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𝐇𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫? - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

Synopsis - When a hacker starts exposing the darkest secrets of the students to the entire school, the socially isolated yet unnervingly perceptive Y/N becomes obsessed with unmasking the culprit, even as the chaos spirals into something far more sinister. Based on the TV series Control Z .. If you've already watched the series then it'll be easy to figure out who the hacker is but if not.... Enjoy..

This Chapter - Every Villain needs their origin story....

Word Count - 8263 - soz its long Warnings - Bullying, teasing, taunting, smart class mates, blackmail, throwback time, Pansy is still at hogwarts, Draco and Astoria are still together, before Daphne was in a coma, before Mattheo became obsessed with Y/N, before Y/N went to the clinic, before her meltdown, during her meltdown, Scary Tom Riddle, Abusive!father, visiting a graveyard, Name calling, Upset!Y/N, Mattheo's friends are mean, Hacking, back at the bookstore, stalking, watching from afar, filming, waiting, creepy!Mattheo, Stalker!Mattheo, phone usage..

Before.... The morning light filtered through the high, stone windows of the Slytherin common room, casting an eerie glow over the cold green and silver tones.

Mattheo groaned as he rolled over in his bed, the usual Slytherin morning hustle beginning to stir around him. He could hear the murmur of voices already, the familiar sounds of gossip echoing through the room like a ritual.

He sat up, ruffling a hand through his dark hair, and lazily swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just another day at Hogwarts, or so it seemed.

As Mattheo stepped out into the common area, he spotted Pansy Parkinson perched on one of the luxurious emerald couches, gossiping eagerly with Blaise Zabini, who seemed only half-interested in whatever scandalous story she was spinning.

Pansy, as always, was full of energy, her eyes sharp as she surveyed everyone who walked past.

“And you wouldn’t believe what Astoria said at dinner last night,”

Pansy’s voice was high and excited, clearly relishing in the drama she was recounting.

Blaise, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat, looking half-bored but still indulging her with an occasional nod.

Right on cue, Astoria Greengrass walked into the common room, accompanied by her sister, Daphne.

The sight of them made Pansy’s eyes gleam with anticipation. As Astoria made a beeline for her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, leaving Daphne behind, Pansy wasted no time.

“Oh, look who’s all alone again,” Pansy purred, standing up and making her way over to Daphne with a smirk.

“Morning, Greengrass. Funny how your sister always seems to find company while you’re left behind,” Pansy teased, her voice dripping with condescension.

Daphne, used to Pansy’s jabs, rolled her eyes but remained silent, her shoulders tensing. Pansy circled her like a predator, waiting for a reaction.

Blaise, hearing Pansy’s cruel tone, called out, “Pans, come on. Give it a rest.”

Pansy shot him a look but didn’t push further, content that her words had landed. She turned back to Blaise, already resuming her gossip as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Mattheo had just made his way out of the Slytherin common room, meeting up with his friends, Enzo and Theo, in the hallway.

The three of them exchanged their usual banter as they walked toward the Great Hall, the anticipation of breakfast pulling them forward.

As they approached the hall, Ginny Weasley was there, lingering just outside the doors. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Mattheo, and she hurried over to him with a too-bright smile.

“Hey, Matty,” Ginny greeted, her voice sickly sweet. “How’ve you been?”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly why she was suddenly interested. It wasn’t the first time Ginny had sidled up to him when she needed something, especially money.

Before Mattheo could brush her off, Hermione Granger appeared, grabbing Ginny’s arm and tugging her away. “Ginny, seriously, stop bothering him.”

“I wasn’t—” Ginny started, but Hermione shot her a stern look, effectively silencing her.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, barely paying attention. He turned to go inside, and as he did, he bumped into someone.

Y/N.

She was walking with her headphones on, completely lost in her own world, oblivious to everything around her.

The collision was minor, but enough for Mattheo to sigh in mild annoyance. He stepped back, trying to move past her without any further interaction.

Y/N glanced up briefly, her eyes meeting his for a split second, but she quickly looked away, more focused on her music than the minor bump.

“Watch it,” Mattheo muttered under his breath as he continued walking into the Great Hall, his mood souring for no apparent reason.

As Mattheo sat down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, the usual chatter and gossip surrounded him. He scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, checking messages until a new one popped up from his mother.

Mother: "Gone on holiday again, darling. House is yours for the weekend. Don’t do anything stupid. Kisses."

Typical. She was off enjoying some extravagant escape while he was left to his own devices. Not that he minded.

The idea of having the house to himself for the weekend suddenly sparked a plan in his head. Mattheo smirked, leaning back against the bench, his fingers moving quickly to message Theo.

Mattheo: "House is empty this weekend. Small get-together? Just us."

Theo’s reply came almost instantly.

Theo: "Hell yeah. Who’s in?"

Mattheo thought about it for a moment. He wanted this to be laid-back, not a wild crowd—just his closest circle. He tapped out a list.

Mattheo: "You, me, Enzo, Draco, Pansy, Astoria, and Blaise."

Theo responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

As Mattheo slid his phone back into his pocket, he glanced up and caught sight of Astoria walking in, hand-in-hand with Draco. She was radiant, her smile light and graceful as she pulled Draco toward the Slytherin table.

Pansy followed close behind, linking arms with Blaise, the two of them deep in some whispered conversation.

His eyes shifted briefly, and once again, he spotted her.

Y/N.

She sat at the far end of the hall, her headphones hanging around her neck, casually flipping through a book. She looked detached, as if she was somewhere else entirely.

Since their collision earlier in the morning, Mattheo had found his mind drifting back to her more than he cared to admit. He didn’t understand why—there was nothing particularly extraordinary about her, nothing that would make her stand out to someone like him. But she was under his skin now, a lingering thought he couldn’t shake.

He turned away quickly as Theo joined him at the table.

“So, just us this weekend?” Theo asked with a grin, sitting down beside him. “Keeping it exclusive?”

“Yeah,” Mattheo replied with a smirk, “just the usual crew. I don’t want it to get out of control.”

Theo nodded. “Perfect. Draco and Astoria are in, yeah?”

“Of course,” Mattheo said, glancing over at them as they settled in. “Draco wouldn’t miss it.”

Theo chuckled. “And Blaise with Pansy?”

“They’ll be there,” Mattheo confirmed, his eyes briefly flicking back to Y/N before he turned his full attention back to Theo. “It’s going to be a chill weekend. Nothing crazy.”

