April 7, 1936- Wool's Orphanage
Tom sat in a large cushioned chair in the den by the fireplace. He was always there, in the same spot with a book in his lap and an elbow on the armrest propping his chin up. He had a scowl masking his face. It was thundering tonight and all the other orphans were in a panic. Tom didn't mind the roar of thunder outside the window, in fact, he liked it. Thunderstorms were a few things that made spring interesting. It was the roar of screaming children that was the reason for his scowl and dwindling patience. He wanted nothing more than to go read in his room but his chair was so plush, comfortable, as if it was made for him. The adult size chair was quite large compared to his smallness which made him feel like he was sitting on a throne and he saw no reason to give it up. Besides, all the children knew it was his chair.
A sudden bright flash of lightning illuminated the sky followed by several roars of thunder which caused a group of girls nearby to scream. Tom rolled his eyes in irritation though he questioned the number of thunders that followed. It was unusual but he waved it away from his mind.
"Now now, there is nothing to be afraid of, it was only a little bit of lightning," Mrs. Cole said appearing out of nowhere. She tried to soothe the group of girls huddling together while the boys stood frozen in place. Tom watched as the old matron took several girls to help in the kitchen. They were more than happy to lend a hand tonight.
Good riddance, Tom thought as he settled back into his book. The heavy raindrops thumped angrily against the window but the sound was like a lullaby, more so than a group of girls screaming anyway.
It wasn't long until Mrs. Cole called for dinner. A stampede of children fled from the den and Tom, hungry as he was, quickly finished up the page he was on and followed them to the dining table where they were having stew. Tom tasted it. It was bland. But Wool's Orphanage was poor and they had to make do with what little money they had. The bland stew would have to suffice.
He was one of the last children to finish and when he made his way back to the den, his chair was occupied by none other than Billy Stubbs, the big bad bully among the orphans. At least, so he thought.
"Move," Tom ordered to the boy who had his feet up on his chair. Billy looked him over. For some reason he was feeling cocky tonight. He just smiled at Tom indicating that he wasn't going anywhere.
Tom stepped right in front of the Billy, straighten his back so that he towered over the boy. He was tall for his age. In a threatening low voice he whispered, "I. Said. Move."
As if on cue the lights went out and a flash of lightning revealed Tom's dark scowl but only just a second. A window nearby blew open and the howling wind brought in the rain. The girls screamed, the boys shouted and Billy fell off the chair in a panic shuffle to get away from the raven haired boy. The room was coated in darkness except for the small flame in the fireplace. Mrs. Cole came in with a candle and quickly closed the window making sure to bolt it shut this time.
"This storm is getting out of hand," she whispered to herself. She turned to the children, candle in hand, and saw that everyone was huddled together except for Tom who was in his chair reading by the fireplace as if the storm wasn't bothersome at all. She walked around and tried to turn on a lamp but the electricity was out.
"All right. Everyone go get ready for bed now," the matron ordered. Quickly all the kids got to their feet and ran up the stairs. As they passed Tom, he could hear Billy and his gang whisper, "freak," under their breaths. Tom just ignored it and continued reading. It was awhile before Mrs. Cole came down after making sure all the children were in their rooms before finding Tom still in his spot finishing up the last page of a chapter. Both knew she had forgotten about him.
"Tom, it's curfew time. Please go upstairs and get ready for bed," she told him in a sweet voice.
"It's only 8:45. It's not curfew yet," Tom informed as if she had forgotten.
"Yes," Mrs. Cole agreed, "but the electricity is out and there's a storm so I'm afraid curfew will be early tonight."
Tom let out a huff. He was annoyed by her many non-existent rules. Oh how he wish he could be an adult already so he wouldn't have to live in the orphanage. He could move out and live by his rules and wouldn't have to deal with the other orphans' stupidity.
"Come now, off you go," she shooed him. He suppressed giving her a bitter look and did as he was told, taking the book with him in the process. One way or another Mrs. Cole would make him go to bed. He might as well go by his own free will.
Not even half way up the first staircase a rapid knocking caught the matron's and Tom's attention. Tom hid on the stairs where the ceiling met the steps, careful to keep out of Mrs. Cole's eyesight.
