The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7

As I approached him, Matthew cleared his throat, causing me to jump and flinch in surprise. I had been so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed him turn around.

But as I looked up at him, I saw that he was wearing a small smirk on his lips, his eyes glinting with amusement. It was as if he had been waiting for me to make a mistake, to show some sign of weakness.

Without a word, he began to walk towards me, his footsteps echoing through the empty chamber. As he drew closer, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my palms growing slick with sweat.

But even as I trembled with fear and anticipation, I knew that I had to stand my ground, to show him that I was strong enough to withstand his scrutiny and his demands.

With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and met his gaze head-on, my eyes burning with determination. Whatever he had in store for me, I was ready to face it, to prove myself worthy.

Matthew fixed his dark brown eyes on me, his expression unreadable. "Are you prepared for your first training session?" he asked, his voice cold and measured.

I gave him a look of steely determination, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I was born ready," I replied, my voice steady and confident.

Without another word, Matthew stepped aside and gestured for me to take out my wand. I did so, feeling its smooth surface beneath my fingers, and waited for his next command.

"Cast any spell," he said, his tone clipped and authoritative.

I looked at him in confusion. "Any spell?" I repeated, wondering what he was trying to get at.

"Yes, any spell," he said, his eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement or contempt. "Show me what you're capable of."

With a flick of my wand, I summoned all the power within me, unleashing the Stupefy spell with a fierce voice. But just as the incantation left my lips, my wand was wrenched from my grasp, flying across the room and clattering to the ground.

I stood there, stunned and bewildered, staring at the empty space where my wand had been just moments before. It was as if the very world around me had shifted, as if I had been caught in the grip of some kind of dark magic.

And then I saw him, standing there with a cold, steely gaze fixed upon me. "You're not as good as you think you are," he said, his voice low and menacing.

With a fierce glint in my eyes, I  stood up straight, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. I was seething with anger, my mind racing with thoughts of revenge and retribution. How dare he speak to me like that?

"Who does he think he is?" I muttered under my breath, my voice low and dangerous. "He may be the son of you-know-who, but I don't give a damn about that. No one has the right to lower my image and dignity."

I turned to face him, my eyes blazing with fury. "Oh, please," I spat, my words laced with venom and contempt. "Pray tell, how good are you really? Are you so powerful that you cannot answer a simple question?"

I paused, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I care not for the pedigree of your lineage," I continued, my voice rising in pitch and volume. "I shall not suffer your insults nor allow you to make me feel small. I am just as powerful as you are, and I shall not let you forget it."

As I spun around on my heels, ready to make my exit, he suddenly lunged forward, his hands grasping my shoulders and pinning me against the wall. His voice was low and menacing, his words dripping with contempt and anger. "Do you truly believe that you're as potent as I am?" he sneered, his eyes blazing with fury. I could feel his hot breath on my face, his body pressed tightly against mine, and I shuddered with a mixture of fear and revulsion.

He clicked his tongue, his eyes roving over my features with a predatory intensity. His gaze lingered on my lips, tracing the curve of my chin, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew that I was in grave danger, that I had to find a way to break free from his grip before it was too late. But as I struggled to free myself, I couldn't help but wonder how I had gotten myself into this mess, and what I could do to get out of it.

As I pushed him away, he stumbled back, his chest heaving with anger and frustration. I knew that I had made a grave mistake, that I had underestimated his strength and his resolve. But I was too stubborn to back down, too proud to let him get the best of me.

With a sudden, brutal twist, he spun me around, my back pressed against his chest, his hot breath on my neck. I could feel his power, his strength, his unyielding will, and I knew that I was in deep trouble.

For a moment, I thought that I might be able to break free, might be able to escape his grasp. But then he tightened his grip, his fingers like iron, and I felt myself slipping into a nightmare.

"Don't you dare touch me," he growled, his voice like thunder in my ears. But I refused to give in, refused to let him have the upper hand. With a sudden, brutal twist, he tightened his grip, his fingers digging into my flesh like steel talons. I could feel the blood rushing to my head, my vision growing blurry, and I knew that I had to find a way out, had to break free from his grasp, before it was too late.

But as I struggled against him, his voice rang out like a thunderclap, his words like a knife in my heart. "I said, do you understand?" he bellowed, his eyes burning with anger and contempt.

As his hand shook around my throat, I felt the icy grip of fear closing in around me. The pressure around my neck was almost unbearable, and I could feel my consciousness slipping away with each passing second.

Despite the fear that was gnawing at my heart, I refused to give in to him. I clutched onto his hand, which was still wrapped tightly around my throat, and dug my nails into his wrist with all my strength.

I could feel the blood trickling down his arm, could see the pain etched into his face, but still, he refused to let go. His grip only grew tighter, his fingers like a vice around my throat and my hand, and I knew that I was in deep trouble.

As his grip tightened around my wrist, I felt the sharp sting of pain coursing through my body. The pressure was almost unbearable, and I knew that I would be left with dark bruises and aching pain for days to come.

As I stared down at the beauty art that I had drawn around his wrist,I felt nothing but proud of myself. I knew that the damage was done, that the violence and pain that I had inflicted would leave permanent scars.

With a sudden burst of strength, I tore myself free from his grasp, my heart pounding in my chest, my body trembling with fear and adrenaline.Without wasting a second, I reached down and picked up my broken wand, the pieces clattering together in my trembling hands and stormed down the stairs.