The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ-26

As we ascended the winding stairs of the Astronomy Tower, the atmosphere was palpably different. The stars, which always shone brightly, were obscured by a thick veil of black, gloomy clouds. The air was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the weight of Matthew's gaze upon me as we reached the top. "Clear your mind of all thoughts," he said, his voice soft but firm. I begrudgingly obeyed, attempting to empty my mind of all distractions.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness. "Think of any positive thoughts or ideas." I struggled to conjure up any positive thoughts, but eventually settled on a happy memory of the prank I committed along with the twins. "Now, I'm going to invade your mind," he said, his tone growing more serious. "But you need to block me in every way possible. Just don't distract yourself and keep thinking of that positive thing."

As Matthew began his assault on my mind, a tingling pain began to spread throughout my head. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on my happy memory, but the pain only grew more intense. "Don't distract yourself," he said calmly, his eyes never leaving mine. But the pain was unbearable, and I couldn't take it any longer. "Stop!" I shouted, my hands clutching my head as I doubled over in agony.

Matthew didn't flinch for a second, his expression remaining impassive as I struggled to regain my composure. The tingling sensation dissipated within seconds, but the effort had left me drained and disoriented. It was hard to concentrate, my mind still reeling from the pain.

"Fine. Empty your mind of all thoughts again," Matthew instructed, his voice echoing through the tower. I tried to comply, but my mind was racing with memories and distractions. Matthew was relentless, his mind probing and prodding at my thoughts until I could barely stand it.

"You are putting pressure in my head," I protested, struggling to keep my composure. "I said don't distract yourself," he replied, a flame of anger burning in his eyes. I stood there, head held high, and tried to remove all thoughts from my mind and focus on a happy memory. I thought of the time I along with the Weasley's had pranked a Hufflepuff girl by pouring a spider in her soup, and how she had vomited the spider out in front of everyone. The memory made me smile, even as I struggled to maintain my concentration. 

As I fought to keep my mind clear, Matthew continued to invade my thoughts, probing and prodding until I could barely stand it. But I refused to give in, standing tall and proud even as the pain grew more intense. Finally, after what felt like hours, Matthew withdrew from my mind.

"I appreciate it," he said, his voice echoing through the tower. "You did it, at least for about a year of training." I was confused, but also proud. I had managed to restrict Matthew from my mind, even if only for a short time. The pain had been excruciating, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in myself for holding out as long as I had. For the first time in a long time, I had actually tried to cooperate with Matthew, and it turned out in a good way I guessed so.

Matthew took the book he had placed on the balcony and started scrutinizing its contents with a studious gaze. Fortunately, he didn't order that I attempt the spell again. Otherwise, I would have been utterly drained by now. Matthew now stood before me with a wand in one hand and the book in the other.

"Protego," he flicked his wand with a deft motion. "Now, try to cast a spell," he challenged me. I attempted the Stupefy spell, but to no avail. He raised his eyebrows, as if he wanted me to use a more powerful spell.

"Reducto," I said with a hint of defiance. Matthew gave me the same incredulous look as before. "Amusing. I believe you only know these two spells," he sneered, but I gave him a dark glare. "The Protego spell creates a magical shield around the caster, which can be used to deflect spells and physical attacks. The strength of the shield depends on the power of the caster and the strength of the spell or attack being deflected," he explained with a clinical detachment. I hummed thoughtfully as he continued his lecture. "Now, you try it," he instructed, as I flicked my hand and incanted "Protego."

However, I felt no discernible change. "Expelliarmus," he said, and my wand flew away to one of the corners of the tower. "Seems like it wasn't powerful enough," he taunted with a sly smirk on his face. I felt as if I could claw his face like a cat, but I controlled my anger. "Try again," he said, standing tall and proud, his cold eyes fixed on me.

I cast the spell again and again, but it proved ineffectual against Matthew's superior incantations. My frustration mounted, and I could feel the anger bubbling within me. Without thinking, I yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" and the spell hit him, but he banished it with a flick of his hand. His eyes blazed with fury, his muscles taut and his breath coming in heavy gasps. "What the hell are you trying to do?" he asked, now standing too close to me. "Just stop!" I yelled at him, my voice shaking with emotion.

Since the day he entered my life, everything had gone to hell. My father started always favouring Matthew, and him being the devil himself takes out all his anger and frustration on me. I didn't need to be under anyone's control; I could learn the spells myself. If I needed help, there was Luna, there was Hermione. They would help me, but not him. Not Matthew. I was sick and tired of this boy. Moreover, he was the son of Voldemort. Why would he teach me spells to protect myself from the dark wizard? I had thousands of questions, but no one to answer them. I hated my life like this.

The air around us was thick with tension, and I felt as though I was suffocating. My mind was racing, and I couldn't think straight. I needed to get out of this situation, to clear my head. "I'm done," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this anymore." Matthew's face twisted into a sneer, and he took a step closer to me. "You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You'll do as I say." I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, and I knew that I needed to get away from him.

I pushed him with all my might, my hand landing hard on his chest, and kicked his legs with all the strength I could muster. I hoped that my actions would cause him pain and allow me to escape his grasp. The satisfaction of seeing him stagger back was immense, and I quickly made my way down the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew that I had messed up with this devil, but for now, I was safe.

As I reached my dormitory, I locked the door behind me, hoping that he wouldn't be hiding somewhere, waiting to pounce on me. My stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten dinner and was now hungry as hell. I knew that I couldn't go outside, not when the devil was waiting for me to become his prey.

I sat down on the cold floor and clutched myself, trying to think of a way out of this mess. Then an idea struck me. I took out the book I had brought from potions class and began to read. The book was titled "Advanced Potion Making," and as I read, the handwriting seemed too familiar. I couldn't place whose it was, even though it was nagging at the back of my mind.

The book contained a wealth of information about different ingredients and their uses, and as I read on, I was amused to find that the notes given were too similar to how my father had taught me. But how could this be? I tried to remove those thoughts from my mind and continued to read, page after page.

As I lost myself in the book, I didn't even realize when I drifted off to sleep.