But as the plan solidified in his head, that strange curiosity about Y/N gnawed at him again. He didn’t know why she had captured his attention so suddenly, but for some reason, he knew this weekend would offer him more than just an escape from the usual Hogwarts chaos.

Maybe it was a chance to figure out what was so different about her—and why she was lingering in his thoughts more than she should be.

The dim lights of Mattheo’s family estate flickered as the small group gathered in the lavish living room, the remnants of emptied bottles of firewhisky scattered across the marble table.

Laughter echoed through the halls, a mix of drunken giggles and exaggerated storytelling filling the space.

Mattheo Riddle, leaning against the ornate fireplace, downed another drink with a grin, his eyes glassy from the alcohol coursing through him.

Pansy Parkinson was sprawled on the couch, giggling uncontrollably as Blaise Zabini attempted to balance a glass on her head, while Draco Malfoy and Astoria sat huddled in the corner, whispering to each other, their cheeks flushed from both alcohol and the late hour.

Theo and Enzo were by the window, looking out at the sprawling garden that surrounded the estate, deep in conversation but still throwing glances toward the rest of the group.

Mattheo, clearly more intoxicated than the rest, stumbled to his feet and raised his voice.

“You lot wanna see something real fun?”

His words were slurred, but they caught everyone's attention. He smirked, looking around at his friends with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m gonna show you my dad’s little secret. The bastard’s got this whole place full of hidden treasures. Stuff he doesn’t even want anyone to know about.”

The group exchanged curious glances, unsure of where Mattheo was going with this, but the allure of a secret was too tempting. They were already drunk, and this seemed like the perfect cap to their chaotic night.

“Come on,” Mattheo beckoned, swaying slightly as he made his way down a hallway. “I’ll show you where he keeps all the good stuff.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the couch, stumbling slightly before following Mattheo.

The others trailed behind, their curiosity piqued, and soon they were in the basement, standing before a heavy, reinforced door.

Mattheo fumbled with a key from his pocket and, with a smirk, unlocked the door.

It swung open with a heavy creak, revealing a vast room filled with an overwhelming amount of wealth—paintings from famous artists, statues worth more than entire houses, piles of Galleons, and treasures from every corner of the world.

“Merlin’s beard…” Draco muttered, eyes wide with astonishment.

Blaise let out a low whistle. “This is insane. How the hell does your dad have all this?”

“Who knows,” Mattheo laughed, stumbling inside. “Politician, right? Pretends to be clean, but look at all this.”

He waved his arms dramatically, stumbling over a stack of Galleons that spilled across the floor. “Probably all stolen. You think he earned this? Yeah, right.”

They all stepped in, the temptation of such wealth proving too irresistible. Theo picked up a heavy bag of coins and tossed it to Enzo, who caught it with a grin, scattering Galleons everywhere.

Astoria and Pansy were admiring a painting that looked ancient, possibly cursed, but they were too drunk to care.

Draco, usually composed, grabbed a handful of Galleons and tossed them into the air, gold coins raining down like confetti.

Laughter filled the room as Mattheo pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of his friends surrounded by his father’s secret stash, laughing like they had no care in the world.

“This is priceless,” Pansy laughed, posing dramatically in front of a massive statue, completely unaware of the implications of what they were doing. “We could run this whole country with this kind of money.”

“Probably how my dad plans to,” Mattheo muttered under his breath, his tone bitter. “He thinks he owns everything.”

Drunkenly, they kept going, unaware of the storm brewing just outside.

The fun came to a sudden halt when the door behind them slammed shut, and a cold, menacing voice filled the room.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mattheo froze, his blood running cold. His father, Tom Riddle, stood in the doorway, his face a mask of fury, the silence that followed suffocating.

The air in the room shifted from lighthearted chaos to heavy tension in an instant. His friends, who had been laughing moments before, now stood motionless, their drunken stupor wearing off as they realized what they had stumbled into.

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move, staring back at his father with defiance, the animosity between them simmering in the air.

“What the hell is this, Mattheo?” Tom’s voice was low, dangerous, as he stepped further into the room, his cold eyes scanning the scene—the scattered coins, the drunken teens, the priceless artifacts now lying carelessly on the floor.

“I was just showing them how a politician like you really earns his keep,” Mattheo spat, his words laced with venom. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to Mattheo’s friends, who stood awkwardly, not sure whether to flee or stay rooted in place.

“Get out,” he barked, his voice commanding, causing them all to flinch. “Now.”

No one moved, still in shock at what was unfolding. Mattheo’s friends looked at each other, clearly uncomfortable, but none of them dared to speak.

“Are you deaf?” Tom growled. “I said, get out.”

One by one, they filed out, not daring to look Mattheo in the eye. As they left, the weight of what they’d seen lingered in their minds. Tom Riddle, a respected politician, wasn’t what he appeared to be.

The sheer amount of wealth and corruption they had witnessed tonight made it clear—Mattheo’s father was hiding something far worse than just a stash of money.

When the door finally clicked shut, leaving Mattheo alone with his father, the tension in the room became suffocating.

Tom’s gaze bore into Mattheo, filled with disappointment and anger. “Do you think this is a game? Parading your friends in here like this?”

Mattheo shrugged, his voice defiant. “It’s not like you care what I do. You’re never around anyway.”

Tom’s hand moved faster than Mattheo could react, grabbing his son by the collar and pulling him close.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” he hissed. “You’re reckless, and one day, that recklessness is going to cost you everything.”

Mattheo yanked himself out of his father’s grip, his chest heaving with anger.

“You’re one to talk. Look at all of this,” he gestured to the room around them. “You’re the corrupt one, hoarding wealth while pretending to be some noble politician.”

Tom’s eyes darkened. “You don’t understand anything.”

“I understand enough,” Mattheo shot back. “You hide things, you lie, and you think you own everyone and everything. But you don’t own me.”

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in Tom’s eyes—guilt, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He stepped back, his voice cold and controlled.

“You will clean this up, and you will never speak of this again. Do you understand?”

Mattheo’s lip curled, but he nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”

As Tom turned to leave, he paused at the door, his voice cutting through the tension one last time.

“One day, Mattheo, you’ll learn what real power is. And you’ll regret throwing this away.”

Mattheo stood there, seething, watching his father’s back as he left. The anger boiled inside him, the resentment that had been festering for years now threatening to consume him. He hated his father—hated everything he stood for.

