#reyy

The library was quieter than usual, with the soft scratch of quills and the distant rustle of pages filling the air. You glanced over your shoulder, making sure Madame Pince wasn’t lurking around a corner. The journal was tucked under your arm, the edges slightly bent from how often it had been passed between you and ‘Mystery Guy’.

You slid into the Literature section, your feet making no sound on the old wooden floor, and crouched down to the spot where “A Farewell to Arms” used to sit. Your fingers brushed the spine of the journal as you placed it in its hiding place.

“Interesting book you’ve got there,” a voice drawled behind you, startling you so badly you nearly knocked over an entire row of books.

You turned sharply, clutching the journal to your chest, and came face to face with Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he grinned, leaning lazily against the bookshelf. His curly brown hair was as messy as ever, and there was a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Go on. Tuck it back into its little hiding spot.”

Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no words came out.

“Don’t look so guilty,” another voice chimed in, and now Theodore Nott rounded the corner, his hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face. “We’re not going to snitch. Just curious.”

You straightened up, narrowing your eyes. “Curious about what?”

Enzo gestured toward the journal still clutched in your hands. “About the fact that you’re Mattheo’s penpal.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “I’m what?”

“Oh, come on.” Theo smirked. “We’ve seen that thing before. Mattheo thinks he’s sneaky, but he’s not that sneaky.”

“And you’re here, putting it in the exact spot he’s been disappearing to for weeks,” Enzo added, tilting his head. “Not a hard puzzle to put together.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You weren’t sure what was worse—the fact that you’d been caught, or the fact that they’d just casually told you who Mystery Guy was like it wasn’t a massive bombshell.

“I—uh—”

Enzo cut you off with a wicked grin. “Relax, it’s cute. The way you’ve got him running around doing all your dares? Hilarious. You’ve got no idea how grumpy he gets when you out-dare him. It’s practically a sport now.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “He’s not that grumpy,” you muttered defensively.

“Oh, trust me, he is,” Theo said dryly. “But he loves it. Never seen him so invested in anything that didn’t involve pissing off Snape or sneaking Firewhiskey into the dorms.”

You swallowed hard, trying to process. They were just standing there, talking about him like it was normal, while you were spiraling at the revelation. Mattheo Riddle. Mystery Guy was Mattheo Riddle. Mattheo Riddle. Mattheo Riddle.

And now you knew.

 “I’ve got to go,” you said quickly, shoving the journal back into its spot and brushing past them before they could say anything else.

By the time you got back to your dorm, your heart was still racing. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the blank page of your notebook. What were you supposed to say to him now?

After what felt like an eternity, you finally picked up your quill.

To Mystery Guy (or should i say Mattheo?), So, funny thing happened. I might’ve run into a couple of your friends. They were nice enough to tell me who you are. (Don’t freak out—your secret’s safe with me. For now.)

Let me just say, you’re… not what I expected. But maybe that’s a good thing. You’re kind of an enigma, and I think I like it that way.

Yours, The Penpal Who Knows Too Much

Satisfied, you tucked the letter into the journal the next morning, placing it in its usual spot. And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile.

Mattheo Riddle had no idea what he was in for.

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯 

Mattheo leaned back in his chair, one boot propped on the edge of the Slytherin common room table. His wand twirled lazily between his fingers, but his sharp gaze flicked toward Lorenzo and Theo as they strolled in, their expressions a little too smug for his liking.

“What’s with the looks?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, nothing,” Enzo said, plopping down on the couch across from him with a theatrical sigh.

“Definitely nothing,” Theo added, his lips twitching as he sat beside Enzo.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. You both look like you’ve got something to say, so just spit it out.”

Enzo exchanged a glance with Theo, his grin widening. “Well, since you’re so curious… we saw her.”

Mattheo’s wand stilled mid-spin. “Her who?”

Theo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know who.”

“I really don’t,” Mattheo said flatly, though his stomach flipped. He kept his expression neutral, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

“Your penpal,” Enzo said, dragging out the word like it was some kind of joke.

Mattheo sat up straighter, his casual demeanor slipping. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” Enzo said, waving a hand. “Don’t act like you’re not dying to know who she is. We saw her in the library yesterday.”

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to scoff. “Yeah, sure. And I’m supposed to believe you just happened to run into her?”

“We didn’t just run into her,” Theo said, smirking. “We watched her put your precious little journal back in its spot.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened. “You watched her?”

“Relax, mate,” Enzo said, holding up his hands. “It wasn’t creepy. We were just… observing.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping. “What does she look like?”

Enzo grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Why? Getting jealous already?”

Mattheo glared at him. “Answer the question.”

“She’s… cute,” Theo said with a shrug, his tone deliberately nonchalant.

“More than cute,” Enzo added with a wicked grin. “You’ve got good taste, Riddle.”

Mattheo’s grip on his wand tightened. He tried to ignore the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Oh, come on,” Enzo said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “We’re just saying. She looked… surprised, though. Probably didn’t expect us to figure it out.”

