December 31 1926
It was an ice cold night it had been snowing all day long. On a distance you could hear the faint bangs of the first fireworks. The muggles who were already celebrating for new years eve looked up curiously as a rather strange-looking female tramp stumbled pass them through the snow.
She looked exhausted and frozen of the cold. Underneath her filthy robe you could see she was highly pregnant, yet, none of the muggles was prepared to step up and help her. Only one of them pointed to the North as she asked, with a weak hoarse voice, where she could find the local orphanage. She walked on, trembling and stumbling.
After a while she arrived at a gray square building. She opened the high fence and crossed the empty courtyard. She stepped carefully on the slippery stairs that led her to the front door and knocked twice. She heard some stumbling and cursing inside before the door opened. The woman who opened was skinny. Her face had sharp features and she had visible cringes under her eyes. The woman looked curious and concerned at the degraded visitor.
"Help me…" was all the poor girl could say before she fell down on her knees and put her hands on her belly.
May 12 1935
"If you're afraid of the dark,
Then where do you find the guts to call me a freak?"
"Tom, what are you doing..?"
It was early in the morning. A handsome little boy with pitch black hair was looking thoughtfully through the window. Like he was seeing things in the rain, no one else could see. Billy Stroeve, a little plumb boy with a woolen scarf tied around his neck, was watching Tom Riddle curiously, he glared at the rain then and back to Tom.
"I'm thinking of the fastest way to shut you up, Billy, maybe I can use that ridiculous scarf of yours."
For a moment it looked like Billy was about to burst into tears again, but he reconsidered and looked deeply insulted at Tom.
"You're just doing weird again, like you always. That's the reason everybody calls you a freak!" Tom's eyes flashed to Billy, who hastily put a few steps backwards. Martens eyes were onyx black, it was like a 20 year older Tom was glaring at him. Billy could have sworn he even saw a red glance through his eyes just a second ago.
"You're not so though when you're asleep, Billy..," Tom said soft, but threatening nevertheless. His voice sounded amazingly intelligent for a boy of only 9 years old. Billy looked at him with huge fearing eyes.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Tell me… If you're afraid of the dark, then where do you find the guts to call me a freak?" Tom stood right before Billy now and was obviously much taller than him.
"Maybe you're braver then I thought-," He cocked his head a bit to the left, "- Or just plain stupid."
Billy made a shocked noise before he ran out the corridor as fast as he could. Tom saw his scarf following behind him around the wall. Tom snorted.
Maybe Billy thought Tom would leave him alone now he ran off, that he'd forget what Billy had said, but then he'd be wrong. Tom made sure to himself that he would learn Billy to respect him or otherwise fear him badly.
"Riddle!?" Of course... the kid couldn't shut his mouth again and he'd been heard. Billy would pay for this.
"Riddle, what did you do to Billy this time!?" Tom turned around at Mrs. Cole and looked at her, no longer threatening, but full of innocence. "Nothing ma'am," he said amazingly polite.
Mrs. Cole, who knew Tom's talent for politeness and flattering all too well by now, looked at him with piercing eyes.
"Then why did I find him running back to his room, screaming?" Mrs. Cole could look as firm as she wanted, but she never caught Tom on a lie or trick before. Not even the real bad stuff, though she had many suspicions, the problem was lack of evidence.
"I have no idea, Mrs. Cole." It was impossible to doubt the honesty in his voice. "I swear to you that I did nothing wrong, maybe you should ask Billy himself when he calmed down a bit."
Mrs. Cole looked quite astonished at the fact Tom had just given her advice, but quickly pulled her face straight again. "I surely will!" Mrs. Cole strode back to Billy's room.
Marten sat down at the window and looked at his hands as he twinned his fingers together.
It was hard to describe the hate he felt for this orphanage. He never lived elsewhere since the day he was born. His mother gave birth to him here and died after giving him his awful names: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was a name you heard everywhere, and also Riddle was so common, so normal, it didn't fit him at all. Only Marvolo sounded slightly unique, but for now he was stuck with his name. Like he was stuck here, in this orphanage. He knew that he'd have had it so much better, had he lived elsewhere. He hardly ever came out of the building, except for the trips to the beach, and once in a while he knew to sneak away to slander through the city on his own.
Now he thought of it, soon there'd be another trip. And when he would finally be free, he'd make the best of it. Maybe he knew to take some foolish children with him, then he could avenge them without anyone noticing. Not that he never did before in the orphanage. In some way he had the talent to mess with the other children without leaving any trace of evidence or whatsoever.
A week after Tom after Tom's 7th birthday he'd been furious at Peter Moonseed, one of the older children. Pieter had made a bet with his friend, he had to steal something from Tom's closet. After he put óne foot into Tom's room he spontaneously fainted. He didn't even had to the time to see Tom glaring at him from the corner of the room before he did.
He came by quickly, though, and turned out to be fine except for a light head-ache, but not for long. The night after the occasion something extremely strange happened in Pieter's room. Pieter's bed, with him still in it, had been thrown out of the window. He made the hospital just in time or he'd have died. It's still a mystery how Pieter's bed could get thrown out of the window without him waking up, or, even more disturbing, how the bed-frame possibly could get to a small window like that, it was impossible. So it couldn't have been on purpose either, no one could do something like that, right?
But Tom was not like others… In some way he knew he'd done it and he knew it for sure, the only thing he didn't knew was how. He did remember how furious he had been on Pieter, outraged that Pieter had entered the only place of Tom alone, and then also tried to steal one of his few belongings.
Pieter's friend hadn't talked nor looked at him ever since. They avoided him as much as they could and Pieter himself had been moved to another orphanage because he didn't want to be in any way near Tom anymore.
Drowned in his own thoughts Tom hadn't noticed he had stood up and walked away. He slandered pointlessly through the corridors, listening to the hollow sound of his own rhythmical footsteps. The sound was interrupted by a toddler of a year or four. The girl was sitting on the floor and clenches her little hands around her ankle. She had probably fallen down and hurt her ankle. Her cries and screams sounded like ringing alarm bells combined with the echo's of her sobbing. Marten felt the hairs in the back of his neck standing up, he couldn't bare the sound of crying children.
He couldn't remember himself crying ever before. He thought crying was something only weaklings did, as it was completely unnecessary, didn't solve anything and only made people more ugly then they already were.
The screaming of the child gave him a head-ache and he wished she would stop. He wanted to go to her and silence her once and for all… The girl looked startled when she finally seemed to notice Tom's presence and she cried even louder, for so far that was possible. Marten had enough and he stepped forward to her.
Before he could do anything to her he heard the heels of Mrs. Cole coming their way. He could better go before she'd blame in of something he hadn't done, or hadn't done yet…
Soundlessly and very quickly he slipped into another corridor.
"shush shush, Anna… Let me see that ankle…-" he heard Mrs. Cole saying as he walked away, trying to shut out the noise.