Allright, this is my fanfic 'The Tales of Evil'.
It is basically about some events that Tom Riddle caused during his time in the orphanage and his first week in school. Most of it is based on what is being mentioned about his past in HBP, as those of you who know the books nearly by heart may recognise. Yet I dared to make up some parts of this story, for we just do not have enough information to reconstruct all of it. But you'll see...
If this works, you should be able to post some feedback here.
I want to say 'Thank you!' to hot-for-harry, who is my beta and who is helping me to improve the story! Thanks so much!
This story is dedicated to many people who will probably never read it, and to two people who hopefully will: Alkisti and LadyLev07.
Here we go:

The Tales of Evil

I. The Locket

The alley lay dark in front of her. It was December, just before Christmas, and snow was falling, laying a white carpet on a street which was black and dirty for the rest of the year. The girl checked the street sign next to her again. She was at the right place, no doubt.
Cautiously looking around, she entered the small street, trying not to attract the attention of the black figures leaning against the walls of the buildings. She felt their eyes following her when she passed them. Then the girl saw the shop she had been looking for. The shop where she could sell the last valuable thing she had. And she knew that it was valuable, for it had been Salazar Slytherin’s.
The locket had been passed on and on, through whole her family, and now she planned to sell it to ensure her own surviving, at least until her baby was born. If her father had known what she was going to do, he would have killed her. Selling the locket to ensure the survival of her child, a half-blood, would be the worst thing she had ever done. But her father did not know what she was doing. He was in prison, or at least the girl thought so.

She entered and a small bell rang.
Caractus Burke greeted her arrogantly. He was a small man with thick glasses, his grey hair covering his eyes. He did not like beggars and this young girl sure looked like one. “How can I help you, Ms …?”, he asked coldly.
“My name is not important.”, she said in a very hushed voice. Her eyes looked around nervously and she looked scared. “I’ve come here to sell this.” She took out a golden locket. “It had been Slytherin’s.”
“Really?” It was obvious that Burke did not believe her. Yet he took the locket and examined it closely. It had Slytherin’s mark on it, a big ‘S’ with a serpent. And it was very old too. Excitement made his blood rush. “May I test this?”

She nodded. He headed for the small room behind the counter. Several minutes later he returned, working hard to control his face. That young girl did definitely not look clever, but she could not be that stupid! Or could she?
“It seems to be Slytherin’s, all right,” Burke said. She knew that the locket must be worth a lot of money, probably more than Burke had in his shop, but she did not care. She had lost her will to live. She had no more goals in life but one. She needed no riches, just a little money to survive until she had her baby, just two or three weeks from now.
“Tell me, how much can you give me for it?” she asked.
Burke was thinking intensely. Could she really have no idea that the locket was worth hundreds of Galleons? He was unsure. He decided to make a ridiculously small offer, so he could pretend to have made a joke. “I could give you ten Galleons, would that be enough?”
“Yes, that’s enough.”
Unbelievable! This was the best deal he ever made, the best bargain in his life! He opened the exchequer, took out ten golden coins and handed them over to the young girl. She stored them in the depths of her rags and left the shop.
Ten galleons should be enough, she thought. She did not need much, just some food and maybe a small room. And then she would search for a place where she could deliver the baby.

Here we go again!
I have to thank hot-for-harry again for betaing wonderfully and fast at the same time!
If someone is actually reading it, you can leave feedback here.
That's it.


II. A Riddle on New Year’s Eve

She had found the orphanage a few days before. She had watched the children playing in the snowy yard. None of them looked like they had been treated badly; their clothes were simple and their faces clean. She figured that a muggle-orphanage would be a good place for her child to grow up. If it was a muggle, it was better for it not to know about the world of magic. It would only be disappointed. And if her child turned out to be a wizard, the people of Hogwarts would take care of it when the time came.

It was New Year’s Eve and she was in labor for half an hour. She had prepared everything. She had left her money on the bed in the room at the dirty little hotel where she had stayed for the last few days. She had placed a small note under it, saying that she would not come back and that the hotel should keep all of it. Because of her looks, she had had to give a deposit, but after she had taken a look in the small mirror in her room, she could not blame the young man at the hotel’s reception. During the following fortnight she had been wandering about London, looking for a good place for her child to be born.

Now, on New Year’s, Eve Merope Gaunt climbed up the steps and knocked on the orphanage’s door. A skinny young girl in an apron opened the door. “May I help you?”
“I’m having a baby. Now,” Merope whispered in a voice that was very pitiful. The girl in the apron could hardly understand her, but the poor state of the unknown girl was obvious and she was not the first to have a baby at the orphanage. Pregnant girls who had run away from their families often came there. Merope entered and was led to a small room with nothing in it, except for a bed, a stool and a small oil lamp.