When he finally emerged from the safe, his friends were waiting, their expressions a mix of concern and uncertainty.

None of them dared ask what had happened, but they all knew—things had changed. And the corruption they’d glimpsed tonight was only the tip of the iceberg.

Two days before Y/N’s meltdown, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was charged with unspoken tension. Mattheo sat in the back of Potions, trying to focus on Professor Slughorn's lecture while his mind raced with worry.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his concentration. He pulled it out and felt a chill run down his spine as he read the message.

Hacker: "Nice photos, Riddle. Wonder what your father would think if he saw these."

Mattheo's heart sank. He remembered that night all too well—the reckless thrill of flaunting his father’s wealth and the humiliation that followed when his father found out.

The hacker had those photos. The ones that could destroy him.

He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on Y/N. She was quiet, tears pooling in her eyes, clearly in distress. He wanted to help her, but his own problems felt insurmountable.

Suddenly, Y/N let out a choked sob.

The class fell silent, and Professor Lupin quickly approached her, concern etched on his face. He gently led her out of the classroom, and Mattheo’s stomach twisted. What was happening to them?

Turning back to his friends, he demanded, “Who shared the photos?”

Theo raised an eyebrow, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The photos from the party!” Mattheo snapped. “Someone has them.”

“We didn’t share anything,” Enzo chimed in, bewildered. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ignoring Draco, Mattheo pushed past his friends, frustration boiling inside him. He needed answers and he needed them fast.

Draco smirked from the front. “First Y/L/N, now Riddle. Who’s next to have a meltdown, huh?”

As he stormed down the hallway, he saw Professor McGonagall standing with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody. She turned to him, ready to make introductions, but Mattheo brushed past them, barely acknowledging their presence.

“Really charming, Riddle,” Draco called after him, laughter lacing his words.

Mattheo clenched his fists, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. Once in his dorm, he pulled out his phone again, desperate for answers.

Hacker: "£10,000. By tonight, or your father sees everything."

Panic washed over him. He couldn’t let this happen. He had to find a way to get the money and fast. His mind raced, but before he could formulate a plan, he received another text.

Hacker: "Meet me in the courtyard. Alone."

With no time to waste, Mattheo grabbed the cash he had saved and made his way to the courtyard, his heart racing with anxiety.

When he arrived, the courtyard was empty, a feeling of dread settling in. His phone buzzed again.

Hacker: "Put the money in the bin nearby."

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, tossing the cash into the bin. Frustrated and feeling utterly defeated, he walked to a nearby balcony, desperate for some air.

There, he spotted Y/N sitting alone, her headphones on, gazing off into the distance. She looked lost in thought, and for a moment, he paused, simply watching her.

His heart ached. She was hurting, just like him, but there was something about her that drew him in.

As he leaned against the balcony railing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were both caught in a storm, each trying to navigate their own turmoil.

Y/N sat on the balcony, watching the sun rise, when she noticed Mattheo approaching. His expression was tight, almost anxious. She tilted her head slightly. “Why are you so nervous, Riddle?”

He shook his head, dismissing her concern. “I’m not.”

“Really? Because you were definitely nervous yesterday in Lupin’s class,” she countered, a knowing look in her eyes.

Mattheo stepped closer, leaning against the railing beside her. “Does this mean you’re stalking me, Y/L/N?”

“No,” she replied flatly, “I just notice things sometimes.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I notice things too. So, what happened yesterday? What’s the matter with you?”

Y/N sighed, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. “I’m just… exhausted.”

“Sounds heavy,” he said, genuinely concerned.

“It is. I’ve been up all night thinking about-,” she paused not wanting to reveal her secret, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of pretending, I guess.”

Mattheo’s curiosity piqued. “Everyone pretends, right? Not just me?”

“Well, not everyone,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, you and your friends. You’re all living lives that aren’t real,” she said, a hint of frustration creeping in.

He chuckled, realizing how right she was. The show-off antics with his father’s safe had been an attempt to prove something, but it had backfired spectacularly. He was more furious that they saw a glimpse of his reality when his father returned than he was about the wealth itself.

“Are you always this philosophical? Or is it just because it’s morning?” he teased.

Y/N laughed, and it sent a thrill through him. He liked the sound of her laughter more than he cared to admit. But her expression quickly turned serious again as she continued.

“Don’t you get tired? Wouldn’t it be easier if everyone just stopped lying? If we didn’t have secrets? If we could be honest with the people we care about?”

Her words struck a chord deep within him, resonating with feelings he had been pushing away.

It was the very foundation of his motives for becoming the hacker, though she didn’t know that. She spoke about wanting to tell her mother the truth, the burden of knowing her father was alive and the fallout it could cause.

“I—” she started but faltered, emotion welling in her eyes. “I just need to—”

Before she could finish, she turned and hurried away, leaving Mattheo standing there, feeling the weight of her unspoken pain.

As he watched her retreat, a figure emerged in the courtyard. Mattheo squinted, recognizing the familiar shape.

The person approached the bin where he had tossed the money earlier.

His heart dropped as he realized who it was—Cedric Diggory, the head boy, and the very person behind the blackmail. The hacker, the one threatening to expose him.

Mattheo felt a rush of panic, his mind racing as he contemplated his next move.

Mattheo lingered in the hallway, leaning against the wall as he overheard his friends’ conversation.

Pansy was animatedly gesturing, her voice cutting through the noise of the bustling corridor. “I mean, with all that stuff in his dad’s safe, he must be a corrupt politician or something.”

Draco shrugged, glancing around to make sure no one was listening too closely. “We can’t be sure of that. Better not say anything.”

Blaise chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Didn’t you see all that money he had? It’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

Draco just shrugged again. “My father has a safe like that.”

Theo smirked, “So then he’s corrupt too, right?”

Astoria jumped in to defend Draco, crossing her arms. “No, the Malfoys are just rich purebloods.”

Pansy shot back, “Hey, we’re all purebloods, Tori.”

Astoria rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but only Daphne calls me that.”

“Whatever,” Pansy replied, dismissively.

Then Astoria’s words hit Mattheo like a slap in the face. “I bet he’s just as corrupt as his father.”

Blaise turned, clearly intrigued. “Hey, would you stop being his friend if he’s corrupt, as you say?”

Theo, supposed to be Mattheo’s best friend, smirked and answered, “Of course not! With all that money? I’ll never stop being his friend.”

