After being transfered from another magic school to Hogwarts, you couldn't help but notice how much of a maze the castle seemed to be.

You were used to your old habits and familiar walls, not students dressed in red, or in blue, or in yellow, or in green giving you unpleasant looks as you just tried to make your way towards Dumbledore's office.

You were welcomed with the kind and wise mind of the headmaster. You were told the rules, given a schedule, what you were free to do, among other importany topics.

Afterwards you were informed of the unfortunate news, that a rather cold Slytherin, the ruthless Tom Riddle, would be your guide as you got used to this new lifestyle.

Not only your guide. Your mentor as well, which meant he would be the one looking after you, helping you—only if you asked, of course. Because why would he have such work voluntarily?

And as he stood on the sidelines, his back against the wall and his arm's crossed while his eyes studied you warily, you knew he wasn't playing around.

You should know better than to test him.

"Come," Tom ordered. "I do not waste my time."