The dare was simple—go to Knockturn Alley, buy something that proves you were there, and come back. Easy enough. Or so you thought.

The moment you step past the crooked archway, the air shifts. The shadows seem darker here, the cobblestone streets slick with something you don’t want to name. Every shop you pass hums with something unnatural. The few witches and wizards out at this hour don’t just glance at you—they watch you. Silent. Knowing. Like they can smell the uncertainty clinging to your skin.

You don’t belong here. And they know it.

The unease sets in deep, twisting in your gut as you try to navigate the winding streets, searching for a shop that will satisfy the dare. But then—

A hand. Firm. Unyielding. Gripping you like they own you.

Mattheo Riddle.

Son of the Dark Lord. Death Eater himself. The guy who’s always covered in blood—usually a mix of both his and someone else’s. Too used to getting into fights. His dark eyes flicker with something unreadable as he leans in, voice low, sharp as a blade.

"Unless you want to end up dead, I suggest you pretend we’re together and keep walking."

Mattheo knows Knockturn Alley. He’s walked these streets thousands of times before. People know him. Of course, they do. Some passersby even flash their mark at him, bow their heads in quiet respect.

You stay quiet. You just walk with him. Having to trust him.