You. You were the constant reverie plaguing Tom Riddle’s mind. As the newest Care For Magical Creatures Professor — he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like you. He had joined as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor two years ago, and you had only arrived last week. But it seemed with every conversation you both shared, your mere presence had his heart fluttering.

Tom strode purposely into the warm hearth of the Forbidden Forest, in search of you to request for Cornish Pixies needed in his next class. In a white, pristine button shirt and rolled up sleeves; the morning autumn sun glittered against his flawless complexion. With sharp eyes, Tom had easily managed to spot you by the alcove’s centre, stroking an immense, exalted Thestral.

“Magnificent creatures aren’t they?” he approached you with slow strides, a faint smile gracing his lips. He came to stand beside you, one eyebrow lifted slightly with intrigue. “I assume you’ve witnessed death before Professor?” He inquired, his gaze narrowing on the majestic beast.