Normal Babies don't dream worth a second thought. Not that they would remember their dreams anyway.

But unless you've forgotten, Tom Riddle is anything but normal. And so he dreamt, oh how he dreamt.
Dreaming of smirking lips, biting canines and large estates; their hallways, if mapped out looked like spider silk with how puzzling the outline was. And there was a girl. Her entrance into the dream was a rather dramatic one as she seemed to be thrown into his unconscious mind. She looked as if she had swum miles, her skin looking weather worn and sanded, hair soaking as it trailed across her back. Her fingers were dangerous looking due to the dry red material that coated them. Her eyes however, were laughing at him, as if he was the one who looked halfway to death and a quarter of the way starved.

She embraced him, humming a lulling tune that washed over the small infant Tom with a disturbing safety. As she hummed longer her appearance changed, as her lips went from chapped and dry to red and full. Her brown mess of hair pulled back behind her ears. The dangerous fingers were no longer coated in the redness, but were instead wrapped protectively about his small form.
The eyes however, never lost their cruel amusement. A giggle was released from the girl as quite abruptly she pulled back, and the vision ended.

The newest addition to Wools Orphanage let loose a mighty cry. His body suddenly feeling cold. As employees of the orphanage went to attend to the boy, none of them noticed the woman who observed quietly from outside, her eyes watching.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom grew. Like any human should. And eventually he toddled about on his two wobbly feet, proclaiming himself the new dominant force that ever existed. As most children did. He forgot the first dream he ever had within 24 hrs of his birth, in fact he forgot it the moment that Ms. Wool had come in with a warm bottle and some sort of blanket that she wrapped tightly about him. Ceasing his struggles.

However, Tom, like any boy, grew tired of being a child. And so, he grew once more.

Now at the age of seven, Tom Riddle Jr. could be considered a...handsome child. His face still held the childish quality of being round as his hair fell in a perfect part, keeping itself out of his dark eyes. The eyes that swept across rooms and seemed to hold the attention of everyone, leaving an almost certain weary feeling upon anyone who looked too long at him.

It was at this tender age that Tom Riddle committed his first true act of cruelty.

That is of course, what Theresa always thought.

Children are capable of many things. Particularly when they are told never to do the very things that they excel at. Such as...lighting things on fire. Tom, of course, knew that fire was a dangerous element not to be reckoned with, but, he also knew that it was an extremely useful tool.

And so, he lit the orphanage on fire.

While it was still occupied.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom did nothing as the wood of the orphanage was soaked until it seemed to swell with the very moisture that had been thrust upon it. He was slightly disappointed to see that all the occupants of the orphanage had in fact made it out safely, and the blasted building had suffered not so great an injury that it could not be repaired.

In the end, it was assumed that the fire had been started by a stove left on by some negligent worker. Many glances of mixed emotions were sent towards Tom, some suspicious, some worried, others just angry. He ignored them all, they were of no consequence.

Tom of course heard the whispering while no one else did. It wasn't the whisper of a snake however as it usually had been, but it was instead the whisper of a soft voice, laced with sweetness. He looked around cautiously, as Ms. Wool marched the orphanage children to the park, where they would spend the rest of the afternoon, until she could sort out living arrangements for the next month or two, while the orphanage would no doubt be under construction.

The words whispered were in such a low tone that even Tom had difficulty making them out. But eventually he caught one word, spoken clearly as if the word itself wanted to be heard.

Soon.

As Tom, slightly annoyed by not understanding the meaning behind the word, turned to join the migrating group, he could have sworn he saw laughing green eyes peering at him from the shadows.