"Oh who could that be at this time of night?" the woman whispered angrily to herself. She swiftly walked over to the front door and opened it revealing a tall, muscular man holding a wet, brown haired child in his arms.
"David?" the matron asked. "What are you doing here?"
Tom recognized the man. He lived further into town and would come to fix anything that broke: the heater, windows and so on. What interested Tom was what David was holding in his arms.
"Emily," the man spoke with a faint tremble. "I'm s-sorry to bother you at such a time and especially during this nasty storm b-but there has been an incident," he stuttered from the cold. He raised his arms to show a little girl sleeping in them.
Mrs. Cole looked at the two and said, "Quickly, come in before you both catch a cold." She took a side step allowing the tall man to walk in and closed the door quietly. She then went to a closet and pulled out two towels, offering one to the man and placing the other one on the child in his arms. She led them to the fireplace and prepared a cup of tea. Mrs. Cole poured David a cup which he gladly accepted with a nod and thanks. "Now, what on earth happened and who is this child?" she demanded.
"I told you, there had been an incident. There were a few explosions a couple of hours ago, you see, a few blocks away from us," the man began.
"Oh, my heavens! Was anyone hurt? I thought the loud noise was just the thunderstorm."
"That's what everyone else thought until we started seeing the plume of black smoke. I ran towards it to see what all the ruckus was. When I got to the source..." he stopped as if he was preparing himself for what he was about to say next. "The Evans are gone, Emily. The Samuels, Graysons, Filerts... everyone! The whole damn neighborhood was engulfed in flames," the man finished.
"Lord have mercy. And the girl?" the woman asked quickly, gesturing toward the wet, sleeping child encased in David's meaty arms. She looked so small, so weak and fragile with dirt covering her face and tattered clothes.
"Hermione, the Granger's little girl," he explained. "Their house was one of the few still standing and when the firefighters went inside, they found her in a closet with her mother. It was the oddest thing when they found her. There were slashes on the wall and floor, as if someone came in with a sword and started hacking everything in site. And it wasn't just them, most of the houses that didn't collapse were the same. There were some reports about hearing screams from next door and seeing cloaked figures with some kind of stick in their hands. According to Sergeant Ale, one of the neighborhood watchers called about a blonde man who they didn't recognize walking down the street. Didn't see his face though, it was too dark."
The matron went pale has the man in front of her continued on with the story. After he stopped, she asked, "And the Grangers?"
David slowly shook his head. "She's the only survivor. A real miracle if you asked me. I've seen her a couple of times playing in the waiting room in her parent's clinic. Sweetest girl with the biggest brown eyes. She's a smart one too, just like her mum and dad, already reading on her own and everything." He looked down at the little girl with soft, sad eyes. "She hasn't woken up since they found her. The doctors say it's probably due to shock." He carefully wrapped her in a towel and scooted closer to the fireplace seeking its warmth. She was sickly pale and her lips were purple.
"Any family?" Mrs. Cole asked.
"We don't know. I know Mr. Granger was an only child but Mrs. Granger's family is from France. If there is any family, we don't have a number or address. I'm afraid she's on her own."
"Poor child. She is what, nine years old?"
"eight," the man corrected. " She turns nine in September. Anyways, I was wondering if you would take her into the orphanage. I've already asked a few others but they went on about some nonsense of how odd a child was the only survivor. Really, it's like they assume she's the spawn of Satan or something."
"Yes, of course I'll take her in," Mrs. Cole quickly replied. David placed Hermione carefully in Mrs. Cole's arms. She stirred a little but didn't wake up. Mrs. Cole looked down to the child in her arms, her skin was still pale but her lips weren't purple anymore.
"Thanks, Emily. I knew I could count on you. Now I must be off," the man said, holding out the towel to the matron and putting his thick jacket on that was laying by the fireplace. "I volunteered to help move some of the rubble, maybe find some more miracles," he gestured to Hermione. He walked over and patted the sleeping girl's head. "Poor girl, real tragedy," he mumbled. With that, he turned to the matron, thanked her and walked out the door.
