Chapter 93 Sparks in the Corridor
The mid-afternoon sun slanted through the high windows of Hogwarts’ northern corridor, dust motes dancing like tiny stars in the shafts of light. Liora wandered along the stone floor, her attention divided between the new charms she was practicing from her notebook and the occasional fluttering of a feather she’d conjured to test her aim. She had promised herself she’d be cautious today. No wandering off, no surprises, no trouble.
Fate, however, had other plans.
She rounded a corner too quickly, caught up in a particularly tricky incantation, and stumbled against the edge of a tapestry. There was a sudden snap of fabric, followed by a sharp click, and the stone floor beneath her shifted with a soft grinding noise. A section of the wall seemed to shimmer, a faint line of green light tracing its edges.
“Oh no,” she whispered, realizing instinctively that she had triggered something—probably one of the castle’s old magical traps, left to guard forgotten corners or test students too curious for their own good.
Before she could move, a shadow detached itself from behind one of the columns. Mattheo stepped forward, smooth and silent as ever. His eyes caught hers instantly, dark and unreadable.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone quiet, though it carried an edge of command.
“I didn’t—” she began, but the words died on her lips as the corridor quivered and the green light pulsed brighter. From the wall, a series of enchanted vines—slender, black, and writhing—snaked outward, their ends curling like fingers.
Liora froze.
Mattheo’s wand flicked, a precise and fluid movement, but before he could cast a spell, one of the vines shot toward her, quick as a striking snake. In an instant, he lunged. She stumbled back, and their hands collided—his large, cool hand wrapping instinctively around hers, steadying her against the sudden lurch of movement.
The contact was brief but electric, a current of warmth and awareness that neither had expected.
“Hold still!” he commanded softly, yanking her behind him as he redirected the attacking vine with a snap of his wand. Sparks erupted from the tip of his wand, and the vine recoiled, hissing as it withdrew.
Liora’s heart pounded—not from the danger, but from the proximity. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, their hands still brushing slightly, the pressure of his fingers anchoring her. She dared a glance at his face and noticed the sharp tension in his jaw, the flicker of concern in his otherwise unreadable eyes.
“You’re reckless,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual sting. It was softer, tinged with something unreadable.
“I—” she started, then stopped, realizing she couldn’t defend herself without admitting that she had been careless. Instead, she tried a small, embarrassed smile. “I was… just trying to practice a charm.”
He glanced at her, his expression shifting slightly. The corner of his mouth lifted—not quite a smile, but an acknowledgment of her innocence. “Practice can wait until the castle isn’t trying to strangle you,” he said, and the faintest trace of amusement touched his tone.
Another vine lashed toward them, faster this time. Mattheo grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him again, their movements fluid in unison, as if they had trained together for this exact scenario. Liora felt her chest tighten—not from fear, but from the rhythm of their proximity, the accidental intimacy of his touch.
The last vine reached toward them, but Mattheo spun, sending a final spark of green magic through the air. It struck the vine, freezing it mid-lunge before it recoiled with a hiss. The corridor fell silent, the green glow fading into nothing. The tapestry settled back into place as if nothing had happened.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their breathing and the faint echo of magic in the stones.
Liora slowly released her grip on his hand, though neither truly let go. “That… was…” she began, unsure what to say, her mind still spinning from the adrenaline.
“Dangerous,” Mattheo finished for her, his tone clipped, professional. He gave her hand a last, slight squeeze, just enough to remind her he was still there, still aware of her. “You need to be more careful.”
“I know,” she whispered, cheeks warming, and glanced down at their hands. Just inches apart, yet the lingering brush of skin seemed to hum with something neither fully understood.
Mattheo’s eyes softened, briefly, in a way that caught her off guard. “You’re learning fast,” he said finally, stepping back, his usual aloof mask returning. “But not fast enough for your own good.”
She wanted to laugh, though the tension and shock of the encounter made it sound half-choked. “And you… you were right there the whole time,” she said, a mixture of awe and gratitude in her voice.
“I’ll always be there,” he said, and though his voice was quiet, there was weight to the words. Not a promise of romance, not a declaration, but something more primal—protection, vigilance, attention. Something that mattered.
She nodded, swallowing the heat that rose in her chest. The corridor felt suddenly colder, the shadows longer, but she felt an odd comfort knowing he was near, even if he remained largely unreadable.
As they finally parted ways, she felt the faint tingling of residual magic lingering around her hands, a subtle reminder of the sparks that had passed between them. She caught a glimpse of him in the shadow of a distant alcove, watching her retreat down the hall with that silent intensity that both unnerved and fascinated her.
And for the first time, Liora realized something else. It wasn’t just the danger that had made her pulse race. It was the presence of Mattheo—his touch, his attention, his unspoken concern.
She didn’t know how to process it.
All she knew was that she wanted more of that—more guidance, more closeness, more understanding. And judging by the way he lingered in the shadows after she left, she wasn’t alone in that feeling.
Hogwarts, she thought, had a way of turning even simple corridors into lessons she could never predict.
And lessons, it seemed, came with sparks—both magical and otherwise.