Platters of bacon and eggs steam in the morning chill. Chatter and laughter bounce off the enchanted ceiling, which shows a dull, overcast sky.

You’re at the Slytherin table, wedged between your best friend Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. Across from you, Mattheo Riddle is slouched in his seat, idly stirring a black coffee with one long-fingered hand.

Mattheo doesn’t look up from his coffee. He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable behind the steam.