#hacker chapter three

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual energy as students gathered for dinner, but tonight, something felt off. As plates filled with food appeared on the long house tables, everyone’s phones simultaneously vibrated, lighting up with notifications. The sudden flurry of activity was impossible to ignore. Murmurs spread through the hall as students began pulling out their phones, glancing at the new notifications. 

A new account had surfaced on every platform—Snapchat, Instagram, TikTok—all displaying the same ominous title: All your secrets - by TheHacker. It was the same account that had leaked Astoria’s secret, and now it was back with a countdown, ticking ominously toward the next morning’s breakfast.

Y/N, sitting at the Slytherin table, felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out, her stomach sinking as she saw the countdown. Her eyes flicked up from the screen, scanning the room. Across the hall, Mattheo Riddle was already looking at her, his expression tense. She nodded slightly, acknowledging the weight of the situation, and he returned the gesture.

The atmosphere grew more chaotic as the students realized what was happening. Pansy, seated a few spots down from Y/N, was visibly panicking, her fingers tapping anxiously on the table. Ginny Weasley, on the opposite side of the room at the Gryffindor table, was just as unsettled. She sat stiffly with her friends, clutching her bag as if it were her lifeline. Harry, seated beside her, gave Y/N a small, shy wave, trying to stay cheerful, but the tension around them was undeniable. Y/N noticed how Ginny barely acknowledged him, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Something was eating away at her.

Looking around, Y/N realized three notable absences: Draco, Astoria, and Hermione. Her eyes narrowed. It was unlike Hermione to skip dinner, and Draco was usually glued to Astoria’s side. Just then, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Hermione entered, walking purposefully toward the Gryffindor table. Draco followed a few steps behind, smoothing down his platinum hair as he made his way to the Slytherin table, sitting next to Blaise. But Astoria—still absent.

Draco seemed off, his usual smirk replaced with a blank, almost worried expression. Y/N could sense something had shifted, especially with Hermione. Her gaze lingered on Draco for a moment longer before turning her attention to Ginny, who sat quietly, her eyes darting around nervously. Something was brewing, and Y/N wasn’t the only one who noticed.

The hall erupted with gossip. Students leaned into each other, whispering and glancing at their phones. Y/N overheard snippets of conversation from the students around her.

"Did you see the countdown? What's going to happen at breakfast?"  

"It’s probably another leak—what if it’s about me this time?"  

"Who do you think’s behind all this? Someone’s gotta know more than they’re letting on."

Y/N’s focus was momentarily broken when she caught a few students laughing loudly from the Gryffindor table. Mattheo, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist making a snide comment across the hall.

"Hey, Potter, you enjoying your little spot in Gryffindor?" he called out, his tone playful but sharp.

Harry, who had been quietly eating next to Ginny, looked up, his face a bit red but determined.

Before Harry could respond, Draco spoke up. "Ease up, Mattheo," he said, surprising Y/N. "Gryffindors aren’t all that bad." His voice was calm, as if he’d been deep in thought. " Y/N shot a glance at Draco, trying to make sense of the unexpected defense.

Blaise, meanwhile, was distracted. His eyes weren’t on the drama; they were on a small piece of parchment. With a sly grin, he scribbled something down and folded it carefully. A flick of his wrist, and the note flew across the hall, landing gracefully in front of Luna Lovegood, who was seated at the Ravenclaw table. Luna opened the note, her eyes lighting up as she read Blaise’s playful message, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sight—Blaise’s tough exterior softened whenever Luna was involved.

Just then, at the head table, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were engaged in a heated discussion. The professors had also noticed the phone frenzy and were clearly not pleased.

"This madness needs to end," Snape muttered, his eyes dark and brooding as he glared at the students engrossed in their devices. "We should just ban phones altogether."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "It’s already a mess as it is. Banning phones might cause more trouble than it’s worth, Severus."

Madam Hooch, standing nearby, chimed in. "I agree. Banning phones will just stir the pot. There needs to be another solution."

Dumbledore, always calm in a crisis, simply observed, his eyes twinkling with thought. "We must be careful in our approach. Technology, like magic, is powerful—but it must be used wisely."

Harry follows Y/N, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. "What do you think the countdown's for?" he asks, slipping his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual.