The birth was uncomplicated and did not take long, but every woman in the orphanage saw that the unknown girl was suffering from some serious illness and that she had given up fighting death. She spoke very little, only one thing seemed important to her.
When the baby was born, the skinny girl, who had let Merope in, asked: “What shall the boy’s name be?”
“I hope he looks like his papa.”, Merope answered. Her thoughts were with her ex-husband, the muggle Tom Riddle, who had abandoned her for being a witch. Yet she still loved him.
The skinny girl interrupted her thoughts. “But what shall his name be?” she repeated.
“Call him ‘Tom’ for his father and ‘Marvolo’ for my father. And his surname shall be Riddle.” These were the last words Merope spoke before she died some minutes later. The skinny girl who was with her then, thought she had seen Merope mouth something like ‘Tom’, but she did not really pay attention and thus soon forgot about it.

In her last minutes Merope did neither think of her father nor her brother, nor of the world she had left behind when she married Tom Riddle. She did not even think about her son’s future. Her son was alive and that was what was important to her. The memories of her husband she kept in her head were happy ones. Merope Gaunt was not afraid of death.

Chapter 3 has arrived. Thanks again to hot-for-harry, who seems to have things betaed before I've finished writing them.
Feedback canl be left here as usual.
Enjoy!

III. First sign

Tom Riddle was a strange child. He hardly ever cried as a baby and when he grew older, he never played the way other children did. The others played soccer in the yard in summer, and built snowmen in winter. They enjoyed chasing each other as much as rope skipping; they played hide and seek and other games.
But not Tom.
He usually sat down at a quiet place, simply watching the others or daydreaming or even staying inside, where he would not have to hear their voices. When he was old enough, he used the afternoons to stroll around in London, exploring the orphanage’s neighborhood as far as he could get by foot. Normally the children of the orphanage were not allowed to wander around in London alone, but no other child wanted to go with Tom. For some reason, the women could not forbid Tom to go alone; it was like a voice in their heads was whispering ‘Let him go.’
In short Tom Riddle did not want to play with the others, and the others did not want to play with him. Actually they had never wanted to play with him. When Tom was four years old, he and the other three and four-year-old kids were kept together in one room in the afternoons, to enable one woman to watch all of them. Most of the time, the others tried to get away from Tom, as if they already felt he was no good for them.

One day in September, Tom was in the yard, watching the other orphans, when Billy Stubbs, who had not been born in the orphanage, came to him. “Hey, Tom, d’you want to play hide and seek with us?” he gestured over to a group of boys, who were apparently waiting for Billy to join them.
“No, I don’t want to,” Tom answered.
“Why not?” asked Billy.
“Dunno. I just don’t want to,” replied Tom.
Billy got a little angry. “You’re pretty strange, you know?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you are!”
One of the other boys shouted: “Come on, Billy, leave the weirdo alone, we want to start.” It was Billy’s best friend, Dennis Bishop. Billy went over to the boys without giving Tom another look.

Tom became angry. Why could the others not leave him alone? He had not done anything to them! Why did they have to call him a weirdo? Because he did not take part in their stupid games?
Tom sat down on a bench in the yard and watched the others playing. His gaze was fixed on Dennis, who was running over the yard, heading for one of the trees, while one of his friends was counting. The yard was covered in leaves and it had rained the night before, which made the ground extremely slippery. Tom’s eyes narrowed.
Dennis had nearly reached the tree. Angry as he was, Tom wished Dennis would slip and crash into the tree. At the same moment, Dennis’ feet slipped on the wet ground and, unable to slow down, his head hit the tree. Crying, Dennis sank to the ground, his nose bleeding.
Tom was appalled. Did he do that? Did he make Dennis slip or was it just an accident? Tom felt a little scared. During the following days he thought about the accident and tried to let similar things happen, but for some reason it did not work.

I'm back, having survived exams (for now) in one piece.
I hope you have not been waiting, though my feeling tells me that not more than two or three people are even reading this (see the feedback area). But anyways, I hope you enjoy reading. More to come...
And thanks again to hot-for-harry!!!

IV. The Snowball

Three months later, the children of the orphanage were playing in the yard again, though this time the leaves had vanished and snow was falling. Again, Tom stood apart from the others, watching them. He had given up trying to let things happen to other children, and he believed that what had happened to Dennis Bishop had been an accident.

Tom was thinking to himself how much he hated Christmas, which was to come in a few days. He hated it because everyone in London was talking about the time they wanted to spend with their families. People in the streets were packed with lots of food and presents they had just bought. He remembered that after Christmas, it would be his birthday again. Tom did not see any sense in having the other children singing ‘Happy Birthday’ for him, because he knew not one of them was happy for him and no one really wished him a happy birthday.

Out of nowhere a snowball flew in his direction and hit his leg. A second one hit his chest, but the next ones missed him. Without thinking Tom jumped behind a bench to be safe from the attack. He carefully lifted his head and looked around, but he immediately had to duck again, for more snowballs flew in his direction. He saw Billy and his friends, all of them throwing snowballs from under a big tree, which was heavily laden with snow. Tom wondered what to do. The women of the orphanage were not watching the kids, and to reach the door, he would have to run a long distance, passing the boys at the tree. Before he had reached a decision, he heard the boys shouting. His temper rose higher and higher when he heard Dennis’s voice echoing in his head, shouting “weirdo, weirdo!”

