Makings of a Monster: Year 1
By: dracos mistress
August 25th, 1949
The quiet of the Orphanage seemed purely hypocritical, considering the fact that it was nearly every day that there were children running and bustling around; screaming their lungs out, while the older Orphans stood along the side lines watching.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was one of the few people in the Orphanage that was intolerant of the noise. Most people could agree that the black haired, green eyed, stony faced 11 year old was anything short of strange.
"Always enjoys the quiet, that one" Mrs. Cole, the owner and matron of the Orphanage, was always heard to be saying. "Never misses the opportunity to sneak off somewhere."
In truth, Tom hated the Orphanage and the people in it more than anything. With their shrieking and hollering day in and day out; as did many of the other Orphans.
The only time of day that he could find solace was night, when all were asleep. There were of course the occasional troublemakers, but they were instantly silenced by Martha, the maid.
It was on such a quiet day that Tom Riddle awoke to a bright, sunny London morning.
Swinging his feet over the side of his bed, Tom stretched his tired muscles. Peering out of his forest green eyes, he surveyed the nearly empty room.
Standing up from the bed, he walked over to the small dresser that stood by the door. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out his jumper for the day; soon the pajamas were discarded and the jumper on his body.
The jumper was a hideous shade of maroon; he had always preferred green, with thin stripes of navy blue and white along the sleeves. The slacks were dark blue, contrasting with the maroon, making it stand out more. The Orphanage had always been low on money, but if a small portion had been used to purchase new uniforms, half of the people living there would be extremely grateful.
Closing the door softly he padded down the hallway. The sounds of forks and knives clattering against plates, and the small buzz of conversation reached his ears from the Dining Room. Stepping through the door, he walked over to where his plate sat ready and waiting.
'Sausage and eggs…again' he thought, sighing dejectedly. Everyday for the past 11 years was the same, sausage and eggs for breakfast, ham sandwiches with pickles and chips for lunch, chicken with cooked vegetables and a side of salad for dinner. The same routine and meals everyday.
But something was different about today. Something new was going to happen. Something… completely unexpected.
Breakfast was soon finished and the children rushed to their tutors.
Tom, deciding he neither wanted nor cared to go, sat alone in his room; reading a book about King Arthur and Merlin:
'Arthur was the great legendary British king. Arthur was the son of Uther Pendragon and Igraine. Igraine was the wife to Duke Gorlois of Cornwall (or Hoel of Tintagel), at the time she had conceived Arthur. Through Merlin's magic, Uther was transformed to look exactly like her husband. Uther made love to Igraine, when Gorlois was absence. When Gorlois was killed, Uther immediately married Igraine.
Merlin first appears in extant records (Armes Prydein, Y Gododdin) from the early 10th century as a mere prophet, but his role gradually evolved into that of magician, prophet and advisor, active in all phases of the administration of King Arthur's kingdom. He was apparently given the name…'
A loud knock upon his door had Tom moving his eyes from the page to the door at his left. Placing the book down he waited for whoever it was to enter.
One knock later, a slightly drunk Mrs. Cole stepped in, a rather oddly dressed man trailing behind her.
"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton – sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you – well, I'll let him do it." Tom watched her exit the room, before turning his sharp gaze to the man standing in front of him.
A moment of silence followed as they both studied one another. The man was oddly dressed in a suit of plum velvet. His hair and beard were long and auburn colored. His periwinkle blue eyes were framed by half-moon glasses. A mysterious twinkle in their depths.
"How do you do, Tom?" the man asked kindly, stretching out his hand.
Tom hesitated, contemplating on whether or not he should shake the offered hand. Deciding it would be better to be polite, he took the hand and they shook.
Smiling, the man sat on the wooden chair beside his bed, watching him intently.
"I am Professor Dumbledore." He stated in a soft voice.
Puzzled Tom answered, "'Professor'? Is that like a 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?" He pointed at the door and sneered slightly. The hostility in his voice clear.
Dumbledore smiled before saying "no, no."
Suspicion coursed through his veins.
"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" The demand was definitely clear, but the man… 'Professor' Dumbledore… continued to smile as if not noticing.
The smile was really starting to annoy him.
"Who are you?"
"I have already told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school – your new school, if you wish to come."
Rage boiled through his veins. He had had enough of this charade. Leaping from his bed, he scooted away from the 'Professor'.
"You can't fool me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it?" He snarled. "'Professor,' yes, of course - well I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Denis Bishop, and you can even ask them, they'll tell you!"
He didn't know why he was telling him this, but a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind told him that Mrs. Cole had told him about the things he had been blamed for.
Dumbledore gave him a critical look, though the twinkle of amusement was still there.
"I am not from the asylum," he answered patiently. "I am a teacher at and, if you sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, no body will force you –"
The thought was extremely funny.
"I'd like to see them try." He sneered.
Ignoring his outburst Dumbledore continued. "Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities –"
"I'm not mad!" Tom barked.
"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic." Dumbledore countered, his smile widening in amusement.
Tom felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. He stood frozen, staring Dumbledore in his eyes to see if he was lying.
Seeing no hint of betrayal hope rose in him.
"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.
Nodding in assent Dumbledore said, "That's right."
Hesitantly, he asked the first question that popped into his head.
"It's…it's magic what I can do?"
Dumbledore looked puzzled.
"What is it you can do?"
Excitement rose in him, "All sorts," he breathed. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."
Memories of Billy Stubbs' rabbit hanging from the rafters; Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop curled into balls in a corner of the cave came flooding back to him.
Tom could feel his legs trembling. Stumbling forward, he sat back on the bed, staring at his hands; head bowed.
"I knew I was different," he whispered after moments of silence. "I knew I was special. Always. I knew there was something."
Looking up at Dumbledore, he noticed the man's smile had disappeared, leaving behind a grave and serious expression.
"Well you were quite right," he said. "You are a wizard."
'You are a wizard.' He had been right the entire time. He was a wizard. He was special!
Something struck him.
"Are you a wizard too?" Denial set in again.
"Yes, I am."
"Prove it." He commanded.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. The strange twinkle was no longer there.
"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts –"
"Of course I am!" Tom answered hurriedly.
"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"
Resentment bubbled in his stomach.
"I'm sorry, sir. I meant – please, Professor, could you show me-?"
For a moment Dumbledore looked as though he would say 'no.' But instead the man reached inside his suit and withdrew a long, thin stick from his pocket.
Giving it a casual flick, the most unexpected thing happened…
The wardrobe burst into flames.
A/N: Ok. Thanks to Mrs. Rowling for her chapter on Tom and Dumbledore's interaction, couldn't have made this chapter without it!
I know most of you are used to me writing Draco/Hermione One-Shots, but this idea and several others was too enticing to pass up! Hopefully you will stay with me this whole time, seeing as how this will either be a novel/novella. I promise that I will be adding more adventure and surprises. Let's find out what's happening to make Voldemort so evil, eh?
I will probably still be making Draco/Hermione fics. Depends on whether or not I have a chapter in validation .
Make sure to review this and my other stories!
xx dracos mistress