Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall

Part One: The Awakening

Chapter Five

- Moving on -

A blur of different shades of green and brown passed by the smudged window as the car drove down an old country road. As the car moved over ridges and valleys in the road, it jumped and rocked its occupants: four somber boys, garbed in the only clothes they had managed to salvage from the fire. Occasionally a blur of light blue sky would peek though the trees, letting through sparkling beams of sunlight. The bright yellow rays warmed the air and the ground, also heating up the inside of the car. The occupants wiped their brows as sweat beaded on already moist skin, shifting uncomfortably in the tiny back seat. Birds chirped their melodies from high in the trees, their mood far different from the anxious and tired faces that could be seen through the windows of the car. The car's engine whined as it carried its passengers to their new home. The boys sat in the back seat of the old Fait taxi, watching their old world slowly start to fade away.

Nothing remained of St. Augustine's, except for a large pile of charred remains and the empty, black shells of the stone walls standing starkly against the sky. The boys as well as the nuns had lost their home. Everything that they cherished had been devoured by the flames. Only a few precious items were salvaged: a few articles of clothing, Shawn's picture of his parents, Vincent's drawing of Sister Mary, and Tom's cross that now hung like a dead weight around his neck. Thank the Lord that no one was harmed seriously during the fire. Shawn had suffered smoke inhalation and a few small burns, but otherwise he recovered nicely, though his arms and hands were still wrapped in bandages.

Abbess Catherine went immediately to work in finding a place for the boys to stay, now that they could no longer stay with the nuns. She had found a boys school and orphanage in Great Hangleton that had plenty of room. It would take some time to rebuild the convent and the sisters didn't feel it was right to keep the boys with them while all this was going on. As much as they cared and loved the boys, this was best for them. They would have a fresh start in a new place and the Lord would be with them in their new journey to watch over them.

They say silence is golden. The silence in the taxi, however was unbearable. Tension gnawed at the car's occupants.

Shawn, with his head hung down low and his hands in his lap, was fiddling with a stray string dangling from his bandages. He had not said a word to anyone since he returned from the hospital. No one knew what he had been doing out of bed the night of the fire, save for Shawn himself.

With his head propped up on his closed fist, Henry watched as the world passed by the car window. His eyes focused on nothing in particular, almost staring blankly out the window.

Joseph was busy re-reading a letter to his parents that he had started to write them as they packed their meager belongings. He wanted to let them know that he would be moving to a new place and that they should forward any letters to the new address.

Eyes closed and his head resting against the cool window, Tom wondered what this orphanage was going to be like. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face, falling to his lap. As the car moved over a large bump, it caused the boys to jostle into each other, making Tom open his eyes. He glanced at the other boys, they looked as tired and worn out as he felt. His eyes moved to the outside again. He wondered what day it was, so many days had passed, he had lost track as the fate of the boys was decided. Abbess Catherine said that this place is a good school and we are going to a place where we'll be happy, Tom thought. Vincent's still in the hospital…I hope he gets better soon. What's it going to be like here? I heard the Sisters talking about this place. A woman named Mrs. Cole owns and runs it. What are the other boys going to be like? Many other questions ran through Tom's mind. But one thing Tom knew for sure: he really missed Vincent. Tom looked down at the crumpled piece of paper clutched in his fist. It was Vincent's drawing, the only thing Tom had other than the cross around his neck.

"We're here," came the voice with a deep Cockney accent. Tom glanced up, his eyes meeting the taxi driver's in the rear-view mirror. Tom looked back out the window, trying to get a glimpse of where they were going. The car turned, crunching over a stone road. Tom saw a wrought-iron gate, allowing them admittance into the entrance of the orphanage. A large, aged iron sign hung on the iron bars, reading, "STOCKWELL ORPHANAGE". The boys maneuvered so that they could all look out the windows, trying to see their new home.

Trees obstructed their view, lining the driveway. The car pulled to a halt and the taxi driver climbed out. "Let's go," he said gruffly. Slowly, but surely, the four boys made their way out of the car, only to stand there, staring up at the orphanage that was now their home.