Tom was neither very strong nor good at sports, but he did not care. He bent down, made a snowball himself and threw it with all his power. The snowball was badly aimed and flew far too high, but it was faster than Tom could have thrown it, for his anger and his awakening magical abilities were in it.
The snowball hit the heavily-laden tree under which the boys were standing with so much force that the tree itself was shaking. This caused all the snow on the tree’s branches to fall down on the boys, covering all of them.
While Dennis and his friends were still trying to free themselves from the snow, not understanding what had happened, and while the other children were partly laughing loudly and partly looking astonished, Tom was already running back to his room.

He thought about Dennis’ accident in autumn and how it had been similar to the moment before. Then he saw the connection: he had been really angry, he had wanted to punish Dennis, had wanted to hurt him. And he had wanted to pay Dennis’ friends back for mocking him. What if that was the key, the explanation for this? Anger? And more importantly, Tom wondered, what if he could control this power, whatever it was?

So, here we go with the fifth chapter. I don't want to say too much about how Tom is becoming more evil, because you can see that yourself in this and the following chapters...
Feedback can be left here.
Thanks again to hot-for-harry, who divides my rather long paragraphs into digestible pieces for you and does I don't know what else. Thanks!
Have fun!

V. The Dog

Tom looked around. The street in which he was standing was full of people carrying big bags, some looking happy, some stressed. It was the day before Christmas Eve and many people still had some Christmas shopping to do. Tom saw stressed mothers with big bags full of delicious food, stressed fathers being dragged to toy stores by their children, and stressed children being dragged away from toy stores by their fathers.

Tom did not want to buy anything, for he neither had any money nor someone to give a present to. He wandered around, because he disliked the preparations for Christmas in the orphanage. Christmas always reminded him of the fact that he had no family and he was angrier than usual.

On his way back to the orphanage, Tom stopped. In the alley to his left, he heard a dog barking. He was curious; he wanted to know what the dog was doing there. Of course he knew that there were a lot of ownerless dogs in London, dogs with no homes, but it was unusual to see one in this part of the neighborhood because the shop owners normally chased them away.

He entered the alley and after a few steps he saw the dog, a Border collie so dirty that even the white parts of his fur were black. Before Tom had an idea of why the dog might be there, he heard an unfamiliar voice shout: “Hey, boy, what are you doing with my dog?”

Tom turned around. He saw three boys coming to him, teenagers, 16 or maybe 17 years old. They were way taller than him. One of them whispered to the guy in the middle: “What d’you mean, ‘your dog’? You ain’t got no dog, man!”

The first one, who obviously was the leader of the three and the one who had shouted at first, replied: “Shut up! If I say it’s my dog, it is my dog!”

He addressed Tom again: “Where are you from, I’ve never seen you before? Wait, you’re one of those orphans, ain’t you? Your clothes are so shabby, you must be one of them. What’s up, are you looking for your mummy?”

Tom had anxiously looked around. He was in a dead end. The three boys came towards him and he could not run away, they were stronger and faster than him, and he had never been good at sports. He glanced at the dog. Help me, he thought desperately, bite them!

The dog barked again, his ears flattened, the hair in his neck upright. He barked at the boys, who stopped dead.

“Hey, what’s up with that stupid dog?” said the one who had been quiet before. Tom heard fear in his voice and his own fear turned into anger. ‘Get them’, he thought, ‘bite them’!
And the dog, though he did not know Tom, though he could not possibly know what Tom had thought, followed his instinct and ran towards the boys. He jumped and his teeth sank into the first boy’s sleeve. The boy cried, he could not run away like his friends had already done.
He removed his jacket and pulled his arm out of the dog’s mouth, and then he ran away, too, the dog following him to the end of the alley. When the boy reached the corner, he thought he heard the small, dark-haired boy laugh in a cold, high-pitched voice.

Without any comments this time: chapter 6.
It is unavoidable, though, to thank my wonderful beta hot-for-harry again: Thank you!
Oh, yes: Feedback


VI. The Rabbit

“No family will ever take you!” Billy Stubbs said.

Tom abruptly turned around. He had not heard Billy entering his room. Tom had been looking out of the window, watching a family taking little Mary with them. The matron of the orphanage stood on the doorstep directly under his window and waved them goodbye. He would never have admitted it, but he wished that some day, a family would take him, too, maybe even one of his relatives. But no Riddle or any other family had shown up to take him, only the other kids, the younger ones, were picked up. Those, who were too old to truly accept their new families, would stay in the orphanage until they were grown up. Families normally wanted babies, not older children.

“They wouldn’t take you either!” Tom replied.

“Yes, they would,” Billy said. “Miss Cole told me that there’ll be a family who wants to get to know me next week.”

Tom blushed. He was angry and sad at the same time. Would there really be someone to save Billy from this place? Why did nobody care for him? He was intelligent. He was quiet.

