Chapter 8 Library Encounter
The library was quiet in the late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and dust motes floating lazily in the air. Liora Potter had come seeking refuge, away from the bustling common room, from the persistent curiosity of her friends, and from the lingering pull of Mattheo Riddle that had haunted her thoughts all day. Bookshelves towered above her, lined with centuries of knowledge, the faint scent of parchment and ink wrapping around her like a familiar cloak.
She moved carefully between the rows, her fingers grazing the spines of dusty tomes, searching for something—anything—that might distract her from the memory of last night’s magical mishap. Her heart still thumped at the recollection of Mattheo’s sudden presence, the way he had stepped in silently, extinguishing the fire with effortless grace. She couldn’t explain the flutter in her chest or the heat that had lingered long after he had vanished.
Liora reached for a book on potion theory when a shadow fell across the aisle. She froze, wand instinctively half-raised in a nervous gesture.
“Looking for something?”
The voice was low, smooth, and familiar. Liora’s pulse jumped.
She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Mattheo Riddle. His dark eyes regarded her with that same intensity that had left her both unnerved and fascinated in the dungeon. He was leaning casually against the bookshelf, one hand in his pocket, the other resting lightly on a shelf, and his expression held that inscrutable mix of curiosity and calculation she had come to associate with him.
“I… I was just—” Liora stammered, unsure how to explain why she was wandering alone in the library, away from the safety of her friends.
“You were curious,” he said, finishing her thought effortlessly. “Hogwarts has that effect on people.”
Liora blinked. He wasn’t accusing her. He wasn’t scolding her. There was something about the way he spoke—calm, precise, almost teasing—that made her heart skip another beat. “Yes, I suppose so,” she admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I just… wanted to look at some books, practice what I’ve learned.”
Mattheo’s gaze lingered on her hands for a moment, the way they clutched the book, her posture slightly tense yet brimming with quiet determination. “You’re… careful, but impulsive,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Not many students take risks like that. You… stand out.”
Liora flushed, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. “I… I guess I just… want to learn. I want to… try things for myself.”
He tilted his head, studying her with an almost unnerving intensity. “Even if it puts you at risk?”
She hesitated, caught off guard. The question wasn’t a threat; it wasn’t judgmental. It was an observation, precise and probing. “I… I suppose,” she admitted softly. “I think… I can handle it. I want to try.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re… brave. Or reckless. Hard to tell the difference with you.”
Liora laughed lightly, a little self-conscious, and the sound seemed to catch him slightly off guard. “I… I try to be careful,” she said, then added, “Mostly.”
There was a brief pause, a shared silence that stretched between them. Liora could feel the weight of his gaze, a presence that was both intense and magnetic. Her pulse raced, and for a moment, she almost forgot to breathe.
“I don’t usually speak to… people like you,” he said finally, his tone quieter now, almost hesitant. “Most students either avoid me or… react without thinking.”
“And I—” Liora started, then hesitated. “I don’t think of you like that,” she said, her words simple but honest. “I just… I noticed you. That’s all.”
He studied her, his eyes dark and calculating, as if measuring the truth of her words. “Not many notice,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. Then, after a beat, he straightened, adjusting the folds of his robes. “Be careful. Hogwarts is full of traps for the curious.”
Liora bit her lip, feeling a rush of emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Gratitude, yes—but something else too. Something that made her chest feel tight, her heart feel exposed. “I’ll… I’ll try,” she said softly.
“Try carefully,” he added, stepping back. “And don’t get caught.”
With that, he moved down the aisle, disappearing between the towering shelves as silently as he had arrived. Liora’s fingers tightened on the spine of the book she still held, and she leaned against the shelf for a moment, trying to steady her racing heart.
Something about him—the way he appeared, the way he spoke, the way he moved—was entirely unlike anyone she had ever met. There was danger there, yes, but also… fascination, magnetism, and something she couldn’t yet name. She had only exchanged a few words with him, and yet the encounter felt like it had left a mark, a small echo in her mind and chest that refused to fade.
Her thoughts drifted back to the dungeon, to the fire she had accidentally started, and the effortless way he had intervened. She felt a shiver of both admiration and fear. There was something unusual about Mattheo Riddle—something that called to her curiosity in a way that felt irresistible, yet potentially dangerous.
Liora carefully returned the book to the shelf and walked slowly back toward the exit of the library, her mind swirling with questions. Who was he, really? Why did he seem to care, even slightly, about her well-being? And why did she feel… drawn to him, in a way she had never felt for anyone before?
As she stepped into the hallway, the sunlight from the windows spilling across the stone floor, she realized that Hogwarts felt different now. It was no longer just a place to learn magic. It was a place of intrigue, danger, and—most unexpectedly—connection.
And somewhere, in the twisting corridors of the castle, Mattheo Riddle had left a mark on her—a subtle, intangible pull that neither warnings nor logic could undo.
Somewhere, she knew, their paths would cross again. And next time, the encounter would be longer, closer, and perhaps even more dangerous.
Liora Potter didn’t yet understand the depth of what had begun. But she could feel it—the spark of something impossible, something magnetic, something that would draw her and Mattheo together in ways neither of them could anticipate.
The first real conversation had been brief, awkward, and charged with tension, but it was unforgettable.