The blue sky and warm sunshine did little to soften the appearance of the dominating building. The three-story, gray stone-walled orphanage towered above the trees, the dark windows staring at them as though assessing their worth, seeing straight through to their souls. It was an uncomfortable feeling and Shawn immediately looked away, inching closer to Tom. Tom glanced down at the smaller boy and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Joseph and Henry were just as silent, their eyes drawn to double-door entrance where two people stood. It was still to far away to make out much detail in their shadowy appearances.

A clock chimed and Tom looked to the highest peak on the roof, where a large clock face hung. The black wrought irons hands showed it was 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Come along, then," the taxi driver said, shaking them from their thoughts. A cloud moved across the sun, sending shadows streaking across the stone path and the school, giving the school an ominous look. Tom thought the school looked rather like a huge mouth, waiting to swallow them up and never let them return. His fingers moved to the cross that rested against his chest, rubbing the worn metal between his fingers as he followed the driver down the path, the others following close behind.

The sun came out again, but Tom hardly took notice. He was too busy looking at the two people that stood on the front steps, awaiting their arrival. His face revealed nothing as he took in the details of the older woman and a younger girl. The woman appeared to be in her mid-forties and had long black hair that was pulled tightly in a long braid that ran down the center of her back. She had a sharp-featured face and she scanned the four boys with a penetrating gaze. However, that wasn't what made Tom uneasy. There was something about this place, something not quite right.

"Welcome to Stockwell Orphanage. I'm Mrs. Everenst. Mrs. Cole is tending to other matters currently and has asked me to take her place for the moment." she greeted them. "Lissi, pay the driver," she said to the young girl. Tom took the moment to look at the girl, who appeared to be in her teens. She wore a clean, though worn blue dress and an apron, which clung to her thin frame. Her eyes met Tom's and then she hurried away to pay the taxi driver. Tom watched as the driver climbed back into his car, driving down the driveway, leaving only a dust cloud in its wake. "Since you do not have anything, we will provide you with some clothing, but you will use it wisely, as you will not get more." Though Mrs. Everenst's voice was not sharp, it was firm and left no room for argument.

Tom turned back to Mrs. Everenst, watching as Joseph stepped forward. "Mrs. Everenst, do you have a place where I can send my letters?" he asked, clutching the letter he had begun to write.

"Of course. And you are?" she asked.

"Joseph Emerson, sir."

"Well, Joseph, if you do what is asked of you, then you will get to send your letters. Now come, I will show you to your rooms," She ushered the boys into the front parlor. A thin staircase hugged the wall off to the right, the center of the room wide and spacious, though giving off no warmth. A dusty chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, its feeble light doing little to light the room.

A long hall, tiled in white and black, led off deeper into the orphanage but Tom's eyes weren't drawn to the draping curtains or the cold furnishings, but to the faces that had appeared in the doorways on either side of them. Other orphans, Tom noted, taking in their worn clothing and tired faces. Their clothing was either too big or too small for them, clinging to their gaunt frames, though some of the boys were more fleshed out. At least they're clean, Tom thought. I've read plenty of stories about orphanages and some of them are far worse then this one. This entire place is extremely clean. He glanced around at the various furnishings, noting that there was not a speck of dust.

"– and you will obey the rules, or suffer the consequences," Mrs. Everenst said sharply, his voice snapping Tom from his thoughts. Tom looked back up at him. "There is no tolerance for misbehavior in my orphanage. You will do well to abide to that."

Henry smirked slightly and nudged Tom. "That means no pranks, Tom."

Tom smiled slightly at this. The truth was, if he didn't have Vincent there, he wasn't much in the mood for playing pranks.

"There will be no talking when we are talking. It is considered rude," she said coolly, her black eyes void of any emotion. "Now come. I will show you to your rooms." She turned and began walking towards the stairs. The boys followed silently, glancing at the other orphans who looked at them curiously. One boy stood out from the others, a tall red-headed, burly fellow that had the makings of a bully. Tom had a feeling he was going to be trouble.

