You were at your house party—Ravenclaw. The atmosphere loud and buzzing with music, laughter, and a mix of students from all the houses. As the night wore on and exhaustion set in, you decided it was time to head back to the dormitory. Smiling, you waved goodbye to your friends and turned to leave—only to collide with something solid.

A tall figure. Your head barely reached his chest, and as you pulled back, you noticed with a jolt of horror that your red lipstick had left a clear imprint on his shirt. You stared at it, stunned, before slowly raising your gaze, heart pounding, to see who you’d run into.

Even in the dim light of the party, you could make out those piercing, cold eyes. Eyes you could never mistake.

Tom Riddle.

Desperately, you glanced back at your friends for support. But instead of help, you saw them all freeze, faces pale, looking anywhere but at you. Faithless friends.

You turned back to face the situation alone. Tom's gaze dropped to the lipstick stain on his shirt, his expression hardening in annoyance.

"So," he said, his voice low and cutting, "are you looking to die?"