He was handsome. He was special…

“Get out!” he said. “Get out of my room!”

“Weirdo!” Billy shouted and left the room, slamming the door shut.

Tom was shaking with anger. He would pay Billy back. Whether Billy knew it or not, he had hurt Tom deeply. Tom spent some time wondering how he could pay Billy back, how he could hurt him most. Then he had an idea.

That evening, Tom pretended to be asleep, listening hard. He waited for Miss Cole to end her usual evening round. After hearing her steps pass his door, he waited another five minutes and slipped out of bed. Careful not to make any noise, he opened his door and tiptoed down the corridor until he reached Billy’s room. He opened the door carefully, concentrating on noises which might show that Billy or any of his roommates were awake or that Miss Cole would return (Tom, being strange as he was, had a room to himself for some years now). Nothing happened, and Tom could hear Billy’s rabbit scratching on the floor.

He concentrated hard and the rabbit came to him as if he was its owner, as if he had trained it. He lifted it up and went up to the attic, the rabbit in the crook of his arm, a piece of rope in his other hand.

Tom did not know why or how he was able to climb up to the rafters, he simply felt he could do it. Maybe this was just one more of his ‘powers’, whatever they were. When he had reached the rafters, he made the rabbit stand still, and tied one end of the rope around its neck, the other end around one of the rafters. Then Tom climbed down to the floor again.

Before he left the room, he turned around. The rabbit sat on the very same spot where he had left it. He concentrated hard and made the rabbit jump.

During the next day, the orphanage was being searched for Billy’s rabbit, but it was not until evening that the matron found it, strangled, hanging from the rafters. She suspected Tom Riddle, but he swore that he knew nothing about it and she could not prove the opposite.

Over the terrible loss of his beloved rabbit, Billy Stubbs did not notice that his yo-yo had gone, too.

What can I say? Maybe Feedback?
Not much action this time, but somehow necessary...


VII. The Cave

Tom looked down, his eyes followed his left shoe, which was trundling down. He swore.
It was one of the excursions the orphanage used to make when spring had begun. Tom liked these excursions, for they were perfect opportunities to leave the orphanage, which he hated so much. He loved to get away from the other kids and to explore the unknown places they went to.

He had gone to the edge of the cliffs and had sat down, his feet dangling, to enjoy the impressive view. The other kids were far away and so were the adults. They knew he was gone somewhere, but they never really cared. The adults preferred to watch the other children, because they were easier to control, and Tom wanted to be left alone anyway.

What could he do? They would be very mad at him for losing his shoe, so he decided to climb down to try and retrieve it. Tom did not think about possible dangers, like younger children often do. It was a very difficult way down and barely any people had ever gone it, but the unconscious use of magic helped Tom to make it.

He had nearly reached the sea level when he took a look around. It seemed impossible, but his shoe lay there waiting for him, on a small rock which was over the sea level. He could not reach it, but he wanted his shoe so badly that he closed his eyes in desperation. And his shoe moved on the rock. At first it just twitched but then it soared through the air towards him.

Tom caught it, but at the same moment he realized his mistake.
Clutching his shoe with both hands he fell down about nine feet and hit the water’s surface. It was cold and Tom thought he would drown, but the drift pulled him into a cave he had been unable to see before.

He pulled himself out of the water and sat down on the rocky ground. Then he took a look around, but there was not much light and he could not make out any details, so he got up. His curiosity made him forget that he was shivering, his excitement overwhelmed his fear and he began to explore the cave as good as possible in the darkness. He often got scratches from the sharp surface of the rocks and twice he stumbled and fell, ripping his trousers apart at the knees.

Later, Tom realized that it might be better to go back. He had no watch and did not want to risk being late, so he swam out of the cave and climbed up the cliff again. He was completely exhausted when he reached the top and lay down on the grass to relax and just watch the sky, his shoes at least ten feet away from the edge of the cliff. It was warm, and the sun was still high.

It was not until he got the thought that the adults and the children would ask him why he was so wet and why he looked so shabby that he realized that his clothes were completely dry, his trousers looked as good as before and the scratches were barely visible anymore. His subconscious seemed to want to protect him from the others’ questions.

Tom instantly had the feeling that no one had to know about the cave, that no one must know about the cave. He had found it, it was his secret, and he would never tell anyone. Never.

Okay, after a long time absent (I've been busy with papers, internships and what else), I've managed to improve another chapter (with hot-for-harry helping me of course) enough to post it here.
As always, feedback can be left here. I'm happy to read all kinds of comments.
Hopefully, the next chapter will not be too far away. Until then...


VIII. The Snake

One year later Tom lay in the grass, his eyes closed, when he heard a hushed voice speaking.
"Who are you?"
Tom looked around, startled. He had not heard anyone coming near, and his senses normally never failed. “Where are you?” he asked.
“Down here.” Tom turned around and looked down. A small black snake lay in the grass to his left, hissing softly.

