The morning light filtered weakly through the Great Hall windows, glinting off the golden plates as breakfast chatter filled the air. The Slytherin table was already loud — Theo flipping through the Daily Prophet, Draco criticizing the headline font, and Mattheo trying to steal Pansy’s toast.

Enzo slid into the seat beside Theo, brushing stray crumbs from his robe. “I heard I missed the new girl yesterday,” he said, grabbing a pumpkin pasty. “What was her name again?”

Theo smirked, lowering the paper. “Yeah — Y/N. And let’s just say Tom’s been following her around like a lost puppy.”

Tom looked up from his tea, unimpressed. “I’m not lost,” he said coolly, setting down his cup. “Nor am I a puppy.”

Mattheo grinned, elbowing him. “Admit it, brother — you’re smitten.”

Draco snorted into his drink. “Tom? Smitten? As if.”

But Pansy leaned across the table, eyes glinting with amusement. “He’s definitely smitten. Look at him — pretending he doesn’t care. Classic Riddle behavior.”

Tom’s lips curved just slightly. “Well,” he drawled, “she’s certainly more interesting than the rest of you.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Before anyone could respond, a loud commotion echoed across the hall. The group turned just in time to see you — the supposed “new girl” — standing in front of a terrified Ravenclaw boy, wand drawn.

“You stole my chocolate frogs,” you snapped, pointing at the crumbs on his robes.

“I–I didn’t—” the boy stammered.

“Oh, don’t lie to me!” you interrupted, stepping closer with that fire in your eyes.

With one quick flick of your wand, his bag split open, revealing several very familiar frog-shaped wrappers.

The Great Hall went silent.

Mattheo blinked, leaning toward Tom. “What the f—”

Tom’s smirk widened ever so slightly, his tone calm and satisfied. “Told you, brother,” he said, eyes following you as you collected your sweets. “Interesting.”

Theo laughed under his breath. “Interesting? He’s more than smitten, he’s in love.”

Mattheo groaned. “Merlin help us all.”

Draco tilted his head. “Well, if she’s going to attack people for chocolate, she’ll fit right in.”

But Tom barely heard them — his gaze lingered on you as you walked back to the Slytherin table, confidence in every step, chocolate frog in hand. You passed by him without a word, though the corner of your lips curved into a knowing smirk.

For once, Tom Riddle Jr. — calm, composed, calculating — found himself at a loss for words.

And that, the others decided, said it all.