The echo of your footsteps matched Mattheo’s perfectly — left, right, left, right — a rhythm you never planned but had always shared. Walking beside him down the long stone hallway of Hogwarts felt like moving with your own reflection. You were twins through and through, not just in appearance, but in every instinct. The only difference was the small, unspoken truth that sat between you: you weren’t just students here. You were a secret Prince and Princess, heirs to a lineage no one at Hogwarts suspected.

Mattheo’s expression was unreadable, his dark eyes scanning the corridor ahead while his hand brushed against yours every few steps, a silent tether.

“You ready for this?” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, matching his pace without even trying.

The ancient torches lining the walls threw flickering gold across the black and green of your robes, the faint Slytherin crest glinting over your hearts.

Without speaking again, you both turned sharply down the final stretch, the entrance to your House common room just ahead. The low murmur of voices inside was muffled by the thick stone walls, and the greenish glow from the enchanted lanterns spilled into the hallway like a quiet invitation.

You and Mattheo stepped through the entrance together, and the conversation inside slowed just enough for you to notice. The Slytherin common room was exactly as you’d imagined — shadows pooling in the corners, emerald light rippling across the walls from the lake outside, and a faint scent of cedarwood from the crackling fire.

Six boys lounged across the room, their attention shifting toward you in a way that made the air feel heavier.

Draco Malfoy, leaning casually against the arm of a chair, raised a pale brow. “Well, well… new faces.”

Blaise Zabini’s dark eyes scanned you both with quiet calculation. “First years don’t usually walk in like they own the place,” he noted, almost amused.

“Because they don’t,” Lorenzo added with a lazy smirk, though his eyes were sharp.

Theodore Nott sat back, long legs stretched out, his tone calm but pointed. “They’re not first years.”

Regulus Black, posture perfect as ever, tilted his head. “No… they’re something else.”

Finally, Tom Riddle — who you didn’t know was your older brother — looked up from where he sat near the fire. His gaze caught yours, steady and unreadable. For a moment, the room felt too quiet.

“You’ve got… familiar eyes,” he said slowly, his tone almost conversational but his stare unwavering.

You felt Mattheo shift slightly beside you. “We’ve never met,” he said flatly, his hand brushing yours in a protective gesture.

“No,” Tom agreed, though something in his voice made your skin prickle. “Not yet.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge… or a promise.