This time they had gone to the countryside and not to the sea. It was a nice day, the air was fresh and Tom had been careful to avoid being seen while stealing away from the other kids. He always explored the environment when they were on these trips. He enjoyed being on his own, wandering around and not having to think about the orphanage or all the stupid kids.

He had found a small clearance in a nearby forest and had decided to make a small break.
“You can understand me?” Tom asked.
“Yesss.”
“And I can understand you!”
“Yesss.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know,” the snake answered. “I just ssenssed it in you.”
“What do you mean, you sensed it?”
“I can feel living creaturess around me, but you felt like no other human I’ve seen before.”
“Did this happen to you before? That someone can talk to you?”
“No, you are the firssst. I feel connected to you sssomehow.”
“Hmmm…”

Tom’s thoughts were going in several directions at the same time. Was this normal? No, definitely not, or someone else would have mentioned it before. But what happened to him? Or could it be the snake that was supernatural? No, probably not, for strange things had happened to him before, maybe this was just one more. He knew that he was something special, he was very unlike the other kids. But what was it? Why him?

Tom’s mind had been at this point on countless occasions before, so it was not too bad that the snake disturbed his thoughts and brought him back to reality.
“Who are you?”
“Would my name mean anything to you?” Tom asked.
“What isss your family name? The power to sspeak with me could have been in your family before.” The snake’s words made Tom’s mind race again. His family? Maybe he did inherit the power to speak to snakes from his ancestors. Even the other powers could have been known to members of his family before.
“I’m …,” Tom stopped, for he had heard a voice shouting his name. He tried to focus on what he had heard.
“Toooom! Tooom!!” This was stupid Mrs Cole, for sure, Tom thought and sighed. Then he looked up to the sky and realized that the sun had noticeably sunk. It was time to return to the orphanage.

He murmured a short “goodbye” to the snake and hurried to get back to where the bus had led them out hours before.
“Tom, where have you been?” Mrs Cole asked suspiciously.
“I’ve just gone exploring. In the small forest over there.” He made a short gesture over his shoulder. Mrs Cole looked at him and wondered if he told the truth.
“Alright, get in the bus,” she said.

On the way back, Tom was deep in thoughts. He was still fascinated by the idea that his family could explain his powers. He had decided he would search for them, and when he found them he would ask them many questions. About his powers, but also why they abandoned him after his mother had died. Later he was counting in his mind all the things he could do. Now he knew why the other children were unlike him: they were not members of his family. Tom wondered how to find out how much more he could do.

Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present chapter IX. Okay, I'm more looking forward to chapter X., when we get down to the dirty things, but anyway...
You shall also of course get the possibility to leave some feedback here.
I hope you'll enjoy the story and maybe I managed to get at least one person curious about what is to happen next. If not: D'oh!


IX. The Intruders

“What are you doing in here?”
Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop turned around, obviously feeling afraid and awkward.
“Nothing,” Amy answered in an unconvincing voice.

Tom looked around. Dennis stood right in front of his closet; Amy had apparently been looking under Tom’s bed. “What are you doing in here?” Tom asked again.
“Nothing, I told you.” Amy’s voice was shaking, for she was afraid, very afraid. Tom knew that she lied to him, whereas Dennis didn’t even dare speaking.

It was their free afternoon, and Tom had wanted to walk around London like he usually did. Yet it was warm outside, so Tom had spontaneously decided to leave his jacket at the orphanage, thus returning unexpectedly. He guessed that Amy and Dennis had seen him leave and had then started raiding his room.

Now Tom closed the door behind him, blocking Amy’s and Dennis’s way out. “I’ll ask you one last time: What are you two doing in my room?” Tom’s voice was shaking with anger when he roared at Dennis: “Tell the truth!” It was a command that he had given several times before. Dennis, like other children, could not resist the menacing tone and the force behind these three words.
“We… we were searching for Dan’s red car and for Sheila’s doll.”
“Why?” Tom dug deeper. He had a feeling he already knew the answer though.
Now it was Amy’s turn to answer: “We know you stole them. They told us that they argued with you and that you hurt them and forced them to give you their favourite things. And if we found them, you’d have a really big problem, you know.”
“You won’t find anything in here, because I don’t have any of their things. And now get out!” Tom shouted.
Amy and Dennis left the room as fast as they could. They were too afraid to argue any further or to try searching Tom’s room again, and so they told their friends, who had been awaiting them eagerly.

Tom closed the door behind them. He had blushed, anger pulsed through his veins. He told himself to calm first, to cool down. He would take his revenge, but he had to plan it carefully to make sure no one could blame him. Unplanned actions would not be nearly as satisfying as planned ones.

First he had to make sure that his treasures were still safe. And then he remembered the cave he had discovered the year before. It would be the perfect place to take his revenge on Amy and Dennis. It was about four weeks until this year’s trip and they would be going to the shore again. If he acted well, he could certainly lure them into the cave, and then…

Tom did not know yet what exactly to do with those two intruders, but he was sure he would come up with some good ideas. Then he began to laugh again in his cold, high-pitched voice.