Mattheo’s mind raced. If they’d seen her, that meant she now knew they’d made the connection. Did she know that he didn’t know who she was?

“Did you talk to her?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Enzo’s grin turned devious. “A little. Not much. But enough to see why you’re so into this whole letter thing.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw. “I’m not ‘into’ it.”

“Oh, really?” Theo drawled, raising a brow. “Then why do you get all moody whenever she takes too long to write back?”

“Shut up,” Mattheo snapped, but his tone lacked heat.

“Admit it,” Enzo said, leaning forward. “You like her. And now that we’ve seen her, we get it.”

Mattheo didn’t respond, his thoughts too tangled. All he could think about was the fact that they’d seen her—that they knew who she was, and he didn’t.

For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle hated being in the dark.

Later that evening, Mattheo sat alone in his dorm, staring at the journal in his hands. The last note she’d written replayed in his mind, her teasing tone now carrying a weight he hadn’t noticed before.

“Funny thing happened. I might’ve run into a couple of your friends. They were nice enough to tell me who you are.”

She knew. And she wasn’t going to tell him.

Mattheo’s lips twitched, half a grin and half a grimace. “Alright, mystery girl,” he muttered. “You win this round.”

The next day, Mattheo couldn’t focus on anything. Potions class, which usually held his attention (mainly because he could annoy Snape just enough to avoid detention), passed in a blur. His mind was stuck on her—on who she was.

And on the fact that Enzo and Theo were being maddeningly smug about it.

“Mate, you’re going to chop your own finger off if you keep cutting like that,” Theo muttered under his breath as he passed Mattheo’s table, dropping a few flobberworms into his cauldron.

Mattheo blinked down at the violently uneven roots he’d been dicing. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Enzo chimed in from his station, grinning like the absolute menace he was. “But hey, if you’re distracted, we all know why.”

“Enzo,” Mattheo said in a low warning tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Enzo raised his hands in mock innocence, but his smirk stayed firmly in place.

Snape’s voice sliced through the air. “Riddle, Berkshire—perhaps you’d like to share what’s so amusing with the rest of the class?”

“No, sir,” Mattheo and Enzo said in unison, though Enzo’s grin widened, and Mattheo felt the urge to smack him.

Snape’s glare lingered on them for a beat longer before he turned back to his lecture. Mattheo shot Enzo a warning glance, but Enzo only winked at him.

By the time the class ended, Mattheo was wound tight with irritation and curiosity. As the students began packing up their things, he grabbed Enzo by the sleeve, dragging him into a quieter corner of the dungeon hallway. Theo followed, clearly eager to see how this would unfold.

“Alright, you two,” Mattheo said, his voice low and sharp. “I’m done playing games. Who is she?”

“Who’s who?” Enzo asked, though his grin gave him away.

“You know who,” Mattheo snapped. “Don’t make me hex you.”

Theo leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. “You know, this is really entertaining for us. You, all worked up over a girl? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Mattheo glared at him. “I’m serious.”

Enzo sighed dramatically, like he was being forced to give up some great secret. “Look, Riddle, I could tell you who she is, but… where’s the fun in that?”

“Enzo,” Mattheo growled.

“Relax,” Enzo said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. Or, who knows? Maybe she’ll tell you herself—if you don’t scare her off first with all this brooding.”

“I’m not brooding,” Mattheo muttered, shoving Enzo’s hand off his shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Theo said with a smirk.

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Enzo said cheerfully, slinging an arm around Theo as they started walking down the corridor. “Besides, you should be thanking us. If it weren’t for us, you’d still be writing to your mystery girl without a clue she’s real.”

Mattheo stayed rooted in place, watching them go, his jaw clenched. He hated how smug they were. Hated how much they seemed to know.

But more than anything, he hated the fact that they were right.

She was real. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

That evening, back in the Slytherin common room, Mattheo sat by the fireplace with the journal in his lap. His pen hovered over the page as he debated what to write.

Finally, he scrawled a message, keeping his tone light even though his heart wasn’t.

“So, I hear you’ve met some of my friends. I can only imagine what they told you. Care to share?”

He hesitated for a moment, then added:

“Also, you’re cruel for knowing who I am while I’m still in the dark. Just so you know.”

He leaned back, tapping the pen against his knee as he reread the words. Then he smirked to himself.

“But if you’re planning to keep me guessing, at least tell me this—was I what you expected?”

Satisfied, he closed the journal and set it aside, his thoughts buzzing with anticipation.

Because no matter how this game played out, Mattheo knew one thing for certain.

He had to know her.

The journal was back in Mattheo’s hands the next morning, its weight heavier than usual as he tucked it under his arm and made his way to the Slytherin common room. He flopped down onto one of the worn leather couches, ignoring the chatter of his housemates, and cracked it open to her reply.

