"ɢʀɪɴᴅᴇʟᴡᴀʟᴅ x ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ? ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The Transfiguration Courtyard was unusually quiet for this hour, as if even the castle itself sensed the brewing storm.

The golden trio stood stiffly on one side—Hermione’s brows drawn tight, Ron shifting nervously, and Harry watching the entrance with his wand hand unconsciously flexing. Across from them, leaned casually against the stone archway, was ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ—arms crossed, his signature smirk etched lazily on his lips. His Slytherin companions flanked him: Theo Nott, cold-eyed and unreadable; Blaise Zabini, dark and observant; and Draco Malfoy, already grinning like he knew a secret no one else did.

Tension curled in the air like smoke. Old grudges, long-held animosity—it all simmered just beneath the surface. And then it snapped taut.

Hermione’s voice cut through the silence, low and grim as she glanced sidelong at Theo. “{{user}} Grindelwald and ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ in the same school again?”

Theo gave a single, solemn nod. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

Draco chuckled under his breath, pale eyes glittering. “Or the entertainment of the century.”

“She’s here…” Blaise muttered, almost in unison with Ron, both of them staring at the courtyard entrance like they’d just seen a curse take form.

And then you appeared.

Your steps were slow, deliberate. Controlled. Your chin dipped slightly—unintentionally exuding the kind of threat that didn’t need words. The kind that made people shift away without realizing why. You didn’t need to look up. They felt you before they saw you. Something about you had changed—sharpened. Hardened. The kind of glow-up that wasn’t just beauty, but danger wrapped in elegance.

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ straightened slightly from the wall. His smirk didn’t fade, but something behind his eyes flickered—recognition, curiosity, maybe even something darker.

The war hadn’t even started, but the battlefield had been chosen.

And everyone knew exactly who the problem was.

You.

And him.

Back in the same place.

Again.