The bell rang, slicing through the tension and interrupting their chatter. Mattheo straightened, the weight of their words pressing down on him. He felt a sick twist in his stomach, realizing that Y/N was right; his friends were all pretending.

They weren’t the loyal companions he thought they were.

With a heavy heart, he joined them as they headed to class, the laughter echoing hollowly in his ears.

Mattheo stormed through the courtyard, his mind racing. He zeroed in on Cedric, who was leaning casually against a wall. “I saw you take the money,” Mattheo said, his tone sharp.

Cedric raised an eyebrow, pretending innocence. “What money? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mattheo stepped closer, annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. “Do you even know who my dad is?”

Cedric smirked, leaning back with feigned nonchalance as Mattheo continued.

“I mean, my father has very important friends. I don’t think he’d appreciate what you did.” Mattheo challenged, his frustration growing.

Cedric chuckled, “Come on, man. From the Daily Prophet, I heard you and your father don’t get along. I’d say you’re in the clear.”

“Don’t tell me you hacked my phone for a few thousand pounds,” Mattheo said, incredulous.

Cedric shrugged, his attitude irritating Mattheo even more. “Maybe that’s nothing to you Slytherins, but it’s a lot to me, okay?”

“Can I ask you one question?” Mattheo said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can you hack any phone?”

Cedric nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Yeah. You won’t believe what you can find. If you want to know something about someone, that’s where you start.”

“Great,” Mattheo muttered, turning away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he walked away, his thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He couldn’t shake her from his mind. She was always right—she had this uncanny ability to see through the façades they all wore.

In his dorm, he decided to do some digging on Y/N. He already knew about her father’s tragic past, but Cedric’s words urged him to hack her phone. As he sifted through her messages, he found a sweet exchange between Y/N and her mother.

Y/N: "Hey, Mum! Ready to meet at Dad’s grave?"

Her Mum: "Not quite, I have a date tonight! But I’ll call you later, love"

Y/N: "Still going! I’ll take him some flowers."

Her Mum: "Just remember, no fake flowers this time! They’ll just end up in the bin."

Y/N: "Mum, you do realize the cleaners take away real flowers once they die, right? Technically, I’m being eco-friendly!"

Her Mum: "We replace them weekly, dear. Not quite eco-friendly!"

Y/N: "But enjoy your date! I’m glad you’re happy. 😊"

Mattheo smiled at the exchange. She was sweet, even with her teasing. He felt a tug in his chest, wanting to be part of her world, to share in her happiness.

He made his way to the graveyard, his heart racing as he spotted Y/N kneeling at her father’s grave, placing the fake flowers with care. Just as he was about to approach her, she turned around, a look of disbelief washing over her face.

Y/N’s scream pierced the stillness of the graveyard, echoing off the cold stones and carrying with it a deep, gut-wrenching pain. Her fists clenched at her sides, trembling as she stood before the gravestone, her voice thick with fury. “Why did you lie?” she yelled, the words coming out raw and ragged. "Why did you come back?! After all these years, why now?"

Mattheo, who had been standing a few paces behind her, felt a knot form in his stomach. He had never seen her like this—so shattered, so angry. He didn’t understand. Why was she yelling at a gravestone? He knew that her father was dead. He watched her collapse to her knees, her shoulders shaking, the weight of her emotions palpable in the air.

“You left me!” Y/N sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “You lied, and you left me.”

Mattheo’s brow furrowed as he took a hesitant step closer, his heart aching for her, though confusion clouded his mind. He had no idea why she was reacting like this—why her grief had turned so venomous. He had come here with her for support, but this was beyond anything he had expected. Her pain felt… different. Personal. Not the kind of grief one carries for someone who’s truly gone.

“You said you were gone, you promised me that!” she cried out, her voice barely holding together. "But now you’re here. Pretending to be dead… pretending to care." Her words were laced with betrayal.

Mattheo felt a cold chill run down his spine. Pretending? What was she talking about? He stared at the gravestone, confusion swirling in his chest. And then it hit him—a terrible realization that sent a jolt through his body.

Before he could process it fully, a shadow moved at the edge of the graveyard. Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat as a figure emerged from the mist. Tall, menacing, his presence sent an immediate wave of dread through Mattheo’s body.

It was him—Y/N’s father. Barty Crouch Jr.

Mattheo froze, realization crashing down on him like a wave. This was the man Y/N had been hiding from the world. The man she had spent her life believing to be dead, only to discover he wasn’t. And now, here he was, standing right before her. The very embodiment of all the lies that had been tormenting her.

Y/N’s sobs quieted, replaced by a deep, seething rage. She stood abruptly, facing her father, her face wet with tears but her eyes blazing with fury. “You ruined everything,” she spat, her voice trembling. “Why did you lie to me? Why did you make me think you were dead?”

Barty Crouch Jr. didn’t move at first, his expression unreadable as he stared at his daughter. His presence was cold, detached, as if the weight of her words didn’t affect him at all. It only made Y/N angrier.

“I spent my whole life mourning you,” she cried, her voice rising again. “I thought I was alone! But you… you’ve been out there this whole time, hiding, pretending, while I grieved for someone who wasn’t even gone!”

Mattheo’s heart hammered in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. He wanted nothing more than to step forward, to pull Y/N away from the source of her pain, to hold her and tell her that she wasn’t alone anymore. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, he did the only thing he could do—he reached for his phone, his fingers shaking as he began filming. His heart twisted with guilt for intruding on such a private moment, but something about it felt necessary. This moment… it was too raw, too revealing. And he needed to understand, needed to have proof of what he was seeing. Of who her father really was.

Y/N’s voice shook as she continued, her anger bubbling to the surface. “Do you even care?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Do you care about what you did to me? To us?” She paused, choking on her words. “You’re not even sorry, are you?”

Barty Crouch Jr. remained silent, his cold eyes fixed on his daughter, offering no comfort, no apology. It was as if her words didn’t reach him, as if he couldn’t feel the weight of her pain.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped, her strength drained. “You left me,” she whispered, her voice small and broken now. “You left me, and I don’t even know why.”

Mattheo’s chest tightened, a deep sense of helplessness washing over him. He wanted to step in, to hold her, to stop this from going any further. But he knew—he couldn’t interfere with this. Not yet. She needed to confront her father, no matter how painful it was.

But the look on Barty’s face, that cold indifference, made Mattheo’s blood boil. How could he just stand there? How could he ignore the damage he had done to her?