Okay, this would be chapter ten. As I promised, things will become a little bit more dirty this time, but the next chapter shall be more calm, I daresay.
Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it. Feedback, which I would appreciate, can be left here as usual. Nothing more to say.


X. The Cave again

Tom had indeed acted well, better than ever before. He had apologized to Amy and Dennis for being rude and had told them that he really had not taken Dan’s and Sheila’s stuff. Now Amy and Dennis thought that he had forgiven them and that he wanted them to be friends.

Out on the shore Tom said in his friendliest voice: “Come on, I want to show you something.”
No child could have heard what was behind this gentle invitation, and none of the adults listened to them. They were either busy checking the other children’s clothes or trying to count them for a last time before letting them walk around.

Amy and Dennis followed Tom down a small, winding path to the cliffs.

“Where are we going?” Amy asked, but Tom remained silent.
When they had reached the edge of the cliffs, Tom took a deep breath. He liked the sea air, but he still acted like only wanting to show them the beautiful things he had discovered two years before. Amy and Dennis appeared next to him and looked around. Their gazes wandered from the horizon to the surface of the water many feet below them. Some rocks could be seen standing out of the water. They were simply amazed and did not dare speaking as if they were scared by the immense beauty of the scene.

“Come on,” Tom said, “let’s go down there.”
“What? Are you crazy?” Dennis asked.
It was obvious that he thought that Tom had only made a joke.
“I’ve already gone down there two years ago. It’s really not difficult, you know.”
With these words he started to climb down the cliff.

Dennis gave Amy a mistrustful look. What did Tom plan? Had he really been down there? That seemed impossible, for there was no footpath down there. On the other hand Tom did look pretty self-confident while climbing down. He looked up and called them: “Come on.”
Amy, being the braver one of the two, took a deep breath and started to climb down, which made Dennis sigh and follow her reluctantly.

If it were not for Tom Riddle’s magical skills, the three of them would surely have fallen down, but they did not. None of them realized how very dangerous their path was. Tom had first reached a small landing, the water a little below his feet. The entrance of the cave was a few feet to his right. He followed the landing with his eyes and saw that it led directly to the cave.

He waited until Amy and Dennis had caught up with him and moved slowly towards the entrance of the cave. When he had reached it, and when the other two had entered the cave, too, he told them how he had found it last year.

Tom had known that there would be very little light in the cave, so he had brought some matches and three candles, two of which he handed to the others. Amy and Dennis looked around, totally astonished. When their gazes met Tom’s face again, they were shocked by how his expression had changed. His eyes were nearly closed, he glared at them furiously, his face contorted by anger and hate.

“Tom? Are you all right?” Dennis asked.
But Amy had interpreted Tom’s expression better. “Tom, what do you want? Why did you bring us here?” Amy’s voice nearly faded. Dennis had now understood too. He, who had been so cool and brave with his friends around him, could not speak any more. Tom whispered and Amy and Dennis had the impression that the sound of the waves rushing over the rocks had vanished. The only existing sound was Tom’s voice and nothing else; it felt like it was inside their heads. “You searched my room. You believe I stole Sheila’s and Dan’s things. Well, I did, but you won’t tell anyone.”

Tom carefully put his candle on a rock next to him. Then he turned around again and fixed the other two children again. The flames of their candles made their shadows flicker on the walls. Then the flames grew, they became bigger, though nothing could explain it.
Dennis’ candle turned into something like a dog, the fire snatching at Dennis’ face and he dropped his candle into the water. Amy’s candle burnt down faster and faster while the flame quivered, split and bent down, trying to reach her hands. She dropped her candle, too. Tom enjoyed it, he enjoyed watching them throwing their candles away in panic and he enjoyed seeing fear and pain in their faces.
Dennis started crying when he saw Amy’s fear. Tom twitched. He couldn’t stand children crying, he had never been able to.

“Shut up!” he shouted. It was a command, and it was his immensely strong will supported by magic that made Dennis stop crying.

Then Tom decided to try something he had never tested on a human before, but only on small animals. He imagined how Amy would be hurt, hurt by white-hot steel, by heat so incredible it would burn her whole body. And then he wished it to come true. This piece of dark magic was not as powerful as it would have been, had Tom been carrying a wand, but Amy felt the pain anyway, and she cried like she had never cried before. The small girl’s scream were echoing from the wall, evoking pure horror in Dennis and joy and satisfaction in Tom. Again and again Tom punished the two children until he was mentally exhausted. After they had recovered, he threatened them never to tell anyone what had happened or he would do it again.

Bound by Tom’s will and by pure fear, Amy and Dennis never confided anything in anyone except that they had gone exploring. Yet it was obvious that they had changed, at least for those who knew them well. And of course, all the children noticed that Tom and the other two, who had seemed to be friends for four weeks, had parted, but Amy’s and Dennis’ behavior taught them that it was better not to ask. While angst spread in the orphanage, the women were trying harder than ever before to give as many children as possible to the families that visited them. Even though they did not want to admit it, they were scared of little Tom Riddle, too.

