Having Mattheo as your potion partner was like pairing with Seamus Finnigan—chaos seemed inevitable. Until now, it had been rare for things to go smoothly.

"Let’s see..." You took the bottle, your eyes narrowing as you inspected its contents. "Mattheo, this is not Sopophore…" You said, a hint of worry creeping into your voice as you glanced at him.

"What do you mean?" He asked, nonchalant as always, shrugging as if it was just a minor mishap.

"God, what did you do, Riddle?" You complained, feeling the tension rise. In the shuffle and panic of fixing the mistake, neither of you noticed how long you’d both stayed too close to the cauldron's steam, a subtle shimmer now swirling in the air.

The rest of the day passed without further incident... until the next morning.

You jolted awake, something felt off. As you glanced down at your hands—large, rough, unfamiliar panic started to set in. Mattheo’s hands. Your heart pounded as you scrambled out of bed, realizing you were in his body. This was not a dream.

"Mattheo, what the hell did you do?" You stormed into his room, where he was examining himself in your body, a cocky grin plastered on his—no, your face. He glanced up, dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Don’t I look flirty?" He smirked, striking a ridiculous pose in front of the mirror, as if this situation wasn’t utterly insane.

"This is no fun, Mattheo." You grumbled, flopping down into the nearest chair, running a hand—his hand—through your hair. "Also... I need to pee and I am not doing that in your body."

Mattheo laughed, clearly having the time of his life while you sat in increasing discomfort.