The boys watched with interest. It wasn't every day that new boys came to the orphanage. With the possibility of war looming, unfortunately that would mean more orphans, just like the previous war. The BBC gave limited information on what was happening with Germany but it was only a matter of time before Hitler invaded England. The British government of course said there was nothing to worry about, even after Hitler invaded Rhineland and conquered it. Personally, Tom didn't believe a word of it.

"Tom, I don't like it here," came Shawn's soft voice.

Tom looked down at the smaller boy, who was looking around timidly. He had taken the picture of his parents out of his pocket and now clutched it to his chest. "It'll be alright."

"Are you sure?" Shawn looked up at Tom.

"Of course I am," Tom said, with more confidence than he had at the moment. "I'm not going anywhere." Shawn nodded but Tom could tell he was still nervous.

Tom turned his attentions to his surroundings, taking in the worn wallpaper and the paintings that hung on the wall. As they passed one that was hanging crookedly, Tom reached up and fixed it on impulse. His hand froze as he looked at the painting, captured by the woman who looked back at him. She looked regal and stern, her dark hair piled up on top of her head in a mess of curls. Her dark green dress was tight around her torso and flowed out at the bottom, spilling around the chair that she sat on. A man stood behind her, dressed in a black suit. Tom could only stare at them. Something drew him to the painting, but he couldn't place it.

"Boy!" a sharp voice snapped. Tom blinked and looked to see Mrs. Everenst looking coldly at him. "Don't touch what isn't yours." She then continued to walk up the stairs, telling them of rules that they had to follow, along with the daily labor that they had to do around the orphanage.

"What were you doing back there, Tom?" Henry whispered as they walked.

"I was just fixing it, I don't see what was wrong with that," Tom said, shrugging indifferently.

"Take it to be Tom who gets into trouble straight away," Joseph sneered.

"Shut it, Joseph, before I shut it for you," Henry snapped. Shawn looked between the two boys, feeling the animosity between them sparking through the air. He gulped, not wanting to see a fight break out. It was the last thing they needed at this new place. Who knew what the punishment would be like? Shawn was sure it wouldn't be as simple as praying and doing a bit of cleaning up around the grounds.

"– is there a problem, boys?" Mrs. Everenst looked at them as though they were pests needing to be extinguished.

"No, Mrs. Everenst," Tom said before either boy could speak. Henry simmered, ready to pound Joseph, but then again, Henry had never liked Joseph.

"Good." Mrs. Everenst looked between them and then continued to walk up the stairs.

Tom drew back until he was walking next to Joseph. "Don't start anything," Tom hissed to Joseph, elbowing him slightly.

"I can do what I want," Joseph retorted, glaring at Tom. Tom resisted the urge to snap back, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"- and you will be sharing a room. Each of you will be responsible for keeping your room clean, the floors and windows washed, and your beds to be in order. The Lord frowns upon slovenly behavior and so do I." Mrs. Everenst led them down a long hall, up another flight of stairs to the third floor, and down a short ways until she stopped before a door, turning to face them. "Lights out is at promptly nine o'clock. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Everyone is to stay in their rooms until the next morning, at which time you will awake at six. You will do your morning chores which will be given to you, then you may eat breakfast. Extra work is given as punishment and if you don't perform your duties to our satisfaction, your eating privileges will be taken from you. Eating with us at the main dining table is a privilege and bad behavior does not merit reward." She opened the door to the room. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go in," she snapped, watching them as they walked past her into the room. "Dinner is at six. If you are not there when we begin, you will not be given dinner. Timeliness is requested and expected." Then she turned on her heel, walking back the way that had just come from.

The four boys looked around the room, which had seen better days. Paint, which looked to have been white at one point, had turned a dingy gray and peeled off the walls. There were four twin-sized beds placed along one of the walls, facing two dingy windows that let scattered afternoon light through, illuminating the dust in the air. The beds were made of old iron tubing and the mattresses were old and stained. They sagged in the metal frames, looking ready to collapse. Even the wooden floor looked like it was ready to break any moment, creaking as they made their way to their respective beds.

"My parents will wish to know of this," Joseph said snobbishly. "Then I'll be moved to a better room. This place is horrid."

