Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter fourteen

Mattheo

May 21st , 3 p.m.

I left the cold, damp confines of the dungeon, the heavy door creaking shut behind me. The Death Eater assigned to follow me trailed a few paces behind, his footsteps echoing ominously in the stone corridor. The presence of this shadow infuriated me, a constant reminder of my father's growing distrust. His crimson eyes missed nothing; his ability to perceive even the slightest shift in loyalty was uncanny. I had to be more careful.

Lucia's face lingered in my thoughts. Her defiance, her wit - it grated on my nerves, but it also intrigued me. I couldn't let myself think of her as anything other than a pawn, a means to an end. Yet, the way she had looked at me, as if she saw through the facade, unnerved me. I had to remind myself of my purpose, of the greater plan I was formulating.

I strode through the castle, my pace brisk, determined. The once majestic halls of Hogwarts were now tainted by my father's reign, their grandeur reduced to a sinister parody of their former glory. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the stench of decay and dark magic. The Death Eater's presence was a constant irritation, his silent watchfulness gnawing at my patience. I had a destination in mind, a task that required my immediate attention. The Room of Requirement had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I could think, plan, and act without constant scrutiny. As I walked, I let my thoughts drift to my plan. It was audacious, dangerous even, but it was the only way to wrest control from my father. Lucia was a key piece in this intricate puzzle, whether she realized it or not.

Reaching the seventh floor, I paced back and forth, focusing on my need. The Room of Requirement appeared, its door materializing from the stone wall. I glanced back at the Death Eater, his expression impassive. I needed privacy, and there was only one way to ensure it.

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a cold, penetrating stare. Delving into his mind with Legilimency, I planted the suggestion, weaving it into his thoughts. Stay outside. Guard the door. It's for the best. His eyes glazed over momentarily before he nodded, convinced it was his own idea.

Inside, the room was exactly as I needed it to be: filled with old books, maps, and artifacts. I needed to understand more about the Peverell family, about their secrets and the power Lucia wielded. There had to be something I could use, some advantage I could exploit. As I perused the dusty tomes, my thoughts kept circling back to the way my father had looked at me during our last meeting. His words, his threats, they were nothing new, but there had been an edge to his tone, a hint of something more. He knew. He always knew. My turmoil, my doubts - he sensed them. And now, he was watching me more closely than ever.

I had to stay focused. That witch was resilient, stronger than I had anticipated. Her defiance was maddening, but it also presented an opportunity. If I could harness her power, if I could bend her to my will, it would be a step toward undermining my father. But the line I walked was perilous, and one misstep could be fatal.

I found a book on ancient bloodlines and their magical properties, its cover worn and pages yellowed with age. As I skimmed through its contents, I couldn't help but feel a surge of determination. Lucia's bloodline, her connection to the Deathly Hallows - it was all part of a larger tapestry. I had to unravel it, to understand it fully.

I closed the book, my resolve hardening. Lucia was a pawn, yes, but she was also a catalyst. She represented a chance, a glimmer of hope in a world dominated by darkness. I would use her, manipulate her if necessary, but I couldn't let myself feel anything beyond that. Emotions were a weakness, one I couldn't afford. As I left the Room of Requirement, the Death Eater outside fell into step behind me. His silence was oppressive, his eyes boring into my back. I could almost feel my father's gaze through him, ever watchful, ever judging. But I had my own path to carve, and I would see it through, no matter the cost.