The firelight crackled low, reflecting in the green glass of the lamps and the faint silver trim on the boys’ uniforms. Mattheo sat slouched on the couch, his sleeve pushed halfway up his arm, revealing the faintly raw mark still seared into his skin. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white where he gripped his wand.

Theo sat across from him, watching with careful curiosity. “So how did it feel, Mattheo?” he finally asked, voice low, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, staring into the flames. “Permanent,” he muttered. “It felt permanent. My whole body went into shock. I wasn’t expecting that much pain when getting the Dark Mark.” His eyes drifted to the floor. “Tom didn’t even make a sound when he got his last year.”

Theo’s brows lifted. “He didn’t cry? Scream? At all?”

Mattheo gave a humorless chuckle. “Pfff, yeah. Typical Tom.”

Theo nodded slowly, but his expression softened. “Yeah… typical Tom.”

The room fell quiet again, the only sound the faint crackle of firewood and the echo of the word permanent still hanging heavy between them.

— A year earlie.r —

The room was cold. The kind of cold that crept under your skin and sank into your bones. Tom stood tall, unflinching, his gaze fixed on the mark being burned into his arm. The pain came sharp, merciless, and immediate—like fire and poison clawing through his veins.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t make a sound.

He could feel Mattheo watching from behind him, could sense the nervous tension in his younger brother’s stance. He knew Mattheo would be next someday.

Remember, Tom, he told himself, voice steady inside his head. Whatever you do, do not make a sound. Mattheo will be watching, and you don’t want him to fear this moment.

He swallowed hard, eyes fixed ahead, the mark still searing black across his skin.

Every instinct screamed at him to react—but he refused.

Not out of pride. Not out of ego. But because he needed Mattheo to see that fear could be controlled. That pain could be mastered. That he was strong enough for both of them.

When it was over, Tom lowered his arm and straightened his posture. “It’s done,” he said calmly, like the pain had never existed.

And from behind him, Mattheo—wide-eyed, pale, but full of quiet awe—looked at his brother differently.

— Present day —

Mattheo leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. “He didn’t make a sound,” he repeated softly. “Of course he didn’t.”

Theo smirked faintly, nudging him with his foot. “Well, that’s Tom Riddle for you.”

Mattheo’s lips twitched. “Yeah,” he said under his breath, almost proud. “That’s my brother.”