He scanned her words quickly, his brows furrowing and a smirk tugging at his lips all at once.

"That was actually the point, to not being able to judge who's writing, to kind of be able to connect, you know? So, no, I didn’t have an expectation, but fucking hell, I definitely didn’t think it’d be, like, you.

But, I don’t think it changes anything, honestly, just a little bit hard to believe the guy that punched a bloke last ball actually has a personality more than 'bad boy.'

Anddd, I mean, yeah, kind of wrong you don’t know me yet? Well, I think we’re in most classes together, maybe guess? No asking your little spies, btw."

Mattheo let out a groan that was half amusement, half frustration as he snapped the journal shut. "In most classes together," she said. Merlin’s bloody beard, that didn’t narrow it down at all.

Across the common room, Theo and Enzo lounged near the fireplace, their eyes on him like a pair of smug cats.

"You look stressed, mate," Theo drawled, flipping a page of his Potions textbook.

"Aw, he’s just lovesick," Enzo said with a grin.

Mattheo shot them both a glare. "This is your fault."

"Our fault?" Enzo repeated, mock-offended. "We gave you a perfectly good clue. You’re the one failing to connect the dots."

"You know who she is," Mattheo accused, pointing a finger at them. "You could just tell me."

Theo smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Mattheo scowled, but Enzo cut him off before he could argue.

"Look, mate, why don’t you do what normal people do? You know, talk to the girls in your classes. Get to know them. Maybe you’ll figure it out."

Mattheo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. The last thing he wanted was to parade around Hogwarts like some kind of lost puppy. But the alternative was sitting here, waiting for her to reveal herself, and his pride wouldn’t let that happen.

By lunchtime, the plan—or lack thereof—was in motion. And by motion, it meant that Mattheo was, for the first time in his life, initiating small talk.

*

“Hey, do you happen to sit near me in Herbology?” he asked a Ravenclaw girl as they left the greenhouses.

She blinked, surprised. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

“No reason,” he said, flashing a grin before walking away.

Later, in Charms, he turned to a Gryffindor girl who sat a row behind him. “Do you take Ancient Runes?”

“I... do?” she replied, her confusion evident.

“Cool,” Mattheo said, leaning back in his seat like it was a perfectly normal question.

By the end of the day, word had spread that Mattheo Riddle—the brooding, sharp-tongued Slytherin—had been seen chatting up half the girls in their year.

And, of course, it wasn’t long before Theo and Enzo caught wind of it.

“Small talk, Riddle?” Enzo teased that evening, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Theo joined in, smirking as he leaned against the armrest. “You know, I heard from a Gryffindor girl that you asked her about Ancient Runes. Ancient Runes, Mattheo. Really?”

Mattheo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to hex both of you.”

“Come on,” Enzo said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Admit it—you’re enjoying this just a little. Chasing her, figuring her out. It’s all very romantic.”

“It’s fucking annoying,” Mattheo muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“You’re so whipped,” Theo said with a grin.

“Shut up,” Mattheo shot back, but his tone lacked bite.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was something about her—about the way she kept him guessing, kept him intrigued—that he couldn’t get enough of.

And if he had to endure a little humiliation to figure out who she was?

Well, maybe it was worth it. Because, since he got to hogwarts, someone didn’t give a fuck that he was Mattheo, just was Mattheo. That felt good, more than good.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

The journal was back in her hands later that evening, and when she opened it, his reply was waiting for her:

*“First of all, punching a bloke was entirely necessary at the time. I don’t make the rules.

Second of all, ‘most classes together’ isn’t helpful, and you know it. You’re cruel, and I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this way too much.

Third, I’m working on it. But I’m warning you—when I figure out who you are, you’re going to regret keeping me in the dark. Just wait.”*

And beneath it, in smaller, messier handwriting:

“P.S. I don’t think it changes anything either.”

The Hogwarts library was insanely huge—everyone knew that. Its sections seemed to stretch endlessly, shelf after shelf, book after book. And it wasn’t just academic texts; there were novels too, tucked away in those maze-like aisles.

So here he was, Mattheo Riddle, probably the last person you’d expect in front of the literature shelves, fumbling through titles in a half-hearted attempt to find A Farewell to Arms for his Muggle Studies class.

Professor Charity Burbage wouldn’t shut up about the so-called "sappy Muggle romance." For the sake of his grades, he had to find it. After scanning what felt like every spine in the row, he finally spotted it.

“Finally!”

He grabbed the book without hesitation. Staying in the library wasn’t on his agenda—it never was. The place didn’t exactly hold the sweetest memories for him. The silence, so absolute, seemed to lure the worst thoughts to the surface. It was the perfect breeding ground for overthinking, and Mattheo had no patience for that. He much preferred the controlled chaos of the dorms or the common room. Maybe he’d been alone too long. People could be annoying, sure, but they kept the silence—and his thoughts—at bay.

