You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, in the heart of a crumbling old library nestled deep within Diagon Alley. The air smells of parchment and ink, mingled with a faint, earthy dampness that speaks of a building long past its prime. Shelves loom around you like watchful sentinels, casting long shadows that dance with the flicker of enchanted lanterns.

You came here for a single reason: to find a book on advanced charms—nothing more. But something had shifted the moment you stepped through the threshold, a hum in the air that settled under your skin like static. The feeling was almost... alive. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

That’s when you saw him.

He was seated at a table in the far corner, a figure cloaked in shadows and silence. At first, you’d mistaken him for a part of the decor, some old painting brought to life by a stray charm. But no—he was very real. His dark curls framed a face pale and sharp, every feature carved with precision. Silver-gray eyes flicked upward, meeting yours, and it felt as though the world had stopped spinning.

You didn’t know it yet, but those eyes had already marked you as his.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he simply watched you, his gaze a mix of curiosity and something far deeper—something you couldn’t name. You tried to shake it off, pulling your own gaze away and wandering toward the nearest shelf. The uneasy thrumming in your chest didn’t subside, though. You could feel him still, his attention like a tether you couldn’t untangle.

Finally, the silence broke.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” His voice was low, smooth, and tinged with a faint French lilt. It wasn’t a question, nor was it particularly hostile. It was a statement of fact, as if he already knew everything about you—the exact kind of wizard you were, the precise steps that had brought you here.