The Riddle of Us *Mattheo x Reader*

"Indeed. Let's not keep the presents waiting."

The wait had been excruciating. Weeks of paranoia, of checking every drink before taking a sip, of peering cautiously around corners, of sleeping with one eye open—only for nothing to happen.

By the time Y/N and Pansy had begun to relax, convinced that the boys had either given up or forgotten (unlikely, but possible given their limited attention spans), it was already too late.

Because the boys had not forgotten.

And they definitely had not given up.

It started out as an average morning. Y/N and Pansy strutted into the Great Hall, late as usual, their Slytherin robes thrown haphazardly over their pyjamas. They were far too used to rolling out of bed and into breakfast without a care.

Y/N barely spared a glance at the group of boys already seated at the table, whispering amongst themselves.

That was her first mistake.

The second mistake was sitting down without checking her seat first.

Because the moment she did, an ear-piercing BANG echoed through the hall.

Thick green smoke exploded from beneath her, engulfing both her and Pansy in a billowing cloud that smelled strongly of burnt cinnamon and—oddly—peppermint. The laughter started immediately.

Pansy let out a shriek, practically leaping out of her seat, swatting at the fine layer of glitter now coating her robes. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL—"

Y/N coughed violently, her eyes watering. "What in Morgana's saggy knickers—"

The smoke finally dissipated, revealing the aftermath.

Y/N and Pansy sat there, entirely unharmed but now both sporting violently pink hair that shone unnaturally in the candlelight.

The Great Hall roared with laughter.

At the Slytherin table, Draco, Theo, and Blaise were practically crying, doubled over with howling laughter. Mattheo, on the other hand, had the audacity to lean back in his seat, arms folded behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You should see your faces," Theo gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "Absolutely priceless—"

"You bastards," Pansy seethed, reaching for her wand, but Y/N stopped her with a sharp shake of the head.

No. No. This was not over.

"Alright," Y/N said, standing slowly, flicking her now-pink hair over her shoulder. She rolled her shoulders, exhaling deeply before fixing the boys with a wicked grin. "Alright."

Draco's smirk wavered ever so slightly. "Uh-oh."

Mattheo's dark eyes gleamed with challenge. "I'd love to see you try, princess."

Y/N's smile sharpened. Oh, he had no idea what he had just unleashed.

And so, the prank war began in full force. It started innocently enough, with harmless jabs—like swiping Draco's precious hair gel and watching him scramble for a replacement, or taking Pansy's prized diary and tearing out pages to tape them across the walls of the common room for all to see. The shredded paper, with its scandalous little notes, became an unexpected treasure hunt that had everyone whispering and snickering behind Pansy's back.

But things quickly escalated. Next came the exploding letters—innocuous-looking parchment sealed with a simple wax emblem, but when opened, they would burst with a burst of ink, soaking everything in sight. The ink? Impossible to remove, staining clothes, hands, and everything else it touched, leaving behind a trail of chaos wherever the letters landed.