Just as he was about to leave, something caught his eye: a bright red book on the same shelf. It wasn’t a novel, not with that unmarked spine and leather cover. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled it out. The journal smelled faintly of Chanel—a stark contrast to the old-book musk around it. Stickers covered the spine, obscuring what might’ve been the owner’s initials. Lana Del Rey. The Smiths. A tiny “A” tucked in the corner.

He opened it.

The first page was written in delicate cursive, the kind that practically screamed “perfected over years of writing essays on parchment.”

“Do you dare?”

His first instinct was to chuck the thing out the nearest window and let it flop onto the frozen lake below. This felt eerily close to one of his father’s tricks. But then again, when had Voldemort ever cared for indie aesthetics or Muggle music?

Curiosity won. He flipped the page.

“Ah, so you do dare. And no, I’m not trying to lure you into the Chamber to kill you. I just figured if you’re in this aisle, maybe we have something in common.”

“I’ve left some clues for you. If you want them, turn the page. If you don’t, put the book back on the shelf, please—this is kind of my one shot at finding a literary soulmate.”

The handwriting, undeniably feminine, had that neat, practiced vibe. Someone who probably spent way too much time perfecting it in their first year. Definitely not him.

“ALSO, if you’re not a teenage boy, I’d suggest putting it back. And if you’re Madam Pince, I’m definitely a Gryffindor. ;)”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle. She was funny. Slytherin vibes, or so he thought.

The next page revealed a string of numbers:

“1111111”

Some sort of code?

“Solve it, decipher it, and it might just lead…”

He sighed, already feeling the time he’d need to spend on this. But he was hooked. What better way to pass the time than chasing cryptic clues from a journal that promised not to kill him, right?

Tucking the book under his arm, he headed for the exit, but of course, Madam Pince’s sharp voice cut through the air like a spell.

“Mr. Riddle, you must check that out before stuffing it in your bag and leaving.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He handed over A Farewell to Arms.

“And the other?”

“That’s mine. Just a journal,” he lied smoothly.

“Right.”

He nodded quickly and slipped out before she could've said more.

As he walked away, a soft voice called out behind him. “You took the journal?”

He turned, spotting a fifth-year—a library volunteer, maybe.

“I did. Why?”

The kid shrugged, barely pausing. “Solve the riddles and put it where you get. She’ll answer.”

“Wait—”

But the kid was already gone.

“Wait—”

But the kid was already gone.

So, it was a girl. Cursive handwriting, fancy perfume, and riddles designed to intrigue. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a waste of time after all.

He made his way back to the dungeons, the familiar stone hallways feeling like they were meant for him, even if he wasn’t sure what “home” really meant anymore.

He reached the dorm, the one that was always a bit of a mess, the one he shared with Theodore and Lorenzo. The air had that funny, almost burnt toast scent to it that Mattheo had gotten used to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

But his mind wasn’t on the dorm or the mess. It was on the journal. It had been... interesting. Why would Mattheo Riddle, of all people, take the time to talk to someone who had no idea who he was? Maybe that’s exactly why—someone who wouldn’t judge him for the name or the bloodline.

“Oi, Enzo, give me a hand with something?”

“God, Matt, do you ever think maybe I have my own stuff to do? Maybe Enzo has plans, y’know?”

“Shut up and help. I totally covered for you with Greengrass about your stupid book, remember?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.”

Lorenzo flopped down next to him on the couch, eyeing the journal in Mattheo’s hand.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re talking to a girl—who could very well not be a girl—and you want me to solve the riddles and help you, because you’re actually interested? AND, you're intrigued by one line? the one line she wrote-?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s a good line.”

Lorenzo gave him a skeptical look. “A good line? She could be some weird third-year with a collection of creepy journals. I’m just saying, don’t get too attached.”

“Relax, I’m not getting attached,” Mattheo said, but the words felt hollow even to him.

Lorenzo snatched the journal from his hand, flipping through the pages. “You’re telling me you’re not intrigued by this?” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, ‘Do you dare?’ That’s some serious mysterious girl energy.”

Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo scanned the riddles, his lips curving into a smirk. “Just help me solve it, alright?”

Lorenzo paused, glancing over at Mattheo. “Fine. But don’t blame me when this turns into some weird obsession.”

“Alright, mystery guy, string the letters together and let’s see where we end up.”

Mattheo leaned back, watching as Lorenzo eyed the list of riddles. He was already beginning to look like he was about to fall asleep.

“Okay, Enzo, do them for me,” Mattheo said, tapping the page impatiently.

Lorenzo groaned but took the journal from him, reading the first riddle aloud.

“There’s a light that never fades,

Shining bright even through melancholy haze.

Name the song that calls out for comfort and trust,

It’s about heaven, but grounded in the just.”

Lorenzo paused, scratching his chin. “Okay, that’s definitely an old one, maybe like Lana? Considering the stickers?”

