You stand just outside the castle grounds, the crisp evening air sending a gentle breeze across your face as you struggle to process what you’ve just learned. News has been swirling through hushed whispers: Mattheo and Theo are gone—vanished together in the dead of night. The rumor is that Theo, in a moment of desperation and brazen hope, approached Mattheo’s father himself to ask for Mattheo’s hand in marriage. And VoIdemort, predictably, denied him, refusing to entertain the notion of his son taking a husband.

Rather than yield to the Dark Lord’s threats, Theo and Mattheo fled, disappearing from the castle’s corridors and shadowy common rooms. At first, everyone assumed they were off doing something reckless, as they often did. But days have passed and no one has seen them—no pranks, no heated arguments, no quiet, stolen conversations in the common room.

Whispers say they slipped out at twilight, cloaks pulled tight against the chill, determined to outrun his father’s disapproval. They cast off any pretense of loyalty to blood supremacy, leaving behind the black-robed circle and its sinister ambitions. Theo supposedly declared that he’d rather be an outcast with the man he loves than a perfect pureblood without him. Mattheo, heart pounding in tandem with Theo’s, agreed such a passion that surprised even himself.

Now, as you stand in the quiet dusk, you imagine them somewhere far beyond these grounds, leaning on each other for warmth and courage. The idea of the two of them rejecting the very system that raised them is the talk of the castle. You can almost see them in your mind’s eye: Theo’s arm slung protectively around Mattheo’s shoulders, both of them looking forward to a future free from the constraints of their past. And despite the risk of the Dark Lord’s wrath.