Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter twenty-two

As I sipped the surprisingly soothing tea, my attention was drawn to a young boy who had been instrumental in alerting us upon our arrival. He now found solace in his mother's arms, a small smile playing on his lips as she whispered words of comfort and stroked his hair. The sight brought a faint smile to my own lips; it was a poignant reminder of the human spirit's capacity for recovery.

My reverie was interrupted by Mattheo's low voice, carrying across the small table we shared. "You know, it was probably the right decision to stay and fight," he said, his tone contemplative.

I looked at him, surprised by his admission. "What brought about this change of heart?" I asked, genuinely curious. His stance when we had first arrived had been one of cautious withdrawal.

He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "I still think we need to be cautious, that we can't save everyone... but we're at war, Lucia. And sometimes, you have to choose your battles. If we're going to make a stand, it has to start somewhere."

I nodded, feeling a mix of admiration and concern. "I agree," I said softly. "But you still seem troubled."

Mattheo glanced around, ensuring our conversation remained private before leaning closer. "I am. I fear for this village, for its people. The Death Eaters... some might return for revenge. And those sent by my father will show no mercy. They'll seek information, and if they don't get what they want, they won't hesitate to kill."

His words sent a chill down my spine, the cruel reality of our situation settling heavily upon me. "You think they'd come back here? After all this?" I asked, struggling to maintain a hopeful tone.

Mattheo's expression was grim. "I know how they operate, Lucia. I was once one of them, in a way. Under my father's orders, I've seen villages raided, lives torn apart."

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that was almost lost in the gentle rustling of the leaves. "When Harry Potter died, the darkness didn't just linger; it spread, voraciously. Villages like this one were often the first casualties. Women, children... no one was spared. It was about instilling fear, about breaking the spirit of any possible resistance. Women suffered sexual assaults while their husbands were compelled to witness, before being brutally executed. Children were kidnapped, primarily to be indoctrinated as new soldiers - if they were deemed strong enough. It was survival of the fittest, and those who did not conform were ruthlessly eliminated."

I listened, horror and sadness warring within me as Mattheo described scenes that were unimaginably brutal. The strategic cruelty of Voldemort's regime was not unknown to me, but hearing it spoken aloud by someone who had witnessed it first-hand brought a new level of reality to the horrors.

"And now," he continued, "we've drawn their attention here. I can't help but feel responsible."

His confession struck a chord within me, his vulnerability in that moment revealing the depth of his transformation from a soldier of darkness to someone who genuinely cared about the consequences of his past actions.

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging between us like a thick fog. Finally, I reached out, my hand brushing his in a tentative gesture of comfort. "We'll do what we can, Mattheo," I said softly. "We're in this together, remember?"

He looked at me, a flicker of something unguarded in his eyes before he composed himself. "Together," he echoed, and in that word, I heard not just agreement, but a promise.

The village slowly woke around us, the first rays of dawn casting long shadows across the ground, turning the dew into a scattering of diamonds in the grass. As the villagers began their day, oblivious to the depth of our conversation, Mattheo and I stood, a silent agreement passing between us that, for now, we would do everything in our power to shield them from the storm that was surely coming.