The Astronomy Tower stood eerily silent as the moonlight bathed the ancient stone walls in a ghostly glow. It was well past curfew, and the corridors of Hogwarts lay in a hushed lull. As you ascended the winding staircase, the faint scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air. There, leaning against the stone balustrade, was Mattheo Riddle. His dark hair fell in loose waves, and the ember of his cigarette glowed like a beacon in the night.