The feast had ended, and the murmur of students' voices was slowly silenced by the authoritative tone of Headmaster Dippet, who stood at the front of the Great Hall, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. The last bits of food had been cleared away, and the flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the walls. The students, still buzzing with the energy of the evening, were now looking up at the Headmaster as he raised his hands.
"First-years," he said, his voice carrying across the hall, "tonight marks the beginning of your journey here at Hogwarts. You are now part of something much greater than yourselves. Your time at this school will challenge you, change you, shape you into the witches and wizards you are destined to become. But remember this: it is not just your studies that will define you—it is the choices you make, the bonds you form, and the path you walk. May your time here be filled with learning, growth, and the pursuit of greatness."
A slight pause.
"Now," Dippet continued, his voice softening, "it is time for you all to rest. Tomorrow, the true work begins. Off to bed, you go."
The words were a signal, the moment the room had been waiting for. The students began to rise from their seats, the scraping of chairs against the stone floor echoing in the now-still air. Most moved in groups, chattering amongst themselves, their laughter filling the room as they filed out of the Great Hall. Tom Riddle stood, his posture perfect, his expression calm. Beside him, Ernesh barely moved. He was a shadow beside Tom, his hand still resting gently on Tom's arm, fingers curled like something fragile, something made of porcelain.
The movement around them was like a dream—blurred and distant—while the two boys seemed to exist in their own separate, quiet space. As the other students filed out, Tom's gaze lingered on Ernesh, who barely seemed aware of his surroundings. The faintest, ghostly whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of Tom's lips.
Ernesh's grip on Tom's arm tightened slightly, and Tom glanced down.
"Ready?" he whispered, though it didn't seem like a question. It was more of a command.
Ernesh nodded, the pale boy's lips barely parting. His face remained as expressionless as always, though his eyes glinted with a strange light—one that only Tom could fully understand. Without a word, they followed the head girl of Slytherin, a tall girl with dark eyes and sharp features. She led the group of first-years down the hall, toward the entrance of the dungeons.
The air grew colder as they descended into the depths of Hogwarts, the stone walls of the castle closing in around them. Ernesh loved it—every step, every inch deeper into the dark heart of the school. The chill seemed to seep into his skin, calming him in a way that nothing else could. It was as though the cold, ancient stone walls of the dungeons were made for him—his home, his sanctuary.
Tom, walking just a step ahead, could feel the shift in Ernesh's energy. The boy's grip on his arm remained tight, his presence beside him almost unsettling in its intensity. They moved in tandem, the silence between them almost suffocating. The head girl, who was speaking in low tones to the other first-years about their dorms, seemed to ignore them as they walked, perhaps aware of the strange bond between the two boys, but too polite to say anything.
The farther they descended, the darker it became. The dim torchlight cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, the air growing colder still. The silence in the dungeons felt alive, as if the very stones were whispering ancient secrets, secrets that only Ernesh and Tom could hear.
When they finally reached the door to the Slytherin common room, the head girl turned to face the group of first-years. She spoke in a voice that echoed slightly in the narrow corridor.