"You do that. I bet they'll give you the royal attic," Henry said snidely. He walked over and lay down on his bed. Being the largest out of the four boys, the base of the bed nearly touched the floor with his weight. Tom ignored their bantering and walked over to a table near one of the windows. It had a large crack down the front, the wood worn down in some places. There was a small calendar lying on the desk next to a clock and Tom picked up the calendar. June 3rd, 1936. These past few days have gone by too quickly. His eyes fell on the mantel clock. Its stand was a dark brown, the glass face of the clock chipped and worn. Just like everything else around the orphanage. Tom had noticed that there were clocks in every room and though he agreed with things being done on time, the many clocks seemed a bit too redundant. But then again, there were boys that needed to be constantly shepherded, lest they do something unsatisfactory.

Tom set the calendar down and glanced at the other boys around the room. Henry seemed asleep on his bed, Joseph sat on his bed sulking, and Shawn was sitting in a chair by his bed, looking at the picture of his parents. Tom walked towards the door and almost left when Shawn's voice stopped him. "Where are you going?"

Tom turned back to look at Shawn. "Just for a walk."

"Should you leave? Are we allowed?"

Tom shrugged. "Either way, I'm going." He wanted to be light-hearted about this and smile to try and ease Shawn's obvious discomfort. But his thoughts kept returning to Vincent. Once Vincent comes back, then it'll be okay, Tom assured himself. "You can come if you want."

Shawn shook his head. "No, I don't want to get in trouble."

"Suit yourself." Tom turned and walked out of the room, heading down the hall. Padding down the worn red carpet, lost in his thoughts, Tom didn't hear the crying until he nearly tripped over something. Rather, someone, a small blond-haired boy who had curled himself into a fetal position in a corner. Tom frowned slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Robbie locked me out of the loo again," the boy sniffed, wiping at his tears as he looked up at Tom.

"There's not just one loo. Why can't you use another one?"

The boy looked confused for a moment. "Because…" but he never finished for at that moment, a loud pealing sound echoed down the hall. The boy quickly stood, brushing off his patched clothing. "Room checking. You should go," he said quickly before running off down the hall.

Tom glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall. 3:00. He began walking again, but instead of heading back to his room, he went to the window. The glass was smudged and scratched, making it difficult to see outside. Using the edge of his sleeve, he wiped a circle in the window but it did little difference. He could see the grounds, the forest beyond but what caught his attention was a dark blue car that sat in a cutoff near the entrance. Curious, he turned, walking down a flight of stairs, through a dark hall lit only by oil lamps and around a corner, stopping when he heard voices.

Peering around the corner, he caught sight of Mrs. Everenst sitting in a large leather chair, speaking to someone but Tom couldn't see them. So he settled to just listen, wondering who the person was.

"– and you're completely right. That man knows what he's talking about," the mystery person said, his voice gruff with a thick accent.

"He'll bring Deutschland back to her former glory," Mrs. Everenst said. "Mark my words. Look at everything that has happened since he's become leader. I will be returning next month, of which I am grateful for. There's only so much the BBC will tell us about what's happening over there, and most of its edited by the government."

Tom didn't hear the mystery man's response for he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He froze, his heart beating faster. Taking a deep breath and keeping his face calm, he looked up at the owner of the hand. It was the burly, red-haired boy that Tom had noticed when they had arrived. The boy was about 5'6", a few inches taller than Tom, with a acne-scarred face.

"What're you doing down here, snooping?" the boy sneered. "You're supposed to be up in your room. My mum won't like you sneaking around."

"So?" Tom said, shrugging with indifference. By now, Vincent and I would have pulled a prank or two. Instead, I'm stuck here without anything fun to do, Tom thought, vaguely hearing the red-head babble on but he didn't care. Vincent, get better soon.

"Are you listening?" the boy asked angrily, shoving Tom against the wall. Tom winced slightly when his side connected with a small table that hugged the wall nearby. Luckily, the wire-crafted mantel clock that sat on the table didn't fall off, or that would have alerted the adults in the next room.

"That's not very nice. Thought you'd have more manners than that, guess not," Tom jabbed, glaring slightly at the boy.

"I wouldn't expect you to, orphan," the boy sneered. "At least my mother kept me."

