Both obsessed/Tom Riddle

Wizard? Us? School?

My jolly sailor bold-Ashley Serena

The Wools Orphanage sat on the outskirts of a forgotten village, nestled deep in the mist-covered hills. The stone building had stood for centuries, its dark windows and ivy-clad walls a place for children to be forgotten. Few visited, and fewer ever left. It was the sort of place that bred strange, unsettling children—children like Tom Riddle and Ernesh Balcom.

Tom Riddle, at the age of twelve, was already something of a legend at the orphanage, though no one had quite put a name to the chill that hung in the air when he passed. He was quiet, calculating, and intensely intelligent, but there was something otherworldly about him. His dark eyes seemed to see straight through people, as though he were unraveling their thoughts. He had an unnatural control over his peers, and most of the staff found ways to avoid him. The matron, Mrs. Cole, preferred to pretend he wasn't there at all.

But it was Ernesh who kept Tom company. Ernesh, with his pale skin, sharp features, and too-large eyes, was the perfect companion for someone like Tom. They had been inseparable for as long as Tom could remember. The other children found Ernesh unsettling, his behavior erratic, and his voice soft and eerie. When he spoke, it was often in whispers, as if he were sharing a secret with the wind.

But Tom loved him, in a way that was beyond friendship. Ernesh was his doll, his creation, a living, breathing thing to be molded, played with, and controlled.

On that particular day, Ernesh was sick. He lay in his bed, propped up by pillows, his thin body shivering beneath the blankets. Tom sat beside him, his sharp features more focused than usual. He had been pondering Ernesh's illness for some time. There was something strange about it—Ernesh had been whispering about things Tom didn't understand, about visions of snakes and dark, cryptic messages.

Tom, however, didn't concern himself with these details. He was more interested in how he could dress Ernesh up, how he could make him speak more—something that had always been a challenge. Ernesh rarely spoke, and when he did, his voice was soft, almost inaudible, as if he feared to disturb the world around him.

Tom fiddled with a ring that he had found days before, a black stone set in silver. It was cool to the touch, and he enjoyed the way the ring seemed to absorb the dim light of the room. As he turned it over and over in his hands, he thought about how he could control Ernesh more—make him talk, make him more like a companion instead of a distant, broken thing.

"Ernesh," Tom said, his voice low and calculating, "do you think you could speak louder today? Just for me?"

Ernesh's large eyes flickered open, and a slow, unsettling smile crept across his pale face. He whispered something in response, though Tom couldn't catch the words. It didn't matter. He was used to that. Ernesh's whispers were like secrets from another world.

"I know, I know," Tom muttered, his eyes narrowing. "But you need to do more than whisper. You need to speak, Ernesh. You have so much to say, I can tell."

Ernesh whispered again, this time a little more clearly, though the words were still indecipherable. Tom's lips curled into a smile as he placed the ring on Ernesh's finger, though the doll-like boy seemed to barely notice.

Tom sat in silence for a long time, the only sounds in the room being the soft whispers of Ernesh and the occasional rustle of his fingers turning the ring. The clock on the wall ticked, its sound strangely comforting in the stillness of the room.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke the tension. Tom stood up, a cold glint in his eyes. It wasn't unusual for people to come to the orphanage, but this visitor was unexpected. He opened the door slowly, and in the dim light of the hallway, stood a tall, elderly man with a long, flowing beard. His eyes were a deep blue, sharp yet kind, and his presence felt like it was both comforting and ominous.

"Ah, Tom Riddle, I presume?" the man said in a voice that seemed to carry an unusual weight. "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. I've come to speak with you."

Tom's heart skipped a beat. Tom's thoughts raced, and for the first time, a small sense of unease stirred within him.

"Dumbledore..." Tom repeated, his voice measured. "What is it you want with me?"

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he stepped inside the room, his eyes briefly flickering to Ernesh, who lay motionless in the bed. The old wizard tilted his head slightly, as though noticing something peculiar about the boy's appearance. But he didn't comment on it.

"I've come to offer you an opportunity," Dumbledore said. "An invitation to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Tom's mind raced. He had always known he was different. He had always known there was something more to the world—something that called to him. And now, here was a man offering him the chance to learn magic, to harness the power that Tom felt surging within him.

But there was a question he had to ask, one that had been nagging him for some time.

"And Ernesh?" Tom asked quietly, his voice steady but filled with an edge of curiosity. "Is it normal for him and I to... speak to snakes?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, before they returned to their usual calmness. He studied Tom for a moment, as though weighing the question carefully.

"No, Tom," Dumbledore replied softly, his voice gentle but firm. "It is not normal for people to speak to snakes. But then again, you are not like most people."

Tom's heart quickened. He had suspected as much. There was something inside him that longed for more than what the world had given him, and it seemed that Dumbledore knew that, too.

"I can help you," Dumbledore continued. "Hogwarts is a place where you can learn about your abilities, about who you are meant to be. There are others like you, Tom. You are not alone in this."

Tom stared at Dumbledore for a long moment, his mind racing. The thought of Hogwarts, of learning magic, was intoxicating. But something nagged at him—something about Ernesh. He turned to the boy in the bed, who had been watching silently, his pale face expressionless.

"Can Ernesh come with me?" Tom asked, his voice almost pleading.

Dumbledore's eyes softened, and he gave a small, sad smile. "Ernesh is... unique. He may not belong at Hogwarts, but I can assure you that you will find your own path, Tom. A path where you will be free to explore the magic that courses through your veins."

Tom nodded slowly, but inside, he felt a pang of something darker. Something unsettling. Ernesh was more than just a doll to him, more than a whispering companion. He had always been there, a constant presence, and the thought of leaving him behind was... unbearable.

But deep down, Tom knew that he had a destiny that was larger than Ernesh, larger than the walls of the Wools Orphanage. And he would follow that path, no matter where it led. But he would simply die from being a part of Ernesh.

" No, I will not leave without Ernesh." Tom said straightly. Staring at Dumbledor with slight rage.

"Oh, Alright" Dumbledor hesitated. "Ernesh can come along, but just beware" Tom didn't know what to say with that.

Dumbledor sat up and left the room.

.....