Mrs. Cole exited the den and proceeded to go to a closet where she pulled out some extra bedding and clothes, oblivious to the figure in the dark watching her movement. Tom's dark eyes were locked on Hermione, taking in all the events that just happened. The matron started to walk toward the stairs and before the old hag could catch him out of bed again, Tom swiftly ran back to the safety of his room.
Hermione woke up in a small, gloomy looking room. Her head hurt and her entire body was sore as if she had been running around for hours. Slowly looking at her new surroundings, she saw a desk and chair in front of a barred window. As she tried to lift herself into a sitting position, she felt something itchy and looked down to unfamiliar grey clothes.
They match the room, she thought.
She kept glancing around. There was a small dresser beside her bed and a dark wooden door next to it. So many questions were running through her head. Where was she? Who was she? What time is it? A knock from the door snapped her out of her self interrogation. Before she could reply to the knock, the door opened, exposing an old lady in a grey dress and white apron.
"Good morning, Hermione. I'm so glad you are awake." the woman said. "My name is Mrs. Cole, the matron of this place and you are in Wool's Orphanage."
Hermione? Was that her name? And she was in an orphanage?
"You have been sleeping for two whole days now. How do you feel?
"Confuse," she heard herself saying before even considering the answer. Her voice was raspy from her dry throat and Mrs. Cole offered her a glass of water which she down in a few gulps.
"Yes, I understand that you would be, you've been through a lot. Tell me, do you remember anything from two days ago? Or how you came here?" Mrs. Cole asked.
Hermione tried thinking as far back as she could. "I remember I was somewhere hot."
"You did have a nasty fever. Anything else?"
Hermione shook her head. "That's all." Hermione casted her eyes down to the floor. "I don't remember anything else," she mumbled quietly.
"What about your name or your birthday?" the matron tried again.
She tried thinking about her name but could only come up with Hermione which was what Mrs. Cole called her earlier. As for her birthday, she came to a dead end like everything else. She shook her head again. "No, nothing."
"Oh, dear."
Mrs. Cole walked over to Hermione and pulled out the chair to sit on. "Um, let us start from the top, I guess. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger. You are eight years old and will be turning nine this year on the nineteenth of September." Hermione was listening very carefully as she tried to soak in the new information of herself. "I'm sorry to say this dear but..." Mrs. Cole stopped and took Hermione's hands. "But you were in an accident. You were found in your house after a fire and when they found you, you weren't awake."
"My house? Does that mean I have parents?"
Mrs. Cole gave her a sorrowful look. "I-I'm sorry but you were the only one to survive the fire. I am afraid that your parents are dead. I took you into the orphanage when David Martin, the man who found you in the rubble, asked me."
Hermione just stared at the floor. She should be feeling sad, right? People who got news about love ones dying are usually sad and crying but... why wasn't she?
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Cole asked nervously, waiting for the girl to burst out into tears. "I know it is a lot to take in but I want you to know," she took Hermione's hand into her warm wrinkled ones and Hermione looked up to her at the gentle action, "the people here will love you and will be your family. There are plenty of other kids here too so you won't be lonely," she said in her sweet maternal voice.
Hermione didn't know what to say. It was as if she couldn't form any words so she only nodded in response. The matron let out a sigh and gave her a small smile. Then she stood up so fast it frighten Hermione.
"Well then," Mrs. Cole said with as much enthusiasm she could muster in her voice, "how about we go down for some breakfast, yes?" She offered her hand to Hermione who just stared at it.
Now that she was thinking about it, Hermione was pretty hungry. She hadn't eaten since the two days she had been asleep. She looked up at the matron and took her hand with her tiny ones. Mrs. Cole gently pulled her off of her bed and the two made their way down a long staircase where the screams and laughter of children could be heard. The screams made Hermione's head hurt and feel slightly dizzy. They made their way past the den which had small toys littered all over the floor. There were a group of girls playing with dolls by an open toy box and a pale boy with black hair sitting in a chair by the fireplace with a big book on his lap. When the two arrived at the kitchen, Mrs. Cole handed Hermione a plate of food and sent her to the table before she called the other kids. They all stampeded in and quickly took a plate of food and a seat at the table. Hermione noticed that the pale boy she saw earlier was missing.
