Chapter 4

Tom Tom Tom Tom bloody Riddle... How do I get in touch with him? Well, I could just dumbly walk up to him and say, "Hey Tom, let's be friends". Ha-ha-ha, even a seven year old would screw me over with such move. Someone as suspicious as Riddle, that's for sure. And he's probably already cultivating a sense of grandeur. And then there's me.

At first I wanted to watch after Riddle, but then I remembered his ability to talk to snakes. He can easily trace my interest with them, and I couldn`t predict the reaction of the minor Dark Lord. I need to get him interested somehow, to show him my magic, but what's the best way to do it?

The fact that I must build a connection on magic is an unmistakable fact. I remember the original plot, I remember the boy's reaction to Dumbledore and first magic showned to him. The old man, though not yet an old man, could have easily made the boy his most faithful follower, but the "best Hogwarts headmaster in history" screwed up, either out of inexperience, or had some plan. But what was the plan? He was going to educate the "orphan muggleborn". What kind of plan was that? He must have had a list of them. And it was a routine thing for a skilled and powerful wizard. I wonder if his head was filled with the thought that he, so perfect, had been sent to work as a messenger.

Snort. Maybe he was. Maybe not. Why guess? I'd find out in a couple of years.

But back to that damn bastard Riddle, who's got my little brain crunching its gears trying to come up with a plan.

Revealing the magic seems easy enough. But Riddle shouldn't suspect me of doing it on purpose. He might be imagining things for himself. Also, ideally, he should be the only one to notice it. Or he's the only one who is able to understands it... Hmm...

The rough outline of the plan is as follows: I need to use something definitely magical in front of the kid's eyes, then track his reaction and demonstratively go to the basement to practice. He'll follow ne by himself, or he'll send snakes. This way I won't miss my training, and I'll make Riddle interested. It would be better than going to him myself. In this case, Riddle would feel psychologically like a beggar, instead of me.

Now all that's left to think of is this "unnoticeable to others, but definitely magical effect". What do we have that is unnoticed but important to Tom himself? Something that would not raise suspicion... Or at least too much suspicion.

Clothes. Most of the boys have pretty dirty ones, often with holes and lots of scuffs. This is often common among the male population, especially as a child. They wash it once a week, and from 10 years, the kids do it by themselves. As soon as they become "conditionally adult" and get a trip to the London factories.

Everyone has only two sets of clothes available. Officially, anyway. A new one is given out once a year. I mean "new," not new. Almost always they are simply taken away from the older ones when they grow out of them. Only in exceptional cases they buy really new clothes. However, boys are boys, so there are very few people who follow their uniforms carefully. Riddle is the exception. The plan in my head finally took shape. Though it might raise some suspicions - from the orphanage staff, maybe some questions - from the other children, but nothing better comes to mind. I can't just go up to him, can I?

For the next two days I'm practicing my magic to clean the dirt and to push as unnoticeably as possible with the force. Just like a Jedi. Well, I can feel the Force now, and the rest is practice.

I practiced "cleaning" on a few dirty rags, successfully requisitioned from the church school. When are they going to notice that they are "leaking"? I don't want to get caught in the act. And the stolen notebook, now even though they're dirty and floor rags, they're still rags... I should be more careful, otherwise...

Cleaning is quite complicated. The rags would tear, the rags would crumple, the rags would twist and ripple. But they didn't clean well. Things were easier with the push. The only minus was that I had to freeze for a couple of seconds to focus. I couldn't do it any other way. I was in no hurry, though. There was still time, and the performance had to be played perfectly.

It took me a week and a half to acquire the necessary skill. During these days I finally got into a routine and had time to get used to it, as with a new body, which pleased me with the lack of old illnesses, shortness of breath and good eyesight. And also to get used to the company. In order not to lose the reputation earned by my predecessor, I had to set aside one day a week to socialize with my "friends," the older guys, to hang out with the team and create a sense of presence.

