The whispers started at breakfast. You felt them before you heard them — the shift in the air, the stolen glances. Something was off.

By the time you stepped into the corridor, Theo caught up to you, his tone uneasy. “Lexi… don’t go near the courtyard.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why?”

He hesitated, eyes darting away. “Just trust me. Tom and Mattheo are already there.”

Your stomach sank.

You rounded the corner just in time to see him — the boy from Ravenclaw — on his knees. Hands shaking. A split lip. And above him stood Tom and Mattheo.

Marvolo was a few paces back, watching with that eerie, quiet restraint that was somehow worse than shouting.

Tom’s wand was leveled at the boy’s throat. “You thought you could corner my sister?” His voice was low, steady. “Touch her? Speak to her like that?”

The Ravenclaw stammered something incoherent — a plea, maybe.

Mattheo’s hand slammed him back against the wall before he could finish. “You didn’t just talk, mate. You grabbed her. You hurt her.” His jaw flexed, rage bleeding through every word. “So tell me — how should I hurt you back?”

“Mattheo—” you started, stepping forward, but Marvolo caught your arm.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “You’ll only make it worse.”

Tom’s gaze never left the boy. “She warned you to stop. She told you no. You didn’t listen. That makes you a lesson.”

With a flick of his wrist, the boy’s wand flew across the stones, landing near your feet. Tom tilted his head. “Pick it up, Lexi.”

“What?” you breathed.

“Pick. It. Up.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for it. The corridor had gone dead silent — students frozen, watching.

Tom’s eyes burned into yours. “You have a choice, little sister. Show them you’re not someone they can touch. Show them you’re a Riddle.”

Mattheo stepped back slightly, smirking darkly. “Come on, trouble. You don’t have to curse him. Just… remind him.”

Your breath hitched — anger, fear, pride twisting together — and then you lifted the wand. “Petrificus Totalus!”

The boy went rigid, crashing backward into the wall.

Mattheo laughed under his breath, the sound dangerous and proud. “That’s my girl.”

Tom’s smile was faint, cruelly elegant. “Now they’ll remember.”

Marvolo finally stepped forward, his voice deep and quiet, cutting through the whispers around you. “No one touches a Riddle,” he said, eyes sweeping the crowd. “No one.”

The students scattered, silent and pale.

Tom turned to you, expression softening just a fraction. “You did well,” he murmured. “But next time…” His gaze flicked toward Mattheo, who was still glaring at the frozen boy. “…let us handle it.”

Mattheo smirked at you as he walked past, voice low. “You looked good with a wand in your hand, Lex.”

Marvolo followed behind them, but before he disappeared down the hall, he paused beside you. “You’re one of us,” he said quietly. “Never forget what that means.”

And as the still body of the boy lay motionless on the stone floor, you finally understood— Being a Riddle didn’t just mean power. It meant no one laid a hand on you and walked away unpunished.