That was one particular subject that always got Tom's blood boiling. Quite a few times, Joseph had been on the receiving end of Tom's rages. Tom's gaze narrowed at the boy. "Imagine that," he muttered.

"What was that?" the boy snapped, grabbing the front of Tom's shirt and shoving him up against the wall.

"You keep doing things like that and you'll get what's coming to you," he said darkly, ignoring his chained necklace that was biting painfully into his skin.

"You little –" The glass face on the clock suddenly shattered, the boy let go of Tom, staring at the broken glass.

"Robbie! What are you doing?" someone snapped. The boy, presumably Robbie, spun to face the source of the voice. A tall, middle-aged woman with her light brown hair pulled back in a sharp bun stood just a few feet away. She wiped her hands on her food-stained apron.

Tom rubbed his neck lightly, trying to ease the stinging marks where his chain had bit into his neck. He watched Robbie out of the corner of his eye. He took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes landing on the shattered clock face. How…first the vases…and now this… he thought, confused.

"Um, nothin'," Robbie muttered, looking down.

"You know better than to act that way, especially when your mother has guests. Now go upstairs for your room check. You're not exempt," she said firmly. Robbie glared once more at Tom before sulking away. Tom went to follow him, intending on getting back to his room before Mrs. Everenst caught him. "You. Stop."

Tom sighed. So much for that plan. He turned to face the woman, noticing that though her face was lined with age, her eyes were warm. "Yes?"

"What's your name?" she asked, looking down at him.

"Tom. Tom Riddle."

"You must be one of the new children." She smiled a little. "Pay no mind to Robbie. He often bullies the other children, must make him feel special or somethin'." She glanced at the clock on the table. "It's nearly four o'clock, you'll have missed your room check. No sense in you goin' up there and gettin' in trouble. I should think you're hungry?"

Tom shrugged. "We're not allowed snacks."

"Pish posh. You need somethin' to fill out that willowy body of yours. Follow me, Tom, and have a biscuit." She motioned for him to follow her as she headed down the hall. Tom glanced at the staircase but then followed her into the kitchen.

The room itself wasn't that impressive but it looked newer than the rest of the orphanage. The walls were papered with faded flowered print, the wooden counters were clean, and even the window above the sink was cleaner than most. The sun's rays filtering through the old window, illuminating the main part of the kitchen and the cast iron stove. Off to one side was a large rectangular table, on top of which was a plate of cookies. Hanging on the wall above the table was a clock set in a wire cross.

Tom noted the smell of chocolate wafting from the oven and smiled a little. Chocolate chip cookies were a weakness of his and Sister Mary loved to bake. She always gave the boys cookies for their birthdays and for rewards when they did well in their school work. She once made fudge for Tom when he didn't get into trouble for an entire day.

"Freshly baked," the woman said, smiling as she pulled on oven mitts and removed the tray of cookies from the oven. She set them on the counter to let them cool before turning to face Tom. "Why don't you help me wash up."

Tom nodded, walking over and taking a rag from the edge of the sink. He ran soapy water into the basin and began washing up the dishes in the sink.

"My name is Louise," she said as she took the tray of cookies over to the table, scooping them out onto the large plate. "I'm the cook for the orphanage, if you couldn't tell." She smiled. "Imagine trying to cook for thirty boys, plus the adults." She laughed. "It's quite a chore, but I enjoy it."

"How long have you been here?" Tom asked as he washed the dishes.

"Let's see…twenty five years. I came here when I was eighteen, lookin' for a job. How old are you, Tom?"

"Eight and a half." He finished up the last of the dishes and wiped his hands on a towel before turning to look at Louise.

Louise walked over, coming to a stop in front of Tom. "Here." She held out a cookie to him, smiling. "Chocolate always makes me feel better."

Tom looked up at her and smiled a little. "Thank you." He took the cookie, biting into it and savoring the warm chocolate. It was the first thing he had eaten in about a day, maybe longer. He didn't remember. It was heaven to taste though. "This is really good." He finished the cookie, wiping his face with a rag.

