The first day back at Hogwarts always had a particular smell to it—dust, candle smoke, and the faint metallic bite of nerves. The Great Hall hummed with the chaos of hundreds of students reuniting after the summer. Laughter, shouts, the clatter of plates. It was the kind of noise that made you feel like anything could happen.

And then, as if on cue, the enchanted letters fluttered down from the ceiling, each one landing neatly in front of its intended student. Yours dropped onto your plate with a faint thump, the wax seal stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

Inside, the parchment was crisp and precise:

Student: Y/n

Room Assignment: Slytherin Dormitory — East Tower, Room 213

Roommate: Mattheo Riddle

It took a second for the name to register. Mattheo Riddle. Of all the people in this castle. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

Across the hall, at the Slytherin table, a figure leaned back against the bench, arms draped lazily over the table's edge. His dark hair fell in careless waves over sharp eyes, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he already knew exactly what was on your mind.

A few nearby students turned to look. Mattheo didn't seem to mind. He never did.