment in front of him. He looked as composed as ever, but there was a subtle tightness in his shoulders, a restraint in the way he moved. The flicker of unease in his posture didn’t go unnoticed by Liora.
She approached cautiously, not wanting to draw attention, and lowered herself onto the chair opposite him. “Good morning,” she said softly, offering a tentative smile.
Mattheo looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the parchment. “Morning,” he replied, voice clipped but not unkind. There was a measured distance in his tone, as if he were guarding himself.
“You… seem different,” Liora said, choosing her words carefully. “Is everything… okay?”
He gave her a long, deliberate glance. “People talk,” he said simply, his eyes flicking to the corridor as if aware of the whispers even now. “I’m used to it.”
Liora frowned slightly. “But… do you care?”
He hesitated, as though weighing whether to respond. Then, in a quieter tone, he said, “I care that you trust me. That’s enough.”
Liora’s chest warmed at his words, a relief washing over her. She knew now that despite the rumours, despite the whispers in the corridors, their connection remained intact. She believed him. She trusted him.
For a moment, silence settled over them, punctuated only by the soft scratching of quills on parchment elsewhere in the room. Then, as if unable to resist, Liora leaned slightly closer. “They’ll talk, you know,” she said softly. “But I… I don’t care what they say. I trust you. Always.”
Mattheo’s eyes darkened, the intensity that had drawn her from the start flaring in subtle waves. He gave her the faintest nod, acknowledging her words without comment. For him, that gesture spoke volumes.
“I should… start with lessons,” Liora said after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper. But even as she spoke, she felt a renewed determination. Whatever the rumours said, she would not let them dictate her interactions with him. She had experienced his loyalty, his subtle protection, and the small, consistent ways he had allowed her to understand him.
Mattheo’s gaze followed her as she moved, his expression unreadable but watchful. There was an unspoken understanding between them—a quiet, firm bond strengthened by past experiences, small shared secrets, and the subtle intimacy of trust.
The rest of the morning passed in a flurry of lessons, charms, and whispered reminders about the upcoming academic challenges. Yet, throughout it all, Liora could feel the weight of the rumours like a distant hum, barely noticeable against the stronger current of trust and connection that flowed between her and Mattheo.
During a brief break, she caught sight of him again across the hall, surrounded by Slytherins who whispered quietly, eyes darting toward him with a mix of awe and caution. She knew the rumours would not end here—they would grow, evolve, and likely follow them throughout the term.
But Liora also knew this: she had seen him for who he truly was. And that knowledge, that unwavering trust, was stronger than any whisper.
As she returned to her own work, a small smile played at her lips. The castle might be full of secrets and suspicions, but she had one certainty—Mattheo Riddle could not be defined by gossip alone. And she, for her part, would stand by that truth, no matter what the corridors whispered in hushed tones.