Chapter 80 Shadows That Guard
The castle after curfew was a different creature entirely.
By day, Hogwarts breathed with laughter, footsteps, drifting parchment and clattering cutlery. By night, it listened.
Liora lay awake in her Hufflepuff dormitory, eyes fixed on the canopy above her bed as moonlight filtered through tall windows and painted pale shapes across the stone. The room was quiet except for the soft, even breathing of her dormmates. Too quiet.
She shifted, the mattress creaking faintly beneath her, and stilled immediately. Her heart was already beating faster than it should have been. She didn’t know why—not exactly. Only that the same sensation had been coiling in her chest for days now. A prickling awareness. As if something unseen moved just beyond her line of sight.
As if she was being watched.
Liora swallowed and pushed herself upright. She waited, listening. Nothing. No whisper of movement, no flicker of shadow across the wall. And yet the feeling remained, insistent and undeniable.
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. Hogwarts was full of noises. Old pipes, shifting portraits, ghosts who wandered where they pleased. She had lived here long enough to know better than to let her imagination run wild.
Still, she reached for her wand.
Quietly, carefully, she slid from her bed and padded across the cold stone floor. The dormitory door opened without protest, and she slipped into the common room, closing it behind her with a soft click. The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly, casting the room in a dim amber haze.
The sensation sharpened.
Liora paused, breath held. Her skin prickled along her arms, a subtle warning that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with instinct. The same instinct that had guided her wand movements before she’d ever known the proper incantations. The same instinct that had drawn her—again and again—toward one particular Slytherin boy.
Mattheo.
She frowned, annoyed at herself even as his name surfaced unbidden in her thoughts. He had been distant since the holidays, quieter than usual, his gaze lingering only when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Something weighed on him; she was certain of it. But whatever it was, he hadn’t shared it with her.
A shiver traced her spine.
She stepped into the corridor.
The castle was hushed, torches dimmed, shadows pooling in corners like something alive. Liora moved slowly, wand raised just enough to cast a faint glow. Her footsteps echoed too loudly in her ears, every sound magnified by the silence.
She made it halfway down the hall before she felt it again—that unmistakable awareness. Stronger now. Closer.
Her pulse quickened. “Hello?” she whispered, immediately regretting it.
No answer.
She turned a corner, then another, her path aimless but driven. It wasn’t until she reached a narrow stretch near an unused staircase that she stopped short.
There.
A shadow shifted against the far wall.
Liora’s breath caught. Her wand lifted instinctively. “Lumos,” she murmured.
The light flared—and revealed nothing.
The corridor was empty.
She exhaled shakily, lowering her wand. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered under her breath. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.
Somewhere above, behind, or beside her, someone moved with careful intent.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Watching.
Mattheo Riddle had followed her the moment she left the Hufflepuff dormitory.
He hadn’t meant to.
At least, that was what he told himself as he slipped from the shadows near the stairwell, his steps soundless against the stone. He had been awake already, restlessness clawing at him like it had every night since returning to Hogwarts. The castle never truly slept, and neither did he.
When he’d sensed her movement—felt it, really, like a tug beneath his ribs—he’d known it was Liora before he ever saw her.
She moved differently. Brighter. Like a quiet flare of magic that refused to be ignored.
Now she walked ahead of him, wand raised, shoulders tense but spine straight. Brave, even when she didn’t realize it. The sight twisted something inside his chest, sharp and aching all at once.
She shouldn’t be out here.
And yet… part of him understood why she was.
Mattheo kept his distance, blending seamlessly into the castle’s deeper shadows. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this—watched from afar, ensured her safety without her knowledge. He told himself it was caution. Responsibility. Anything but what it truly was.
Care.
The sensation that had drawn her from her bed was the same one that had set his teeth on edge earlier that evening. A ripple in the castle’s magic. Subtle, wrong. Not dangerous—yet—but close enough to make him wary.
When Liora paused near the unused staircase, he stilled.
Her wand light flared, illuminating the corridor. For a split second, her gaze swept dangerously close to where he stood. He pressed himself further into shadow, breath slow, controlled. She was close enough now that he could see the slight tremor in her fingers, the way her eyes darted despite her attempt at calm.
Protect her.
The thought came unbidden, fierce and absolute.
A faint scrape echoed from farther down the hall—a sound too deliberate to be the castle settling. Liora stiffened.
So did Mattheo.
His magic stirred, dark and watchful, coiling just beneath his skin. He scanned the corridor beyond her, senses sharpened. There—an echo of movement near a tapestry that hadn’t been disturbed in years. A presence slipping away, retreating.
Coward, he thought coldly.
He moved.
In three silent strides, he crossed the space between them and appeared at her side just as she spun, wand raised.
“Mattheo?” she gasped, eyes wide.
He caught her wrist before she could cast, his grip firm but gentle. “Don’t,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched, then steadied as recognition settled in. “You—what are you doing here?”
“Following you,” he said simply.
She stared at him, confusion and something softer flickering across her face. “You were watching me?”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled them both.
Liora lowered her wand slowly. “Why?”
Mattheo released her wrist, his fingers lingering for half a second too long. “Because someone else was.”
Her eyes widened. “Someone else?”
“They’re gone now,” he said, already scanning the shadows again. Whatever had been there had retreated fully, leaving only the castle’s familiar hum in its wake.
Liora hugged her arms around herself. “I thought I was imagining it.”
“You weren’t.”
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. The torchlight caught in his dark hair, sharp planes of his face softened by shadow. Up close like this, the tension she always felt around him intensified—something magnetic, unspoken.
“You shouldn’t walk alone at night,” Mattheo said quietly.
She tilted her head, studying him. “Neither should you.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I manage.”
“I know,” she replied softly. “You always do.”
Something shifted in his expression then—surprise, quickly masked. He hadn’t realized how much she noticed. How much she saw.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted after a moment. “It felt like… like the castle was holding its breath.”
Mattheo considered her carefully. “You’re more perceptive than you realize.”
Her cheeks warmed at that, though she tried to hide it. “So are you.”
They stood there, close enough that he could feel the heat of her magic brushing against his own. It would have been easy—too easy—to reach out, to draw her just a little nearer. The thought sent a dangerous thrill through him.
Instead, he stepped back.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said.
She nodded, relief evident despite her attempt at composure. They moved side by side, their steps naturally falling into rhythm. Neither spoke, but the silence was different now—protective rather than ominous.
As they neared the Hufflepuff corridor, Liora glanced at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For watching out for me.”
Mattheo met her gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Always,” he replied.
She paused at the entrance, hesitating. For a moment, it seemed as though she might say more. Instead, she offered a small, sincere smile and slipped inside.
Mattheo remained in the corridor long after the door closed.
The castle settled around him, shadows reclaiming their places. Whatever presence had lingered earlier did not return. But his thoughts refused to quiet.
He had watched her sleep before, from a distance he’d sworn never to cross. Tonight, he had stepped closer—and the line between protection and desire blurred further than ever.
As he turned away, melting back into the darkness, one truth settled heavily in his chest:
Whatever was coming, whatever secrets the castle—and his own blood—still held, Liora Potter was already at the centre of it.
And he would guard her from every shadow.
Including his own.