He had ten minutes until he was eleven. 10 minutes to the marking of his birthday. 10 minutes until he would see dumbledore and set his plan into action. 10 minutes until the eleventh year of his stay at the orphanage.
He knew that, unlike tom, the orphans would be sad to see him go. They worshipped him. It seemed a little bit of extra attention could go a long way. He was not a freak, as he had originally expected, but a known charmer, able to bring welldoers whatever they pleased. He was known to have gained favor with the staff, and, in turn, have gained leeway with the bullies of the orphanage. One by one he would eradicate the torturers in peculiar ways. There was one whose pet had gone missing, another who had to be relocated because of a venomous snake bite. The rest of the orphanage were followers, and they didn't care about how he did such feats, only that he could.
Soon, he had become king of the orphanage and now the orphanage was quite a pleasant stay. In fact, it had lead to all sorts of ideas on how to get Dumbledore's knickers in a twist. He knew that the old man wouldn't know what hit him.
Revenge was best served cold. Especially when you'd had centuries to mull it over.
"MOOOHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!"
Death shivered in his blanket. Honestly, he was just glad he was not the source of the boy's attention.