Something seemed to have clicked for mattheo, “No, no, no The smiths! SHE LIKES THE SMITHS, ENZO- oh my god, there’s a light that never goes out, thats it!”

Lorenzo kept going, flipping to the next one, sighing at Mattheo. "Once again, same music taste does not equal soulmate- god, do you ever learn?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes, "Alright, shut up, go on"

“If sweets are your craving, step through my door,

From Chocolate Frogs to Fizzing Whizbees galore.

In Hogsmeade’s heart, where sugar dreams thrive,

Name the shop where treats come alive.”

“Honestly, that’s a no-brainer. It’s Honeydukes,” Lorenzo said without hesitation.

“Right, right. You’re on fire,” Mattheo teased, as Lorenzo moved on to the next.

"I’m often served up cold or hot,

A liquid refreshment, I hit the spot.

I come in flavours, both sweet and bold,

What am I? Guess me, I’m quite old."

Lorenzo grinned. “Coffee? Like, uh, lets say expresso? ”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d get that one first try.”

Lorenzo continued to read, now with a slight smirk.

“An ode to a woman with a celestial name,

Her vibe is electric, not one you can tame.

From the album that rocked the world wide,

Name the track.”

Lorenzo stared at the riddle for a moment, clearly deep in thought. His lips curled slightly, as if trying to put the pieces together.

Mattheo watched, his mind already racing through possibilities. "Come on, Enzo. It’s not that hard."

Lorenzo looked up, clearly struggling to connect the dots. "I dunno, man. Celestial name... electric vibe... It’s throwing me off."

Mattheo’s eyes widened. “Wait... Arabella,” he said suddenly, catching the reference. “It’s got to be ‘Arabella’ by Arctic Monkeys.”

Lorenzo blinked, then nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Good catch, Riddle.”

Mattheo grinned, feeling a little bit smug. “I know my stuff.”

Lorenzo looked at the riddle like Mattheo was crazy.

“I’m a serpent, sleek and sly,

With emerald scales and cunning eye.

In the house where ambition reigns,

What’s my symbol? Speak my name.”

“Matt, come on. The locket, duh.”

“Oh, right,” Mattheo muttered, tapping his fingers on the journal.

Lorenzo barely hesitated before moving on to the next riddle.

“I’m the one who guards the goalposts tight,

Stopping the quaffle with all my might.

I block and deflect, keeping the score low—

What’s my position? Now, let me know!”

“Keeper,” Lorenzo answered with a smirk, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Should’ve known,” Mattheo grumbled, half to himself.

Lorenzo moved on, flipping to the final riddle.

“I’m a potion that makes truth come clear,

In Hogsmeade, I’m sold with no fear.

A drop or two, and secrets unfold,

What’s my name? It’s liquid gold.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Veritaserum. Honestly, these riddles are too easy.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You really think you’ve got this figured out, huh?”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Well, if I’m solving all the riddles, maybe I should be the one old-timey flirting with her through a book. What do you think?”

Mattheo’s eyes widened in mock horror. “What? Absolutely not. I found the book. Plus, you think she could be a possible psychopath—what about that, huh?”

Lorenzo shrugged, unfazed. “Eh, it’s a possibility. But if she’s that crazy, at least it’ll be entertaining.”

Mattheo shook his head, but couldn't help the smirk tugging at his lips. "Not happening."

“Anyway, let me put it together. It says ‘string the first together,’” Lorenzo said, already scribbling down the letters.

Mattheo watched, tapping his foot in rhythm. “Uh, T, H, E, A, L, K, V…”

Lorenzo stared at the letters for a moment before glancing up. “Alright, so… ‘THE ALCOVE.’” He shrugged. “Sounds like the one by the lake.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, like our Alcove, Alcove?”

Lorenzo gave another shrug. “Could be. Or maybe something else. Who knows? It’s just a game, Matt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mattheo said, leaning back with a grin. “I’ll go check it out.”

Lorenzo chuckled, tossing the journal back at Mattheo. “Right, because you’re definitely not getting invested. Go ahead, find the weirdo.”

Mattheo smirked, flipping through the journal and eyeing the letters. “I’ll figure it out. But, uh, if she’s leaving clues like this, she’s got a decent sense of humor.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t get too carried away with it, alright? Since it’s just a game.”

Mattheo sighed and plopped down onto the stone steps, resting the journal beside him. He leaned back, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the alcove, still trying to make sense of the place. The stillness of the moment almost felt like an invitation to relax, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this. There had to be.

He scanned the surrounding area, eyes tracing the worn edges of the stone, the lake shimmering faintly through the trees. And then—there it was.

That familiar "a".

On one of the tiles, nearly hidden beneath the edge of the stone step, was a small sticker of the letter “a”—it wasn’t much, but Mattheo immediately recognized it. The same letter from the journal. The same one that had popped up in the corner of the pages, taunting him with its mystery.

Mattheo’s heart picked up pace, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Now we're getting somewhere. He bent down, carefully peeling the sticker off the tile, wondering what kind of clue this could lead to.

