Chapter 33 When Shadows Step Forward
The castle felt different at night.
Liora had noticed it before—how the corridors seemed to breathe more deeply after curfew, how the magic threaded through the stones grew quieter but heavier, like a held breath. Tonight, that feeling clung to her skin as she moved through the hall outside the Ravenclaw tower, books hugged to her chest.
She shouldn’t have been out this late. She knew that.
But Professor Flitwick had kept her back after Charms, praising her work on counter-charms and lending her an old reference book she needed to return to the library’s overnight shelf. It was harmless, really. A quick walk. Straight there and back.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she rounded a corner, the torches along the wall flickering just a fraction lower than usual. Liora slowed, frowning.
“That’s odd…”
The air felt colder here. Not unpleasant—just wrong. The sort of wrong that prickled along her spine and made her grip her wand a little tighter.
She continued forward.
The corridor narrowed, stone pressing in closer on either side. Ahead, the familiar archway that led toward the central staircase seemed… blurred. As if heat shimmered around it, distorting the space.
Liora stopped.
Her instincts—those same instincts Mattheo had praised—stirred uneasily.
This wasn’t a puzzle.
This wasn’t Hogwarts testing her.
This felt like something waiting.
“Hello?” she called softly, hating how small her voice sounded.
No answer.
She took one cautious step forward.
The shimmer snapped into focus.
A rune flared at her feet—thin, angular, glowing a sickly blue—and the floor beneath her boots gave way.
Liora gasped as the world lurched.
The stone didn’t collapse completely; instead, it sank, dropping her ankle into a half-formed containment snare that wrapped around her leg like icy wire. Magic bit into her skin, sharp and numbing all at once.
“Oh—no—”
She stumbled, books clattering to the floor, pain flaring up her calf as the snare tightened.
“Okay,” she whispered, heart racing. “Okay, don’t panic.”
She raised her wand with shaking fingers. “Finite—”
The rune pulsed violently.
The snare constricted.
Liora cried out, dropping to one knee.
This wasn’t a prank.
This wasn’t careless magic.
This was intentional.
Someone had set this.
Panic surged—hot and immediate—but she forced herself to breathe through it. Think. Don’t force it. Mattheo’s voice echoed in her mind, steady and low.
She tried again, slower. “Finite—”
“Don’t.”
The word cut through the corridor like a blade.
Liora’s head snapped up.
Mattheo Riddle stood at the far end of the hall, shadows curling around him as if the darkness itself had parted to let him through. His eyes locked onto her—sharp, furious, afraid all at once.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded quietly, kneeling beside her. His hands hovered near the glowing snare without touching it. “This isn’t school magic.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes despite her effort to stay calm. “I just felt something off and then—”
“I know,” he said, voice softening instantly. “I know.”
He glanced at the rune, jaw tightening.
“This was meant to immobilize,” he muttered. “Not kill. Whoever set it didn’t want attention.”
Her stomach twisted. “They wanted… me?”
His gaze flicked back to her face, dark and unreadable.
“Yes.”
Fear bloomed in her chest—but underneath it, something steadier took hold.
Trust.
“Mattheo,” she said quietly, “it hurts.”
“I know,” he repeated, and this time his voice cracked just slightly. “I’ve got you.”
He pulled out his wand, movements precise and controlled despite the tension thrumming beneath his skin.
“Listen to me,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Do not fight it. This kind of magic feeds on resistance.”
She nodded, swallowing hard.
“Good,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”
No one had ever spoken to her like that in the middle of danger—not calming her, not steadying her, not treating her fear like something manageable instead of shameful.
Mattheo placed one hand on the stone beside her leg—not touching the snare, but close enough that she felt warmth through the chill.
“Solvo Nexus,” he whispered.
The rune flared brighter—angry, reactive.
Mattheo didn’t flinch.
“Of course you’re stubborn,” he muttered. “You’re cast with older principles.”
He inhaled slowly, then spoke again, voice lower, darker.
“Solvo Nexus… per pactum.”
The magic shuddered.
Liora felt the snare loosen—just slightly.
“What did you just do?” she whispered.
“I negotiated,” he said simply.
The rune dimmed, its glow thinning like fading embers. With one final precise flick of his wand, the snare dissolved completely, vanishing into the stone as if it had never been there.
Liora sagged forward with a shaky breath.
Mattheo caught her instantly.
One arm wrapped around her shoulders, steady and solid, keeping her from collapsing. She clutched his sleeve, fingers curling into the fabric without thinking.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, closer now. “You’re safe.”
Her breath hitched as the adrenaline drained away, leaving her trembling.
“I—I was careful,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“I know,” he said, tightening his hold just a fraction. “That’s why this makes me angry.”
“Angry?”
“At myself,” he corrected. “I should’ve been closer.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “You can’t watch me every second.”
“I know,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”
The intensity in his voice stole her breath.
She glanced down at her leg. The skin was red, faintly bruised, but intact. “Will it…?”
“You’ll be sore,” he said. “Nothing permanent.”
He hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry.”
Her brows knit together. “For what?”
“For this,” he said quietly. “For pulling you into things you didn’t ask for.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t set the trap.”
“No,” he agreed. “But my world did.”
They stayed like that for a moment—kneeling on the cold stone, the corridor silent once more.
Then Mattheo straightened slightly, his expression shifting from concern to something colder. Sharper.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
She nodded, bracing herself.
He helped her to her feet carefully, keeping a steady hand at her elbow until she was sure of her balance. She leaned into him without hesitation.
“Someone did this,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“Because of you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then: “Because they’re testing boundaries.”
Her chest tightened. “And what happens if they cross one?”
Mattheo’s gaze darkened, a dangerous calm settling over his features.
“Then,” he said quietly, “they learn why that was a mistake.”
She studied him—not frightened, not impressed.
Just… aware.
“You scared me,” she admitted.
He looked at her sharply. “I never want to do that.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “Losing you would’ve.”
Something in his expression broke open at that—just for a second.
He exhaled, slow and unsteady.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you back.”
As they walked down the corridor together—his arm still close, ready to steady her at any moment—Liora realized something important.
This wasn’t just Mattheo watching from the shadows anymore.
This was Mattheo stepping into the danger.
For her.
And somewhere deep in the castle, old magic stirred, as if it had noticed too.