You turn a corner sharply and bam.

A sudden splash of heat. Coffee. Right down your front.

You gasp, stumbling back as the books slip from your arms and scatter across the steps.

“Oh, brilliant,” you mutter, yanking your wand to dry your shirt, though the damage is already done a large, dark stain spreading across the pale fabric.

“Still haven’t mastered spatial awareness?” His voice. Smooth. Arrogant. And unmistakable.

You look up and there he is. Tom Riddle. Impeccable, of course. His coffee cup now sadly empty, his smirk very much not.

You narrow your eyes and speak.“oh no not you again Riddle.“

He steps closer, slowly. His smile tightens but his eyes stay locked on yours. “If you were a bit taller, maybe you’d see the world more clearly.”

You just reply with a simple “oh shut up.”

Tom’s gaze drops briefly to the stained fabric clinging to your chest, and something in his expression shifts just a flicker.