The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

The classroom was silent, and Mad-Eye Moody continued to extol Matthew's bravery despite the rest of the class being bored. The droning of Moody's voice was like a lullaby, and the students were struggling to stay awake. The room was stuffy, and the air felt thick with boredom. The silence was deafening, and the students were trapped in a monotonous cycle of tedium.

"Blimey, mate, you reckon this is gonna work? 'Cause I'm not exactly keen on getting caught by old Dumbledore." Fred asked in a joking and lighthearted manner, with a mischievous grin on his face. The twins and I were super excited and eager to try out our latest invention, even if it meant taking a risk and potentially facing consequences.

"For sure it will work, otherwise we'll all be off to the good heavens" I said in a playful and flirtatious tone, with a sly smirk on my face. Looking at the surprised faces of the red heads I even added a wink to emphasize my confidence and willingness to take risks. 

With a gulp of the potion, the Weasley twins strode confidently into the Great Hall, where a sea of students had gathered. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, as the twins made their way through the throng, basking in the attention of their adoring fans. But amidst the revelry, Hermione Granger stood off to the side, her nose buried in a book. With a sly smile, I approached her, eager to hear her thoughts on our latest prank.

But to my surprise, she was chuckling to herself, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "It's not going to work," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "And why's that?" | asked, a hint of confusion creeping into my voice. But Hermione simply shook her head, her hand tracing a circular motion in the air. "You see, this is an age line," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Dumbledore drew it himself. So a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled...by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion." With a flick of her wrist, she opened her book, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Just then Fred and George jumped inside the age line everyone started hyping up for them as they gave a unison wink towards me. I laughed a little proud of my new invention. When they put their names parchment inside the goblet of fire a boom occured and the whole flames surrounded us throwing back the twins backwards. Being embarassed they pulled their robe and ran outside leaving everyone laughing hard.

As Fred and George bounded into the age line, the crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and whistles, their excitement palpable. With a sly wink in my direction, the twins disappeared into the throng, their eyes alight with mischief.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself, proud of my latest invention. But as they approached the Goblet of Fire and deposited their names on the parchment, a deafening boom echoed through the hall, the flames surrounding us in a blinding inferno.

The twins were thrown backwards, their robes flapping in the wind as they stumbled out of the hall, their faces red with embarrassment. And yet, despite their failed attempt, the crowd continued to roar with laughter, their joy uncontainable.

As the laughter subsided, a sudden click caught my attention, causing me to spin around in alarm. My eyes locked onto my father's, his stern expression betraying his disappointment. My heart sank, knowing that my latest prank had gone too far. "I am well aware of your involvement in this latest prank, and I will not tolerate such foolishness Ophelia. You will serve detention for the remainder of the week, and I expect you to reflect on your actions during this time."

I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that my actions had caused disappointment to him. Despite my father's disapproval, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as he delivered my punishment. After all, I had already been sentenced to a month of detention, so what was another week in comparison? I shrugged off his reproachful gaze, feeling a sense of invincibility wash over me. But as I turned to leave the room, I couldn't help but wonder if I was truly as untouchable as I believed. Perhaps my latest prank had gone too far, and I was about to face consequences that I couldn't even imagine.

The anticipation was palpable as the students gathered around the Goblet of Fire, their eyes fixed on the blue flames that flickered and danced before them. "Sit down please." Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall, commanding their attention as he prepared to reveal the champions.

The old wizard's eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the faces of every student who had gathered for this momentous occasion.

As he reached into the flames, the tension in the room grew even more intense, the students holding their breath as they waited for the first name to be called. And then, with a flourish of parchment and smoke, the Durmstrang champion was revealed: Viktor Krum. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their excitement contagious.

But as the Goblet turned pink and the next champion was revealed, the room fell silent, all eyes fixed on the stunning Fleur Delacour. The Beauxbatons students erupted in cheers, their joy uncontainable as they celebrated their champion's victory.

The Goblet of Fire crackled and sputtered as the final name was revealed. Cedric Diggory, the champion of Hogwarts, strode confidently into the room, his easy smile and friendly demeanor earning him the admiration of his fellow students.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Cedric, a boy who had always been kind and respectful to everyone he met. It was a rare sight to see Slytherins and Hufflepuffs getting along so well.

As Dumbledore began to wrap up the evening with his usual farewell speech, the Goblet flared to life once again, and a hush fell over the crowd as the final name was revealed. "Harry Potter," Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice tinged with confusion and anger. His eyes scanning the room for the famous Harry Potter.

The students erupted in protest, their voices ringing out loudly as they demanded an explanation. "Harry's not even of age!" someone shouted, and the crowd took up the cry.

But as I looked around the room, my attention was drawn to a shadowy figure lurking in the corner. It was Matthew Marvolo Riddle, his cold, empty gaze fixed upon me with a dark and commanding glare. We were locked in a silent battle, our eyes meeting in a fierce and unspoken challenge. I could feel the weight of his gaze upon me, his dark intentions clear in the coldness of his stare. And yet, I refused to back down, meeting him with a dead, unflinching gaze of my own.