Actually, we weren't real friends, Wolfgang was a loner by nature... a good backstory for a "character," what can I say. I tried not to show my distinction, and without really close friends, not many people could expose me. And those who could, didn't pay much attention to me. Everyone had their own problems.

The final test was to go over Loser Larry's clothes. I didn't do it in the room, where he might think I'd torn or ruined it on purpose, but in a place where it would be very hard to think of me. Right outside.

On this day, despite the autumn, it was quite hot. The sun was burning, with noticeable steam coming off the ground in places. After school, a lot of people gathered in the yard. Chattering, playing, having fun. Mostly in small groups, after all it was a working day and the elders were on shift. Those who were engaged in their semi-legal affairs also scattered. Their situation required them to keep their hands on the pulse and literally live the streets. The rest were mostly children who had no interest in the opposite sex. So the boys and girls kept their distance from each other. It didn't matter to my plan, anyway.

Larry was hanging around the four kids who were playing knives. When he stepped back to make way for the new player, I carefully peeked around the corner to cast my magic on him. On his clothes, to be exact. Subconsciously I was afraid that something would go wrong, or that I would be noticed, but no one cared. And nothing happened to Larry. His pants didn't fall off, his shirt didn't tear, but rather, it took on a lighter hue. Fortunately, no one noticed anything. At that age, boys almost don't care about each other's clothes, and they haven't talked to girls yet on principle.

It was kind of insulting, actually. I sniggered, yes, I hadn't succeeded in completely mocking the boy. Great attitude, Mr Antonovich! Way to go!

Rolling these thoughts in my head, I couldn't keep a smile off my face. Finally. Wait for me, Tom Riddle!

The new day went as usual, but had a slight difference: on the way to school I walk almost ahead of everyone else, literally behind the back of Mrs. Petters. There were only two people between me and her. One of them is my desk mate, Dennis Butler. We're sitting next to each other, so it will be especially noticeable in front of him... I walk so that I can be clearly seen by almost the whole column, the target is Riddle, walking near the end, as usual. At last I notice it, a muddy puddle, on almost the last bend toward the church. Despite yesterday's sunny day, it didn't even think of drying up. A narrow street and a permanent puddle. Classic. I'm sure it has a good chance of growing into a lake, creating its own ecosystem. There will be beavers, otters... ahem, no distractions. Now comes the big moment.

As soon as the first two people following our teacher-warden had reached the brown-gray pond, I made a sort of casual gesture in their direction, hovering for a second. Dan's legs buckled, he waved his arms awkwardly, and fell into the mud with a swing, a loud splash, and a lot of mud. It rolled over everyone. And I remembered to increase the effect by sending a part of the magical wave into the puddle. I didn't overdo it. The future lake, though, didn't even show the bottom.

There was a scream from Mrs. Petters, who was standing wet from head to toe:

The legless boy! You legless oaf! " Mrs. Petters played her part perfection. She was clearly in a mood to slap Dennis, but she was afraid of getting even dirtier. Besides, the "hero of the occasion" himself was still floundering, trying to get to his feet. From her screaming, anyone else who had not yet learned of the embarrassment that had occurred, was now definitely aware of it.

"Injured" a total of five. Mrs. Petters, Dennis and his friend, and me and the boy standing next to me. From there, the spray had already lost speed and almost no one was touched.

At the same time as my neighbors screamed, shrieked, and mouthed, laughter erupted. The unaffected boys competed with each other in wit; the girls, however, were not far behind them. Mrs. Petters, wiping her face with a scarf, put an end to the verbal diarrhea:

"Shut up, you bastards!" she shouted furiously. "Get in the column now! "

No one dared to argue or continue in such a situation. Punishment at the orphanage are serious.

"And you," she couldn't hold herself and grabbed the risen Dan by the ear, who crinkled and clutched at her wrist with his hands, trying to ease the pain. But what could a seven-year-old do against a grown woman?

