Written for Challenge 97 of the Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum as a second entry. The theme was toys, so here is young Tom's idea on them. This will be the first of a two-shot about Voldemort and toys. The second should be posted around Christmas.
"Vroom, vrooom," the little boy imitated the sound of a car as he rolled his toy back and forth on the same spot. A small group of other young boys was surrounding him, awe and jealousy on their dirty faces. But the boy with the toy was the happiest of them all, as he possessed such a desirable object. These eyes that hunger, exhaustion and desperation usually kept dull and unseeing, were now lit up with joy.
Still, the toy was nothing special, nothing special at all. Just a piece of mouldy wood vaguely shaped like a rectangular block with different kinds of buttons pinned loosely on the wooden body. A couple of pins stuck vertically on it along with a blue-white-red rag made the proud owner call it "His Majesty's carriage". Because, well, in his eyes, and the eyes of the other over-worked, fun-starved orphans it was exactly that: a royal toy. All the orphans agreed there. Well, all except for one.
This boy was dressed in the same grey tunic the others were, only he looked a bit cleaner and less tired. Tom Riddle was leaning on a wall next to the group observing them, a bored expression on his face. He was seven years old and totally confused. He had thought about it again and again and every time he came to the same conclusion: it was just a filthy piece of wood. Its "wheels'' couldn't even roll, it didn't have an engine to make "vroom, vroom" and it smelled really bad. Surely the king wouldn't send even his dogs out for a stroll with it. Moreover, he couldn't understand why rolling it back and forth was so fascinating.
At first he had believed that perhaps a real toy would be more interesting. So he had gotten himself one. Tom had left the orphanage ignoring Mrs. Cole's strict rules and had gone to the better side of central London where well-respected gentlemen shopped with their elegant wives and children followed by cars or carriages and lots of servants looking after them. Instead of targeting those who had the fattest wallets, he passed the bookshop and went straight into the crowded toy store. When he got out, he was hiding a shiny red car-model discreetly under his overlarge jacket. No one had noticed him and he went back to the orphanage ready to both enjoy his toy and boast to the other kids on his skills.
His enthusiasm was cut short though. When he stopped to admire the race car and attempted to roll it on the floor, he found it boring. Again. Sure, the wheels were made of real rubber and could rotate and the manufacturer had even made tiny seats for the racers, Tom couldn't imagine what exactly he was supposed to do with it. It was... fake. Tiny, not a real car.
So now, looking at the small, delighted gang, he couldn't help but think that maybe he was missing something. There was that chance, wasn't there? They could be seeing something he couldn't. At that moment one of the boys pointed one of the buttons of the wooden car that had something entgraved on it and asked loudly:
"What d'you think it says?"
"Ha, who cares?" another answered and they all laughed.
Tom blinked. How could he think for a moment that they could know something he didn't? Kids who didn't even know how to read. Kids who didn't even want to learn how to read. He snorted to himself, straightened up and tossed the toy in the nearest sewer. He should go to the bookstore now.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.