The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ-22

As they make their way down the aisle, they set off a series of fireworks, each one more spectacular than the last. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of crackling and booming, and the air was thick with smoke and the scent of gunpowder. We were initially stunned by the spectacle, but soon we were laughing and cheering along with the Weasley twins.

As the students cheered and laughed at the Weasley twins' antics, I caught a glimpse of my father, Professor Snape, in the crowd. Suddenly, a forceful invasion of voices overpowered my mind. The visions of Voldemort casting the Cruciatus Curse on my father made me shiver with fear. My father was kneeling before him, his face contorted in agony, as Voldemort's menacing laughter echoed throughout the building. Suddenly, everything went blank, and I lost consciousness.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself in the hospital wing, surrounded by the familiar sights and smells of the Hogwarts infirmary. The sound of my father's voice brought me back to reality, and I turned to face him as he approached my bed.

Madam Pomfrey was by my side in an instant, helping me to sit upright and checking my forehead for any signs of fever. "Are you feeling alright, dear?" she asked, her voice soft and reassuring. I nodded, grateful for her comforting presence.

My father stood by silently, his expression unreadable. "Can I take her to my cabin?" he asked Madam Pomfrey, his voice as cold and monotonic as ever.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, turning to the table to gather some medicines for me. "But these medicines are very important," she cautioned, handing me the pills with a stern look. "Take them every evening without fail."

As she left the hospital wing, my father turned to me, his eyes dark with concern. "What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle for once.

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain the visions that had plagued me. "I saw something," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Someone was hurting you."

"And I might ask who was that?" Snape's voice was low and menacing, his words dripping with contempt.

As I stood there, facing my father, I knew that I had to tell him the truth. His eyes bore into mine, demanding an answer, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest.

Without hesitation, I spoke the name that had haunted my dreams for years. "Voldemort," I said, my voice steady and unwavering.

As I spoke the name of my father's arch-nemesis, Voldemort, I could see the anger and fear flicker in his eyes. His grip on my hand tightened, his fingers digging into my skin.

Without a word, he helped me to my feet and we made our way to his cabin. As we entered, I saw Matthew standing there, his head held high and a look of fresh determination on his face.

Something within me shifted at the sight of him, a sense of happiness that I quickly pushed down. Matthew was my enemy, and would always be my enemy. I would never let him see how much his presence affected me.

My father took a seat next to the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me everything," he said, his voice low and serious.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for what was to come. "I had a vision," I said finally. "Voldemort was hurting you. I saw it all."

My father's expression hardened, his jaw clenching.

As my father turned to Matthew, a silent conversation passed between them. It was as if they were communicating telepathically, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. I wondered what they were discussing, but I didn't dare interrupt.

Then, my father turned to face me, his expression unreadable. "Ophelia," he said, his voice low and serious. "Your training starts today."

As my father spoke those words, I felt a chill run down my spine. Training? Today? I was still recovering from my illness, and the thought of facing Matthew Riddle, the devil himself, made my stomach turn.