Chapter 22 Silent Protection
Liora woke the next morning with an unusual feeling—like someone had draped a blanket of invisible warmth around her during the night. It lingered even after she blinked awake, even after the Hufflepuff dormitory came into sleepy focus around her.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.
There was no reason for her to feel so… steady. So guarded.
Except—
Her fingers brushed the edge of something soft draped over her blankets.
A cloak.
His cloak.
Mattheo’s.
She had forgotten it was still in her possession. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she held it in her lap. It still carried a faint scent—smoke, pine, and something cool and dark she couldn’t quite name.
She pressed her thumb into the green-lined fabric, feeling a ridiculous smile tug at the corner of her mouth.
Then she heard voices.
“Liora, you’re up early,” said Meg, one of her dormmates, yawning as she stumbled out of bed. “Usually you’re the last one out.”
Liora quickly folded the cloak and tucked it beneath her blankets. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”
Meg blinked. “You okay?”
Liora nodded, though her pulse was a soft hum in her ears.
She wasn’t sure how to explain it, but last night had shifted something inside her. Not in a dramatic way, but enough that her morning felt a little brighter, a little lighter. The memory of Mattheo’s voice—Next time you want to explore… ask me to come with you—kept echoing through her.
She wondered if he meant it.
She wondered if she had imagined the slight warmth in his eyes.
She wondered why he cared.
But she didn’t let herself linger on it too long, or she’d never make it to breakfast.
The castle felt different today.
Students hurried toward the Great Hall, laughing and chatting about the upcoming Halloween feast. Animated pumpkins skittered across the floor, chased by giggling first years. Even Peeves was in an unusually cheerful mood, floating above everyone like a smug balloon.
Yet through all the noise, Liora felt something else—an awareness. A sense that someone walked behind her. Not close enough to be seen, but close enough to be felt.
She slowed her steps.
Turned around.
Nothing.
Just the tapestry-covered corridor and a few lingering students.
She pressed her lips together. Don’t be ridiculous, Liora. But the sensation didn’t fade. It only grew stronger.
When she reached the Great Hall, she cast one more glance behind her.
Nothing.
But at the very end of the hall, just before the Slytherin table, Mattheo Riddle walked in—expression unreadable, eyes dark and sharp.
For one fleeting moment, his gaze flicked to her.
Not long enough to be obvious. Not long enough for anyone else to notice.
But long enough that she felt it.
A silent check.
A silent are you alright?
Her stomach twisted pleasantly.
She quickly took her seat at the Hufflepuff table, heart fluttering like a startled bird. He’s just making sure I didn’t wander into another dangerous corridor and blast half the castle apart, she told herself.
But the warmth in her chest disagreed.
Charms Class
Charms was particularly chaotic that day. Professor Flitwick had decided it was the perfect time for the first-years to learn Incendio, the fire-starting spell—an idea Liora privately thought was excellent and terrifying in equal measure.
“And remember,” Flitwick squeaked, standing on his stack of books, “control is key! A confident spell is a safe spell!”
Liora glanced nervously at the other students. Some were far too excited about the idea of conjuring flames.
Theo Nott accidentally set his sleeve smouldering.
A Gryffindor’s wand shot sparks like a dying firework.
Even Hermione Granger was frowning intensely, muttering through theory notes at lightning speed.
Liora took a deep breath.
“Alright,” she whispered. “Just a little flame. Small. Calm.”
She flicked her wand.
“Incendio.”
A spark. Nothing more.
She exhaled in relief.
Again.
“Incendio.”
The spark snapped, elongated… and then burst into a narrow ribbon of flame that shot toward her parchment.
“Ah! No—no no—!”
The parchment caught fire.
Liora panicked, waving her wand wildly, only making the flames writhe higher.
“Um—Professor—!”
Before she could call out, a cool rush of air swept past her, extinguishing the flame with surgical precision.
Her parchment went dark—smoke curling from the blackened edges.
Liora blinked.
Flitwick was across the room helping someone else. Hermione was still engrossed in her notes. Everyone else was far too absorbed in their own fiery disasters to notice anything unusual.
Which meant the sudden extinguishing… wasn’t from a classmate.
Liora slowly lifted her gaze.
At the very back of the classroom, leaning casually against the stone archway, Mattheo Riddle held his wand loosely at his side—expression blank, but eyes locked on her.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t move.
He just watched.
Making sure she was unharmed.
Then, in one smooth step, he turned and slipped out of sight.
Liora’s breath hitched.
He’s watching me… on purpose.
But not in a frightening way. Not in a tracking-her-every-move way.
More like a silent, brooding guardian she didn’t know she had.
She pressed a hand to her chest to steady her heartbeat.
Her parchment was still slightly warm when she picked it up.
After Charms, Liora sought fresh air. The courtyard was filled with giggling ghosts and enchanted gourds bouncing between statues. Students lounged on benches, practicing for the upcoming Quidditch matches or comparing Halloween costume ideas.
Liora settled near the edge of the fountain, closing her eyes and letting the breeze cool her cheeks.
“You nearly singed your eyebrows off in Charms.”
She startled.
Neville Longbottom stood nearby, carrying a pot of Mimbulus mimbletonia with a look of concern.
Liora laughed weakly. “I’m still learning.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said, smiling shyly. “Some students made fire tornadoes.”
“Oh good,” she said with mock seriousness. “Something to aspire to.”
Neville grinned, then hurried off after his plant made a wet gurgling noise.
Liora sighed.
A group of Gryffindor boys passed nearby, muttering something about “another Potter” and “too soft to last long.” One of them snickered.
She pretended not to hear.
But someone else heard.
At the far end of the courtyard, Mattheo leaned against a pillar, half-hidden behind creeping vines. He wasn’t close enough for her to see… but he was close enough to hear every word.
When the Gryffindor boys walked by him, still snickering, the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop.
Liora didn’t notice, but the boys did—stopping mid-laugh, shivering despite the mild weather. One stumbled, muttered something about feeling watched, and hurried off.
Mattheo’s eyes—cold, sharp, and unmistakably warning—followed them until they vanished.
Only then did he turn his gaze back to Liora.
She hadn’t seen the exchange.
But she felt… less alone.
Liora walked back toward her common room with a peacefulness she didn’t fully understand.
Earlier in the year, she would have been nervous walking these long corridors alone. The castle was magical but unpredictable; she never knew where a moving staircase or enchanted suit of armour might send her.
But today?
Every step felt shielded. Every breath felt freer.
She paused before the barrel entrance to Hufflepuff, hand resting lightly on the lid.
She couldn’t explain it.
But she knew—deep in her chest, warm and steady—that someone had watched over her today.
Not in a controlling way.
Not in a creepy way.
But in a silent, almost reluctant sort of guardianship.
She pressed her fingers against her collarbone and whispered quietly to herself:
“Mattheo.”
The name settled around her like a spell.
Inside the corridor behind her—hidden in a recess where she couldn’t see—Mattheo stood motionless, arms crossed, watching until she disappeared safely inside the Hufflepuff common room.
Then, and only then, did he finally turn away.