Age 12
Words 639
Summary: Mattheo, Draco, and Lola went back to the woods and found....him.
The forest was even darker than before.
Mattheo, Draco, and Lola moved cautiously, their wands raised, the tension between them thick as fog. The trees whispered. The air was colder, pressing in on them, wrapping around their lungs like invisible hands.
But none of that mattered.
Because somewhere, hidden in the heart of the woods, was him.
And he had Raven’s soul.
Lola’s grip on her wand tightened. “We’re close,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
Mattheo clenched his jaw, his entire body rigid with barely contained rage. “Good. Because when I find him, I’ll—”
A voice slithered through the trees.
"So eager for a fight, young Riddle?"
Mattheo’s blood turned to ice.
Draco’s expression twisted with fury. “Show yourself.”
A shadow unfurled before them. Dark, shifting, ancient—it seemed to rise from the very roots of the forest, taking form slowly, deliberately.
And then he was there.
Voldemort.
But not as they remembered him.
His figure was cloaked in pure darkness, his face barely visible beneath the swirling shadows. His red eyes burned through the night, piercing, calculating. Hungry.
Lola took a slow step forward, her heart hammering. “You’re not real.”
Voldemort tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “No?” His voice slithered through the air like a serpent. “And yet… here I stand.”
Draco’s fingers twitched over his wand. “We killed you,” he hissed. “I killed you.”
The shadow laughed softly. “You destroyed my body,” he mused. “But death?” He smiled—a horrible, twisted thing. “Death is an illusion.”
Mattheo took a step forward, his rage burning hotter than his fear. “Where is my daughter?” he growled.
Voldemort studied him for a moment. “Ah… the child.” His lips curled in something almost gentle. “She was special, wasn’t she? The only one who could call me back.”
Lola’s breath caught in her throat. So it was true. Raven’s accidental magic had done something no one had ever imagined possible.
She had called back a ghost. A remnant.
And now, he wanted her.
Draco’s patience snapped. “Where. Is. She?”
Voldemort sighed. “So impatient.” He lifted a long, skeletal hand and gestured to the shadows behind him.
And then…
Raven appeared.
She stood perfectly still, her small figure bathed in darkness.
Her eyes were open, but… empty.
No light. No recognition. Just a hollow shell.
Mattheo made a strangled sound and started to move toward her—
But Lola grabbed his arm.
“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice sharp with warning. “That’s not… all of her.”
Draco’s grip on his wand tightened. “What did you do to her?”
Voldemort smiled, spreading his arms. “I gave her what she was meant to have. A gift. Power beyond—”
“You stole her soul.”
Lola’s words cut through the air like a blade.
Voldemort regarded her for a moment, then slowly, he nodded. “Yes.”
Mattheo broke.
He surged forward, wand raised, pure hatred in his veins. “GIVE HER BACK!”
Voldemort flicked his fingers—and Mattheo collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Lola screamed his name, dropping beside him.
Draco stepped forward instantly, his fury crackling in the air. “You want another war?” he hissed, magic flaring violently around him. “Because I’ll burn this entire damn forest to the ground before I let you take her.”
Voldemort chuckled, amused. “So dramatic.”
Lola ignored him, turning to Mattheo. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Mattheo nodded shakily, eyes blazing with pain and rage. “I don’t care what it takes,” he rasped. “We get her back.”
Lola exhaled sharply. “Agreed.”
Then, she stood up, her gaze locked onto Voldemort’s.
“There’s always a price, isn’t there?” she said slowly. “You want something. Name it.”
Voldemort studied her, then smiled.
And when he spoke, his words sent ice down her spine.
"A soul for a soul."
YOU ARE READING
our little angel
Fantasythis is a story is about mattheo and Lola and their daughter selen (sea-le-n)
