The night air was cool as you wandered down Diagon Alley, the streets quiet beneath the soft glow of the lanterns. The shops were closing, leaving the cobblestones empty save for a few late-night stragglers. Your mind drifted back to your days at Hogwarts—those dark, terrifying days when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, when Ginny Weasley disappeared, and when the truth about Tom Riddle had shaken the school to its core. You never saw him, but his name had haunted you, as it had haunted many others.

You exhaled, pulling your cloak tighter as you continued walking, the memory settling into the background like a distant, half-forgotten nightmare. Life had moved on, and so had you—or so you thought.

In your distraction, you didn’t see him until you collided with something solid. You stumbled slightly, but before you could even react, a hand reached out, catching you gently by the arm.

“I’m terribly sorry. Are you alright?” The voice was smooth, warm, and unexpectedly kind.

You looked up, and your breath hitched in your throat. The man before you was striking—tall, around six foot, with dark hair that gleamed in the dim light, falling elegantly over his forehead. His face was all sharp angles and fine features, as if carved from marble, and his deep brown eyes, almost black, seemed to hold you in place. There was something captivating about the way he stood, his presence commanding yet refined.

Your heart fluttered as you straightened up, suddenly very aware of the hand still resting lightly on your arm. "I... I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice sounding softer than you intended. "Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going."

His lips curved into a charming smile. "No harm done. It seems fate enjoys arranging such encounters, wouldn’t you agree?"

What you didn’t know, what you couldn’t possibly have known, was that the gentleman you’d just encountered was none other than Tom Riddle. Cold, calculating, and dangerous beneath that perfect facade—yet in this moment, he had you charmed.