The phone buzzed in Mattheo’s hand again, a reminder of the world beyond this graveyard, but he barely registered it. His focus was entirely on Y/N, on the way she shook with silent sobs, her body trembling from the weight of everything she had discovered.

Mattheo’s gaze flickered between Y/N and her father, a storm brewing inside him. He hated that he couldn’t protect her from this, hated that she was caught in the web of her father’s lies. But as much as he despised Barty Crouch Jr. in that moment, Mattheo knew this wasn’t over. There was more to this story, more she wasn’t telling him. And he would find out.

As Y/N’s cries softened into silence, her father finally spoke, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "You never needed protection, Y/N. You’ve always been strong enough on your own."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of anger. How could he say that to her? After everything?

Y/N shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You don’t get to come back into my life like this… and act like nothing’s changed.”

Barty’s expression remained impassive, as if her words meant nothing. He turned, slowly walking away, leaving Y/N standing there, broken and alone once again.

Mattheo stayed rooted to the spot, his fingers tightening around his phone as he watched Y/N collapse in front of her father’s grave. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her, to pull her into his arms and shield her from the pain tearing her apart. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He knew he had no place in this moment.

From the shadows, Mattheo watched helplessly as she sobbed, her entire frame shaking from the weight of it all. Her cries pierced the air, raw and full of betrayal, and it took everything in him not to run to her side. His heart ached for her, but he knew this wasn’t something he could fix—not now, not like this.

As Barty Crouch Jr. turned and walked away, his cold indifference only deepened the fury inside Mattheo. How could he leave her again? After everything? But still, Mattheo stayed where he was, a silent witness to her agony, knowing she hadn’t seen him yet. He was almost grateful for it—grateful she didn’t see the way he stood there, paralyzed, torn between wanting to comfort her and knowing he couldn’t intrude on such a fragile moment.

The phone in his hand felt heavy, a reminder of the fact that he had been filming the entire time. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe part of him wanted to capture the truth, to understand the depth of her hurt. Or maybe it was something darker, something tied to the twisted need to know everything about her life. Either way, guilt gnawed at him now.

Y/N’s sobs quieted, her body shaking as she remained on her knees, staring at the gravestone. Mattheo’s chest tightened, torn between stepping forward and staying hidden. But he forced himself to stay back, to resist the urge to offer the comfort she needed, comfort he didn’t know how to give.

She never looked in his direction, and for that, Mattheo was thankful. The last thing she needed was to see him standing there, recording her pain like it was something to be documented. His heart clenched as he watched her struggle, completely unaware of his presence. He didn’t deserve to be seen, not after this.

As the silence settled over the graveyard, Mattheo turned, slowly slipping away into the shadows. He’d never wanted anything more than to be by her side in that moment—but sometimes, staying away was the only thing he could do.

The corridors of Hogwarts buzzed with gossip, whispers echoing off the stone walls. Mattheo tried to block it out as he walked to class, but the chatter surrounded him like a swarm of bees.

“Did you hear Y/N’s leaving?” Pansy said, her voice dripping with intrigue.

“Yeah, I heard she had a total breakdown,” Blaise chimed in. “I mean, can you blame her? With everything going on?”

“Right? She’s been a mess ever since the whole family drama,” Astoria added, rolling her eyes. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Mattheo clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, stepping closer.

“Oh, please,” Ginny scoffed. “She’s just a freak. It’s no surprise she lost it. You think she’s just going to pretend everything’s fine after what happened?”

“Enough!” Mattheo shot back. “You’re all being cruel. Y/N is dealing with something you can’t even begin to understand.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking as he leaned against the wall. “Defending the freak, are we, Riddle? Didn’t think you’d stoop so low.”

Mattheo felt his blood boil. “What’s your problem, Malfoy? She’s not a freak. She’s just—”

“Just what? An emotional mess? Sounds about right,” Draco interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Shut up, Draco!” Mattheo retorted, stepping forward, fists clenching. “You don’t know the half of it. You don’t know anything about her!”

Their friends watched in tense silence as the confrontation escalated.

“Whatever, Riddle,” Draco sneered, crossing his arms. “You want to play the hero? Good luck with that.”

Mattheo’s resolve hardened as he turned away from Draco, his mind racing. He was the only one who knew the truth—Y/N’s father was alive. He had seen him at the graveyard, standing right there as she cried.

The rest of their friends were oblivious, lost in their petty gossip.

With a determined glint in his eye, he headed to the nearest empty classroom. He would expose their secrets—starting with the people he thought he could trust.

He pulled out his phone, focusing on hacking the school’s Wi-Fi. If Cedric could do it, so could he. He could use the access to pull up any juicy information about his so-called friends—Pansy, Astoria, Draco, and even Ginny, who’d been quick to judge Y/N.

As the data streamed into his mind, he felt a thrill. They thought they could gossip without consequences? He’d show them what it meant to be exposed.

In the back of his mind, he still heard Y/N’s voice, urging him to break free of the lies. This was just the beginning.

Mattheo paced nervously outside the clinic, his heart racing with every passing moment. All he wanted was to be there for Y/N, to support her while she navigated her struggles.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and approached her room.

As he reached for the doorknob, a nurse stepped in front of him, arms crossed, her expression firm. “Sorry, but you can’t go in.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “Or who my father is?”

“Yes, I know who you are,” the nurse replied flatly. “And I don’t care.”

Mattheo felt a flicker of irritation. “Just tell me she’s going to be okay.”

The nurse softened slightly but maintained her professional demeanor. “She’s here to get better. That’s what we’re focusing on. You can’t rush that.”

His gaze drifted past her to Y/N. She was sitting by the window, her silhouette outlined by the sunlight. The way she stared into the distance, lost in thought, made his heart ache. She looked so fragile, and he felt utterly helpless.

“I just want to take care of her,” he admitted, his voice quieting.

“Caring for someone is more than just being there physically. It’s about giving them the space they need to heal,” she replied gently. “You being here means you care, and that’s important.”

He nodded, frustration still bubbling inside him. He had a plan to help her feel supported and understood, to expose the truths behind their friends’ façades. He wanted Y/N to know she wasn’t alone in this struggle.

“Can I at least stay out here? Just for a little while?” he asked, almost pleading.

The nurse studied him for a moment before relenting. “You can stay, but keep your distance. She needs her space right now.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, relief washing over him.

As he leaned against the wall just outside her door, his eyes remained fixed on her.