"You'll be in the punishment cell for a week!" she said angrily, finally letting the boy go, but with a final smack. "Everyone who is dirty after school goes straight to the laundry! Got it?! "

"Dirty" including me, nodded quickly. No one dared to open their mouths anymore. Punishment cell... it's not just a place where you sit alone. They don't feed you there.

For thin and hungry orphans, it can be a death punishment. Water is given once a day. A small tin cup of water from the tap. A week of punishment cell... that's very cruel. It could be very damaging to your health. I wonder if they'll really keep him there for a week.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Petters," muttered the momentarily pale boy, "please don't put me in the punishment cell, please, I'll do anything, I'm ready for anything, Mrs. Petters, don't put me in the punishment cell, Mrs... "

A mighty slap silenced him. The woman was in no hurry to change her anger for mercy. Oops... bad luck. That was a bit harsh, but I don't think my desk mate is going to be in the punishment cell all week. It's more like murder, really. I'm sure he'll be out by the second or third day. However, the educational moment is such a thing.

I notice, from the corner of my eye, Riddle's lips curving contemptuously, looking now at the whining Butler, then at the "'dirties" as we've been whispered to be called. Whispered so Mrs. Petters wouldn't hear, or Dennis would get bonus. Well, well, let's see what you say, Tom, when you realize you're not the only "chosen one."

"What, got yourselves all dirty and happy? You think you're don't going to school?!" she frowned at us when she heard the suggestion that we shouldn't dirty the class, but go straight to the laundry. Or at least change your clothes.

"No way! You will go to the staffroom and tidy yourself up. You will sit like that," she smiled maliciously, "as your punishment! Next time you'll look after your classmate better! And now move to the end of the column! "

Acceptable. I think, heading past everyone else, along with two other "losers" and a crying Dan. At least now I'm sure that everyone will notice the dirt and wetness. And so it went. The girls were demonstratively clamping their noses and the boys were making "witty" comments. Walking and howling, Dennis was kicked right in the butt twice as he walked along the column, to the very end of it. " For the case" came the approving murmur.

At church, as our group enters the classroom, we wander into the storage room. On the way, left without strict supervision, Dennis began complaining about injustice and blubbering snot. It was pathetic, but I kind of understand it... The others tried to cheer him up as much as they could, though they occasionally wanted to give him a slap, because he made them look like pigs covered in mud.

And clothes are very much in honor here... While the others were busy talking and trying to clean their shirts and pants, putting them under the icy water, I used magic behind their backs. There's no need for halftones here, cleaning everything so that not a single speck is left behind. Now a quick drying... Took less than ten minutes. Absorbed in their business and conversation, the guys didn't even notice me leaving. I looked out into the corridor - empty.

Great, Mrs. Petters has already left, as expected. She's probably in a hurry to change at the orphanage. So there are no real witnesses. Father Ricardo doesn't know exactly what happend, and the rest of them... kids are kids, they won't tell adults anything, especially not like Mrs. Petters.

I walk proudly into the classroom.

"Oh, it's you, Wolfgang," Father Ricardo interrupted his speech and turned his attention to me, "where are the others? I was told that the four of you were very dirty, but I see that's an overstatement," he glanced at me, quickly looking me over from head to toe, "sit back in your seat and be more careful in the future. You can't skip classes, or God will punish you".

I sit down at the table, surrounded by amused whispers, and the priest hands me a notebook. The lesson continues. Math, my favorite... What's going to happen today? Are we finally going to learn numbers over ten?

About twenty more minutes later, soaked, badly cleaned boys come piling into the classroom. Especially prominent was Dennis, with muddy streaks all over his body and an incomprehensible sludge in his hair that had already dried up.

