The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ-12

As I sat on my bed, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more tumultuous than the last. Why had he come into my room uninvited? I knew I should have been more cautious, more aware of my surroundings, but I had let my guard down. As I tried to push these thoughts from my mind, I closed my eyes and let myself drift away into a world of my own creation.

I awoke the next day with a smile on my lips and a newfound sense of vigor. But as I glanced at the alarm clock, my eyes widened in horror. I was already ten minutes late for class! I bolted out of bed, took a quick shower, and raced to the classroom. As I neared the door, I realized with a start that it was my father's class - Potions. I slowed my pace, thinking I'd be safe from his wrath. But as I pushed open the door, all eyes in the room turned to me. My father stood at the front of the class, scribbling something on the whiteboard. When he noticed me, his dark eyes bore into me with a cold intensity. Just as I was about to step inside, he spoke, cutting through the silence like a knife. "I see you're fifteen minutes late, Miss Snape."

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and even the air seemed to hold its breath. My father's voice was icy and commanding, and his eyes were fixed on me with a steely gaze. I could feel the weight of his disapproval bearing down on me, like a heavy cloak. I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race in my chest. But I knew I couldn't let him see my fear. I stood up straight, meeting his gaze with a defiant stare. "I know I'm late. I was just making sure the rest of the class didn't miss me too much. "

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my response. "I see your wit is as sharp as ever, Miss Snape," he said, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "But I suggest you save it for something more productive." I rolled my eyes, but I knew better than to argue with my father when he was in this mood. I stood there, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having gotten the last word in. But I also knew that my father had seen through my act - as always.

As I entered the classroom, my eyes scanned the room for an empty seat. To my dismay, I noticed that Hermione's usual seat was occupied by the Weasley girl. I groaned inwardly, knowing that the only seat left was behind Draco Malfoy. But then, my eyes fell on the seat behind him, and I saw that Matthew was sitting there. I couldn't help but wonder why he always chose the last row of seats. Did he have a hypersonic sound system, or was he just trying to avoid attention? However I took the only seat available and tried to concentrate what was being taught.

As Snape began his lecture, the classroom fell silent. "Today's lesson is on the Draught of Peace," he said in his usual monotone voice. "Can anyone explain what Draught of Peace is?" A few students raised their hands, but Snape's gaze was fixed on the boy sitting behind me. Matthew slowly stood up and turned towards Snape, his face cold and expressionless. "Draught of Peace is a potion that has a calming and soothing effect on the drinker," he began, his voice smooth and confident. "It is said to be a pale green color and to have a pleasant, floral scent. The potion is brewed using a variety of ingredients, including powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and powdered unicorn horn. When consumed, the potion helps to calm the mind and reduce anxiety, allowing the drinker to feel more at peace." Matthew's words were precise and articulate, his tone measured and controlled. Snape nodded curtly and continued his lecture, not even bothering to praise Ma tthew for his answer for which I was too happy.

"Miss Snape," Snape's voice boomed across the classroom, his eyes fixed on me. "As you were tardy to today's class, you will be required to collect the ingredients necessary for the Potion in our next lesson. I trust you will perform your punishment dutifully." His tone was cold and stern, and I could feel the weight of his disappointment settling heavily on my shoulders.

As the class ended, I gathered my books and prepared to leave. But before I could make my way to the door, Snape called out to me once more. "Ophelia," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have been disrespectful to me today, and I will not tolerate it. Do you understand?" His eyes bore into mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

I nodded, feeling a wave of shame wash over me. "Yes, Father," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Snape's expression softened slightly, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know you can do better, Ophelia," he said, his voice gentle. "But you must learn to respect your superiors and follow the rules if you wish to succeed at Hogwarts."

I nodded again, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Snape was a harsh taskmaster, but I knew that he only wanted the best for me. As I left the classroom, I could feel his eyes following me, his disapproval palpable in the air.

I made her way to the library with a sense of determination. I needed to find information on the ingredients of the Draught of Peace, and I knew that the library was the best place to start. As I walked through the stacks, I noticed a silent boy sitting at a nearby table. He looked up at me briefly before returning his gaze to his book.

I gave him a withering look, wondering why he was staring at me. But before I could say anything, he turned his attention back to his book. I shrugged it off and continued my search, scanning the shelves for any books that might contain the information I needed.

Suddenly, that sick boy whose name I remember after he was hung down from the fan upside down, Neville Longbottom appeared, returning a book to its rightful place on the shelf. I rolled my eyes at the sight of him, but decided to ask him for help anyway. "Hey, Long and bottom," I said, mocking him. "Can you tell me where I can find the book related to the Draught of Peace?"

Neville looked up at her, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I won't answer until you tell my name correctly," he stuttered, his voice low and steady. "My name is Neville Longbottom."

I gave him a sneer, irritated by his insistence on proper pronunciation. "Fine, Navel sorry Neville," I said, mocking him once again. "Tell me where I can find the book."

Neville hesitated for a moment before pointing me in the direction of the correct shelf. I snatched the book from its place and turned to leave, but not before giving Neville one last withering look. I knew that he was nothing more than a bumbling fool, and I had no time for his nonsense.

As I approached the bench, my eyes were drawn to Harry, who was sitting in the corner, his fingers flipping through the pages of his book with a roughness that hinted at a deeper frustration. It was as if he was searching for something, something that had eluded him for far too long.

But as soon as he noticed me, his face softened, and he gave me a small smile, one that I returned with equal warmth. It was strange, but there was something about Harry that felt familiar, as if I had known him for years.

After a few minutes of watching him struggle, I finally decided to speak up. "Are you searching for something specific?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry looked up at me, his eyes flashing with a mix of confusion and annoyance. He shook his head no, his expression guarded. But I could tell that there was something he wasn't telling me, something that was weighing heavily on his mind.

I raised my eyebrows with a smirk, hoping to coax him into opening up. But he remained stubbornly silent, his gaze fixed on the pages of his book.

As I buried myself in the pages of "Magical Draughts and Potions," I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Every ingredient, every detail, was so convoluted and over-the-top, it was almost comical. The words on the page seemed to drag on forever, each one a tedious chore to get through.

As I scribbled notes in the margins, I couldn't help but think that this was all a complete waste of time. Who in their right mind would spend their days concocting potions that no one would ever use? It all seemed so pointless, so ridiculous.

When I finally looked up, I realized that the library had all but emptied, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. The silence of the space was almost eerie, and I couldn't wait to get out of there. It was a moment of complete and utter boredom, a moment that I hoped to never experience again.