Whatever it was, he was definitely invested now.

Mattheo stared at the sticker for a second, waiting for something to happen, but when nothing did, he was about to brush it off. Then, in a blink, the sticker seemed to melt away, its glossy edges rippling like the surface of the lake on a windy day. Before he could process it, the sticker was gone, replaced by a folded note.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Hogwarts magic, never a dull moment.

He unfolded the note, the handwriting neat and familiar:

"Leave the journal, I'll answer."

The next day, Mattheo found himself walking past the alcove again. The events from the night before still lingered in his mind, but he'd almost convinced himself it had all been some weird fluke, or maybe just a one-off game.

He hadn't returned to the alcove since he’d left the journal there, figuring he’d check back in a day or so. But as he passed by, he couldn’t resist stopping. The place seemed quieter now, the magic of the night before no longer lingering in the air.

But when he got to the spot, he was surprised to see that the journal was still there. Nothing else had changed. Mattheo stared at it for a moment, debating whether to just walk away, but something—curiosity, maybe—kept him rooted to the spot.

He bent down, picking up the journal and flipping through it. 

"Aha, u so could be kinda smart huh? I can’t believe someone’s actually answered, that journal was probably there for a year? And good job with the riddles, I guess? I’m surprised you got the Smiths and Arctic Monkeys one, maybe u have a similar taste Mystery Boy. Your chance now, you give me the dare and I’ll follow through."

- A,

xx

Mattheo leaned back against the wall, grinning to himself. So, she was serious about this. A dare, huh? This could get interesting.

He quickly scribbled in his response, his hand steady as he wrote. "Alright, mystery girl, you asked for it."

He quickly scribbled in his response, his hand steady as he wrote. “Alright, mystery girl, you asked for it.”

“Alright, here’s your dare,” Mattheo wrote, his handwriting slightly rushed but legible. “Go to the Restricted Section in the library and find the dustiest, most forgotten book you can—none of the usual boring stuff. Pick something completely bizarre, something that makes you question why it even exists.”

He paused, grinning as he added the twist. “Then, take it to the librarian, act as if you have a genuine doubt or something. But here’s the catch: you’ve got to keep a straight face. Bonus points if it’s hilariously awkward.”

Mattheo leaned back for a second, re-reading his words, then added the final touch. “You’ve got 48 hours. Make it count, Mystery Girl. Leave the journal back here when you’re done.”

Satisfied, he tucked the journal back into its hiding spot behind the rock, dusted his hands, and stood up. With a smirk, he walked away, imagining how this dare would play out.

* 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷 *

I picked up the journal from the alcove a bit later, brushing off a stray leaf that had found its way onto the cover. Flipping it open, I read his words, the dare scrawled out in that slightly messy handwriting. Restricted Section? Madame Pince? Awkwardness?

I couldn’t help but grin. This was going to be interesting, wasn’t it? A challenge like this, especially one with the potential to irritate the ever-watchful librarian, had just enough chaos to keep things exciting.

What could go wrong? Actually, a lot. But then again, that’s what made it fun.

This definitely wasn’t like me. I wasn’t exactly one for making scenes—especially not in the library of all places. If anything, I prided myself on being invisible, blending into the background like one of the dusty old portraits on the walls. But Mystery Guy? He seemed… intriguing.

Maybe this little journal game would be worth stepping out of the shadows for. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? A stern glare from Madame Pince? A bit of awkwardness?

I walked into the library, the familiar musty smell of parchment and ink wrapping around me like an old cloak. Madame Pince was already glaring at me from behind her desk, her hawk-like eyes tracking my every move. Classic.

It wasn’t the first time I’d slipped into the Restricted Section with a forged note, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Snape’s horrendous cursive was oddly convenient for these little escapades—Madame Pince never bothered double-checking. I tugged the crumpled scrap of parchment from my pocket, gave her my most innocent smile, and held it out.

Her eyes narrowed as she took it, scanning it briefly before huffing and waving me through.

“Key, please?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

Madame Pince glared at me, her lips pursing so tight they practically disappeared. With a dramatic sigh, she reached under her desk, pulled out the rusted key, and dropped it into my hand like it personally offended her.

“Don’t cause trouble,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper but sharp enough to cut.

I nodded quickly, pocketing the key. “Of course not,” I muttered, already heading toward the towering gate of the Restricted Section. The lock clicked open with a low groan, and the gate swung inward. The air was colder here, quieter, like the books themselves were holding their breath. Perfect. Now to find the weirdest, dustiest book in the place.

Quite the collection, really. Titles jumped out at me like they were daring me to take them: "The Definitive Encyclopedia of Goblin Gossip," "How to Train Your Basilisk (and Why You Shouldn’t)." A quiet laugh slipped out before I could help it.

