Evil at a Young Age
A/N: Well, Voldie had to have been a child at one point. Here he is in the muggle orphanage at age five. We made up the name of the orphanage, which sucks because we know nothing about them. So sue us. 'Kay. Keep reading.
It was a cold October day, especially at the Oldenbrooke Orphanage for Children. This particular orphanage seemed perfectly normal, not at all unusual. And for the most part it was. There was one child living there who was not "normal", however. He was not normal at all.
Tom, was his name, Tom Riddle. Though he was just five years old everyone at the orphanage, adults and children alike, knew of him. This was because Tom was a rather unpleasant boy. Okay, he was horrible and, as some of the orphanage workers insisted, pure evil.
This Autumn day Tom seemed to be in a particularly retched mood. The orphanage workers had half of Oldenbrooke's child population complaining to them of nasty injuries. There were several disturbing bite marks, quite a few twisted wrists, you know, the usual. But there were some very strange grievances as well. One little girl had one of her tiny pigtails snipped off, another was stuck in the toilet. They all claimed their wounds were inflicted by Tom.
Most of the workers thought this absurd, Tom was a mean kid but he couldn't have done these things. A few workers though believed the other children. One in particular was Anita Grant, a woman who had had a one too many encounters with young Riddle. All but Anita changed there minds about Tom when ten minutes later a boy ran up to them with hair the color of a-
"Grape, Kyle," said a disapproving headmistress. "You look like a grape with arms and legs."
"It was Tom! He got furious with me for taking the toy he wanted and then next thing I know I have hair like THIS!" Exclaimed the boy. "I don't know what he did but-"
"Nonsense," interrupted the headmistress. "Don't tell such foolish tales. I haven't any idea how you did this but you have better undo it."
Kyle clearly thought it was best not to argue with the formidable woman and stalked off to try and wash his hair brown again.
"I do not know what's wrong with these children, but there is something going on. Little Tom, while undoubtedly malicious, could simply not have done this."
There were murmurs of agreement from the other ladies. But Anita stayed quiet. She was still unconvinced, for she had grown up with two sisters and a brother who could do the same such things when angry.
Anita was what magical people called a squib, someone born into a wizarding family but had no magical powers. Of course none of these other woman knew that wizards and witches lived all over England, so they thought it was impossible for a mere child to do to these things. She knew different though.
At lunch hour Anita went over to Tom, who was eating at an empty table, and sat next to him.
"What," asked little Riddle suspiciously.
"I was just wondering how you turned Kyle's hair purple…"
Tom faked a surprised face. "How could I do that? I am not magic."
"Oh, but that is exactly what I think you are," said Anita. "Magic."
Tom shook his head, "No such thing." He continued to eat, and ignored Anita.
"What if there were such a thing," asked Anita but Tom just kept eating.
"Being a wizard would be SO cool," continued Anita, trying to bait him. "Don't you think? Maybe you could even fly… but no, that is impossible."
Tom did not take her bait. "If you think they are so great than why don't you marry one?" His high voice dripped with sarcasm.
Anita felt like smacking him, but refrained. She couldn't afford to be fired. "They do not exist, that's why. I would not marry one anyhow. Wizards are freaks aren't they?"
"A muggle like you may thing so," replied a vicious Riddle, finally taking her bait.
"Muggle? I am no muggle," denied Anita. She had always hated being described as a simple muggle. She was after all, but she liked to think she were above them. Not quite a muggle, not quite a witch.
"But of course you are," sneered Tom.
"I am no sort of muggle," exclaimed Anita. "I'm a witch, and a pureblood at that."
"Which magic school did you attend," inquired Tom.
"Hogwarts," replied Anita without a pause or stutter.
"Ha! You just know someone of our sort," responded Tom.
"Yes, I know many a witch and wizard," agreed Anita. "For I am one."
"You are only a muggle, with no magic to speak of."
"If I weren't a witch, could I do this," asked Anita and she "made a cup disappear."
Tom smirked. "I know I do not look half as stupid as you are, so why do you think I'll believe a muggle magician trick such as that."
Anita was once again struck with the urge to knock the little devil out.
"If I were as great a muggle as you I wouldn't be able to do this," said Tom. He stared hard at the half full bowl of warm soup in front of him. And next thing Anita, and everyone else in the lunch room knew the bowl was falling onto her head. The so called lukewarm soup dripped off her nose and spilled onto her neck. The soup didn't feel so tepid when it was all over your hair, face, and neck. It felt more like searing hot.
"Argh," yelped Anita. She swiped the soup off her nose. She then flipped the bowl off her head and in the direction of Tom. She didn't mean to hit the kid, it was an accident. Honest.
"Ouch," Tom said simply. It hadn't hurt bad but it had left a small mark. Naturally, Tom had to play it up so as to get the "horrid muggle" fired.
Tom sniffled. "That h-hurt."
All eyes were on her, everyone was gaping. The children were all thinking Did Ms. Grant really just hurt a kid? And the adults knew the headmistress would not stand for it. Every living thing in the room, in all of Oldenbrooke Orphanage for Children in fact, had wanted to throw something heavy at Tom Riddle's head at some point. But the undeniable fact was: They never had.
Just as the headmistress walked into the lunch room to see what had happened, Tom began to cry.
"It hurts," he wailed, while rubbing the spot on his head.
The headmistress marched over to their table. "What happened to you Tom?"
"Sh-she," Tom pointed at Anita. "Threw a soup bowl at me."
"I shan't have thrown a thing if it had not been thrust upon my head," snapped Anita.
The headmistress turned on her. "Explain."
"I was chatting with little Tom while he ate, for he seemed lonely, and he must not have liked where our conversation was going because he flung his half full soup bowl upon my head." Related Anita. "I was trying to get it off me, but I must have pulled too hard for it flung into Tom's head."
The headmistress raised an eyebrow. "Explain," she shot at Tom.
"Ms. Grant came over and sat by me while I ate, she was nagging me about wizards and other rubbish," began Tom. "I had picked up my half empty bowl of soup and it seemed to slip from my hands and it landed on poor Ms. Grant's head! Imagine that. Then she pulled off the soup bowl and tossed it at my head."
After Riddle's short speech, the headmistress seemed keen on his story. It was a bit more believable, as Anita had a strange liking of magic and had quite the temper.
"I'm sad to say this but Ms. Anita Grant, you may pack your things and leave my orphanage. You are fired." Announced the headmistress. She then nodded at everyone before hustling back to her office.
Anita glared at Tom one last time before hurrying away. "See you muggle," he hissed at her back.
As Anita made her way out of the cafeteria, it was silent. As soon as the door closed behind her, however, the room erupted with chatter once more.
Anita packed her bags and left that day. She would never return to Oldenbrooke Orphanage for Children or any other muggle orphanage. She steered clear of children as well. She know lives with her wizard brother.
Till this day, more than sixty years later, Anita firmly says that little Tom Riddle was evil. And of course, she is right.
A/N 2: Did you like the little story we put together for you? Sorry if it was a tad boring- we agree! J It was just to show how Voldemort was as a child. There was supposed to be humor in it, but we put very little. R/R.