The sun illuminated her features, casting a soft glow around her. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew she needed to process everything in her own time.

He thought back to their last conversation—the way she had opened up about her exhaustion, her desire to stop pretending.

It resonated deep within him. He remembered how she had challenged him, questioning the facades they all wore. It ignited a determination in him, a resolve to expose the lies that plagued their lives.

What if he could hack their friends’ secrets? Show Y/N that even in a world full of pretenses, there was a chance for authenticity?

He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, that he understood her pain because he felt it too.

As he watched her, he noticed the faintest tremble of her shoulders, a telltale sign that she was holding back tears.

The urge to go to her surged within him. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her it would be okay, that they would get through this together.

Just then, a soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see the nurse watching him. “You okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

“Yeah, just... worried,” he replied, his gaze flickering back to Y/N. “I hate seeing her like this.”

“It’s tough,” the nurse said gently. “But she’s strong. She’ll get through it with time and support.”

Mattheo nodded, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. He resolved then and there that he would be the support she needed, no matter how difficult the journey would be.

When she was ready, he would help her face the world, and together, they would uncover the truths that bound them.

As he stood there, watching her, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. For Y/N, he would become the strength she needed.

No more pretending—just honesty, even if it meant diving into the darkness.

The sun was setting over the Hogwarts grounds, casting a warm golden glow over the castle as students gathered outside, the excitement of summer break thick in the air.

The group sat sprawled across the grass near the Black Lake, talking about their plans for the long break ahead. Everyone seemed eager for the break, buzzing with anticipation.

“So, what’s everyone doing for the summer?” Ginny asked, stretching her legs out on the grass, leaning back on her arms.

“Well, I’m going home, obviously,” Ginny continued, answering her own question. “Mum’s going to make me help with wedding preparations for Bill and Fleur. And then I might play a few pickup Quidditch games with Ron and the twins.”

Pansy smiled smugly, twirling a strand of her hair. “Paris for me,” she said. “Shopping, art galleries, a little bit of mischief in the city of love. You know, the usual.”

“Of course,” Astoria chimed in, her voice light. “Because Paris is just so... quaint in the summer.”

Pansy shot her a mock glare, but Astoria just laughed, brushing her hand through her perfectly styled hair.

“What about you, Theo?” Ginny asked, turning to him.

Theo grinned, reclining back lazily. “Venice. Going home, spending some time on the coast. Blaise is coming to visit too,” he said, nodding toward Blaise, who raised an eyebrow in agreement.

“Best food in the world,” Blaise added, smirking. “And I need a break from all of you.”

Everyone laughed.

Astoria nudged Draco playfully. “I’ll be meeting Draco’s parents for the first time,” she said, her tone a mix of excitement and nerves. “We’ll be at the Malfoy Manor for most of the summer.”

Draco smiled faintly, resting his hand on hers. “It’ll be fine. Mother already adores you.”

They all turned to Mattheo then, the last one to speak. His stomach knotted, and for a brief moment, he wished they wouldn’t ask. But he knew they would.

“So, what about you, Mattheo?” Pansy asked, cocking her head curiously. “You kept going on about Spain, didn’t you? Something about your mum?”

Mattheo swallowed, glancing around at them. His original plan had been to spend the summer in Spain with his mother—sun, sea, and no reminders of the mess he’d gotten himself into at Hogwarts.

That was all he had talked about for weeks. But now, the idea of leaving felt wrong.

Y/N had been plaguing his thoughts since that day by the balcony, and no matter how much he tried to focus on other things, she always slipped back into his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to stay close.

Something about the way she had talked to him, the way she saw through his bravado, had shifted something inside him. She was breaking, and he couldn’t just leave.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Actually... I’m staying here,” Mattheo said, his voice calm, though his decision had been made in that very moment.

Everyone turned to him in surprise, their eyes wide.

“Staying?” Pansy repeated, her brow furrowing. “You were so excited about Spain. Now you’re staying? What’s that about?”

“Yeah, mate,” Blaise added, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t stopped talking about getting away. Spain was your escape, remember?”

Mattheo shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though the truth of his thoughts felt heavier than he could admit. “Changed my mind. Spain can wait.”

Theo leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re staying in this dump of a town instead of going to Spain with your mum? What are you hiding?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “I’m not hiding anything, Theo. I just... have stuff I need to take care of. That’s all.”

Pansy exchanged glances with Astoria, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re not actually staying because of school, are you?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. “Come on, you’ve been talking about Spain for weeks. What’s keeping you here? Some secret project we don’t know about?”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened slightly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He could feel the weight of their curiosity, their need to poke at his every decision.

They had no idea about Y/N—about why he was really staying. And he intended to keep it that way.

“Nah,” Mattheo lied smoothly, the words coming easily despite the twist in his gut. “Just thought I could use the time to, you know... handle some things. Maybe catch up on stuff I’ve let slide.”

Blaise leaned forward, his brow raised in suspicion. “Catch up on what? Since when do you care about ‘handling things’? It’s Spain, mate. Sun, parties, getting away from everything.”

Mattheo shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual. “I don’t know, maybe I need a break from all that. Summer’s long enough—I’ll go later.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, not buying the excuse for a second.

“You’re always talking about needing to get away from the school. Now you’re staying? Something’s up,” he said, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. “What’s really going on, Riddle? Family stuff? You’ve been acting weird since the whole... incident.”

Mattheo’s temper flickered, but he swallowed the annoyance. The last thing he wanted was for Draco or any of them to start digging. “Think what you want, Malfoy. I just decided to stay, alright?”

As the others continued chatting about their upcoming summer plans, Mattheo’s mind started working. He knew what he had to do now.

Y/N had made him see things differently. She’d made him realize how much people around them were pretending—how much they all hid behind their facades. And he was done with that.

While the others enjoyed their vacations, he’d be here, working. He was going to expose the secrets, tear down the lies.

And maybe—just maybe—it would help Y/N, too. Even if she never knew he was behind it. Even if she never saw the lengths he’d go to stop the pretending.

But for now, he stayed quiet, letting them believe whatever they wanted.

Mattheo leaned against the cool stone wall outside the clinic, arms crossed as he settled in for what would likely be another long day of waiting.

He’d taken the nurse’s advice to heart—being there, literally, was the only thing he could think to do. He couldn’t be in the room with Y/N, but he could at least be close.

Close enough that, should she need him, he’d be there in a second.

