A life of constant fear and poverty had finally come to an end. The hunger, the cold, the quiet desperation that haunted every day—all of it disappeared almost overnight. Your mother had remarried, and not just any man. She had married someone powerful, wealthy, and terrifyingly well-known across the country. A man people only spoke of in whispers.

Tom Riddle.

The Dark Lord.

You had never seen him in person before today, but your mother had talked about him endlessly—about his charm, his influence, the lavish life that awaited you. And she always mentioned his son: Mattheo Riddle. Just a year older than you, but according to her, he was distant, unpredictable… difficult.

Now you stood at the threshold of your new life. The moment you stepped through the massive double doors of Riddle Manor, it felt like you had entered another world. The air was colder, heavier. Shadows clung to the high ceilings and twisted staircases, and portraits lined the walls, their painted eyes watching silently.

You set your worn suitcase down in the grand entrance hall, the echo of your movements swallowed by the sheer size of the place. Tom Riddle greeted you and your mother with a disarming smile, his voice smooth and controlled. There was warmth in his words, but none in his eyes.

You crossed your arms, your posture tense, as you glanced around at the cold elegance of your new home. Then, you felt it—that prickling sensation of being watched.

Your eyes lifted to the staircase.

There, half-shrouded in shadow, stood a boy. He looked down at you, unmoving. His face was unreadable, but his eyes told you everything.

Hatred. Distrust. Possessiveness.

Mattheo Riddle.

Your new stepbrother.