Tom Marvolo Riddle was a very particular boy.
It was a very ordinary orphanage that he grew up in though, which since his birth had fallen onto hard times. In the winter of 1933, philanthropic feelings had been exhausted as the Depression emptied the pockets of the rich and poor alike.
Everything from meals, clothes, the heat had been cut back. They had fired most of the staff and maintaining the place was a challenge even as the orphans were expected to do all the manageable chores without complaint.
Mrs. Cole now ran the place and she had watched Tom grow over the years; dark-haired, developing unusually fine, noble features, tall for his age. So unlike his mother whom she remembered from that fateful New Year's Eve nearly seven years ago…
Aged only six, Tom refused to form any social bonds with the other children. He kept himself apart, except when there were disputes.
Antagonising the other children was an amusing pastime for him and he knew never to show any fear even to those who were older and more experienced. Anyone could be intimidated, anyone could be manipulated if you knew them well enough.
And in particular, the children were all very stupid and childish anyways and he hated their frequent whining and being included in their pointless games. Tom often compared them with the animals that he sometimes used as test subjects.
He knew he was special and his experiments proved it. His mother had told him about his powers and about the 'other' magical world and he hated them too for not coming to rescue him from those beneath his station. One day, he vowed he would have a revenge of sorts.
So he spent his days amusedly using stray cats and mice to test his powers. He would use magic to summon them and prevent their escape, levitate, toss them about in the air using only his mind, manipulate their minds in turn to make them do his bidding, even inflate them with hot air like a balloon, and he could hurt them.
He could find and talk to snakes too, although they bored him.
Sometimes, he simply grew tired of animals and used his fellow orphans as his playthings with often humorous results.
On repeated occasions, he deliberately shattered a table full of dishware as the other children were standing close by and they were punished by Mrs. Cole for breaking the items.
When they went to Hyde Park, he had frequently made snapping tree branches drop on their heads.
He loved turning the garments of the very young girls from the usual pink and light colours to a ghastly black frightening them.
He found he could vanish the few beloved muggle toys and play items the other children were idiotically devoted to. They would never find them again.
In all these acts, he was never caught of course and he was an expert at feigning his innocence.
There were other interesting results. He learned to precisely light candles using his magic. It took him a couple of tries to develop the control and the first time he had caused a small fire. When he wanted to climb a particularly difficult tree at the park, he could just wish it… and he'd be on top. Then he could just float magically down without having to climb.
No doubt, Tom knew he was special even among wizards. It was just an agonising shame he couldn't be recognised in this place.
But there was one person who could listen to him, who could understand what he was.
All his mother had left him was an undistinguished looking ring with a curious black stone stored inside it. It was the only physical memory he had that she had ever existed. Tom loved examining its black depths and the various unexpected angles in which light could reflect off its surface. He went to sleep every night with the stone clutched in his fists and looking at it calmed him.
He remembered the first time he had accidentally activated it. He was only three years of age and it had been his earliest memory.
His mother had appeared to him for the first time. She was ugly, misshapen and nothing like the mother Tom had imagined he would have.
But she had loved him. It made him uncomfortable.
Now, he regularly used the stone to magically talk to her. She offered him her unconditional kindness but also often scolded him when he told her about how he used his powers, thinking she would be proud of what he could do. As a result, Tom found her tiresome, repetitive, and simple. But he kept calling her forth on a frequent basis and was secretly fond of her.
Mrs. Cole could not understand it. She thought Tom was crazy talking to his imaginary mother. None of the other orphans dared tease Tom about talking to his mother as they soon regretted it. Tom had the unnerving ability to stare into one's eyes and you instantly felt a sort of odd chilling terror that would stop you cold.
He treasured that ring and stone which was all that his mother had left behind to him. It was nearly stolen once by a bully but once he had a private discussion with Tom he never bothered anyone again and had returned it intact. A fortnight later, the boy disappeared and had run away. He was found but the police said he had become mentally deranged.
Tom considered himself special for all these reasons and his greatest anger came from the fact that nobody here knew what he was and no one recognised him but rather found him an oddity.
He knew never to perform magic in front of Mrs. Cole and the other adults (his mother had stressed this point to him) and the other children were too thick-skulled for him to derive much pleasure showing off to. They simply didn't understand what it was he was doing and why it was special. Terrorising them on the other hand was fun but only temporarily gratifying.
On New Year's Eve of 1933, this was Tom's life and it was a banal one.
It was Tom's seventh birthday. It was the day that would change the course of the rest of his life.
"There's a new boy who's come to us today," Mrs. Cole announced as she introduced Oliver, a mousey-looking bespectacled new orphan.
"Tom, won't you introduce yourself," Mrs Cole hurried through the gaggles of children run off her feet.
Tom sighed and rolled his eyes and HATED how she constantly recalled his existence at all the wrong times. He escaped, slipping into their bedroom and while the other children were busy it was an opportunity for him to meet his mother…
Suddenly, Oliver entered the room. He had been instructed by the matron to familiarise himself with his new bedchamber that he would share with the other boys. He did not look at Tom the way the other children did and was curious and watchful. Tom was too engrossed in conversation that he did not hear him approach and he suddenly snatched up the stone.
"I heard you speaking to your mother just now."
Tom staggered as if struck and wheeled around swivelling so quickly he creaked his neck painfully.
"I want to speak to my parents too. They died recently," Oliver said solemnly and he was being perfectly serious. "Teach me how to do it."
"Give that back now," he replied in a low and serious tone and as he locked eyes with Oliver, the older boy ran for it out of a sudden spike of fear. You'll regret this, Tom thought to himself darkly as Oliver rushed past the other children with Tom chasing and cursing after him. Oliver got to the bathroom where he locked himself in, but as Tom approached his accidental magic unlocked the bathroom door at his mere touch.
Outside, the children could hear the cries of the two boys after a tussle.
"NOW YOU'VE DONE IT!" Tom screamed at the top of his voice. They had never heard him so angry before, he was the most unemotional boy they had ever known.
As Tom had tried to wrest the stone out of his hands, it had dropped straight into the wash basin down the open drain.
Uncontrollable anger surged through Tom and he willed that Oliver had to be punished. Tom would never see his mother again. Oliver was immolated in fire, in green flames. He had never produced green flames before. His body would later be found in the bathroom and it was mostly in ashes. Tom wasn't found anywhere at all.
The next day, the evening paper carried a small article on an unfortunate fire in an orphanage that killed two young boys.