Author's Note: This is my first fic, please review! It'd really help! Thanks!
Tom Riddle lay on his small, bumpy mattress. Concrete beds would be more comfortable he thought, a smile twisting his lips. Below him, he could hear the noises only a myriad of children running up and down stairs could make. Even here in his room he could smell the grotesque scent of orphanage breakfast. He should have been getting up, but he preferred his quiet, dank room to the bustle of downstairs. And then there was Matron. She was probably waiting for him now, the old hag. He wished this whole place would disappear, especially Matron. Actually, he wished something would "happen" to her. Maybe her hair would turn pink like Billy Stubbs. That was funny. It had happened after Billy insulted Tom's mother. Tom spit at Billy's feet, Billy had punched Tom, and the next day the other boy had woken up with vivid pink hair. He had deserved it.
If only his mother hadn't died. He would give anything to leave this hellhole, he thought for what felt like the millionth time.
He rolled over, pulling his flimsy, threadbare blanket over his thin shoulders as his door burst open. Into his room flew a petite 10 year old, flustered and out of breath. Tom turned his head to see Amy Benson standing over his bed. As usual, she was a mess. Her mousey brown hair was forced into clumsily made braids. Her ancient, gray uniform was much too large for her bony frame, with her socks falling down her skinny ankles.
"Tom, Matron's waiting! She's going to KILL you! This is the third day in a row you've been late for breakfast! And you're not even out of bed!"
Tom turned towards the wall, grunting.
"Come ON Tom! ARGGGGG!" Amy yelled, unsuccessfully attempting to drag him out of bed. He didn't respond.
"All right then… I guess I'll just have to tickle you!"
Before she had to resort to this final measure, Tom rolled out of bed.
"Fine. I'm ready," the boy muttered. Apparently, he had slept in his school clothes, which were now wrinkled beyond belief. Amy sighed as Tom ran his fingers through his messy hair.
"OH…. Fine!" she yelped, pulling Tom behind her as she headed towards the stairs. He followed complacently, a rare smile on his serious face. Amy jumped the old, rickety stairs two at a time, with Tom, who was trying to keep his balance, behind her. Amy was the only person he might miss if this place just disappeared. Usually he preferred being alone, but being with her wasn't that bad. She… understood parts of him. Not everything. Tom would not have wanted it that way. Still, she was the closest thing to a friend he had ever had or ever wanted.
"We might just make it," Amy muttered under her breath as the two descended the last set of stairs, crashing right into-
Matron.
"RIDDLE, BENSON. You're LATE!" she crowed triumphantly.
"She'll have our hides," Amy muttered.
Tom scanned the dinning hall. There were at least 30 orphans crowded inside the diminutive room, all waiting to eat. Not so patiently either. Billy Stubbs grinned mockingly at Tom who kept his blank expression. The whole place reeked of ammonia and orphanage breakfast, which today was some unidentifiable mixture of porridge and maybe yesterdays waste.
"RIDDLE!" Matron's loud voice tugged him back to reality. " Have you been paying attention to what I've been telling you?"
"Yes…I mean no Ma'am," he answered.
"Insolent boy! You haven't heard a thing I've said!"
"Have you said anything yet?" Tom muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for Amy to hear. She broke out in peals of laughter.
"Miss Benson! Though I'm not surprised. Nothing good comes of those who associate with him." She spat the word out as if it was something filthy.
Tom stiffened visibly, as his hands balled into small fists. He stared into Matron's eyes with a stare of endless fury and hatred. The woman was obviously taken aback, as she shrank backwards from Tom's hatred. As much as she hated to admit it, this young boy scared her.
"Erm, well then," she croaked. "Miss Benson, Mr. Riddle, you will clean the bathrooms tonight and go to bed without dinner as punishment for arriving late this morning." She appeared to have regained her composure. "And Mr. Riddle…. Do NOT be late tomorrow. Everyone, you may eat."
Tom and Amy made their way over to the only open seats, at the end of a more-or-less broken table near the back. The only other occupant, a small girl with glasses, quickly shrank off when she spotted Tom.
"Tom…" Amy started.
"What?" He looked up. He had just been thinking of what he would do to Matron if he had a chance.
"Oh, nothing really. I was just…. Well… would you try for once not to anger Matron?" Her words came out in a rushed stream of worry. For him, for her, for… everyone. It was better not to have Tom angry.
"Matron? Who cares about her? I couldn't care less!" Tom half shouted to Amy, who was currently hunched over her breakfast.
"I know," she whispered, not looking at the boy next to her.
The rest of breakfast was spent in silence, which was occasionally broken by whispering behind them. When Tom turned around, though, it stopped, everyone's eyes suddenly focused on their half-eaten breakfasts. Even Amy adverted her eyes this morning, not wanting more trouble. A day without dinner was quite enough for her.
Everyone, it seemed, feared him.
Breakfast over, all the school-aged children lined up near the door to walk to school, accompanied by a grim Matron. There were not enough orphans to have their own school; instead, they were taught in the village school. Tom was still in a sullen mood from the morning. He stood at the back of the line, where no one would bother him. They probably wouldn't anyways, he thought. They had seen what happened to people who got on the wrong side of Tom.
Amy stood in the middle of the line, not looking forward to school. All being said, she was not the best student. Given a chance, she would draw all day. Quickly, she glanced over at Tom, deep in thought at the back of the line. Despite all his hatred towards the orphanage and Matron, he was a surprisingly good student, perfect in every subject. And he didn't even try! Amy felt jealousy welling up inside her again. Stop, she thought. He's your friend! Right? Sometimes she didn't know. He was so… cold!
Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the old, brown schoolhouse. Here, the children split up, the older ones, like Tom and Amy in the first classroom, and the younger children in the second. Tom made his way to the middle of the class, where he took his customary seat.
The day was a blur of arithmetic, clauses and Greek mythology. That caught Tom's attention. He had read a book on it once. The magical animals, like the Minotaur, had intrigued him. Ever since he first made something "happen," he had been obsessed with all things magical. He was not stupid. He knew no one who could talk with snakes, or make things move, or do any of the things he had been doing consciously since the age of nine.
No wonder he was feared.