Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Dark Beginnings

By: ChoCedric

"Wake up! Wake up, all of you lazy good-for-nothings!"

Seven-year-old Tom Marvolo Riddle was brutally awoken by the sharp voice of Mr. Learmont. He yawned, stretched, and rolled over, rubbing vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Another day, he thought tiredly to himself. Another day of the same old crud.

Little Tom had lived at St. Mary's Orphanage all his life. He hadn't been told much about his parents, except that his mother had died giving birth to him and that his father didn't want him. Mr. Learmont, one of the workers in the orphanage (and the man who had just woken him up), told Tom these facts in no uncertain terms. What broke the boy's heart was the smirk adorning the man's face when he informed him of the part about his father.

Tom absolutely hated St. Mary's Orphanage. He despised Mr. Learmont: the man was a creep, and he treated the boys and girls like they were bits of cringeing vermin on his shoe. But out of everyone, it was Tom he treated the worst. "Freak," he always called him, and Tom ruminated on this as he rolled out of bed and began to head to the bathroom to take a shower.

Strange things were known to happen when Tom was around. Everyone else at the orphanage made fun of him for it as well. Mr. Learmont's name for him was adopted by every single person in the place. "Freak Riddle! Freak Riddle! The Unexplainable Whelp," the bigger children were known to taunt, and the smaller children just stayed away from him. So Tom was very lonely; even the boys he shared a room with weren't his friends. His roommates were named Billy, Dennis, and Jacob. Tom would be sharing with them until he was ten, and then he'd get his own room.

Tom couldn't explain how these strange things always happened. But he'd read fairy tales, and discovered the world of magic. The more the years passed, the more Tom was convinced that he had magic, too, and the adults were keeping it from him. Well, he thought cynically as the water in the shower began to run, adults don't tell children anything. They just leave them in the dark, literally.

Every single day, Tom craved for the presence of a mother. He owned nothing of hers, but the longing he felt for her was huge. All he was asking for was a little affection, but nobody at the orphanage gave it to him.

Mrs. Cole, who ran the place, was an okay woman, Tom surmised, but she took a certain dislike to him as well. Tom was very good at eavesdropping when people had important "adult" conversations, and sometimes, he heard her talking to the rest of the staff about him. "He's a strange boy," she was known to mutter. "Remember, he hardly ever cried as a baby? That one's weird to the core. And obsessed with his parents."

As time went by, Tom continued to yearn for affection, but another part of him kept questioning over and over again: Why are you being so weak, Tom? You don't need affection, you're fine just the way you are. Bitter anger surged in his gut when he thought of his mother sometimes, as well as the desperate longing. How could his mother just go and die, just go and leave him in this horrible place? Didn't she love him enough to live for him?

Tom's only friend was a garden snake he had found a few months ago. This was yet another strike against him, yet another thing that made the children at the orphanage regard him as "freaky." For Tom learned that he could talk to snakes. He named his friend Sammy, and Sammy often talked to him about different things.

On one particular occasion, Tom had been talking to Sammy when a few of the bigger boys came up to him and started to bully him. When they heard the hissing sounds Tom was making, they laughed uproariously and taunted, "Shame, shame. Your only friend's a stupid snake. Shows just what a freak you are."

Another thing Tom was highly into was books. He spent every second he could reading very high-level tomes, for he was a very precocious child. The workers at the orphanage were flabbergasted and shocked at how quickly he came to learn certain things. He already had a highly advanced vocabulary at this age, and he'd heard Mrs. Cole say she'd never seen anything like it in her life.

"Hey, hurry up in there!" came a rude voice as Tom finished washing his hair. "It's my turn for the shower, freak!"

Tom made a face and ignored his roommate, Billy. The two boys had never gotten along, and to pay Billy back for his constant bullying, Tom often stole important things from him, things which had once belonged to Billy's parents. Serves him right, Tom thought snidely. If I can survive without having anything from my parents, you can, too.

When Tom left the bathroom, he was met by a scowling Billy. "About time, freak," he sneered. "What were you doing in there anyway, thinking up abnormal spells to perform on me? You don't scare me, Riddle. Not at all."

For a moment, Tom wanted to do something to make Billy scared of him. He couldn't help feeling slightly elated when the sight of his garden snake frightened some of the younger children. Striking fear into people's hearts gave him a sense of power, power he usually didn't feel when confronted by the tall, beefy Mr. Learmont.

"Shut up, Billy," Tom snarled. "One day, I will scare you to death."