Wow, what a beating our "holy father" gave them. First, for skipping class, since I came much earlier, which means the others were skipping somewhere. Secondly, for disrupting class by coming in such an inappropriate way. Thirdly, that they left muddy footprints and already leaked a puddle. Attempts to turn the tables on me, I quickly cut them off. Nothing to make me look bad here and draw unnecessary attention. I could see Riddle's interest, even too much interest, in me.

" I don't know what you've been up to," I said with a feigned laziness. " You've got to be quicker".

"How did you do it so fast... " started to say "muddy", but a brisk bang from Father Ricardo's stick made him shriek, covering his hands.

He hit the wet one, I mentally grimaced.

The execution didn't last long; the boys were thrown out into the street, promising to tell Mrs. Petters everything. From the look on their faces, they were pissed. However, they didn't argue. They had learned that the priest didn't like it.

That's probably a good thing, because Dan would have splashed me, sitting next to me. He would have left a mark on my desk, too.

During the rest of the class, I noticed Riddle periodically looking at me. The bait was swallowed, now I had to hook it up. With another scream from the staff warden, who had managed to change her clothes and now took us out of school, but said nothing, looking now at the clean me, now at the trio of chimney sweepers, I demonstratively stood at the very end of the column.

All the way my "fellow puddle mates" received a few hits, and the woman looked at me thoughtfully from time to time, but in the end she simply accepted what had happened as a fact.

On the way, by the way, none of the children are not asked about the details, even though I concerned a couple of excuses. From frankly joking, to quite serious. Kids, what do they know? Most of the people here are now between five and twelve years old. And even today's twelve-year-old is a child, 99% of whom don't have much of a brain yet. That's just a fact; there's nothing you can do about it. And then there's the lack of education and the general underdevelopment due to starvation. Of course, there are always exceptions. One of which keeps his eyes on me... You'll get squinty-eyed like that, Tom, take it easy.

When I see the orphanage building, I lag a little behind, thankful that I'm at the very end, and then I turn down the next street, heading for the familiar basement. I'll have to skip lunch. Pity, I'm all skin and bones as it is. But that's the plan. Riddle's interest must not fade. He might be able to convince himself that it was something he hadn't noticed, or that I wasn't so badly affected, or that I was carrying a change of clothes with me... I don't know what goes through his head! Then catch him again, "on the bait". I must show my "unusualness" urgently.

I walk slowly and without looking back. If Tom is watching, he should not know that I noticed him. Once I reached the basement, and this time I chose a place that did not stink, with a familiar movement I remove the boards, diving into the hole.

I immediately ran to the corner of the wall, the bricks had fallen away, creating a decent-sized gap, which was not visible from the outside because of the bushes. The view, however, is not a good one...

"It worked" I whispered softly, noticing Riddle. I was in the middle of a fire in my chest, my emotions had stimulated the magic source, and it seemed to be about to explode if I didn't drain the magic out in time. How had Wolf dealt with it before? It wasn't every day he got his fists full and fought. Memory threw up pictures of games where he often spent energy to get faster or stronger, and then healed his bruises and pulled muscles. Magic was also spent sensing other people's feelings and thoughts. Well, then yes, I agree, it takes a lot on that too, though the source of it never showed the bottom.

Meanwhile, Riddle, looking around, was walking in my direction. When he stopped not far from the boards, obviously figuring out the best way to remove them so as not to make a fuss, I knew it was time to start the final part.

I went to the center of the basement, summoned a ball of lumos, and, using a newly learned trick, tossed it into the air. The trick here is that I know I can do that. And knowing that, it wasn't hard to do it again. It was a bit of a struggle, though...

The ball of light hovered near the ceiling, giving me a good view. Now I strained myself and magically began to pick up the rocks, bricks, and other building garbage lying all over the place. It's hard... hard... magic is spent pretty fast, but it all looks so impressive and gorgeous. The emotion and the proximity of the ejection play a hand in it. And as a workout, it's pretty good. You have to work on your control, too. Well, feel the power, Wolf!