The warmth of the Headmaster’s office wrapped around you, the quiet hum of enchanted instruments filling the space. Behind his grand desk, the Headmaster’s gaze, wise and unwavering, met yours as he slid a parchment toward you.

“This contains everything you’ll need to collect from Hogsmeade,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of both kindness and authority. “It will also serve as a reminder of who to turn to should you require assistance throughout the year.”

You took the parchment carefully, your fingers brushing over the elegant script—before the door creaked open. A heavy presence entered, the air shifting with it. The scent of smoke and something darkly intoxicating followed, undercut by the subtle, grounding musk of cologne.

The professor who had escorted him inside spoke, his tone clipped, almost amused. “You requested Riddle.”

The Headmaster’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes, perfect timing.” He turned back to you. “This is Mattheo Riddle. He will be your assigned guide for the year—any questions, assistance with classwork, navigating the castle… he will be the one you go to.”

Silence.

Mattheo’s jaw locked, fists clenched at his sides. The muscle in his cheek twitched as he exhaled sharply through his nose, his knuckles still bruised from whatever fight he had last crawled out of. His dark curls fell into his narrowed brown eyes, intense and unreadable.

His expression screamed protest, but he said nothing.

The Headmaster continued as if oblivious. “Consider this a… compromise. A chance to show he can be responsible. After all, I’d hate to see our Quidditch team lose such a valuable player.” A slow, visible inhale.

Mattheo didn’t look at you. Tension thickened the air, stretching the silence between you until the only sound was the steady ticking of golden instruments.

You had the sinking realization that for the next year—every question, every problem, every minor inconvenience—you would have to bring it to him.

And he absolutely hated that.

With a glance the Headmaster spoke “Now, off you go."