A heart beneath the mark

1. Part

"Hannah, come on, we're late for the train!" my sister's voice echoed from downstairs, her tone edging on panic. I forced my eyes open, blinking in the early morning light. "Oh, no..." I muttered, catching sight of the time. My alarm had failed me, of course. "Damn it! Damn it, damn it!" I scrambled to throw on my clothes, trying not to trip over my shoes in the process. The first day back at Hogwarts, and here I was, already running late.

I live in a modest house tucked in a quiet part of London with my mum and little sister, Gwen, who's five years younger than me. When I got that strange letter from "Hogwarts" five years ago, everyone was stunned. We all thought it was some kind of joke—an invitation to a magical school? But as it turned out, it wasn't a joke at all. Now, heading into my sixth year, I wasn't exactly brimming with excitement. Sure, I had friends, but being a Ravenclaw and a Muggle-born meant everyone assumed they already knew who I was, fitting me neatly into their little boxes. The truth was, I often felt like an outsider.

Dragging my suitcase downstairs, I found Gwen waiting with an anxious smile and slightly trembling hands. It was her first year at Hogwarts, and her excitement and nerves were palpable. I couldn't help but see myself in her. I remembered my own first day, the sleepless night before, when Mum and I stayed up playing games to calm my nerves. She'd humored me, knowing it would be months before she'd see me again. That journey had been a blur—I'd nearly missed my arrival at Hogwarts if a friendly girl hadn't woken me up in time. That girl, Cho Chang, had become my closest friend at school, someone I could count on through thick and thin.

"Come on, we have to go!" Gwen urged, glancing back at Mum, who stood by the door with a bittersweet smile. It stung, leaving her behind, especially after everything she'd done for us. After Dad died, I'd tried so hard to be the daughter she deserved. I'd never asked her for money for school supplies, opting instead to trade help with homework for the textbooks I needed. She never complained, but I knew it weighed on her.

I walked over to Mum, pulling her into a hug that lingered a bit longer than usual. She held me close, sensing the ache in my heart, and I inhaled the comforting scent of vanilla and cinnamon. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and for a moment, I wished I could stay. But Gwen tugged impatiently on my arm, and with one last smile, I let go. "Take care of yourself, Mum," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears.

"You too," she replied softly, her voice a little shaky, and then the door clicked shut behind us.

With Gwen's small hand clutching mine, we hurried to the station. I could feel her excitement building as we approached Platform 9¾, her steps faltering just in front of the seemingly solid brick wall. "Ready?" I asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She took a deep breath, her eyes wide with wonder, and nodded. Together, we stepped through the barrier, and the platform's familiar, bustling scene greeted us.

"Wow!" Gwen breathed, her gaze sweeping over the enormous scarlet steam engine and the crowd of students and parents swarming around it. Her awe brought a grin to my face; I'd had the exact same reaction my first time here.

As we made our way towards the train, I spotted Cho weaving through the crowd to meet us. She grinned, hands on her hips. "Well, I've been waiting for you for half an hour!" she teased, her eyes twinkling.

"Hannah overslept. I had to be her alarm clock," Gwen chimed in, standing half beside me, half tucked behind. She knew Cho well; my best friend had been over during the holidays enough times that Gwen was already at ease with her.

Cho laughed. "Typical Hannah! But we better hurry, or the train's going to leave us behind." Together, we made our way to the train, dodging clusters of students saying last-minute goodbyes.

I glanced around the platform, recognizing familiar faces—the Patil twins, Harry Potter and his friends, even the usual Slytherin crowd lurking at the far end, sneering as they watched others. But then my gaze landed on someone else. Someone who made my heart beat just a little faster with an uneasy rhythm.

Mattheo Riddle.

He had been at Hogwarts since our first year, a constant, intimidating presence. Everyone had always kept a respectful distance from him; he was known for his quick temper and dark demeanor. But something had changed last year, in our fifth year. Rumors had started swirling around him—whispers that he was somehow connected to the rise of dark forces in the wizarding world. Some claimed he'd managed to bring his father, Lord Voldemort, back from the shadows. And while no one dared to confront him about it directly, the fear in people's eyes when he walked by was unmistakable.

As he moved through the crowd, students stepped aside, averting their gazes. I felt Gwen's grip on my hand tighten, her wide eyes watching him with a mix of awe and trepidation. I couldn't blame her; there was a palpable, almost suffocating power that seemed to radiate from him, as if he were capable of far more than anyone truly understood.

This year, I thought, as I guided Gwen toward the train, would be unlike any other. And somehow, I had the sense that whatever lay ahead, Mattheo Riddle was at the center of it.