"Hey," someone next to her called out in a rude tone. Hermione turned her head to face a blonde haired and blue eyed girl who had light freckles on her cheeks. "I've never seen you before."
"I'm new. My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione politely greeted.
The blonde gave her a look as she eyed her up and down for something Hermione would never know. "I'm Amy Benson. I'm turning ten next month," she said proudly. For a child it was a big accomplishment to turn double digits.
"That's nice," Hermione said not really caring about age difference. She turned back to her plate of food. "It's nice to meet you."
"Hey," the girl started up again. Her voice reminded Hermione of a crow. "Since you're new, I'll tell you everyone's name. That," she pointed to the end of the table toward a boy with brown messy hair, "is Phil Todder. And that," pointing to the girl next to him, "is Eva Pipper." The girl went on down the table one by one and Hermione was matching every name and face before filing it away in her memory.
"There's someone missing." Hermione said to herself as she noticed the pale boy she saw in the den still wasn't there.
"Really? Who?"
"The boy with black hair and pale skin, he was reading a book next to the fireplace."
"Oh, him," Amy mumbled. "That's Tom Riddle. Sometimes he doesn't eat with us. He's kinda... creepy. Don't tell him I said that," she quickly added. "It's what everyone else says, even Mrs. Cole."
"How is he creepy?"
"Well...," Amy leaned into Hermione's ear as if telling her a secret, "he makes weird things happen. People get hurt when they are around him," she whispered. "You should stay away from him."
Amy turned back to her plate, not wanting to continue the conversation now that it was about Tom. Hermione didn't want to press on and just turned back to her own plate to finish her food. She could feel people were staring at her.
Tom watched as the bushy haired girl walked aimlessly around the orphanage. Not once had either talked to each other. He assumed it was because rumors of him being the "creepy, troublesome" kid must have reached her ears by now and she didn't want to associate herself with a delinquent. The real reason the two have yet to interact with each other was because Hermione didn't want to be rude and interrupt Tom's concentration though he'd never know that.
He could see that her eyes were a bit swollen and he guess Billy and the others were welcoming her with name calling and brutal teasing. She walked over toward him and he wondered if she would try to strike up a conversation. Much to his relief, or disappointment, Tom couldn't figure out which one, Hermione walked passed him and to the small shelf of books. She pulled one out and began reading. After lunch she seemed to have disappeared with her book. The next couple of days were the same. Hermione would get her book and then disappear after lunch for hours until dinner.
Tom wondered countless times where she was sneaking off. It must have been a good spot for Billy and the others never came to seek her out, not that they had really tried. Still, a girl who would rather read alone than play with the others was unusual to Tom. She had to be somewhat smart if she could read. He noticed that Hermione always took out a new book everyday, slowly making her way toward the larger volumes which really spoke to Tom. Then again, she could just be looking at the pictures.
He sat there deliberating whether or not to follow her the next time she vanished. He didn't want to leave his spot, the spot he claimed for years. But still, he was interested.
A blur of brown hair caught the corners of his eyes. He knew it was Hermione. Tom snapped his book shut and got up to follow her to her secret spot leaving the comfort of his throne for a moment.
It had been a week since Hermione woke up in the orphanage and so far she hadn't made a single friend. Most of the boys would make fun of her hair and teeth and the girls would join in as a way to gain attention from the boys. Sometime they would say she was cursed. When Hermione asked Amy why everyone was saying that, the blonde just told her it was what the adults were saying and then the girl left it at that. After the second day of constantly being cruelly teased by everyone, Hermione would hide away in a secluded corner she found in the orphanage with a good book on her lap. She discovered her love for reading quickly. Not wanting to play dolls alone, Hermione pulled a book from the small shelf and found that she was an excellent reader. She was hooked. Books were the only thing that made her feel better and the orphanage had a few good books filled with stories about mermaids and kids who could fly and magic. Hermione would always daydream and fantasize about the fictional stories she read. It was just after lunch one day when Hermione's reading was interrupted for the first time.
"Can you even read that book?" asked a boy's voice.