As students passed by, their conversations blending into background noise, Mattheo’s mind began working. He couldn’t shake what Y/N had said to him that day about everyone pretending.

About how much easier life would be if people stopped lying, if they didn’t hide behind the masks they wore every day. Her words lingered in his thoughts, and an idea began to form.

He glanced down at his phone, fingers tapping the screen as he started jotting down notes, a plan slowly taking shape.

The school's WiFi—everyone’s connected to it, and that’s where secrets lived, buried in texts, emails, and messages sent between students. He could use that. He could become the one to expose the lies, force people to stop pretending.

And maybe, just maybe, it would help Y/N too.

His heart twisted at the thought. She was so observant, always noticing things no one else did.

Maybe if there was a hacker stirring things up, she’d want to help figure it out. She’d want to solve the mystery, and in doing so, it might pull her out of this dark place she was stuck in.

Even if that hacker turned out to be him. He chuckled at the irony of it all—creating a game for her, knowing she’d be chasing him without even realizing.

Mattheo sketched out his plan on his phone, mapping out how he could pull this off. He’d start small, gathering secrets, and then slowly leak them out, one by one. Just enough to get people talking. His friends would be the first targets—Draco, Pansy, Theo, and even Ginny.

They were always pretending, hiding behind their perfect lives. It wouldn’t take long before the cracks started showing. And once Y/N caught wind of it, she’d be intrigued. She’d want to get involved, to solve the mystery.

As Mattheo worked, his eyes flicked toward the clinic’s entrance. He watched as Y/N’s mother stepped inside, her face tense with worry.

He’d seen her come and go before, always the same look of concern etched into her features. She was trying to stay strong, but it was clear she was breaking inside.

He felt a pang of empathy—he wanted to comfort her, tell her that everything would be okay, but he didn’t know how.

He waited, time dragging slowly until, at the end of the day, Y/N’s mother emerged again, this time with tears in her eyes. She wiped them away hastily, trying to compose herself, but it was clear she was devastated.

Mattheo’s chest tightened. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to offer some kind of reassurance, but he stayed put, watching helplessly as she walked away.

“Still here?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

It was the nurse from earlier, the one who had stopped him from seeing Y/N. She was carrying a small bag, clearly headed home for the night.

Her eyes softened when she saw him, but there was a hint of exasperation too. “You know, standing out here all day won’t make things go faster.”

“I’d wait forever if I had to,” Mattheo replied, his tone serious. “I just... need to know she’s okay.”

The nurse sighed, but there was something almost affectionate in the way she looked at him. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. But you need to take care of yourself too.”

“Just tell me she’s going to get better,” Mattheo said, his voice dropping. “That’s all I need to hear.”

She gave him a small smile. “That’s what we’re here for. To make sure she does.”

There was a pause as Mattheo nodded, his eyes flicking back to the clinic. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t shake the overwhelming need to be close to Y/N.

Even if he couldn’t fix everything, he wanted to be near her, to make sure she knew someone cared.

“Go home,” the nurse said, gently patting his shoulder. “Get some rest. You’ll see her soon.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he joked lightly, forcing a grin.

She chuckled softly. “That you will.”

As she walked away, Mattheo leaned back against the wall, his mind already spinning with the next steps of his plan.

The nurse had become an unexpected ally, even if she didn’t realize it, giving him small updates on Y/N’s condition.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him grounded, knowing she was being looked after. He’d wait as long as it took—both for her to get better and for his plan to unfold.

The pieces were falling into place. Soon, people wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore.

The masks would fall, the lies would be exposed, and Y/N... she’d find her way back to herself.

He just hoped she wouldn’t hate him when she found out the hacker she’d been chasing was him all along.

Mattheo found himself wandering through the narrow cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, the crisp autumn air biting at his skin. He pulled his coat tighter around him, glancing up at the small sign swaying in the breeze—Tomme’s and Scrolls.

The old bookstore stood unassuming between two larger shops, its wooden exterior worn and aged, but the warm light spilling from the windows made it feel inviting.

This place was a haven for rare books, old spells, and knowledge that Hogwarts didn’t necessarily teach. Mattheo had come here before, but today was different.

He stepped inside, the soft jingle of the bell above the door announcing his arrival.

The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air, wrapping around him like a blanket. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books of every size and subject.

The shop was quiet, the only sound coming from the creak of the old wooden floors as he made his way to the counter.

Behind it, the elderly shopkeeper looked up from a thick tome she was reading, peering at him through round spectacles perched on her nose. Her face broke into a welcoming smile.

"Ah, Mr. Riddle," she greeted, her voice warm and raspy. "Back again, are we?"

Mattheo gave a small nod, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Yeah, I’m looking for something specific this time."

Her brows rose in curiosity. "Oh? And what might that be?"

He hesitated, glancing around the empty shop before leaning in a little closer. "Books on computers. Hacking skills, specifically."

The old woman blinked, clearly surprised by the request. "Hacking, you say?" She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before she stood up slowly.

"Well, I do have some rather unusual volumes tucked away. Though I must say, it’s not often someone comes in here asking for that sort of thing. What are you up to, young man?"

Mattheo shrugged, offering a half-smirk. "Just... a project. For school."

She eyed him with a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she disappeared into the back of the store, the sound of her rummaging through dusty shelves echoing through the room.

After a few moments, she returned with a small stack of books, each one looking more ancient than the last.

"These should cover the basics," she said, setting them down on the counter. "Not your usual reading material, but if it’s knowledge you’re after, this is a good place to start."

Mattheo flipped through the pages, skimming the dense text. There were diagrams, explanations of old encryption spells, and even references to Muggle technology. This was exactly what he needed.

"Thanks," he muttered, pulling out a few coins to pay.

The shopkeeper chuckled softly as she rang him up. "If I may ask... this wouldn’t happen to be about a girl, would it?"

Her question caught him off guard. Mattheo froze, then slowly looked up, meeting her gaze. There was something in her eyes—a mix of amusement and curiosity, like she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "You could say that."

She nodded, smiling kindly. "Ah, I thought so. There’s always a girl involved when boys like you come asking for odd things like this. Books on hacking, really..."

Before Mattheo could respond, she reached beneath the counter and pulled out another stack of books, these ones much smaller and with titles that made his stomach twist—The Alchemy of Love, Enchanted Hearts, Charmed Bonds: Love’s Magic. She handed them to him with a grin.

"Here, take these too," she said, her eyes twinkling. "It’s a different kind of magic, but you might find them useful."