Then my eyes landed on "Scandalous Secrets of the Magical Aristocracy." I pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open, reading the first line:

"They say the walls of Malfoy Manor have ears, and this book has recorded everything." God. Damn. That was a little too on the nose to be comfortable.

Finally, I spotted it. The jackpot. A slim, leather-bound book with faded gold lettering: "Love Spells and Lust Charms: A Practical Guide." Dust practically puffed off it when I picked it up, and the embossed cover felt… oddly warm. Perfect.

Now came the hard part—Madame Pince. I clutched the book like it was perfectly normal to be walking out of the Restricted Section with a borderline scandalous manual. 

I walked up to Madame Pince’s desk, the book held tightly against me like a shield. Her hawk-like gaze zeroed in on me the moment I was within range.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone clipped and suspicious.

I cleared my throat, trying not to let my voice shake. “Uh, yeah. So, um, I found this book, and I was wondering… uh…” My brain short-circuited for a second as I glanced down at the title again. 

Pince’s eyebrow rose, and I swore she leaned in closer.

“...would you say the spells in here are… safe? You know, like… for beginners?”

Her lips pursed into a thin line. “Excuse me?”

“I mean—” I fumbled, my face growing hotter by the second. “Like, do they, um, work as advertised? Hypothetically?”

Madame Pince’s expression darkened, and I could practically hear the sound of my life expectancy shortening.

“This is a library, not a… relationship advice bureau!” she hissed, snatching the book from my hands. “And hypothetically, young lady, if you’re looking for such spells, you should perhaps reconsider your priorities!”

I stood there frozen, somewhere between mortified and amazed at how absolutely horrible this dare was.

“Go on, shoo!” she snapped, waving me away like a particularly irritating fly.

I turned and walked off quickly, my heart pounding as I made a beeline for the alcove. Mystery Guy was going to pay for this one.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I slipped out of Madam Pince’s line of sight. She was probably going to hate me for a while now, wasn’t she?

I quickly pulled out the journal and jotted down my response for Mystery Guy.

"God, you've got good dares, goddammit."

“I chose, Love Spells and Lust Charms. And no, she didn’t actually answer my question. Still worth it tho.”

“Anyways, dare complete. And I totally deserve to embarrass you just as much for your next dare, just you wait.”

I slipped the journal back into the same spot, behind the rock. I walked away, already thinking about how I was going to keep this game interesting for both of us.

*𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰’𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷 *

Mattheo sat down in the alcove, the journal resting on his lap as he stared at her reply. A grin tugged at his lips as he read through it again. "God, you've got good dares, goddammit."

He could already picture her face when she had to ask Madame Pince about that book. He chuckled to himself.

“I chose, Love Spells and Lust Charms. And no, she didn’t actually answer my question. Still worth it tho.” He was impressed. He didn’t think she’d go through with it, but she did.

“Anyways, dare completely. And I totally deserve to embarrass you just as much for your next dare, just you wait.”

Mattheo smirked. Challenge accepted.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the pen, and quickly wrote back:

"Not bad. I'm impressed you went through with it. I bet Madame Pince won’t be able to look at you the same for a while."

“But alright, your turn now. I’ll make sure your next dare is one you won’t forget. You’ve got 48 hours. Don’t disappoint me, Mystery Girl.”

With that, he closed the journal and slid it back into place behind the rock. He couldn’t help but feel a little more invested in this whole back-and-forth now. It was like they were building up to something. He just wasn’t sure what yet.

He stood up, brushing off his jeans, and left the alcove, a small smile still on his face.

* 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷 *

I couldn't help but grin as I wrote the dare, imagining his face when he realized what I was making him do.

"Alright, here’s your dare: After your next Potions class, walk up to Snape when he's packing up and ask him, real casual, 'Professor Snape, I was going through the Restricted Section, and I came across a book called "Love Spells and Lust Charms". I couldn’t help but notice your name was mentioned in it... Why exactly is that? Was there a charm you might’ve been experimenting with?'

I smirked as I wrote the last part.

"You’ve gotta ask it with the most innocent tone, like you're just really curious, no awkwardness. Bonus points if you don't immediately get sent to detention. You’ve got 48 hours. Good luck, mystery boy."

I snapped the journal shut, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. This one was going to be interesting.

*𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰’𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷 *

Mattheo walked out of Potions, grinning to himself. This dare was absolutely gold. He made his way over to Snape's desk, trying to act as casual as possible—though the slight bounce in his step betrayed his excitement.

Snape was hunched over a pile of papers, his greasy hair falling over his face as he scribbled furiously, like he was trying to find the most depressing way to end a sentence. Mattheo lingered there for a second, making sure the coast was clear, before he cleared his throat.

"Professor Snape?" Mattheo said, his voice smooth but just a little too innocent.

Snape didn’t look up at first, too busy scribbling on his endless stream of scrolls. "What is it now, Mr. Riddle?" Snape’s voice was low and sharp, like he had a permanent migraine.

