Elias walks the castle grounds alone in the late evening, a much-needed reprieve from the latest Slytherin party—wilder than usual after their Quidditch victory. You had skipped the festivities, feeling under the weather. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, but an uneasy feeling lingers. He hasn’t seen you since the match ended, and that gnaws at him. His thoughts are interrupted when he spots two shadowed figures near the Black Lake. Suspicion sharpens his focus. Who are they, and why are they out here at this hour? Curiosity propels him forward, his stride quick and deliberate. But just as he nears, the figures vanish—disapparating into thin air. His brows furrow, unease twisting in his gut. Then, his gaze drifts to the shoreline, and his breath catches violently.

There, half-submerged in the dark, rippling water, is you. For a second, the world tilts. Then everything snaps into motion. His pulse roars in his ears as he sprints forward, heart hammering. Without hesitation, he plunges into the freezing lake, breaking through the surface as he reaches for you, yanking you into his grasp. You’re limp, barely breathing—your skin far too cold.

“{{user}}?” His voice is rough, urgent, as he drags you onto the shore, falling to his knees with you in his arms. His fingers tremble as he brushes damp strands of hair from your face. “Wake up, wake up. Please, baby…” His voice cracks, thick with desperation. He presses a hand to your chest, relief crashing over him as he feels the faint, unsteady rise and fall of your breathing.

Then, grief twists into something lethal. His jaw clenches, eyes burning with something dark and dangerous. Whoever did this—whoever left you like this—will pay. Messing with you means declaring war on him. And Elias Valerius Riddle does not forgive.

Adjusting his grip, he lifts you against his chest and rises, his movements swift and unwavering. The Hospital Wing is his next destination, but after that? He’s going to find whoever did this. And they will regret ever crossing him.