"Do you think Harry really put his name in there?" Ron asked for about the tenth time. Honestly — he was getting on my nerves. Malfoy had shoved that stupid idea into his head, and ever since then it had been gnawing at him like an overbred house-elf. "Yeah, of course he did," I said "Harry loves drawing attention to himself and getting into danger. And even though he's not exactly brilliant, he must've figured out a way to put it in." Ron didn't realize I was messing with him.
"You're right, Elyse, that's Harry all over. I can't believe he didn't tell us." He paused and shot me and Hermione a look that clearly said he was about to say something he'd get punched for."Although… I'm not surprised he didn't tell you two — you'd just talk him out of it." Hermione raised her textbook, ready to smack him over the head. "But I'm his best mate!" Ron protested, still completely oblivious to the book aimed at him. We started heading toward the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, but I froze. "Merlin… my notes!" "Hey, I need to go back, I left them in the hall!" I shouted, already breaking into a run. Ron kept whining about Harry, but Hermione just nodded. "I'll wait for you in the room, okay?"
I ran back into the hall, heart hammering. Only a few sleepy students remained, none of whom even noticed me. My fingers glided across the table, hoping my notebook might magically appear. Nothing. Not a trace. A heavy knot formed in my throat. Something wasn't right. I checked the floor outside of the great hall.. "Where the hell is it?" panic creeping into my voice. "Please tell me no one took it…" "Looking for something, Black?" My stomach sank. I turned slowly — and there he was. Mattheo Riddle, standing in the hall, a smug little smirk on his face, my notebook and textbook in hand. "Hey, give it back!" I snapped, stepping forward. He lifted them above his head. "If you want it back… come get it."
Bastard. I took a deep breath, trying not to lose it. His hazel eyes met mine, sharp and challenging, His presence always did this — made me aware of him in a way that drove me crazy. "You're impossible," I muttered under my breath. "Give it back. I'm going to have to tell you in a few days anyway." He leaned closer, just enough for his breath to brush my cheek. Black tea and something woody. "I'm just curious," he murmured, "how much you want it." That did it. Three years. Three years of this smug, irritating, impossible boy making my life harder than it had to be. And suddenly, doing nothing felt impossible.
I clenched my fists, feeling the heat rising. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't. A memory hit me — last year, when everyone had been afraid, when whispers and rumors had spread about my family, about me. He had been at the center of it all, charming the masses while spreading fear and half-truths. Before I could second-guess myself, I lunged. Crack.The sound echoed too loudly in the empty hall. Pain shot up my arm as my knuckles connected with his cheek. His head jerked back. He froze. My ears rang.I had actually punched Mattheo Riddle — the son of the Dark Lord — in a nearly empty hallway at Hogwarts. He touched his cheek, skin reddening, and lowered the notebook and textbook. My chance. I grabbed them and bolted.
By the time I reached the stairs, my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I looked down at my hands. They were still shaking.
I'd actually punched Mattheo Riddle.
Merlin help me.
As I ran, the memory came back uninvited.
Last year, when everyone had been terrified of Sirius Black, Mattheo Riddle had made sure I was terrified too.
He told people I was Sirius's daughter. That my own father had escaped Azkaban to kill me and Harry because he'd finally gone mad. He joked about how dementors must have damaged Harry's brain, said it all with a smile sharp enough to cut.
And people believed him.
Because when the Dark Lord's son spreads a story, no one questions it. They just step back. Whisper. Stare.
That year, most of Hogwarts stopped talking to me.
So no — I didn't feel bad about hitting him. He'd earned it a long time ago.
When I finally dragged myself up to the tower, Seamus greeted me. "Elyse, you're such a good friend of Harry's," he said as I entered the tower. I rubbed my eyes. Of course. One disaster after another. "What do you want?" "Did Harry tell you about his plan?" I stared at him. He sighed, irritated. "With the Goblet." "You're an idiot," slipped out before I could stop myself. Today was officially cursed. I sprinted up to my room. I'd had enough of everyone. My bed flashed in my mind — the plan was simple. The plan did NOT work. In the room I shared with Lydia, Hermione was pacing angrily, ranting, while Ginny and Lydia nodded along and ate crisps on Lydia's bed. It took me a moment to realize what they were talking about. "Boys are such idiots," Hermione complained "Agreed," I chimed in. All three turned to me. Lydia had her blonde hair in braids, Ginny in a messy bun, and Hermione still in her neat ponytail. Funny thing was, the two of them were already in pyjamas while the know-it-all was still in her robes.
I walked to the dark wooden table — already overflowing with stuff — and tossed my notes and textbook onto it. Then I collapsed onto my bed. "I missed you so much," I whispered to the mattress. I was definitely losing it."What happened to you?" Lydia asked, examining her nails. "Bloody Riddle," I groaned into the pillow. "He took my stuff and then had the nerve to hold it above his head. He's not even that tall" "And how did you get it back?" Ginny rolled onto her back, offering the crisps. "I punched him." I grabbed a crisp.
"WHAT?!" all three of them shrieked. Ginny sat up instantly and snatched the crisps from me.
The two of them were grinning, but Hermione looked worried. "Elyse, that's Mattheo Riddle. That Riddle, who once punched a boy just because he called him a coward. He's dangerous. The whole guy is dangerous," Hermione warned. "Not to mention if the professors find out…"
"Who cares, 'Mione," Lydia cut her off. "Good god, you punched Riddle and you're alive!" Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "You have to tell us everything, El." So, I spent the next hour telling them everything — how he wouldn't give me the notes, how he leaned down and gave me the perfect chance to hit him, how it felt when my fist wiped that smug smirk off his face. "If he thinks pushing me against a wall and threatening me is going to scare me, he's clearly never met a Black," I said, and even Hermione laughed.
"So, what were you even talking about before I came in?" I looked around at the girls. "Ron is being a dick — but when isn't he," Ginny started. "He thinks Harry really put his name in there and refuses to consider any other version because it doesn't make sense to him. And apparently, we're defending Harry only because we're hopelessly in love with him — his words, not mine. I honestly can't remember the last time I wanted to kill my brother this much."
"Is it just me, or is Hogwarts catching some kind of stupidity disease?" Lydia asked. I couldn't but agree with her. Still, I knew I'd just crossed a line I couldn't uncross.