Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter fifteen

Lucia

When I was little, my mother always tried to instill in my siblings and me the belief that no matter how cruel the world might seem, and no matter how hopeless some situations might be, there was always room for a miracle. We valued our parents' words greatly, although we sometimes regarded their statements with caution.

I had already experienced many horrors within the walls of the once school for witchcraft and wizardry, horrors that had not even haunted me in my worst nightmares. I had been forced to contend with people who had shed most, if not all, of their humanity. For me, that included Mattheo Riddle - at least, that's what I had firmly believed until that moment. I couldn't explain what was happening here; it happened quickly and was so unexpected. I didn't know how to feel, how to act, and yet it all happened so naturally.

I had believed that he would force me to take the truth serum. I was terrified that by consuming this liquid, secrets meant to remain hidden would be revealed to unwelcome ears. Even though the most crucial secrets of my family were protected by a spell buried deep in my memory, accessible only to me, I couldn't predict how I would respond under the potion's influence. But my fears quickly proved unfounded when Lord Voldemort's son made the potion disappear into his pocket and reached for the Drink of Despair instead. Not that this option was any better, but at least I could still fight to keep certain things concealed. At least, that's what I wanted to believe.

Then, it happened. One of those miracles my mother had spoken of so often and with such conviction. Mattheo Riddle glanced at the Death Eaters standing by the cell door, staring into the back of their heads for a moment. Then he turned back to me, looked deep into my eyes, and leaned slightly towards my ear.

"I know I'm the last person who deserves your trust in any way, but since you're a survivor, I guess you have no choice but to play along now, witch. I hope you're as good an actress as you are a warrior," he whispered. His breath brushed warmly across the back of my neck, sending goosebumps over my skin. I couldn't tell if it was because he was so close or because of his words. Even more so, I didn't know what he was talking about or how I should act. But, as I mentioned, everything somehow fell into place naturally.

Mattheo grabbed my hair firmly, but not so tightly that it hurt. He mimicked the motion, and I pulled my head back as if he were forcing me. He flicked the cork off the bottle with his thumb and pressed my mouth open with his fingers. Instead of pouring the potion into my mouth, he poured it beside it, letting it run down my cheek and chin uncomfortably, but it didn't cause me the agony I would have suffered if I actually drank the stuff. I let out an agonized cough to make it more believable. I had no reason to trust this man, no reason to help him or do him a favor, but in this situation, there wasn't much wiggle room. He didn't truly force me to swallow the potion; that was just better for me.

Next, he pushed me to the ground. I made it look like I was struggling, but I wasn't really, because he didn't put much effort into pushing me down either. It just had to look real enough for the two Death Eaters guarding the cell and glancing over at us; that much I understood. Mattheo Riddle raised his wand, pointed it at me, and uttered one of the unforgivable curses, the Cruciatus Curse, but it missed me by a hair's breadth. I began to scream as loudly and agonizingly as I could without actually suffering. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Death Eaters flinch, but when she turned to me, I closed my eyes and convulsed.

It was a high-stakes game in which timing and persuasion were crucial, and I couldn't explain why Mattheo wasn't actually torturing me, but I didn't want to question it right now. I was relieved that, for once, I didn't have to endure real pain and agony. While I writhed on the floor and screamed at the top of my lungs, Mattheo moved on.