The Snake Pit || Mattheo Riddle

Chapter 22: A Note

The following week was excruciating. Every morning at 8:00am exactly Octavia received a letter from her grandmother, specifying people she was to stay away from. They came in long lists with little explanation, and by the end of them it left next to nobody from her house. Along with the lists came warnings that she would find out if Octavia so much as thought of disobeying her, Odette had went to ridiculous lengths to have Octavia completely isolated. She was forced to ignore Daphne at all times; going to bed early and drawing her curtains shut to block out her best friends' advances.

If she was honest with herself, Octavia felt scared among everything else. The fear ran off her in waves. Fear that maybe if she so much as talked to anyone that she would be ripped out of Hogwarts before she could plead her case.

Being completely alone at all times was more depressing than you could imagine. During classes she was encouraged to sit by herself by sympathetic teachers. Even in the library her grandmother had enlisted the hawk like eyes of Madam Pince, the librarian. She took great joy in making sure Octavia was secluded, any excess movement was met with sharp words to be seated. If Octavia needed a book, Madam Pince was her harrowing shadow. In the Common Room she watched her friends curl up by the fire joking amongst themselves and felt like maybe it wasn't worth it to stay.

By the end of the week, she was about ready to call it quits. Octavia curled up by the lake, under her favourite tree; the wind growing colder. Miserable. Her weekends were filled with extra assignments she'd set for herself and reading, beside her stacked a mixture of textbooks and novels, her only friends left.

'Are you avoiding me or something?' The voice at her side made her jump and swing around. Evan, tall, rugged up under a royal blue Ravenclaw scarf, beanie and matching mittens, blue eyes bright and eyebrows quirked in humour. Octavia huffed a laugh, she had.

'No, no, I just didn't think you'd want to talk to me,' she responded drawing her coat closer.

'Why?' he asked, eyebrows high on his forehead. Evan wore an amused smile, tilting his head. He slumped down beside her, shoulder pressed into her. Octavia shuffled to give him room on her transfigured blanket.

'Uh, I mean, I found Berny Sofflet the night he was attacked,' she stuttered. 'I figured Goldstein went around telling everyone that Riddle and I were the ones to hurt him,' she didn't look him in the eye, instead looking out at the Black Lake, its murky water rippling with activity. The school had gone back to treating her like a pariah, students bustling to give her a wide berth. Octavia wasn't the only one though, the same thing had started again for Mattheo. Not that she was paying any attention to him.

'Oh yeah, he did,' Evan nodded his head, smile flickering. Octavia took a deep breath, awkward. Her stomach curdling with anxiety. He followed her gaze to the lake. Their breaths wafting out in misty clouds. It was too early for snow, but it was close. Octavia fiddled with her gloves; leather, black and expensive, charmed to keep her hands warm. But she didn't wear them, she needed the bitter chill to bite into something, otherwise she would just go numb.

'He'll cool off,' Evan assured, Octavia's eyes snapped to his, bright blue and encouraging. He shrugged and grinned. Octavia's mouth had popped open in surprise.

'You don't think I did it?' she croaked, eyes wide.

'Did you?' he spoke like a parent to a toddler, Octavia bristled. His eyes glimmering with amusement. Octavia frowned. The cold breeze swept through her hair, leaving her to fuss at it for a moment.

'No, of course not,' she shook her head.

'Well, that's all I need to know,' Evan shrugged, leaning further into the tree trunk and looking back out to the lake. Octavia studied his side profile. He was scrawny underneath his layers of winter clothes, cheekbones sticking out at odd angles, like he'd always had to fight for food, even at Hogwarts. He looked to her in his periphery, that smile coming back with a tight-lipped pull of the corner of his mouth.