HIS FAVOURITE TRAGEDY//Mattheo Riddle

Ch.1 - Noticed

The rain had not stopped once that evening.

It battered against the tall windows of the Slytherin common room in restless waves, the Black Lake beyond the glass dark and endless as shadows drifted through the water outside. The dim green light that filtered into the room painted everyone in muted colors, turning laughter softer, smiles sharper, and secrets easier to hide.

Zayra Faylinne liked it that way.

Hidden.

Quiet.

Forgotten.

She sat curled against the wide windowsill furthest from the fireplace, one leg tucked beneath her while the other swayed lazily over the edge, her untouched tea cooling between delicate fingers. Around her, the common room buzzed with noise — students scattered across leather sofas, playing exploding snap, gossiping about classes, whispering rumors about professors and bloodlines and parties that would happen once the weekend came.

Nobody paid attention to her.

Nobody ever did.

And that was exactly why she was dangerous.

Her pencil dragged softly against paper as she sketched the curve of her cat's ears with practiced precision, eyes lowered beneath thick lashes while strands of dark hair slipped over her shoulder. The drawing was nearly perfect already — every whisker carefully detailed, every shadow shaded with impossible patience. Drawing had always been the only thing that quieted her mind long enough to breathe.

Most people at Hogwarts knew Zayra as the shy Slytherin girl who kept to herself.

The polite one.

The harmless one.

Always helping classmates with assignments, always speaking gently, always sitting alone during meals with a book tucked beneath her arm. She never interrupted, never argued, never demanded attention.

Strange traits for a Slytherin.

People whispered about that sometimes.

Not loudly enough for confrontation, but enough for her to hear.

Too soft.
Too quiet.
Too strange for our house.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that beneath the soft eyes and trembling hands was someone trained to notice everything. Someone who memorized conversations like scripture and stored secrets more carefully than treasures.

Because Zayra Faylinne belonged to the Order of the Phoenix.

The thought alone was enough to get her killed.

A Slytherin working for Dumbledore was unheard of. Dangerous. Treasonous, depending on who discovered it first. If the wrong person learned the truth, she would not live long enough to explain herself.

But Dumbledore had looked at her once — truly looked at her — and seen something nobody else ever had.

Potential.

Not for greatness.
Not for power.

For goodness.

And somehow that had been worse.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the warm mug as voices rose near the fireplace. A group of seventh years argued about Quidditch while another whispered excitedly about a rumored Death Eater attack that had happened somewhere outside London. Nobody sounded afraid. If anything, they sounded fascinated.

That was the terrifying thing about Hogwarts lately.

Darkness no longer shocked people.

It entertained them.