Billy just snickered and disappeared into the bathroom. Tom went downstairs and into the kitchen, where a cluster of children were sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

"There you are, Tom," said Mrs. Cole as she bustled over to him. Her eyes were bloodshot, and Tom wondered if what the older children said was true. Was she a big alcohol drinker? Tom had heard what a lot of drink could do to a person. "Sit down, sit down. There's food in front of your spot already."

Mrs. Cole was very good at stating the obvious, Tom mused as he sat down at the table and started eating his gruel. Breakfast always consisted of measly porridge, and Tom always felt a bitter jealousy spring up within him when he saw what the staff were eating.

"Hey, Riddle Freak," Amy Benson whispered from next to him. "Had fun with your snake last night?" Amy was ten years old, and always found it amusing to antagonize Tom. Tom decided that one day, he'd get his own back on her, for she didn't know just how strong he was.

But right now, Tom just glared at her and ignored her comment. He ate breakfast in silence, dreading school. He didn't see why he had to learn boring subjects like maths and English when he was already so good at them. His teacher, Miss Amelia, was simply blown away by how smart he was. "Too smart for your own good," was how he was classified in her classroom.

After breakfast, the children were told to line up. They were then split into groups, as was the normal routine. They all wore simple gray tunics, and Tom would have loved it if he could wear something more interesting. Then, one worker walked with each age group to their classroom.

It was Brian who led Tom's age group. He was a burly, muscular nineteen-year-old who had been working at the orphanage for a year. Before that, he had been a full-time resident. He was the stupidest person in the place; that was Tom's opinion, at least. The seven-year-old thought it was ironic that if you scrambled the letters in his name, you got the word "brain." Maybe one day, Tom would think up a great name for himself, for he was sick of the name Tom. Mr. Learmont had also told him that Tom had been the name of the father who had abandoned him.

The classroom was a very shabby room, with hardly any posters on the walls. It smelled old and musty, and Tom wondered what boring thing he was going to learn today. The only class that really made him think was history; he loved learning about all the wars there had ever been in the world. Miss Amelia didn't go into much depth on them, since her students were only young, but Tom hadn't wasted any time. To her shock, he'd already checked out a book from the orphanage library all about Hitler and the First World War. He thought all the techniques the armies had used were fascinating.

"Good morning, everyone!" exclaimed Miss Amelia as she walked into the room. Tom sat way in the back so that he didn't have to be noticed by the other children. "Our first lesson today will be maths."

Tom listened uninterestedly as the lecture went on and on. The class was asked to do an activity, and Tom did participate, but Miss Amelia could see that he was highly bored. She mused about why it was that he hadn't been relocated to a classroom for older children. Tom had an incredible amount of talent, and she thought she was wasting her time teaching a boy who obviously already knew the answers.

Then, it was time to go to recess. The other boys and girls absolutely adored this time, for games would be conducted and fun would be had by all. But this was yet another time when Tom felt alone. He craved for attention from the other children, but they either spat in his face or completely ignored him. Well, I can't help the fact that weird things happen around me, Tom thought bitterly. But perhaps I can use my powers to my advantage.

As Tom walked around outside, he could see that some of the children were partaking in a game of jumprope. He'd always wanted to play, and he'd even made the mistake of asking Dennis Bishop to help him learn it a year ago. Dennis had just laughed and said, "We don't include freaks in our games, do we, boys?" Dennis was nine, the same age as Billy, so Tom had felt intimidated and left them to their game, defeated.

"Hey, having fun, freak?" Speaking of the devil, Dennis came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Tom spun around and glowered at him. "What do you want, Bishop?" he snarled.

"Oh, just to gloat," Dennis sneered. "Where's your snake, by the way?"

"It's none of your damn business!" Tom shouted.

"My, my, such language from such a little pipsqueak," Dennis laughed.

Robert and Mark, two other bigger boys, came up to him. "We're going to have a little fun with you," Robert taunted as he sidled closer to him. "Ever played hide-and-go-seek?"

"I don't want to play your stupid game, Spiler," Tom snarled. (Spiler was Robert's last name.) "Leave me alone."

"Fine, it's your loss, freak," said Mark nastily. He raised his fist to punch Tom.

This had happened plenty of times in Tom's life, and he felt lost and vulnerable as the bigger boy's fist came closer and closer to his face. He didn't know how to defend himself, but then something in the back of his mind spoke up.

Don't be a wimp, Tom! it said. The others think you have freaky powers, right? Well, maybe you do! Try and use them to scare these monsters away!