Louise looked very happy at his comment. "I'm glad you think so." She wiped her hands on her apron, still looking at him. "Anytime you want, come and visit. You can't get in trouble if you're in here with me. Besides, I need a taste tester."

Tom actually smiled at this. "I'd like that." Maybe this place won't be that bad after all, he thought.

"Good. Now run along. I'll make sure Mrs. Everenst knows that you were in here helpin' me." Louise winked and then walked over to a cupboard, pulling out various pots and pans, along with ingredients for supper. "Supper will be ready soon. Hopefully that biscuit will tide you over."

Tom nodded. "Thank you again. Can I take a few with me to my friends?"

"Of course, dear." Louise turned her back to him, bustling about the kitchen, preparing for dinner.

Tom walked over to the table, placed a few cookies in a cloth napkin, and left the kitchen. He headed up the stairs and back to his room.

Joseph was no where to be seen. Henry had found a ratty ball and was lying on his back on his bed, tossing the ball up into the air. Shawn was sitting in a corner, his knees hugged to his chest, his chin resting on top of his knees

"So what did I miss?" Tom asked.

Henry looked over at him, pausing his throwing. "Mrs. Everenst came, she was pretty angry that you weren't here. Where were you anyway?"

"In the kitchen." He grinned, closing the door and then walked over to Henry. "Got these for us." He opened the cloth, offering the chocolate chip cookies to Henry

Henry immediately sat up, ball forgotten. "Blimey! Biscuts!"

"Hush before you get us in trouble," Tom laughed.

Henry took a cookie, stuffing it into his mouth. "This is bloody brilliant!" he exclaimed while chewing.

"Eat then talk," Tom said, still laughing. He walked over to Shawn, crouching down in front of him. "Here." He offered Shawn a cookie.

Shawn looked up, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "No thanks."

"Chocolate cheers people up. Try it." Tom waited, patiently.

Finally, Shawn took the cookie, nibbling. "Thanks," he said quietly, looking back down at his lap.

"Welcome." Tom smiled and stood, walking back over to where Henry was sitting. "What happened to Shawn?" he asked quietly.

Henry looked up at Tom, swallowing the last bit of his cookie. He wiped his mouth with his hand. "Joseph was picking on him. I told him to get lost and Joseph just glared and walked out." Henry shrugged. "I don't know where he went."

Tom nodded. "Alright." He turned away

"Can I have another?" Henry grinned.

"You already had one."

"So?"

"There's only two left."

"So one for me and one more for me," Henry laughed.

Tom chuckled. "No, Henry." He left the room, walking down the hall. He heard a scuffling sound and paused outside a closed door. He knocked. "Hello?"

"Go away." It was Joseph's voice.

"What are you doing in the closet?"

"None of your business," Joseph snapped.

"It's a simple question."

"I don't have to answer."

Tom sighed. "Just open the door, Joseph."

"I don't want to."

"Then I will."

"No you won't."

Tom tried the door but it wouldn't open. "Unlock the door, Joseph."

"Why should I."

"You'll get in trouble."

"You don't know that."

"Joseph." Tom was a patient person but only for so long. It was silent. "Joseph, just open the door."

It was silent for a few minutes and then Tom heard a clicking sound. Tom carefully opened the door, looking down at Joseph, who sat in a corner, his letter in his lap. The closet itself was bare and for a smaller boy like Joseph, there was just enough room for him to sit on the floor.

"I brought this for you." Tom held out the cloth holding the last two cookies.

"What'd you do, nick them?" Joseph glared. Tom didn't answer, just keeping his hand held out to Joseph. Finally, Joseph took one of the cookies.

"You're welcome."

Joseph was silent for a few moments. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Tom nodded and went to leave. "None of us will bother you about writing your letters in the room. I'll make sure of it."

"I didn't ask for your help," Joseph said coldly, but there wasn't the usual bite in his voice.

"By the way," Tom paused, looking back at Joseph. "If you touch Shawn again, or if you pull something like what you did with Vincent, you'll wish you were the one that fell off that roof. Because the only way you'd be safe from me is if you were in the hospital. And even then, I wouldn't be so sure."

Tom closed the door, heading back to his room.