This is for the 'Hardest Challenge Ever'. I had to write 2,500 words in 2 hours with the pairing Tom/Walburga and prompts the 5th and dreams. A slight cautious that Tom's thoughts are not always pretty and can be quite offensive. They are however only his thoughts.
Tom had never thought himself a fool. He had always valued his own intelligence, but in this moment, he started to doubt the extent of his mental capacity.
He had made a crucial error of judgement.
He had decided to return to the orphanage for the Christmas Break.
Born in the dreaded and dank halls Tom had always hated this place. When he was a boy he had quickly concluded that the orphanage did not suit him and was not appropriate for him. He had always known he was special; if it was not his intelligence it was the power he possessed. He could perform feats that were only attributed to stories and fairy tales, but his magic was more powerful than anything achievable by fictional characters.
Tom was powerful and Tom was special.
Once he had been handed that faithful letter and boarded the train to Hogwarts he was even more aware of his might. Not only was he a powerful wizard with greater strength than any of those pathetic muggles, but he was an extraordinary wizard. All of the teachers told him so and it was clear from every fibre of him from his handsome face, quick thinking brain and the magic that could spew from his wand.
However, despite that, he had slipped and here he was.
Because there was one thing that muggles could show him; power.
It was not about his normal motivation for wanting to return when he could observe the other orphans and be reminded of his superiority. Instead he chose to venture to the orphanage to be reminded of the might of muggles. He could see power in its purest form and see why muggles needed to be obviated.
He wanted to witness the war.
He remembered that one day in August last year. The rumours and innuendos about the Nazis had been circulating for years and the tension had increased throughout 1939. Despite only being a boy he had observed every inch of the situation and he had listened to the wireless as Prime Minister Chamberlain had announced they were at war with Germany.
He wanted to see what the muggles could do. The answer seemed to be not be much until the Nazis had swept through Europe. France, Norway, Belgium all fell until seemingly only Britain was left standing against the Nazi war machine.
That interested Tom. It was one thing to be ruled over by British muggles, but to be ruled over by Nazi muggles was even more unappealing.
However, that was not why he was here.
Not long after he had set foot inside Hogwarts for his third year reports had reached Hogwarts about the events in London; they were being bombed. By night hundreds of bombs rained down on the muggle city. It was powerful and awe inspiring.
It was almost like it was magic.
He half hoped the orphanage would be destroyed, but he received no word to the contrary. Instead, when the lists were passed around about who would stay at Hogwarts and who would return home, he had agreed to travel to the orphanage.
It was so he could observe those powerful bombs.
A loud shrieking siren sounded through the London night as Tom leaped off the hard bed rimmed in cold iron. His normal perfect composure slipped from his face as his eyes widened with panic and his hands frantically went to his trouser pocket to confirm his wand was there.
He did not waste any time.
Hurtling from his bedroom he ran along the corridor. Fellow orphans were mimicking him and, instead of trying to avoid touching them, he pushed whoever was in front of him out of his way in his haste to reach the air raid shelter. There was screams of outrage, but he ignored them all in his rush.
The staircase was particularly packed so he had to slow his descent and succumb to walking through the crowds, but all the while his heart was racing and his breathing was heavy. His grip on his wand was tight and sweaty. It was only when he hit the cold air and stepped down into the stony steps of the shelter that he could let out a relieved breath.
Collapsing against one of the walls, he held his wand tightly in his pocket as he tried to control himself.
He could not.
Looking up he saw the line of orphans continue to pour in as a hurried mess and the matrons as workers attempted to calm them.
"It will be okay Timmy," Mrs Cole said to the sandy haired boy whose face was lined with tears. "We will be fine."
Tom was tempted to scream at the woman that she had no idea what would happen as she was only a mere muggle, but he contained himself. He only cursed her, the Nazis and even himself.
Almost on cue as soon, as the doors were closed and bolted shut, a large explosion erupted somewhere outside the shelter's walls. Tom felt himself rocked by the feeling as screams of different volumes and intensity reverberated around the shelter. Girls and boys alike sobbed loudly and the matrons did not try to stop them. They only shook too and held whatever children were nearby to comfort themselves.
Tom had never felt so mortal.
The shelter was hardly affective. He knew one well placed Nazi bomb and that was it. The shelter would be destroyed and they would all be killed before they could blink. His grip on his wand was tight, but it had never felt more like a twig. He did not care about his magic being revealed, but he cared about how he could protect himself.
There was no shield charm for this situation.
He only had to beg and hope he would be safe. The Nazis could take the rest of the muggles just as long as he survived.
His back tightened as he breathed deeply.
It was just one night. He needed to survive this night. Then he only had a few more to go until the date he most desired; the fifth. On the fifth he would step onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters and board the scarlet steam engine that would be a welcoming sight. It would head north and away from London and muggle bombs.
Tom was content to leave right now. He had seen what he wanted to see; he was right. Muggles were as big a threat as he assumed and there bombs were magic in themselves. He could only imagine that somewhere in Germany some sorcerer had assisted in the creation. It was not as if any Nazis would care about any Statute.
He needed to become more powerful himself. He needed to stand up and face down any threat that confronted him be it muggle or magical. He could look up at the bombs and bat them away as if he was a cat with a ball of yarn.
Perhaps that was the wrong option. Perhaps instead he could stare at the bomb as it fell down on him. The explosion would rip through him, fire would burn him and shrapnel would slice through his mortal flesh, but he would survive.
He would calmly step away from the carnage and he would be fine.
He would make himself so he could never die.
Filled with his own imagines, he held his wand tighter and longed for the fifth and when he could indulge his dreams.
