The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

As I approached the familiar door to the dungeons, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. This path had become too well-trodden, too familiar. Even if I were blindfolded, I could navigate the twists and turns of the dungeon corridors with ease. As I reached out to turn the doorknob, I heard the muffled. sound of voices coming from within.

Curiosity piqued, I pressed my ear to the door, straining to hear what was being said. Suddenly, I heard a voice, low and monotonic, say "I trust that I have instilled in you the proper decorum not to eavesdrop on the conversations of others." It was him. Professor Snape.

But before I could process what I had heard, the door swung open, revealing the sneering face of Matthew Marvolo Riddle. In his hand, he held a potion, and I knew that I had been caught red-handed.

"Good evening, Professor Snape! Had detention today, but no worries, I'm here now. I should probably be on my way though." As I was about to leave however my father's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Ophelia" he said. "Come here. I want to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts master. I expect you to show him the respect he deserves, and I hope that you won't be too intimidated by his teachings." I could feel my heart rate quicken at the thought of a new professor. "But we have a new teacher," I protested, "he's too good, and I'm doing quite well in his class. I don't need an extra teacher, Dad." Despite my protests, my father remained steadfast, his expression unreadable.

"Dad, why do I need another teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts? Moody can be a bit intimidating with his camera-like eye, but I actually really like him." I huffed. "I'm doing well in the class, and I don't want to start all over again. I know you're trying to help, but I don't need a new teacher."

As I stood in front of my father, I knew that convincing him was going to be an uphill battle. His cold, unyielding demeanor made it difficult to believe that he would change his mind. I felt as though I was fighting a losing battle. But as I gathered the courage to speak, I realized that I had to try. With a deep breath, I asked him "Very well then, who is the new teacher?"

My eyes narrowed as I awaited for my father's response. I was curious about the new teacher, but my frustration was still evident in my voice. I had hoped that my father would listen to my pleas, but it seemed that he was still determined to hire someone new. Despite my annoyance, I couldn't help but wonder who the new teacher would be. Would he be as strict and unforgiving as father? Or would he be kind and understanding?

As I drifted off into my own thoughts, I barely noticed the figure that was standing next to me. But suddenly, he spoke, and his words caught me off guard. His voice was cold and harsh, with a deep timbre that made me shiver. "It would be my honour," he said. The words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Are you being serious? He's going to be my DADA teacher?" My tone was incredulous as I spoke. My eyebrows were furrowed and my arms were crossed tightly across my chest.

I was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions: surprise, disbelief, anger. I had never thought that the son of You-know-Who would be my new teacher. I had imagined it would be a professor or a member of Hogwarts' faculty, not someone with such a dark legacy. I couldn't help but feel that he had cast a spell on my father, making him agree with his every word and trapping me in his web. I knew that my dead stare at the entrance hall had been a mistake, and now I was paying the price.

"Indeed he is, and I know of none but him who can control you," the tall cold hearted man hissed, his voice laced with anger. "I gave you ample warnings, but you chose not to listen. Now you must face the consequences of your actions. Your training begins tomorrow at precisely 5 pm. I hope you will be a good student and follow the rules, Ophelia." his eyes narrowed as he spoke, and his tone was laced with a palpable sense of frustration and disappointment.

As he spoke, I felt a knot form in my stomach. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with anger and disbelief. I couldn't believe that my father had hired him as my teacher. "Fine," I said through gritted teeth, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be there at 5 pm tomorrow." I turned on my heel and walked away, disgusted by the feeling that I'm suppressed under the son of a bitch's control.

As I walked away from that deadly dungeons, I couldn't help but feel trapped. I went to my room and slammed the door shut, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

As I made my way to my bed, my eyes landed on a sight that filled me with a sense of frustration and anger. Pansy was there, perched on my bed, her nails dripping with a hideous shade of light green. The room was in disarray, with her belongings strewn about haphazardly. My heart sank as I realized that this was not the first time that she had violated my personal space.

I could feel the weight of my emotions bearing down on me, like a heavy burden that I could not shake off. I was angry, frustrated, and hurt, all at once. My disappointment in myself was palpable, and I knew that I had to do something to regain control of the situation.

I gave her a look that could have melted steel, a look that said, "Get the hell out of here before I kick you out myself." It was a look that conveyed my anger and frustration in a way that words could not.

But Pansy was not one to back down easily. She looked at me with a fake concern that made my blood boil. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I could feel my anger rising as I saw her fingers moving towards my nail polish. "Hey, those are mine!" I snatched the bottle away from her, my voice laced with irritation.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to-" she began, but I cut her off before she could finish. I pushed her out of the room and locked the door behind her. "Do not disturb me again," I yelled at her, my voice echoing through the empty halls.

As I sat on my bed, my heart racing with emotion, I realized that I had to take control of my life. I couldn't let Pansy or anyone else dictate my actions. And with that thought in mind, I began to plan my next move.

"I reckon plans can wait 'til mornin', all I need is a good kip." As I lie here, my mind racing with thoughts and worries, I know I need to take a break and rest. The weight of the day's events have been heavy on my mind, and I can feel my body begging for a respite. I close my eyes and let out a long, slow breath, willing myself to relax and let go.

The darkness of sleep envelops me, and I feel myself drifting away from the world of consciousness.