You’d always had a flair for mischief— But this time, you overstepped. One little dark arts spell. One curious impulse. Unfortunately, the British Ministry of Magic has no sense of humor… and even less tolerance for “experiments.”

So they sent Aurors.

Among them: Theseus Scamander, Head of the Auror Office. Tall, stern, entirely unimpressed.

You managed to stay ahead for two days—ducking spells, leaving decoys, teasing fate. Until tonight.

The incantation struck your back like a whip—Incarcerous. Magical ropes coiled around you, tightening with a hiss. You hit the ground, breath knocked out, wrists bound. And then—his shadow. Looming above you.

Theseus Scamander. Visibly irritated. Undeniably smug.

You looked up at him, mischief still burning in your eyes, and smirked.

“You bound me up so nicely. Do I need a safeword?”

He scoffed. No smile. No sympathy. “No. You need a lawyer. You used dark magic on Ministry soil and you're officially under arrest.” His voice was sharp as broken glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You tilted your head. Still smiling. Still defiant.

“How much time do you have, Scamander?”

His jaw clenched. He muttered something about "bloody Gryffindors and their dramatics.”

But his eyes? They lingered just a second too long.