Meanwhile Tom had added Amy’s silver thimble and Dennis’ mouth organ to his collection of trophies.

Without much ado chapter eleven. I thought it was unnecessary to rewrite the whole conversation between Tom and Dumbledore, because we all know that from HBP.
You can leave feedback here, if you feel like it.
Next time we'll be leaving behind any hints from HBP we might have had so far and you'll completely depend on my imagination. I pity you...
That's it.



XI. The Strange Visitor

Tom leaned back. He lay on his bed, watching the ceiling. The first excitement was gone and he was deep in thoughts. Dumbledore had left him over an hour ago to talk to Mrs. Cole about the details of Tom leaving on the first of September. Mrs. Cole had already told Tom that he would be escorted to King’s Cross. There was no doubt that she would be glad to get rid of him, but her joy was nothing compared to his. As long as Tom could remember, he had been longing to leave this terrible, depressing place where he felt so very misplaced.

Tom thought about the conversation he had had with Dumbledore. He tried to remember what they had talked about. There was so much new information he had to cope with.
He was a wizard! Tom felt like his heart was beating thrice as fast, his blood running through his veins with high speed and his stomach was filled with butterflies. He could burst with happiness. This was the most wonderful thing in the world for sure. It explained his powers, it really made him special, and it would save him from the orphanage. But why was he a wizard? Surely his father had been one (his mother would not have died if she had been magically gifted), and Tom would find him to understand why he had had to grow up in this terrible house.

And then: Hogwarts! The name of the school, of his future school, was like a torch in the darkness, the morning light on the horizon after eleven years of night. What would he learn there? What would he be able to do when he got a wand? Would he be a good pupil or would the other children be better than him? Huge expectations and endless joy were fighting for the dominant part of his heart, making the small voice of fear nearly vanish.

His thoughts drifted back to Dumbledore. Obviously he knew a lot more about Tom than would be acceptable. How had he found out about his collection of trophies? How had he known that Tom had stolen them? Was Dumbledore able to read his mind? Or had his reaction given him away, when he thought that his wardrobe burned? And did his wardrobe really burn or did Dumbledore just make him think it did? Tom had to find out many things.

Could Dumbledore really find out if he gave the trophies back or not? Tom hated the thought but it would be better to return them to their owners, just to be sure. Hopefully he would not get punished for stealing them in the past. He had to be really careful; he could not risk making Dumbledore his enemy, for the old man already knew too much. And he did not seem to like him very much; it seemed that the old wizard planned to control him. Was that the reason why he had offered to accompany Tom on his trip to Diagon Alley? Was this how Dumbledore wanted to make sure he behaved well?
‘I don’t need anyone!’ Tom thought angrily ‘especially not this nosy old man.’

And why did Dumbledore have to mention the barman’s name? He hated his name! ‘Tom’ was a terribly common, boring name, which bound him to the orphanage. Hadn’t Dumbledore just told him that he was special? Of course he was! And he would prove it! He would be a great wizard, maybe the greatest, terrifying and feared. Tom was wondering about these things the whole day. He did not think about anything else, not even at dinner, when the other children around him were as noisy as usual.

Before falling asleep, Tom had his plan for his journey to Diagon Alley ready. He would go soon, taking the next opportunity to get out of the orphanage and to get to know his new world as good as possible. Tom felt like he could barely wait any longer, but he was definitely ready for it.

Now Tom's about to enter Diagon Alley, the beginning of a dark era so to say. Or maybe not.
Feedback here, of course. Go on...


XII. The Leaky Cauldron

Tom had never been this excited in his whole life. He was breathing fast, and he was shivering; his hands were trembling, and his stomach was filled with what felt like dozens of butterflies. He looked around, taking in the surroundings with all his senses and at the same time not really thinking about any of the impressions. His head was filled with thoughts about what he was about to experience, and it was completely empty at the same time.

It was the second day after his conversation with Professor Dumbledore, and Tom had gotten the permission to buy the necessary equipment from Mrs. Cole without any problems. This had surprised him at first, but then he had realized that she wanted to get rid of him. Therefore she would, though not actively supporting him, at least not cause him any problems. Thus now he found himself standing on a big street in the centre of London, many people passing him in both directions, but no one seemed to notice him or the small pub he was staring at. Dumbledore’s description had been good, and Tom had had no problems finding the Leaky Cauldron. He took a deep breath and entered.

The room was barely lit, so his eyes needed a short moment to get used to the semi-darkness. Then Tom looked around. About half the tables were free, and on the other tables sat small groups of people, talking. Next to him, two women, who obviously were witches, talked about how the price of unicorn hair had risen. Tom could also make out a group of old men further in the back and a small boy with his parents, who were building a stack of boxes next to their table. While moving cautiously forwards he heard patches of other conversations, making him curious. His heart jumped at hearing the word ‘dragons’ while his brain still tried to get the meaning of the word ‘Quidditch’, if that was a word at all.

