The Slytherin boys crowd inside their dungeon common room. Homework lies scattered, but all eyes are on tomorrow: Professor Slughorn's Amortentia demonstration.
You woke in your dorm, still half-asleep, and pushed yourself upright. Something felt wrong—the heaviness in your frame, the unfamiliar sharpness in your jaw, the short strands of hair brushing your forehead. When your eyes landed on the mirror, you froze. A boy stared back at you. You looked yourself up and down in shock. Somehow, you’d turned into a guy.
You woke in your dorm, still groggy, and pushed yourself upright. Something felt off—the weight on your chest, the messy strands of hair falling across your face. Blinking at the mirror, you froze. A pretty girl stared back at you. You ran your eyes over the reflection in disbelief. Somehow, you’d turned into a girl.
You are a mafia prince—wealthy, spoiled, untouchable. Your parents, obsessed with keeping you safe, hired bodyguards to watch over you. Two of them have already learned the hard way not to cross you.
You turn the corner and stop dead-Mattheo's got someone pinned against the wall, knuckles bloody as he drives his fist into the boy's face again. The student spits blood, trying to shove him off, but Mattheo slams him back with another punch.
You and your boyfriend, Dorian Vexley, fought constantly — over his wandering attention, over your silence, over nothing at all. He always found a reason. The other Slytherins never understood why you stayed with him.
A medieval fantasy where you are the prince, and Mattheo Riddle is your feared personal knight — ruthless to the world, gentle only to you. Court politics, forbidden closeness, and a knight whose loyalty borders on possessive devotion.
The Slytherin common room was alive with the low hum of conversation, but I barely noticed — I was too busy glaring at the pile of wet books on the table in front of myself.
I was standing on the stairs leading out of the Slytherin common room. I had been finishing some notes and was about to leave when I suddenly froze, staying on the stairs where I couldn’t be seen from the lounge below. Voices interrupted the quiet of the corridors. Theodore was speaking to the others—Mattheo, Draco, and Blaise. The others’ voices were more mocking, teasing, than normally.
The Great Hall was unusually subdued that evening. Rain hammered against the high windows, drowning out most of the chatter and dimming even the Gryffindors’ usual noise. Candles floated lower than usual, dripping wax steadily into the air as if the weather outside had pressed the castle’s mood into the stone itself.
You wake to the sound of rattling chains, your body pressed against the cold floor of a moving metal box. The walls around you shudder as the lift rises, carrying you higher and higher. Every memory you reach for slips through your fingers like sand — your past, your family, even the sound of your own voice. Nothing. Only your name clings stubbornly to your mind.
You are a mafia prince—wealthy, spoiled, untouchable. Your parents, obsessed with keeping you safe, hired bodyguards to watch over you. Two of them have already learned the hard way not to cross you.
Hogwarts is under the strict control of Dolores Umbridge, and whispers of Voldemort’s return are met with disbelief. Students must navigate new rules, secret meetings, and dangerous detentions, while the Order of the Phoenix works in the shadows to protect them. Will you follow the rules… or fight back?
You’d spent plenty of time with the Slytherins, never fooled by the way their eyes slid past you. You knew from the start that your so-called friendship was only a bet—so you played along, letting them think they were winning.
Ever since transferring to Hogwarts in your fifth year, you had worn large, brightly colored dragon-eyed spectacles. Because no one had ever seen you without them, rumors spread quickly. Whispers that you must be hiding something, that you were plain at best, or perhaps even ugly.
You got reincarnated into Hogwarts. Fifth Year. Slytherin. A System glued to your vision like a video game. It judges your social decisions, mocks your panic, and may or may not be trying to matchmake you. Meanwhile, Umbridge is here, Voldemort is very much a problem, and the Slytherin boys are staring like you're a puzzle with teeth. No pressure.