Chapter 84 The Cost of Protection
The aftermath of the trap lingered like smoke.
Liora sat stiffly on the edge of a stone bench outside the hospital wing, her shoulder wrapped in a faintly glowing bandage Madam Pomfrey had insisted upon despite Liora’s protests. The healer had muttered darkly about reckless corridors, reckless students, and reckless magic—that last word accompanied by a sharp look that made Liora’s ears burn.
But it wasn’t Madam Pomfrey’s lecture that made Liora’s hands tremble.
It was Mattheo.
He stood a short distance away, half in shadow, arms folded tightly across his chest. Professors clustered near the shattered corridor entrance, voices low but urgent. Professor McGonagall’s sharp tone cut through the murmur, followed by Snape’s cold drawl—measured, suspicious.
Mattheo didn’t look at them.
He looked at the wall.
As if daring it to move again.
“Miss Potter.”
McGonagall approached, her tartan robes swishing, expression stern but eyes searching. “Are you certain you didn’t touch anything unusual before the incident?”
Liora shook her head. “No, Professor. I was just walking. I heard… something click, and then—” She hesitated, glancing instinctively toward Mattheo.
The headmistress followed her gaze.
“I see,” McGonagall said quietly.
Snape stepped forward then, black robes billowing like a storm cloud. His gaze flicked from the ruined stone to Liora’s bandaged shoulder—and finally to Mattheo.
Lingering there.
“Curious,” Snape murmured, “how quickly the situation was… neutralized.”
Mattheo didn’t flinch.
“Mr. Riddle,” Snape continued silkily, “perhaps you’d care to explain why you were the first student on the scene.”
“I was nearby,” Mattheo replied evenly.
“Nearby,” Snape echoed. “Or attuned?”
The word struck like a blade.
Liora felt it—felt the air tighten, felt something old and dangerous coil beneath Mattheo’s calm exterior. For a terrifying second, she thought he might snap.
Instead, he inclined his head. “I heard her scream.”
Snape’s lip curled. “How gallant.”
“That’s enough, Severus,” McGonagall snapped. “This corridor was cursed deliberately. That is our focus.”
“For now,” Snape said, eyes never leaving Mattheo’s face.
McGonagall turned back to Liora, her expression softening. “You were very brave, my dear. I’d like you to return to your common room this evening. You’ll be excused from classes tomorrow.”
“Yes, Professor,” Liora said, though her gaze kept sliding back to Mattheo.
As the professors moved away, discussing wards and investigations, Mattheo finally turned toward her.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them—relief, fear, fury, all tangled together.
“You shouldn’t be sitting out here,” he said quietly. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not.”
The words weren’t harsh. They were certain.
She swallowed. “They’re going to ask questions.”
“Yes.”
“About you.”
His jaw tightened. “Let them.”
Liora stared at him. “You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even think. You just—ran in.”
“I knew where you were,” he said.
“How?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Mattheo’s eyes darkened. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might retreat behind his familiar walls. Instead, he exhaled slowly.
“Because,” he said, “I’ve been watching for threats.”
Her chest tightened. “For me?”
“Yes.”
The admission landed between them like a crack of thunder.
Liora rose slowly to her feet, ignoring the protest from her shoulder. “Mattheo… that wasn’t just a prank. That was dark magic.”
“I know.”
“And you countered it,” she pressed. “Not just any spell. Something old. Something powerful.”
His gaze flicked toward the professors again, then back to her. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“But I did.”
Silence stretched, heavy and fragile.
Finally, he spoke. “You’re in danger.”
Her breath caught. “Because of who I am?”
“Partly,” he said. “But mostly because of who you’re becoming.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“They’re testing the castle’s weaknesses,” he said quietly. “And yours.”
Her heart began to pound. “Who is they?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation told her more than any answer.
Footsteps echoed again—students this time, curious, whispering. Mattheo shifted instinctively, placing himself between Liora and the onlookers. The movement was subtle, almost unconscious.
Protective.
She noticed.
So did several Slytherins lingering at the corridor’s edge. Whispers sparked, eyes narrowing.
“Mattheo,” Liora murmured, “they’re watching you.”
“Let them.”
“No,” she said softly. “You don’t understand. They already think—”
“That I’m dangerous?” He gave a humourless smile. “They’re not wrong.”
Her stomach dropped.
He turned to her fully then, voice low and intense. “Listen to me. From now on, you don’t wander alone. Not the corridors. Not the library. Not Hogsmeade. If something feels wrong—anything at all—you find me.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you hide,” he said. “And you wait.”
The seriousness in his tone sent a chill through her.
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Before she could respond, Snape’s voice cut through the air again.
“Mr. Riddle,” he called. “A word.”
Mattheo’s shoulders stiffened.
He looked down at Liora one last time. “Go,” he said gently. “Now.”
She hesitated. “They’re going to blame you.”
His mouth curved faintly. “They always do.”
She turned toward the corridor leading to Hufflepuff, every step heavier than the last. Halfway down the hall, she glanced back.
Mattheo stood alone now, facing Snape and McGonagall. His posture was composed, controlled—but she could see it, now. The tension coiled beneath his skin. The readiness to fight.
To protect.
A realization settled deep in her chest, heavy and unavoidable.
This wasn’t just about rumours.
This wasn’t just about whispers or reputation or forbidden magic.
Someone had tried to hurt her.
And Mattheo Riddle had been willing to expose himself—his knowledge, his power, his secrets—to stop it.