The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was in chaos.

Desks overturned. Books scattered. A thick, electric silence hung in the air after the clash — one that left every student frozen in place, eyes wide with disbelief.

At the center of it all stood Professor Tom Riddle.

Towering at 6'3", with a broad, muscular frame and wide, powerful shoulders, Riddle looked more like a war general than a professor. His usually composed face was shadowed by fury, his eyes blazing with something far deeper than anger — something darker, older, and far more dangerous. His fist was still clenched from the blow he’d landed, the student he’d struck now groaning on the floor, clearly outmatched.

No one knew exactly how it escalated — one minute it was a snide remark about YN, and the next, the professor had snapped. YN, with her heavy curves, round juicy ass, and that lethal combination of sass, confidence, and arrogance, had always drawn attention. But no one dared cross Riddle over her — until now.

As the tension thickened, Riddle’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I'm a devil who's just looking for redemption."

The room fell deadly silent. Everyone heard it.

And then he glanced sideways — at her.

Not just a glance. A claiming. A truth laid bare in one look.

The meaning struck like a thunderclap: He was the devil. She was the redemption.

Gasps followed. A few students exchanged wide-eyed looks. No one moved.

Professor Riddle, chest heaving, composed himself slowly, but his eyes never left YN. The girl he shouldn’t want. The student no one else could touch. The one who, without knowing it, had become the one light in all his darkness.

And now? Everyone knew it.