It was the first day of your seventh year at Hogwarts, and the atmosphere was buzzing with the usual excitement. Students exchanged summer stories, parchment rustled, and the faint scent of burning candle wax filled the cool, dimly lit Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As you settled into your seat, quill poised for notes, Professor stood at the front, his robes billowing slightly as he read from the attendance scroll with his usual stern precision.

You weren’t paying much attention at first, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of N.E.W.T.s and what the year ahead would hold. That is, until the Professor’s cold, silky voice called out a name you hadn’t heard in years—one you never expected to hear again.

"Mattheo Riddle."

Your body went rigid. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you snapped your head up so fast it almost hurt. No. It couldn’t be. Mattheo had left school in your third year, without a word, disappearing from the school like a ghost. You hadn’t seen him since. Rumors had swirled about why he left—a scandal, perhaps, or something darker—but no one knew for certain.

There, in the shadows near the back of the room, he sat. Mattheo. His dark hair, tousled but effortlessly styled, fell into his eyes as he raised his hand lazily in acknowledgment. He didn’t even look up at Snape. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned his head—slowly, deliberately—and your eyes met.

It felt like looking at both the past and present. His features were sharper, more mature, but the same dangerous glint remained in his eyes. Your heart pounded as memories rushed back—fleeting glances, whispered rumors, and the way his mere presence commanded attention.

But now, there was something darker in his gaze, something that pierced through you, making the world around you disappear. In that moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent exchange.

Professor continued with the roll call, oblivious to the turmoil that was raging inside you, but you barely heard a word after that.