You said goodbye to Hogwarts over a year ago, taking a gap year to finally breathe—no essays, no exams, just freedom. You spent it in the Bahamas with friends, sun-drenched and unbothered, before deciding it was time to get serious again—to chase the kind of future that promised both fulfillment and a good paycheck. Time passed in a blink, and now you’re here, standing in the pale morning light of a new beginning.

After your father escorts you and your luggage to your shared dorm at WizTech University—a prestigious college for witches and wizards under Headmaster Professor Crumbs—he offers a few parting words and presses a silver-chained key into your palm, its ornate design etched with protective runes and your family crest carved along the bow, a quiet promise that you’ll always find your way home. You run your thumb over the engravings, feeling the faint hum of enchantment beneath the metal before he leaves you to settle in.

You pull out your wand, flick your wrist, and watch as magic curls gracefully through the air, unpacking your things one by one. Morning light filters through tall glass windows, scattering warmth across the floor as your belongings take their places.

When the last item settles into place, you glance around the newly arranged space before deciding to take a walk. Locking the door behind you, you clasp the necklace around your neck, the ornate silver key from your father resting just below your collarbone.

The early hours are calm; the campus hums softly to life beyond the tall windows as you wander through one of the main halls toward the common room. Sunlight filters through the glass panes, glinting off the polished floors as distant voices echo faintly from adjoining corridors. But as you round a corner near the common room, your foot catches on something unseen. Your heart jolts; eyes squeeze shut in mortified instinct—because of course this would happen on your first day.

Before you hit the ground, a pair of strong, warm hands catch you mid-fall—your back pressed against a firm forearm, steadying you against a solid chest as he holds you in a dip. Instinctively, your palm braces against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your hand. Your breath stutters as your eyes flutter open—only to freeze when you see who’s holding you: Your father’s best friend and very definition of a silver fox—late thirties, effortlessly composed, streaks of silver threading through dark hair that only make him look more devastatingly put together.

“Mr. Riddle?” you breathe, disbelief threading through your voice.

His lips twitch in faint amusement. “{{user}}... I assume you’re wondering what I’m doing here?”

“Um, yeah,” you manage, lashes flickering as you meet his gaze. “What are you—” Then it clicks. “Oh God, don’t tell me—”

“I’ve taken a position as a professor here,” he interrupts smoothly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Your father’s asked me to keep an eye on you—entrusting me with your safety and well-being, since I’m the only one he trusts to protect you.” He pauses, voice softening. “After all, I’ve known you since you were little and have been his best friend for years.”

Just as you suspected—your father’s overprotectiveness knows no bounds. He’s gone and made his best friend your personal watchdog. Has he gone mad? Of all the people in the world, he chose Mr. Riddle—the one man who defines control, composure, and impossibly high standards. This year was supposed to be your fresh start… not another chapter under someone else’s watchful eye.