So. My first fanfic, here we go.

This chapter is containing some original text from J.K. Rowling (When Dumbledore visits Tom in the orphanage) but the following chapter wont contain any except when im coming to Tom asking slughorn about horcruxes.

I wrote all the original text in bold. Any unspoken thoughts are cursive.

At last i wanna let you know that my main story, including the OC, will begin around the maybe 4th or 5th chapter, until then its kind of slow.

Still i wish u fun and hope for any reviews to learn to make it better.

Story of a shattered Soul

He hated the rain. The world around him veiled by streams of falling water, drowning the alleys of the city in an ocean of cloudy fog. This veil laid upon the city made it hard to find your way out there. Although it didn't matter to him. The mistresses of the orphanage he was living in, since he was left on the threshold with only an ordinary name, had all their strict rules for the children.

They weren't allowed to leave the compound to stray.
They weren't allowed to wander in the halls after curfew.
They had to be quiet inside the dining hall, for the mistresses commanded to pray in silence.

These rules were despiteful to him. Not the restrictions theirselves or the demands for silence, but the mere fact for daring to command him. Moreover the way they expected him to obey willingly. These hypocritically creatures telling them the rights from wrongs without even considering them for their selves.

Of course they also could be nice at times, but they had their favourites, and he never has been among them.

He was the outsider. The creepy one. The monster.
And nobody of them ever saw it.

He was one of a kind.

He could...do things. Ever since he reached the age of being able to "think". Sometimes he did let things happen, strange things, unexplainable things. The kind of things an ordinary mind can't grasp. Tom was sure this aptitude was a gift for him. For he was strong. Special. Compensating Justice for being left behind in this place of misery. But this thought wasn't always in his mind.

A few years ago, he was sitting at the window, his eyes mirroring the infinite rain outside the building, watching it pour. Dreaming. He sat there, wondering if his father was looking outside his window too, thinking about his lost son. The sound of the door shattered his dream as one of the other orphans, a boy named Eric, entered his privacy, closing the door behind him. The boy was taller, but as thin as himself, wearing a vicious grin on his lips as he started mocking him.

Look here. Little Tom watching out for mommy and daddy. Wishing they would come by to take you with 'em. But guess what. Your daddy never wanted you and mommy got killed giving birth to you. It's all your fault. Fading away in this place cramped with misery and loneliness is your godgiven sentence. For living. Being.

His emotions broke through as he felt that sharp pain piercing his very heart. He didn't know what it was. But the vicious grin left Erics lips just to lay upon his own as his thoughts marked the other boys face with a nasty bleeding cut along his throat.
Tom saw the fear in Erics eyes. He seemed so much smaller now.
Tom stepped back as fury controlled the others boys hand lashing out at Tom. Tom focussed on his face.
The words still echoing in his ears, he watched the blood running down his throat and he wished those words back this bleeding throat to where they came from before ghosting his he was pulled out of his dreams as he became aware of the sound of asphyxiation.
It felt like music to his haunted ears.
With curious fascination he watch him fighting against...against what? His thoughts? His powers? His Dreams?But whatever it was, it send dark waves of pleasure through his body.
And for the next years this should be the last time someone shattering his dreams as the door swung open letting Mrs. Cole entering his chambers and breaking his focus on Erics throat.

Every summer Mrs. Cole travelled to a small village with them, near the ocean. To all the other children this place seemed as mirthless and lonely as the orphanage. But Tom found a peace in this place he never felt anywhere else. The sound of the ever-changing sea-tides rushed through his very soul, taking out all the unwanted emotions, leaving a peaceful emptiness behind. When he thought about payback to two of the other children, Amy and Dennis, there was the little voice in his mind, whispering him to not take them to this only place letting him feel free and welcomed. But there, finally, was the chance to let his dream of revenge come true. And what he most liked was to either scare or cause pain to them. So, with some practice over the years, he forced them under his will and brought them down to that hidden cave he once discovered.

Dennis was quite a counterpart to Amy. He was loudmouthy and he never stopped talking, but when it was becoming serious he was the first to run, never-minding to load his guilt on other people's back. Amy was a rather silent and shy girl. Never starting to challenge or hurt anyone, but if she was the one challenged someone had to find out she was a tough one after all. Tom knew that. He had challenged her once, making fun of her in front of all the other kids, and at the end of the day he learned his orphan-life would be easier if he just lets her be. She was a word-artist, and clever on top of it. Every word stinging his little heart like a dagger. And somewhere deep within he knew he deserved those words, so Amy was the orphan he 'liked' most.

But when they came out, shaking and scared like hell, he felt this dark, tempting thrill running through his veins. Amy never was the same after this little trip with Tom. Her sanity left her for good and she never felt well again. Tom always wished Dennis was the lunatic after this, for Amy's life was worth a hundreds of Dennis'.

But Tom would honestly say that Amy still was better off than Billy Stubbs rabbit. Actually he didn't had any feelings, neither negative nor positive against the animal. What made him strangulate it was just the fact it meant a more or less great deal to that brat called Billy. He didn't found any pleasure in ending the rabbits existence, but the rabbit was a weakness and its death fulfilled its purpose.

Over the years the other children learned to stay away from him, leaving him in welcomed silence. Even, or especially on his birthday.

Toms birthday was the 31th of December 1926 and it was a another thing he hated.

