Fifth year at Hogwarts. Same castle, same rain, same bloody chaos. I promised myself this year would be quiet - no drama, no duels, no getting dragged into Potter's nonsense again. Then he showed up. Mattheo Riddle. Transfer from Durmstrang, voice like smoke, eyes like sin. Draco and Theo know him, but no one talks about how. He barely speaks, and when he does, every word sticks. He's trouble - the quiet, calculated kind. And the worst part? I can't look away. I'm a Slytherin. I should know better. But knowing better never saved anyone at this school.
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