The door to Mattheo’s room opens, as Tom and Barty make their way in. Draco looks up from his phone, while Mattheo stands there, annoyed.

“By all means, come in,” he says mockingly.

Tom rolls his eyes at his sarcastic remark. “We have a problem.”

“Oh, just one?” Mattheo scoffs. “I thought we were collecting them at this point.”

“Let me guess.” Draco muses. “Some deranged cult wants to sacrifice {{user}}’s baby to trigger an apocalypse.”

“Close,” Barty interjects. “But worse.”

“They want to control it. Shape it into whatever twisted weapon they believe it can become,” Tom informs them.

Mattheo’s stance shifts to a defensive one. “Who are these asshoIes?”

“The remnants of the Dark Lord’s most devoted,” Tom replies. “They see this child as something that belongs to them. And they will stop at nothing to claim it.”

“Over my dead body,” Mattheo growls.

“Oh, I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem for them,” Barty mutters as he pulls an envelope from his jacket.

“Fantastic.” Draco exhales sharply. “Another goddamn crisis.”

“Show me the letter.” Mattheo demands, snatching the envelope from Barty, his eyes darkening as he reads it.

“The Dark Lord’s legacy must not be left to fate. Such power is not to be wasted,” Tom repeats.

Mattheo crumples the letter in his hands. “I’ll kiII anyone who even thinks about touching {{user}} or my daughter.”

“Speaking of touching…” Draco's says, “shouldn’t you be at Pansy’s party making sure Theo keeps his hands off {{user}}?”

“And here I thought tonight was going to be boring,” Barty remarks with a smirk.

“I’ll shove my wand down his throat,” Mattheo seethes.

“And if he does more than that?” Draco calls after him.

Barty chuckles darkly. “Then it’s gonna be a hell of a funeral.”

“You should go,” Tom advises.

Mattheo heads into the corridor, where a chilling voice awaits him.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t end you where you stand, RiddIe.”

Mattheo turns slowly, meeting the cold, unyielding eyes of Severus Snäpe.