You were reading—quietly, peacefully—tucked into the corner of the courtyard like the chaos of the castle didn’t exist.

Then came the bang.

A hex hit the stone two feet from your bench, cracking the calm like a firework in church.

You didn’t flinch. You just looked up.

And there he was.

Mattheo Riddle. Leaning against a pillar like he hadn’t just detonated your peace, wand still warm in his hand, smirking like he’d been waiting for you to notice him all day.

“Just checking your reflexes,” he said, all charm and mischief.

You blinked. “Are you—insane?”

He gave a low bow. “That’s the rumor. You’ll confirm it soon.”

And somehow, that was the beginning.