Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter twenty-two

Mattheo

May 27th, 6:00 a.m., Pitt-Upon-Ford

As Lucia's fingers brushed against mine, affirming our solidarity, an unfamiliar shiver cascaded down my spine. This fleeting contact stirred within me a sensation that was both alien and unsettling.

For years, my allegiance had been to the dark side, under the shadow of my father's dominion over the English wizarding community. I had been a participant, sometimes even an architect, of the havoc wreaked upon this land. Witnessing the destructive aftermath of power, much of which I had directly contributed to, had always been part of my reality.

Yet, now, as I found myself on an undefined path, battling against the very forces I once stood with, I recognized the gravity of my situation. As an adversary to a formidable and expansive power, any sign of vulnerability or error could prove catastrophic.

Lucia, however, elicited something within me that transcended the familiar bounds of physical attraction, the only form of connection I had previously comprehended. This burgeoning sentiment, undefined and perplexing, hinted at a depth of feeling I had never anticipated. It was a troubling realization, suggesting a transformation that left me grappling with its implications in the silent dawn of a new struggle.

***

The village, though marred by recent violence, still held a semblance of peace as Lucia and I found ourselves welcomed by an elderly couple who invited us to share a meal at their simple wooden table. As we sat, the gentle hum of conversation filled the air, with villagers occasionally stopping by to offer food or share whispers of gratitude for our intervention the night before. One elder, with a network of lines mapping stories across his face, recounted how this wasn't the first time Death Eaters had descended upon their quiet lives, but it had been a few years since the last dark cloud had passed.

Lucia and I exchanged stories with them, carefully skirting around our true identities. We spoke of distant places and veiled truths, ensuring each word laid out could not trace back to us. As we conversed, I noticed the ease with which Lucia interacted with the villagers, her smile reaching her eyes as a small boy clutched at her sleeve, showing off a wooden toy.

After the meal, we retreated to a secluded spot by a well-worn bench outside a cottage, allowing ourselves another moment of respite. Here, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, legends of the Highlands, tales of magical creatures said to roam these parts, and the simple, everyday magic that seemed woven into the fabric of this place. Amidst our talk, I couldn't help but let a compliment slip, admiring Lucia's resilience and quick thinking. Her cheeks flushed with a modest smile, and for a moment, the weight of our predicament seemed to lift.

However, as the shadows lengthened, subtly shifting the light around us, painting the landscape in soft, golden hues, we knew we had to press on with our grim reality. Approaching the village spokesman with heavy hearts, we advised him and his council that it was best for the villagers to find safer grounds. The threat of a vengeful return by the Death Eaters was too great. When questioned about who we were, Lucia and I wove a careful narrative, hinting at being wanderers caught in the crossfire, seeking justice where we could.

With reluctant farewells, we resumed our journey, climbing the worn path that led to an old wooden hut perched against the backdrop of the sprawling Highlands. The hut, a relic of sturdier times, stood stoic amid the whispering winds, its interior a capsule of untouched time. Inside, as we settled in, I laid out our next steps, seeking Lucia's input as well.

"After a couple of days here, we'll head down the mountain," I began, pointing to a map I'd sketched in the dirt floor. "There's a trail just behind this hut. It'll take us through several forests, even skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and eventually past the Black Lake. From there, Hogsmeade is just a short trek away."