"Falling Into Darkness"
Chapter One: The Beginning

The orphanage was always stiflingly hot in the summer: its poor design seemed to ensnare the cold in the winter and trap the heat in summer. Most of the staff and the children did what they could to bundle up in the winter, but come summer they passed the day time indoors in a heat induced stupor until early September brought temporary relief from the cycle.

Most of the children in the orphanage were outside, clustered under a handful of overhangs that provided scraps of shade, but Tom Riddle was not among them.

Instead he was crouched down on the earth floor of the damp, darkness of the basement that always smelt of mould, dust and rotting timber. His ink black hair was plastered to his forehead by perspiration and his cobalt eyes focused on the small snake just eight inches from his nose. Tom carefully opened the cigar box he had been holding tightly and let loose the terrified little brown mouse inside. Warren Alcott had planted the tiny rodent on his bed s a joke and now dazed from lack of air and fear it was easy prey for the slender serpent.

"Did you enjoy that?" Tom asked the snake curiously after it had satisfied its hunger with the mouse. The mouse's end did not trouble him.

"Yes." The snake said in what to Tom sounded like perfectly ordinary English except that the `s' sounds were drawn out into long and soft hisses. "Many thanks, young master."

Tom was about to reply, but the sound of heavy feet on the rickety wooden stairs caused the boy to stiffen and sent the snake back into the crack in the foundation it had entered the basement through. He recognized the footsteps as those of an adult; one of the other children would have crept along in an attempt to catch him unawares. The boy grabbed the worn book he had brought down with him and opened it to a section he knew well.

"Riddle? Mrs. Marsden told me I might find you down here. What are you doing?" Came the sharp voice of Mr. Prescott, who ran the orphanage.

"Reading sir. I like the quiet." Tom held up his book as evidence.

Prescott craned his neck to get a look at the title and nodded ever so slightly as if to say he was glad Tom was going something productive as well as keeping out of trouble. "Shakespeare. It's rare to find a boy your age enjoying the Bard."

Tom hid a smile. "I like Mac Beth. I'm up to the part where Lady Mac Beth convinces her husband to murder Duncan."

Prescott almost scowled. Tom knew that the man had been hoping to catch him in a lie. Prescott was a firm believer that children were evil by nature and only the harshest discipline could ever force them to become decent adults.

Tom often wondered what the man would think if he had the slightest inkling of what really went on among his charges. Or that one of them could speak to snakes. He suspected the man would fall to the floor dead of shock and horror. He almost ached to tell Prescott, but he still had his pride. Tom knew he would have to reveal the source of his knowledge or face another beating.

"Shakespeare." Prescott mused, his voice jarring Tom from his thoughts. The man almost sounded pleased. "If you are reading him on your own time, then I suppose it is no great wonder this came for you."

Prescott handed Tom an envelope that looked as though it was made of the heavy parchment used during Mac Beth's time. Tom accepted it cautiously and trailed the man part of the way up the stairs.

"Smeltings is an excellent school. I trust you will appreciate the opportunity you have been presented with." Prescott told him before opening the door and exiting without glancing back at Tom. It was only then that Tom understood Prescott's pleasure: he was ridding himself of one of the children for most of the year. The boy doubted his absence would ever be mentioned to Prescott's superiors and they would continue to provide him with funds for Tom's care as though he went present, funds Prescott would be able to pocket.

Tom sat down on the fourth step to study his letter. If he was going to attend this school, he might as well see what they had to say to him. He ran a finger over the wax seal. It was a funny emblem for a school called Smeltings to use: an H surrounded by a badger, a lion, an eagle and a snake. Maybe Smeltings was not the complete name or the H represented something in another language like Latin or Greek. Carefully he broke the seal; he did not receive many letters, and blinked in surprise as his eyes scanned the first few lines.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" He read aloud. How had Prescott come up with Smeltings from that? He read on:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Armando Dippet
(Order of Merlin, Second Class, Chf. Warlock, Order of Paracelsus)

Dear Mr. Riddle,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been excepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books are equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your own by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Tom found the equipment list along with a third and far less formal note:

Mr. Riddle,

In light of your situation please meet with our representative at 3:00 on July 28 outside of your residence. To any non-magical eyes the contents of this letter will appear to say that you have excepted into Smeltings Academy.

"I'm a wizard." Tom whispered, amazed, after reading the letter for the fourth time. He was still not able to quite believe it. It seemed so fantastic. For a moment he wondered if he had wondered into a fairy story.

A hissing laugh came from behind him. "What else could you be young one, if you are able to speak to me. Rare are those like yourselves who can converse with my kind. Even amongst magic folk."

Tom moved down to the bottom step with the letter on his lap and considered the snake's words. "Not many wizards can do this either?"

"I have known of only one...and he is dead many years. He was feared, and his ability is now feared. I warn you young one: do not advertise your gift."

Tom shivered. He did not want anything to spoil his chances of escaping the orphanage or the dreary life that most children from the orphanage wandered into upon reaching adulthood.

"I won't," he promised both to the snake and to himself.