Mattheo stared at the pile in disbelief. "Love books?" he echoed, incredulous.

The shopkeeper winked. "Trust me. Sometimes, understanding the heart is harder than understanding computers."

Against his better judgment, Mattheo took the books, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Thanks, I guess."

As he left the shop, the heavy books weighing down his bag, he couldn’t help but shake his head. Of all the things to be carrying, love books certainly weren’t part of his original plan.

Still, he couldn’t deny the warmth they brought, as if a part of him knew there was some truth in the old woman’s words.

Night after night, Mattheo found himself returning to Tomme’s and Scrolls, pouring over the hacking books in quiet corners. He learned fast, each visit bringing him closer to perfecting his plan.

After visiting Y/N’s clinic, he’d head straight to the shop, the familiar jingle of the bell announcing his return. The old woman would always smile when she saw him, sometimes joking about how he was there more often than her regulars.

One night, as he was deep in a chapter about data encryption, the shopkeeper came over, setting a cup of tea beside him. "You know," she started, sitting down across from him, "if you’re reading all this for a girl, you must really care about her."

Mattheo looked up from the book, surprised by the comment. "Why do you keep saying that?"

She chuckled softly. "It’s in your eyes, boy. The way you carry yourself. You’re not here for yourself—you’re here because you want to protect someone."

He stared at her for a moment, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t wrong, not entirely. It was all for Y/N, but there was more to it than that. He wanted to protect her, yes, but he also wanted to free her from the lies, from the world of pretenses she was trapped in. And maybe, deep down, he wanted to free himself too.

The old woman patted his hand gently before standing. "Well, I’ll leave you to your studies. But don’t forget—sometimes the heart is the most important thing to understand."

Mattheo spent every night after that studying, crafting his plan.

But during the day, he’d sit outside the clinic, reading the love books the old woman had given him. He wasn’t sure why he read them, but there was something about them that kept him hooked.

Maybe it was because he thought Y/N deserved something real, something honest, and these books spoke of a kind of connection he wasn’t sure he understood but wanted to.

Each day, he’d watch Y/N’s mother visit her in the clinic. He saw her come out at the end of the day, eyes red from crying, but always trying to put on a brave face.

It broke something inside of him every time he saw her like that, and all he wanted was to offer some kind of comfort. But he didn’t know how.

Mattheo stood outside the clinic, leaning against the stone wall, his hands tucked into his pockets.

The cold wind whipped through the courtyard, but he barely felt it. His eyes were fixed on the doors, waiting for the moment they would open. His heart drummed anxiously in his chest, anticipation building as he finally prepared to see Y/N again.

It had been weeks—weeks of waiting, planning, and watching. Every day, he’d made sure to be there, hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of her, but today was different.

Today, she was getting out.

The heavy oak doors creaked open, and there she was—Y/N, walking slowly beside her mother.

Mattheo felt his breath catch in his throat, relief flooding through him in a way he hadn’t expected. She looked different, more fragile somehow, her steps careful, but there was something in the way she held herself now—determination, maybe, or exhaustion. Either way, she was here, out of the clinic, and that meant everything.

He stood a little straighter, watching intently as Y/N and her mother made their way down the path, her mother’s arm wrapped gently around her for support.

They didn’t speak much, but Y/N glanced up now and then, responding to her mother’s quiet words.

From the distance, Mattheo couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. She was out. She was better, or at least trying to be, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

Y/N looked up, her eyes catching a beam of sunlight as she paused for a moment to take in the courtyard, the fresh air hitting her like it was the first time she’d breathed in days.

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat when he saw her face—still the same, but worn, as if she’d been carrying a burden far too heavy for her to bear.

He had stayed away all this time, not wanting to push, not wanting to intrude, but now—now he could see her again, and the realization that she was okay made his chest tighten with a strange sense of hope.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught sight of Mattheo standing in the shadows, watching them.

For a brief second, their gazes met, and Y/N’s mother offered him a small, polite nod. She didn’t seem surprised to see him there—maybe the nurse had told her how he’d been hanging around. But there was no hostility in her look, only a quiet acknowledgment.

Then, she turned back to Y/N, guiding her towards the waiting carriage.

Mattheo’s eyes never left Y/N. Every step she took, every small movement, he absorbed it all, relief coursing through his veins.

She was out of the clinic, but he could still see the weight on her shoulders—the exhaustion that clung to her despite her freedom.

But he had a plan now, one that he believed would help, one that could make everything better. And it all started with her.

She paused before getting into the carriage, looking over her shoulder at the courtyard, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings like she was trying to reclaim them after so much time locked away.

Mattheo wondered if she could feel his gaze, but she didn’t look his way. She climbed into the carriage, her mother following close behind, and the door clicked shut.

As they pulled away, Mattheo exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief washed over him again, but this time, it was mixed with something stronger—determination. She was out, and now his plan could finally begin.

His fingers twitched at the thought of it, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

All those weeks of preparation, of hacking into the school’s systems, of figuring out how to expose the lies people told, it had all led to this.

Mattheo had promised himself that when Y/N came back, things would be different. He wasn’t going to let her drown in secrets and pretense anymore.

He’d spent hours pouring over every detail, every possible way to expose the truths people were so desperate to hide. His friends, his classmates—they were all guilty of it, pretending to be something they weren’t, and Y/N had been right all along. It was time to stop pretending.

As they disappeared down the road, Mattheo turned away, his mind already spinning with ideas. He had to start slow, build the hacker’s identity, make it someone untouchable, someone who could infiltrate the school’s network without being traced.

And Y/N—Y/N would help him without even knowing it. She was too observant, too sharp. She’d be the one to catch onto the hacker’s trail, and when she did, she’d realize it was all for her.

With one last glance at the clinic, Mattheo slipped his hands back into his pockets and headed toward the gates of Hogwarts.

The wheels were already turning in his head, his plan falling perfectly into place. All he needed now was to set it into motion. Soon enough, the lies would come crashing down, and Y/N would see that not everyone pretended.

And maybe then, she’d understand why he was doing this. Why he needed her to see the truth.

He smirked to himself, already looking forward to the chaos that would follow. No more pretending. Not for him. Not for her. And soon, not for anyone.

Next Chapter (coming soon) Taglist: @helendeath @modesttiger @pompeygirl89 @mayamonroem @roseofsharron438 @iamgonnagetyouback @glittervame