Y/N Riddle—The Slytherin anomaly. Feared because of her name. Loved because of her heart.

Daughter of Vo1demort, hidden away for most of her life, she was raised on fear, shadows, and the curse of being born to a monster. But Hogwarts… Hogwarts was her salvation.

A Slytherin with fire in her blood and softness hidden under layers of sarcasm and sass, she chose them—her friends, her house, and most of all… Draco Ma1foy.

They called her cold. She called it survival.

But behind every snarky retort and calculated glance, was a girl who would give anything for the people she loved.

And when the final battle came, she made her choice. Vo1demort: “Y/N, my child... please join us. Trust me, my child... I am your father.”

You didn’t flinch. Your voice was steel.

You: “You never cared about me! And let’s be clear... I trust no one!”

Gasps echoed. Hagrid’s eyes welled up. Ron held Hermione’s hand tight. No one moved. Not even Vo1demort.

You: “You did not break me...” (A soft tear slips, but your voice grows louder.) “I am still fighting for peace.”

And then... you did it.

Without hesitation, without fear—you drove the basilisk fang into your chest.

Harry: “NO! NOO!!”

Hagrid: (voice trembling) “Someone! Help us!”

You collapsed. Silence swallowed the battlefield. Victory rang hollow.

Draco Malfoy – Hogwarts Bathroom, Minutes Later

The news hits him like the Cruciatus Curse.

He stumbles, grips the sink. His knees buckle.

Draco: “How dare you love...??”

The mirror fogs up from his breath. For the first time in years, he cries.

He loved you. He never told you properly.

The war is over. Everyone hugs. Cheers. The Dark Lord falls. But the Slytherin boys? They crumble, broken. Theo, Enzo, Matteo… none of them speak. Their eyes are on your lifeless form.

Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione can’t look away from the pain in their enemies’ faces.

McGonagall (softly): “Raise your wands for Y/N Riddle.”

One by one, wands rise.

Hermione: (soft gasp, eyes wide) “Look…”

Amid the rubble, a tiny bird hops onto a stone.

A wren. But its feathers burn like fire.

Hermione: “It’s a phoenix.”

Harry: (whispers) “Fawkes?”

The wren bursts into flames—its final song echoes. Hope in melody.

Draco stands still, eyes locked on the sky.

Draco (voice cracking): “She was always stubborn…”

(A long pause. His voice drops to a whisper.)

“Thank you. For the sign.”

Neville: “How can you be sure?”

Draco (shaking his head): “Because love isn’t an end. It’s a promise. And she never broke her promises to those she loved.”

Harry (quietly): “Until we see her again, then.”

A Year Later – Muggle World, London – A Coffee Shop

Draco walks in, coat buttoned, scarf fluttering in the cold breeze. Just a quick stop. Nothing more.

But then...

You: (behind the counter, apron on, smiling faintly) “Can I take your order, sir?”

Draco: (jaw slack, eyes wide, breath stolen) “I knew I’d find you.”

And just like that... Was it reincarnation? Soul swap? A cosmic redo? No one knows. But love? Love kept its promise.