When the iron shelter door swung on its hinges and revealed the fresh air and untouched earth and an orphanage that was still standing, Tom was himself again. Standing, his body was tall and proud, his handsome face had frozen over and his eyes as dark as the sky above stared straight ahead without emotion. He did not rush out. He stood back as the muggle filth exited. He only followed and carefully manoeuvred his shoulder and hands so he did not have to touch an inch of their dirtiness.
Stepping out into the evening air, he could smell smoke and destructions, but he was not impacted.
He had survived. That was all that mattered.
His eyes flicked to the sky above quickly checked for any Nazi Germany aircraft, but the only thing above was the starry sky.
Allowing the grip on his wand to slacken, he stepped back inside the orphanage. The other orphans headed for the dining room or common room, but he avoided those locations and instead sought his own bedroom and his solitude.
Tom concentrated on all that he had imagined. His own glory and power would be improved. He would be able to stand up to the muggles and wizards alike.
He swore that would be the case.
Arriving at his bedroom, he closed the door firmly behind him, and, in an uncharacteristic move, he headed straight for the bed. Pushing off his shoes and clothing, he pulled his night clothes over his pale and skinny flesh and slid into bed.
It was warm and inviting. If he was not so realistic and scorning of such thoughts, he might have said the blankets were like a lover's embrace.
However, he did not need a person to comfort him. He only needed himself and his dreams.
So it continued day after day and night after night whenever the sirens sounded. Still rushed and frantic, Tom could at least console himself with visions and dreams of greatness. The longing for the fifth and his return to Hogwarts was great, but he attempted to pretend his motivation was only so he could increase his power rather than admit his fear of muggles even to himself.
Either way, as he tugged his heavy trunk through the barrier of Platform Nine and Three Quarters and strode through the crowds that were thinner than previous years, his lips were turned into a genuine smile.
The scarlet of the Hogwarts Express drew him in like a moth to a flame as he stepped up the stairs. Leaving his trunk below, he withdrew his wand and calmly levitated it to trail behind him. The use of his magic made his smile as he turned and found an empty compartment.
It was a blessing sight. Despite being someone who thrived on admirers and being fawned over, Tom was quite content to allow himself to be in solitude as he slid back into the world that was worthy of him.
Levitating his trunk onto the luggage tray, he settled into the seat and did not even bother staring out the window. Instead he pulled put the prophet from his arm and started to read the article. A picture of another building burning stared down at him as his eyes glossed over the headline "The Blitz Continues".
Even the magical media knew the power.
He shuddered despite himself, but further reading of the headline was interrupted by a voice in the doorway.
"It is disgusting what the muggles do isn't?" Tall for a woman with silky black haired tied into a bun, the older Slytherin girl leaned haughtily in the doorway as she stepped into the compartment.
"Quite so," Tom said calmly as he allowed himself to bestow a charming smile on the girl in front of him. He knew who she was and they had talked briefly, but never for any significant duration of time. "I hope you were not too affected by the violence, Miss Black."
She sighed dramatically as she settled into the seat opposite him while she smoothed the Slytherin robes she already wore down her shapely legs. "It was disruptive enough. Father has of course placed powerful wards upon our home, but the noise of the sirens and the explosions were quite irritating."
"Of course." Tom nodded curtly at the story unwilling to add his own tales of woe and misfortune. She was a pureblood from an old family. While he constructed his own tales to explain his muggle name and muggle accommodation, he preferred to not draw any attention to that fact whenever he could avoid it. "It is just another example of the dangers muggle can inflict."
Flicking back a lock of her hair, she chuckled softly and exposed her pearly white teeth and slender neck. "Don't tell me you are afraid of muggles, Mr Riddle. I fear I might then have made an incorrect summation of your character."
He echoed her laughter as he tossed the prophet article carelessly on the seat beside him. Why would he care for a paper when he had a very attractive girl in front of him?
"You have not made any such error, Miss Black. I am cautious, not afraid. I will not deny my belief that they pose a threat, but such awareness can only create a motivation to do what is needed."
She leaned forward and Tom kept his eyes trained on her high cheekbones and attractive aristocratic features rather than on her body. "And what is needed to be done?"
It was so wonderful to finally be back into a position where he should be. He was not confronted by muggles, but back to where he deserved. Here he could almost wrap his hand around his dreams that seemed so tangible.
He mimicked her position and relaxed his posture so he was leaning towards her and there was only a small gap between their faces. "I think that is for you to find out."
A grin lit her features and she laughed and snapped back into her seat. "My my I like that answer, Mr Riddle. It makes me wonder why we have not talked before."
"An error on your part I will attempt to not fault you for," he said comfortable as he straightened up as well. "However, there is always an opportunity to right the errors of your past."
"There always is." Her dark eyes gleamed as she rose. "I just wonder when that time will be."
Tom did not miss a trick. If he wanted to seize his dreams there were things he required other than his own personal power; he also needed the power of others. It was not just magical might but connections and influence. He had collected boys from powerful families and with abilities of their own (rathe like Slughorn) since he had entered Hogwarts and this was just another opportunity.
There was only one difference with Walburga Black. It was not that the Blacks were even more powerful than his current acquaintances, that she had not paid him much attention before this or because she was a year his senior; it was because she was an attractive woman.
He stood like her and slid his hand into hers. Her hand was warm and softer than his and she did not flinch away. Her eyes only gleamed as she watched as he raised his lips to her skin.
"Of course that time will be Hogsmeade. I might just be grateful enough to share some tales about my intentions."
He was tenser than he let on, but Walburga was not. "I think you might be right. Until then."
With another smirk and a nod she turned and left him by himself.
Smugger than he had been in a long time, Tom settled himself into his seat as his eyes gleamed.
He needed two things; his own power and influence. Now both were within reach.
His dreams would be fulfilled.