Always and forever- Matteo Riddle

Weapon

I looked away, my chest tight. I wasn't stupid—I knew this war was real, I knew the danger that lurked ahead. But was I really supposed to just accept that my life wasn't mine anymore? That I had to become whatever they needed me to be?

Dumbledore's voice cut through the tension. "No one is forcing you to become something you are not. But denying your power will not change what is coming."

I exhaled, my throat burning. I was trapped. No matter what I wanted, this war was coming, and apparently, so was my role in it.

My father says "you need to start taking care of yourself, I don't know how many times we need to tell you this before you're actually going to do something about it."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, so now you care?"

My father's eyes darkened. "Don't be ridiculous. We've always cared."

"Really?" I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Because it sure doesn't feel like it. You only seem to care when it affects your perfect reputation or your war plans."

Narcissa sighed, her gaze softer than my father's but just as firm. "We are not blind. We've seen how you've been living—how little you eat, how much you drink, how you rely on things that will only destroy you."

"You think I don't know that?" My voice cracked slightly, but I forced myself to stay composed. "You think I want to be like this? I'm trying to cope!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing my attention. "And yet, your coping mechanisms are only leading you further from yourself." His blue eyes were piercing, filled with something I couldn't quite place—pity? Concern? "No one is asking you to be perfect. But if you are to stand against what is coming, you must first learn to stand for yourself."

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly. "So, what? You want me to just magically fix everything overnight?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "We want you to start. You cannot fight a war when you are already losing a battle with yourself."

I let out a slow breath, feeling cornered. I wanted to argue, to push back, but deep down, I knew they weren't wrong. I just didn't know if I was strong enough to fix it.

"I'm too damaged to be your fucking weapon" I said anger in my tone

Lucius' lips pressed into a thin line. "You are not damaged. You are powerful."

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, really? Because last time I checked, powerful people don't wake up from nightmares every night. They don't drown themselves in alcohol and cigarettes just to feel something. They don't break down at the thought of water touching their skin." My voice cracked, but I refused to let the tears fall. "If all I am to you is a weapon, then you're screwed, because I'm a broken one."

Narcissa's face softened, but she didn't argue. Dumbledore, however, sighed, his expression unreadable. "You are not broken. But you are hurting. And you will not be able to fight—truly fight—if you don't allow yourself to heal."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "And how exactly do you expect me to do that?"

Lucius looked at me with the same cold authority he always had. "By accepting what you are and training. The war isn't waiting for you to be ready."

I shook my head, my body tense with frustration. "And what if I don't want to fight?"

Silence.

Dumbledore gave me a look filled with something like understanding. "Then the war will come to you anyway."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. It didn't matter what I wanted. It never had.

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me. My head was spinning, my chest tight with anger and frustration. I didn't stop walking—I couldn't. I needed to get away from them, from their expectations, from the weight they were trying to shove onto my shoulders.