Because still after those years the piercing words of Eric were haunting him every birthday, remembering him of the death of his mother and his remaining childish feeling of guilt.
Because it meant another year passed by without any parents offering him a home, without a someone to rescue him from this hellbound place.
Because every birthday he looked out of his window, watching the fireworks and wishing anyone would light them for him.

In the summer 1938 someone came to visit him, out of free will. And this day should always be the best day of his long life, for it was the beginning of his era. His name was Professor Dumbledore, and though he didn't like him for various reasons, Tom was sure destiny sent him.

Someone knocked twice at his door before it opened without his own permission. It was Mrs. Cole.

"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."

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand.

Tom felt the slightest touch of suspicion. Like always when Mrs. Cole called for some doctors to examine him, he recognized this typical attitude towards him that he already was used to, being seen abnormal. Tom eyed him with a both curious and unfavorably glance. He seemed to be quite… extraordinary, and he didn't fit in here at all. His suit was just ridiculous. He didn't seem to have a clue how to properly clothe.

Tom hesitated but shook his hand at least. Silence.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

A professor. Only another word for doctor. But the strangest one he ever saw.

"Professor?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary.

"Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

Of course he is. Of course she did.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

I can see right through your faked smile. Doctors always behaved as if he was a little slow up in his head.

A short, merely noticeable expression of disgust darkened his face for less than a second.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

Tom kept his eyes lingering on the professors face, and to his nasty surprise the man didn't make any afford to answer his order. He just observed Tom, his face still owning this typical nice doctor expression. Although Tom was quite sure there has been the slightest amount of surprise, as in his own face. Tom wasn't used to be rejected on his commands. Some people were obeying without hesitation, some were a little bit more complicated, a little bit less obedient. But he was totally unused to someone being so seemingly completely unaffected by him.

Maybe…he is like me. Maybe he is special.

"Who are you?"

He embedded some politeness in his words this time.

Tell me. Who. Are. You.

"I have 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 would like to come."

A school? Such strange name for a school. At least if considering his words to be true.

Tom looked hit him still suspicious, even more than before.

But I don't. You think you are so clever to trick me like that. A school. Surely a special place to send people like me, misunderstood ones. Special ones.

Now he looked rather furious as he stepped back from the old man. The first unhidden emotion he was showing.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? '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 Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

Well I did. But nobody ever needs to know. Nobody ever will. He took care they would answer the right things to questions about what happened that day. But I guess Mrs. Cole, the chatterbox of this institution, had plenty to say about him, probably she couldn't wait to tell the professor how unnormal strange and monstrous he was.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you."

Mmmh I'd like to see 'em try.

A smile ran over his lips, changing into an almost threatening expression when he realized his thought had loudly slipped through his mouth.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities."

"Im not mad!" he yelled out, furious.

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

Silence.

Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's. . . it's magic, what I can do?"

I knew it. Magic. I knew I was special, extraordinary. I always knew.

"What is it that you can do?"

Dumbledores face looked friendly, curious. But Tom saw something more than curiosity in those observing blue eyes.

Tsstsstss Mrs. Cole. Always need to share your dull minded thoughts on things your dull mind can't grasp.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle.

"I can make filings move without touching them.

I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them.

I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me.

I can make them hurt if I want to."

He looked down at his hand, had bowed. And feverish heat had claimed his body when he was meeting the blue eyes wondering what he was thinking.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

He knew the man was accurately watching him.

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

He couldn't do anything against the excitement rushing through him, leaving his face open like a secret book.

He wanted to meet those blue eyes, wanted to see what they were telling.

Are you impressed? Surely you are. You see it old man, don't you? Finally someone does. I am extraordinary. Superior to those other disgustingly ordinary people. Yeah I know you are impressed. Probably the strength of my magical power is the reason you wear that frightened surprise on your face. Oh but what else I will be capable of after a proper education. I accurately can imagine your frightened impression when I will be the greatest talent our kind ever saw.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

This answer was both alerting and comforting him. Alerting for he didn't know what he was capable of, how mighty he might be. Comforting him for not being alone in this world. And a hit into his heart when he realized he wasn't the only special human in this world.

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts?

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant please Professor?, could you show me ?"

After a little while he saw him pulling out a thin wooden stick, little bit shorter than an arm from fingertips to elbow. And with this stick pointing on his wardrobe in the corner, it was set on fire.

Tom yelled in shock, but when his gaze met Dumbledores the flames vanished, leaving his wardrobe behind untouched as if nothing had happened.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

How does this man can know?

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

His mind tried to search for a way out of this uncomfortable situation but he realized he had no other choice than opening it.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look.

"Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice,

"Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have ?inadvertently, I am sure ?been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic, yes, there is a Ministry, will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but…

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon,

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything. "

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you…?"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, Sir, he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said: "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you, non-magical people, that is , will not. Ask for Tom the barman; easy enough to remember, as he shares your name. "

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked: "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore.

Yeah she couldn't have been that weak though possessing magical powers. She must have been a usual human, dying like the weak. If she had been a witch she sure had kept herself from dying. But how could my father lover her then? Live with her?

"It must've been him. So, when I've got all my stuff, when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said:

"I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips; they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

He had withheld the mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other.

This must be a quite special gift even among wizards. Rare and powerful.

Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

And after this man, this wizard, had left, Tom walked to his window and started to dream.