Chapter 38 Gryffindor Rivalry
The Great Hall buzzed with activity as students gathered for breakfast, the morning sunlight streaming through the enchanted windows, painting the tables in shades of gold and crimson. Liora navigated the crowded space with her tray, careful not to spill the steaming pumpkin juice she’d poured. The chatter of excited students and clinking cutlery made her feel both alive and slightly uneasy, the contrast of noise and movement reminding her of how new she still was to Hogwarts.
She made her way toward her usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, only to be intercepted by a group of Gryffindors lounging near the middle aisle. Their leader, a tall boy with tousled hair and a self-satisfied smirk, blocked her path.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Liora Potter,” he drawled, eyes flicking mischievously toward the Slytherin table across the hall. “Spending a lot of time in the company of the green-and-silver crowd, are we?”
Liora paused, gripping the edge of her tray. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, forcing a polite smile.
“Oh, come now,” another Gryffindor girl chimed in, leaning in with a teasing grin. “We saw you yesterday in the dungeons… with Riddle.” Her words carried a mixture of curiosity and mockery. “Careful, Potter. Slytherins aren’t exactly known for—what’s the word—friendliness.”
Liora felt heat rise to her cheeks. She had anticipated this reaction, but the teasing still hit harder than she expected. “We were just… working on a potion,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “That’s all.”
The tall boy laughed, a loud, mocking sound that drew the attention of a few nearby students. “Working on a potion? Sure, that’s believable. You’ve got quite the knack for… fraternizing with the enemy, don’t you?”
A knot of anxiety settled in Liora’s stomach. She knew that Slytherins had a reputation, that friendships across houses were unusual, but she didn’t want her curiosity, her desire to understand Mattheo, to become a point of contention. Still, she could feel the eyes of her peers on her, curious and judgmental.
“I’m not… not friends with him,” she said firmly, though her voice quivered slightly. “We just—help each other in class. That’s all.”
The tall boy leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Just remember, Potter, some reputations are… sticky. Don’t get burned.”
Liora opened her mouth to respond, but another voice cut in—a softer, but no less teasing tone. “And don’t think we didn’t notice how he looks at you,” the girl added, eyes glinting with mischief.
Liora’s ears burned. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said quickly, glancing toward the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Mattheo was seated with a few of his housemates, his attention ostensibly on his breakfast, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of the whispers and the stares directed at her.
The Gryffindors snickered, clearly delighted at her discomfort. “Careful, Potter,” the tall boy said, stepping back with a sly grin. “He’s… complicated. And you might find yourself in over your head.”
Liora took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. She had expected teasing—Hogwarts was full of it—but the intensity of it, paired with the insinuations about Mattheo, made her feel more vulnerable than she cared to admit.
She glanced toward the Slytherin table again, hoping for some reassurance, and met Mattheo’s eyes. The briefest flicker of his gaze—calm, measured, and just slightly protective—made her heart skip a beat. There was no overt intervention, no dramatic gesture, just the quiet presence that always seemed to follow her in subtle ways.
He’s watching, she thought, comforted by the fact that, despite the Gryffindor teasing, he seemed aware and perhaps even unconcerned about the gossip.
“I… I need to get to class,” she said finally, voice steadying as she moved past the group, ignoring the muttered comments behind her. Her cheeks still burned, but a small spark of determination ignited within her. She wasn’t going to let their teasing dictate how she acted or whom she spoke to.
As she walked, she felt the familiar pull of curiosity that had driven her closer to Mattheo in the first place. His presence was never far, even from a distance, and the thought that he might be aware of her discomfort without needing her to speak reassured her. She realized that part of what drew her to him wasn’t just intrigue or fascination—it was the quiet strength he exuded, the sense that he could handle the world’s whispers without flinching.
By the time she reached the entrance to the Charms classroom, her pulse had slowed, and her thoughts had settled into a steady rhythm. The Gryffindor teasing had rattled her, but it hadn’t broken her. Instead, it had reminded her that Hogwarts was a place of challenges, both magical and social, and that navigating them required courage, even in the face of subtle hostility.
As she entered the classroom, she noticed Mattheo already seated near the back, his dark eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to his parchment. She felt a mix of relief and anticipation. Despite the Gryffindor whispers and the scrutiny of her peers, she wasn’t alone. He was there, present, and perhaps, in his quiet way, protective.
Liora found a seat near him, careful to keep her tray and books in order, and let herself exhale. She could feel the tension from the encounter ebbing away, replaced by the excitement of the day ahead. The morning’s breakfast drama was a small storm, and she realized she was more resilient than she had thought.
Mattheo glanced at her again, just for a moment, and offered the faintest smirk—subtle, knowing, and entirely unspoken. It was enough to remind her that their connection, fragile as it might be, had its own quiet strength, one that even the teasing of others could not easily shake.
And for Liora, that small acknowledgment was all she needed to carry her through the rest of the day, her heart lightened and her curiosity renewed. She had survived the whispers, navigated the scrutiny, and learned that some bonds were worth standing firm for—no matter what house, no matter what reputation, no matter what rumours floated through the castle.