A/N: This is for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Go Magpies! Prompt was to write about an important platonic relationship in Tom Riddle's life. Optional prompts were: 3. Riddle
6."When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow." ― Ursula K. Le Guin
9."We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving." ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Like No One I'd Ever Known

To say that Tom Riddle was an odd boy would be vastly understating it. He was like no one I'd ever known. He wasn't odd in the way most children are. Having worked with children for twenty years, including the twelve at this orphanage, I liked to say I've seen them all. There had been children who needed everything in their bedrooms set up in a certain order, children who woke up at four in the morning on Thursdays and twelve minutes after seven on Mondays, and children who refused to eat chocolate. Those were the oddest of all, to me. Tom Riddle, however, was different.

From the moment he learned to walk, he strutted. There seemed to be an innate sense of leadership, of ruling almost, in him. He was always incredibly polite and well-mannered. Despite his etiquette, he never struck me as happy. An aura of misery and—dare I say it—hatred clouded his presence. I often watched him very carefully, waiting for something that might make him snap or act out, but it never came. No, Tom Riddle wasn't odd for his eccentricities or idiosyncrasies. Tom Riddle was odd because he was so impossibly normal. Watching him sometimes made me laugh out loud; he was, quite coincidentally, a riddle.

Then, a miracle happened. When the peculiar man came to the orphanage door, asking pleasantly for Tom, I'd known that it was going to be a miracle. No matter how painstakingly polite Tom was to the staff, the other children quailed before him. If this man's words could mean a break from Tom, if they could mean that Tom might become happy, it was most certainly a miracle.

After he'd spoken to Tom, I went to his room.

"So," I said, trying to sound as happy as possible. "The nice man's taking you to London, is he?"

"No, Mrs. Cole," said Tom, without looking at me. "I'm going by myself."

"I see." I wasn't the least bit worried about him. Never had I been a mother figure to him the way I was to the other children. For some reason, Tom had never needed one.

"He told me I was special," said Tom.

I couldn't help but stare. In all his eleven years at this orphanage, he had never divulged the tiniest bit of information to me, other than answering direct questions as tersely as possible.

"Did he?" I said. "Well, of course you are."

"Yes." Tom nodded, still gazing at his closet, almost mesmerized.

"So are you excited to go to…that school?" I asked hesitantly, wondering how long I could push this.

"I am," he replied.

"I'm sure you'll learn a lot," I said, truthfully.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole," said Tom. I could tell he was lying. It was more than obvious that Tom thought very highly of himself, and that he was sure that this school would teach him nothing he didn't already know.

I didn't know what else to say to him. Tom kept his distance from everyone in the orphanage; he was never one for human relationships. Sometimes, I hoped that he liked me more than the other staff members, but I always knew in the back of my mind that he didn't.

"What's in that box there?" I asked, pointing to the box in his hand.

Tom's attention suddenly snapped to me, and he clutched the box harder. "Nothing," he said.

"Is it something to do with Professor…er…Dunderbore?" I said. To tell the truth, I had a hunch as to what the box contained. Whenever children reported their things stolen, they almost pointed fingers at Tom, but could not for some reason. It had always been a wish of mine to catch him in the act of stealing.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole," said Tom. "He told me to do something with it."

"I see." The lies poured out of his mouth with such ease that sometimes I thought about giving up on him. A hopeless cause, the other ladies said wisely, but I never wanted to believe it. We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving. I'd probably read that somewhere.

"Mrs. Cole," said Tom.

I turned back to him hopefully. "Yes, Tom?"

"I'm going to have a bath now," he said.

My heart sank slightly, but I hadn't been expecting an outpour of emotions. "All right," I said. "You know you can trust me, right, Tom?"

For once, something other than placid coolness crossed Tom's face. He seemed taken aback; his brow furrowed, and he frowned the tiniest bit. Then, the expression washed away, and I thought I might have imagined it.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole," he lied smoothly and stood up. I knew I was dismissed.

With a disappointed sigh, I left him to himself, the way he preferred it. There was some consolation in the fact that he was going to a new place where he might find something special. After all, I couldn't mistake the hungry light in his eyes I'd seen, no doubt a remnant of Professor…Duffledore's meeting. I'd always known there was more to Tom than he let on, and perhaps this school would let him find it, let him open it up. He had the potential to be great; I would bet my life on it.

Still, though, something about it was jarring. I'd never gone so far as to call Tom dangerous (I didn't like to brand the children here), but I was wary. Out of all the children I'd met, Tom Riddle was the most unpredictable, the most uncontrollable. On the one hand, giving him hope the way Dumberbore was doing might be very good for him. On the other, it could light a dangerous fire. 'When you light a candle, you always cast a shadow,' said Ursula LeGuin. And she was right. I could only hope that Tom's shadow would not overpower his light.

A/N: This was extremely hard to write because Tom Riddle has no value for relationships. I eventually decided that I had to write from another character's perspective to make it as true to Tom's character as possible. It was also difficult because I had to try really, really hard to make sure Tom showed no ounce of humanity, because as we know, he's incapable of empathy or love. I hope it was good.

~Maya