Mattheo leaned in a little closer, trying to sound concerned. “Well, sir, I was in the library the other day—just browsing, you know? And I came across a really interesting book…”

Snape’s quill paused mid-sentence, and he finally looked up, his expression already annoyed. “What book?”

“Love Spells and Lust Charms: A Practical Guide,” Mattheo said with an air of faux-innocence. “And, funny thing, your name is in there. A lot. In, like, the previous borrower's list. I’m just curious, Professor. What exactly does your name have to do with, uh... Lust Charms?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed so much, they could’ve been a single slit. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Riddle,” he snapped, voice as cold as a boggart’s heart.

Mattheo tilted his head, squinting in exaggerated thought. “But, sir, it’s just so strange. I mean, your name pops up in this book—like, a lot. What exactly were you researching? Any chance you were trying to find the secret to romance?”

The room felt suddenly smaller as Snape stood up, his robes billowing dramatically around him. His hands balled into fists, and for a second, Mattheo thought Snape might pull out his wand and turn him into a toad.

“Mr. Riddle,” Snape said slowly, his voice venomous, “you will regret this.”

Mattheo grinned wider, fully enjoying the moment. “Oh, come on, Professor. I’m just asking about academic interests. I mean, you are a Potions Master, after all. I assume you know a thing or two about mixing… ingredients?”

Snape’s glare could’ve melted stone. “Detention. Tomorrow night. My office. You’ll regret that, too.”

Mattheo raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I’ll be sure to bring some ingredients of my own,” he said, winking cheekily before turning on his heel and strolling out.

As he left, he could hear Snape muttering something under his breath, probably wishing he'd never set foot in Hogwarts. Mattheo chuckled to himself—mission accomplished, and honestly, Snape's glare had never looked so funny.

Well, the dare was complete, and now... it was time to face the music. Or, more accurately, the detention.

Lorenzo caught up to Mattheo just as he was walking out of the dungeons, practically buzzing from the chaos he’d just caused.

“You really did it, didn’t you?” Lorenzo said, eyes wide. “You actually went up to Snape and asked about that book? You’re insane, Mattheo.”

Mattheo just shrugged, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “What can I say? The dare didn’t say I couldn’t. Besides, I figured it’d be fun. Snape was all ready to hex me, but I’m fine. No biggie.”

Lorenzo scoffed. “No biggie? Dude, you just asked Snape about a book called Love Spells and Lust Charms. Are you actually trying to get yourself murdered?”

Mattheo’s grin didn’t fade. “It wasn’t that bad. He was mad, sure, but he didn’t actually kill me. I survived.”

“You survived? Are you serious?” Lorenzo said, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “You’re really out here living your best life with Snape glaring at you like he wants to turn you into a toad, huh?”

Mattheo shrugged again. “It’s whatever. I got detention with him tomorrow night, so we’ll see how that goes.”

Lorenzo froze, his face morphing into complete shock. “Wait. Detention? With Snape? What? Why? What did you say to him, Mattheo? Was it because of your little journal?”

Mattheo chuckled, brushing it off like it was no big deal. “Yeah, I might’ve asked him why his name was in 'Lust Charms' borrowing list. You know, just trying to get some clarity. Snape looked ready to throw me into the dungeons, but I made it out alive.”

Lorenzo stared at him like he had two heads. “So, let me get this straight. You’ve got detention with Snape—Snape—because you wanted to know why he’s in a book about lust charms? What is wrong with you?”

Mattheo gave him a cheeky grin. “Honestly? It seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, you know, it makes the whole dare more interesting.”

Lorenzo rolled his eyes so hard it almost seemed like he was going to pass out. “Mattheo, you are a complete idiot. You know that, right?”

Mattheo smirked. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control. I’ve survived worse.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Worse? Are you telling me you’ve actually survived a Snape detention, Mattheo? You’re either really stupid or really brave. Maybe both.”

Mattheo laughed. “It’s a mix of both, honestly. I’m just here for the chaos. It’s way more fun that way.”

Lorenzo snorted. “Sure, chaos. But seriously, what’s next? You gonna serenade McGonagall with Wizards in the Moonlight?”

Mattheo raised a brow, then smirked. “Hey, don’t give me ideas. But I’ve got to admit, it’s kind of fun messing with people. Especially when they least expect it.”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Romeo. You’re definitely falling for her.”

Mattheo did a double take, looking at him like he was crazy. “Who?”

Lorenzo crossed his arms and gave him a knowing look. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not into her. You’re doing all this for a girl you don’t even know.”

Mattheo scoffed. “No way. I’m just here for the dares, man. I’m not a puppy in love.”

Lorenzo smirked. “Right, right. Sure. You’re just playing it cool. But honestly? It’s kinda cute watching you try so hard.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Shut up, you’re annoying.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Uh-huh, I’ve got a feeling this mystery girl’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Mattheo just winked and walked off, saying over his shoulder, “We’ll see, Enzo. We’ll see.”