He could feel something bubbling up inside him, and just as Robert was about to land a punch, he instead let out a scream of pain.

"Whoa there, Spiler, you alright?" asked Mark. "Why'd you stop before you punched the little urchin?"

"My face!" screeched Robert madly. Tom smirked as he saw a huge blister form on his face. "You ... you!" Robert sputtered. "You little ..."

"You can't prove anything," smiled Tom. "I didn't do it."

"Go to hell, that's where fiends like you belong!" roared Mark. "Practicing witchcraft is Satanic, don't you know that?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," said Tom in a quiet, deadly voice. The two fourteen-year-olds let out a little squeak of fear and ran away from him, along with the nine-year-old Dennis. Serves them right, Tom thought viciously. Thinking they can try to intimidate someone like me!

The school day continued, and Tom went through his classes on autopilot. At lunchtime, he sat with his classmates at the table, feeling more and more lonely as he heard them chatter amongst themselves.

What would it be like, he thought to himself, if there were people just like me? People who could do the same weird, freaky things as me? He thought it was amazing how he could hurt people he didn't like. But maybe it was better if no one else had this power. People might treat him with hatred now, but Tom had plenty to give back to them. Life was hell, but maybe when he got older and had practiced using his powers a little more, he could show all that scum who really was boss.

He mulled over all the books he had read about certain historical wars. Power, that's what it came down to. He had also read a book on the Salem Witchcraft Trials, and knew that people had been scared to death at the time. Fear was a great motivator, Tom thought. It could cause people to do all kinds of crazy things, even kill innocent people.

Had his parents had these powers as well? There were millions of questions that always buzzed around in Tom's mind as he pondered over his situation. Why didn't his mother live if she had those powers? Why couldn't she have been immortal? Weren't witches and wizards supposed to live forever?

Tom had been told that his mother's name had been Merope Gaunt, and she had actually come to the orphanage to give birth. She'd been very sickly and weak, and only lived long enough to name him: Tom after his father, and Marvolo after his grandfather. Tom often wondered about his ancestors, and his father. Why didn't he, also named Tom Riddle, want to take care of his son? Was Tom just a disgrace to everybody?

Tom wished for the thousandth time, as he lay awake in bed that night, that someone could take him away from this dump. He wanted to know the answers to so many questions: Why could he do things that other people couldn't? Why were some of the children so scared of him? Why did all the staff at the orphanage dislike him so much? Why, why, why?

He vowed that one day, he'd find out more about his ancestors. If he could really do magic, he wanted to learn how it all worked. A delighted smile appeared on his face when he thought of all the things he'd be able to achieve.

One thing Tom was terrified and angry with was death. Death had taken his mother, deprived him of a proper home. Tom never wanted to die, and maybe, just maybe, if magic really existed, so did immortality. He flipped a page in his book, reading all the words it had to offer. Books had taught him so much about the world he lived in.

Tom wondered if there were such things as dragons as his eyes skimmed the page. It talked all about how dragons were fictional creatures which breathed fire. It would be cool to be a dragon, Tom grinned to himself. Then I could breathe fire on Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson, and then they'll stop teasing me. He also thought about what other magic tricks he'd like to perform. A magician had come to the orphanage once, but Tom had thought all his tricks were stupid. He thought that he was a much better magician than the man who had come to show them all what could be accomplished.

Tom also knew that he was very sneaky, and tonight he'd stolen yet another beloved trinket from Billy Stubbs. He also knew that adults liked it if you were polite to them. Even though he despised so many of them at the orphanage, he had to keep up his facade. Especially if he was going to get back at them when he was older. Taking them by surprise would be a great form of revenge, Tom thought. He wanted to give the pain back to them, the pain which they'd caused him over the years.

My mother doesn't deserve to be in Heaven, if there is such a place, Tom thought angrily. Mr. Learmont had made it sound like she couldn't be bothered to live because she didn't love him. Well, guess what? sneered Tom inside his head. After going without it for seven years, he didn't need love now. He used to cry himself to sleep at night, but his heart had become hardened and he no longer did that. He felt that anger was a much stronger and better emotion than sadness. Living in his sheltered little world was better than living in a world chocked with sentimental values, for they all amounted to nothing in the end.

So that was what life in the orphanage was like for Tom Marvolo Riddle. Every day was a chore to get through, and Tom prayed every night for something out of the ordinary to happen.

And it did four years later, in the form of a cave and two of his classmates, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. That day, he got to show them what real fear felt like, and he knew it would be a lesson that stayed with them until the day they died.