The Serpent & Hawke | Mattheo Riddle | Enemies to lovers

Part 48 - An unlikely trio

Lyanna's POV

A few more weeks had crawled by until Professor Dumbledore finally returned, each day of waiting feeling longer than the last.

The usual warmth of his circular office felt somehow diminished, as if the very room sensed its master's weakened state.

I perched anxiously on the edge of the couch, watching Professor Snape meticulously arrange cushions behind Dumbledore's back.

The Headmaster's movements were slower than usual, each gesture seemingly requiring more effort than it should.

My leg bounced frantically against the rug, an outlet for the nervous energy coursing through my body.

Mattheo reached over, his warm hand settling on my knee.

The gentle pressure steadied me, as it always did, but I could feel the slight tremor in his fingers — he was just as tense as I was.

Dumbledore's transformation was shocking.

His skin had taken on an ashen grey hue, like old parchment left too long in the sun, and the twinkle in his eyes had dimmed to a bare glimmer.

The powerful wizard who had always seemed larger than life now looked almost fragile, though his presence still commanded the room.

Snape took his position beside Professor Fig, his dark robes blending into the shadows.

The silence that fell was thick enough to cut with a knife, broken only by the soft whirring of silver instruments on Dumbledore's desk.

We all waited, hardly daring to breathe, for news of another Horcrux.

Professor McGonagall stood behind us, her presence both reassuring and anxiety-inducing.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority that had marked his long tenure as Headmaster.

"I found one."

His penetrating blue eyes fixed on me and Mattheo, carrying an unspoken gravity.

"Did you destroy it?"

Mattheo asked sharply, his hand leaving my knee.

The sudden absence of his touch left me feeling oddly vulnerable.

The pause before Dumbledore's response seemed to stretch for an eternity.

The portraits leaned forward in their frames, equally invested in his answer.

"There was a slight problem."

Dumbledore's weathered fingers rose to massage his temples, a rare display of fatigue.

"I couldn't retrieve it. Not alone."

The admission seemed to pain him almost as much as whatever had caused his current state.

My heart hammered against my ribs, its rhythm irregular and fierce.

I could feel destiny shifting around us, like pieces on an invisible chessboard.

"I will need assistance."

His gaze locked with mine, and in that moment, I knew why I was here.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as parchment, but my resolve was iron.

Without hesitation, I rose to my feet, adrenaline already coursing through my veins.

"Tell me where it is and I'll go right—"

"No. No way!"

Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a blade as he stood, his shoulder brushing mine.