Y/N shrugs without looking back at him. "Probably the next victim." Her voice is detached, almost too calm for the situation they’re in.

He quickens his pace to keep up with her, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "What makes you think that?"

Y/N slows down just enough to glance over her shoulder, meeting his gaze briefly. "Because it’s obvious, isn’t it?" she replies coolly. "A countdown usually means something bad is about to happen. And if we're dealing with this... it's not a party."

Harry's eyes dart to the floor for a second, considering her words. "Right," he mutters, thinking it over. "But why assume it’s a person next? Could be something else. An event. Maybe—"

"Harry," Y/N cuts him off, her tone a mix of exasperation and caution. "You and I both know better. This hacker's twisted. They’ve been messing with people’s lives. If it’s not a person next, then... I don’t know what it is, but it's not something good."

Harry watches her for a moment, studying her expression. Y/N keeps her face neutral, though an unsettling thought lingers in her mind — *what if it’s me next?*

Before Harry can respond, Mattheo strides up from the opposite direction, slipping between them like he belongs there, his usual swagger masking a hint of nervousness. "Why, what are you hiding, Hugo?" he asks with a smirk, feigning ignorance about Harry's name.

Harry frowns at the name slip but stays calm. "It’s Harry. You know that, Mattheo."

"Do I?" Mattheo quirks an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your last name’s kinda hard to forget, Potter." He emphasizes it, but there’s a hint of something else behind his smirk — admiration, maybe even envy. After all, James Potter, Harry’s father, had been one of his childhood heroes.

Y/N, sensing the tension between the two, steps in. "Relax, Mattheo. No need to act like you don’t know who he is." She crosses her arms, giving him a knowing look. "Besides, shouldn’t you be more concerned about that text you got from the hacker?"

Mattheo’s smirk falters for a second. He glances at her quickly before forcing a laugh. "Me? Concerned? Nah, it’s probably a prank. Just some empty threat. I don’t think they’d waste time on me." His casual tone doesn’t match the flicker of unease in his eyes.

Y/N isn’t convinced, but she doesn’t press him. She knows Mattheo’s not the type to admit vulnerability — especially not in front of her.

The three of them arrive at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, the dim torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls. Mattheo takes a step forward, turning slightly to block Harry’s path. "Well, new kid, this is where you turn back. Slytherin territory, remember?"

Harry halts, giving Y/N a brief, almost playful look. "Right. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Y/N... maybe when the countdown finishes?" His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying seriousness that makes Y/N pause.

She blinks, not quite catching the flirtation in his words. "Yeah, maybe," she says absentmindedly, her thoughts still on the countdown. Something about it feels too close, too personal.

Mattheo, however, picks up on Harry’s intent immediately. He steps closer to Y/N, clearly annoyed. "Alright, Golden boy, we get it. Bye now." His voice is tight, barely hiding the jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Harry chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Right. See you." He waves once more at Y/N before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

As soon as Harry is out of sight, Mattheo lets out a low breath, glancing at Y/N. "New kids kind of annoying huh?"

Y/N doesn’t respond right away, her mind spinning with the weight of her earlier realization — the countdown, the victims. Could she be next? She swallows hard, forcing a smile at Mattheo. "Hmm, sure."

But deep down, a chill settles in her chest. If the hacker's targeting victims based on personal connections... maybe she's closer to danger than she realized.

And she isn’t sure she wants Harry — or Mattheo — to know just how much that possibility scares her.

The castle was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came after midnight when even the ghosts had retired to their usual haunts. Y/N moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps barely making a sound as she descended toward the library's Restricted Section. She knew the path well by now, having snuck out on more than one occasion. Tonight, the pull of a particularly rare book on ancient hexes had been too tempting to resist.

Slipping inside the library, she carefully closed the heavy wooden door behind her, making sure the hinges didn’t creak. The Restricted Section was darker than the rest of the library, its shelves towering and filled with volumes that radiated mystery and danger. Y/N made her way to her usual corner, her fingers lightly brushing over the spines of forbidden books, seeking the one she'd been wanting to read.

She had just settled in, the heavy tome open across her lap, when a familiar gruff voice broke the silence.

"You're gettin' better at sneakin' about, but not good enough."

Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the book to see the unmistakable silhouette of Professor Mad-Eye Moody leaning against a nearby shelf, his magical eye swiveling in its socket while his real one watched her with a raised brow. 

"Professor," Y/N greeted, trying to hide the smirk pulling at her lips. "Caught me again."

Moody grunted, his lips twitching into something that could almost be called a smile. "Didn’t need the eye for that. Your pattern’s predictable. Always the same time of night." He gave her a sideways glance. "Same shelf, too."

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "What can I say? I’m a creature of habit."

Moody didn’t seem to mind that she was there. In fact, over the past few months, she’d noticed that he seemed to have grown used to her presence. The first time he'd caught her sneaking into the Restricted Section, he’d grumbled and threatened detention. Now, he didn’t even bother to escort her back to her dorm.

He limped over to her side, peering at the open book with interest. "Hexes, huh? Bit dangerous for light reading, don’t you think?"

Y/N grinned. "I like a challenge."

He snorted, the sound rough but not unkind. "You’ve got more in common with that lot than you think," he muttered, referencing some of the dark wizards she’d read about.

She tilted her head, amused. "Oh? Should I be worried?"

He eyed her for a moment, then shook his head. "Not if you keep your wits about you. You’re observant, I’ll give you that. You pick up things most others don’t."

Y/N blinked, surprised at the compliment. "How’d you figure that?"

Moody’s magical eye whirled in its socket for a second before he pointed to it. "This helps. But even without it, it’s obvious."

Y/N chuckled softly, but as she watched him more closely, she noticed something. He did this thing — a quick flick of his tongue, licking his lips in between sentences. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him do it, and it reminded her of someone. Her father. He used to do that too, just before delivering some piece of wisdom or when he was deep in thought. The resemblance hit her unexpectedly, and a pang of sadness settled in her chest.

She must’ve paused too long because Moody, always perceptive, narrowed his good eye at her. "Something on your mind?"

Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should burden him with her thoughts, but then again, Moody wasn’t the type to pry without reason. She exhaled softly, her gaze dropping to the book in her lap. "It’s just... that thing you do. Licking your lips before you speak. My father used to do that." Her voice softened. "He... passed away when I was nine. Died in a fire. You just reminded me of him."

For a moment, there was only silence between them. The atmosphere felt heavier now, the soft rustling of pages and distant creaks of the castle the only sounds. Moody didn't say anything at first, just nodded slowly, his face as weathered and scarred as ever, but there was a gentleness in his expression that caught her off guard.

"I’m sorry, lass," he said quietly, his voice gruffer than usual but not unkind. "Losing a parent that young... that’s not something you shake off easy."

Y/N managed a small smile, though the ache in her chest lingered. "It’s been a while now, but it still hits me sometimes. The fire—" she paused, her throat tightening for a moment before she pushed through it, "—it was an accident. But it’s hard not to think about it."

Moody took a seat beside her on the low bench, his gaze turning distant for a moment as if recalling something from his own past. "You keep them with you, you know. Those you lose. Maybe not in the way you want, but they stick around." He glanced at her, his mismatched eyes solemn. "And sometimes, they teach you things long after they’re gone."

Y/N nodded, his words resonating more than she expected. "Yeah. He taught me to pay attention. Said you can learn a lot just by watching people."

Moody’s lips twitched again in that almost-smile. "Smart man, your father."

For a while, they sat there in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering in the air. Y/N felt a strange sense of comfort being around Moody, despite his gruff demeanor. He didn’t try to offer false reassurances or platitudes — just listened, and that was enough.

After a moment, Moody stood, his wooden leg creaking slightly as he shifted. "You know, if you’re gonna sneak around reading, you might want to mix up your pattern a bit. Next time, someone might not be as lenient as me."

Y/N smiled, rising to her feet and closing the book carefully. "Thanks for the tip, Professor. I’ll keep that in mind."

Moody gave a slow nod, his magical eye whirling again before locking onto her. "And Y/N..." he paused, his voice softer now, "you’re tougher than you think. Your father would be proud."

Her chest tightened at the words, but she managed a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Professor."

As she quietly slipped out of the Restricted Section and made her way back to her dorm, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Moody's words stayed with her, lingering like a quiet strength she hadn’t realized she needed.

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