Hermione had never heard the voice before so she automatically snapped her head up to the source. The pale boy with dark hair and ocean blue eyes that she saw on her first day looked down to her with an eyebrow raised. He had a thick book tucked under his scrawny arm and Hermione thought he looked kinda...
Cute.
"You're new here," he spoke again.
"Um, y-yes," Hermione stuttered. "I just came a week ago."
The boy looked at her for a moment and then again asked, "Can you understand that book or are you just looking at the pictures?" His eyes went from the picture she was on to her.
"I understand it."
"Really? What chapter are you on?"
"The last one."
He gave her a look that showed he was impressed. "You read that book in two days?"
"There's not much to do around here but read. Everyone here-"
"Are idiots?" he cut in.
"...I was going to say mean."
Tom only shrugged. "Half of them can't even read." He looked at the picture of her book which showed two men and a woman floating above them. He recognized the picture of Odysseus and his son talking to the Goddess Athena. "What is your favorite part?"
Hermione looked at him for a moment and back to her book, thinking about the story. She felt like she was being quizzed.
"I like... when Odysseus tricks the Cyclopes after he blinded him. When the Cyclopes asked what his name was, Odysseus said his name was 'Nobody' so when the Cyclopes's friends asked who blinded him, the Cyclopes said 'nobody'." Hermione looked at the picture of Odysseus, his son and Athena. "I like it because Odysseus was clever. Not only did he escape without anyone knowing his name but-"
"- he made the Cyclopes look like a fool in front of his friends," he finished.
She looked back at the pale boy and found him smiling. Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the charming smile. His skin was a flawless pale color that when the light hits his face it gave him an angelic glow. She felt her face slightly blush.
"That's my favorite part too."
Hermione gave him a shy smile and looked back to her book. "How did you find me? No one has been able to find me since I started reading here," she asked without looking at him.
"I followed you. I noticed you were new but you always seem to disappear somewhere with a book."
"Oh," she simply replied. "Um, what book are you reading?" She nodded her head toward the thick tome under his arm. He showered her the cover.
"Macbeth," he told her.
"I haven't read that one yet. Is it good?"
The boy nodded. So far it was a difficult read with the old english and weird dialogue but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
"I'm only a third way through but it seems interesting so far. From what I read it's about a guy who is going to kill a lot of people for power. There is magic and witches and something called a prophecy." Tom had a look on his face as if he was trying to figure out what that last word meant. In fact, he didn't understand a lot of the book but he wasn't about to tell her that.
"That does sound interesting," Hermione said excitedly and made a mental note to read it after he was done.
He seems nice. He's not like the other kids and he hasn't made fun of me or my hair yet, Hermione thought. Maybe they could be friends?
"Do you want to sit and read with me?" Hermione asked, hoping he would say yes.
His eyes widen. "You don't mind?" he asked as if she was sharing the last piece of cake with him.
"Why would I?"
He shifted back and forth on his feet. "Don't you think I'm... creepy? Everyone says I am. Even the adults think so." He was looking at the floor, avoiding her eyes. "They say bad things happen around me."
Hermione thought back to Amy words.
"Well... he makes weird things happen. People get hurt when they are around him. You should stay away from him."
Hermione looked up to the pale boy who was still avoiding eye contact with her. He seemed nice. No one would play with her. Actually that wasn't true. The other kids would make a game out of who could give the best nickname for her hair and teeth. It was no wonder Hermione had to seek solitude in the deepest corners of the orphanage. She was an outcast.
Maybe he was one too.
"Do you think I'm cursed?" she asked as she remembered the other children calling her so. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"No," he said slowly. Tom had also heard of that ridiculous accusation.
Hermione smile up to him. "Well good, because I don't think you're creepy either." Something flickered in his eyes as he heard her words. "Do you want to sit and read with me?" she repeated her question.
Tom looked at her for a minute, as if considering if he should join her or not. He hesitantly nodded his head and Hermione beamed up to him. She patted the spot next to her and he plopped himself down, opening his book to where he left off. The ground was nowhere as comfortable compared to his chair but Hermione's presence added a new comfort.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself before he started reading.
"I'm Tom, Tom Riddle."