A young man stood behind the bar, talking to a tall red-haired man whose wife was standing next to him. She was slender, had red-blonde hair and held the hand of a small red-haired boy. Tom heard the barman asking the tall man: “And what’s his name, Mr Weasley?”
“We’ve named him Arthur.”
The barman saw Tom’s unsure face and politely addressed him. “Hello, my boy. My name is Tom. I am the barman of the Leaky Cauldron. How can I help you?”

Tom twitched, but no one saw it in the semi-darkness, and a second later, he was in control of his facial expressions again. He suppressed the impulse to punish the barman because he shared his name. It would have been pure madness to react like this against a full grown wizard in a pub full of people. He must not tell anyone what he had done in the past, he had to act, had to make them believe that he was well-behaved and not in the least dangerous.

Tom looked up to the barman and said: “Good morning. I am afraid I don’t know how to get to Diagon Alley.”

“Well it will be a pleasure to help you. If you would follow me. Have a nice day, Mr and Mrs Weasley. Have a nice day too, Arthur.”
“Thank you Tom, you too.”, Mr Weasley answered.

With these words the young couple turned towards the door and the two Toms went through the pub to the backdoor, the older one in the lead, the younger one following.

Tom Riddle was somehow disappointed when they left the pub through the backdoor. What he saw was not the spectacular miracle he had expected but a small and dirty backyard with some dustbins in it.

“Not what you expected to see, is it?” the barman asked.

He winked at Tom and drew his wand, telling Tom to watch closely which brick he had to touch with his own wand when he returned. Then he lightly tipped that very brick three times and the wall opened. Within seconds, there was an archway big enough to let in a man twice the size of the barman.

“There you go,” said the older Tom and looked at the boy next to him.

Then he turned around, saying, “Thank you. Goodbye.” Tom stepped through the archway and for the first time in his life he entered Diagon Alley, which would become one of the most important places in his whole life.

Number thirteen, I hope you like it. If you do so,kindly leave some feedback here, if you don't like it, leave some feedback anyway. That's it.



XIII. Diagon Alley

Tom stood rooted on the spot. He had the strange feeling of belonging here, although he had never been here before. He had never in his whole life seen anything like this. In front of him lay a sunlit street full of people. He looked around, examining the sign of the nearest shop. It read ‘Cauldrons - All sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver’. Tom checked the list of things he needed for Hogwarts, and though it said he needed a cauldron, he did not go to the store. He wanted his wand first.

Tom slowly wandered down the Alley, trying to take everything in while he tried not to run into someone. There were so many impressions, that he thought his brain would not be able to deal with them. He examined several buildings (Eeylops Owl Shop, one store selling broomsticks and others selling robes, telescopes, books, quills, potions and a lot of things Tom had never seen before), until his eye was caught by a snowy-white building that was higher than all the other shops. It was so impressive that he had to stop and take a breath.

Then he slowly moved over to the house, wondering what it might be. He heard a mother next to him tell her little daughter: “…you see, over there, the white building. That’s Gringotts, the wizard bank. And the creature at the front door is a goblin…” Tom stared at the goblin guarding the bronze front doors, and then his gaze wandered over the white front again. ‘The wizard bank’, he repeated in his mind. So wizards obviously had banks too. ‘Having money in this bank would really make you a wizard’, Tom thought, but since he had no more money than Dumbledore had given him (and had never had any before), he did not visit Gringotts. Instead he continued his way down the alley to find the wand shop.

Then he saw a sign saying ‘Ollivander’s: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.’. The window was pretty unspectacular; there was a single wand on a purple cushion without any information or sign about why it was so special.

Tom entered, and a small bell rang. He had the impression that the window presented the character of the shop very well. It was small and simple, without any decoration. Approximately several thousand boxes were stacked in high shelves, the counter was unoccupied and a single chair stood in one corner, a wizard sitting in it. A small boy, obviously his son, was testing wands which another rather young wizard handed to him. The pile of boxes next to the boy told Tom that they had not been very successful until now. Tom was happy that he was not alone and that he was able to see what the process of choosing a wand looked like.

The boy took a wand, waved it, and nothing happened. Then he put the wand away and took a new one. This procedure was repeated for some time. Suddenly, blue and golden sparks emerged at the wand’s tip. The boy smiled, and his father, who had leapt out of the chair at the sight of the sparks, patted him on the back. The other wizard, smiling too, led them to the counter, and the father paid for the wand. Then they left the shop, leaving Tom and the other wizard behind.

“Good morning. I’m Mr. Ollivander”, the wizard said. For the first time, Tom had a good look at him: he was very pale, his eyes were big and glowed silvery. “May I ask for your name?”
“I am Tom Riddle.”, Tom said politely.
“Riddle, Riddle, hmmm… I can not remember a wizard family by the name of Riddle, and I remember every single wand I’ve ever sold.”
“I am an orphan,” Tom said tersely, as though he didn’t want to stay on that particular subject.
“So you have, I take it, grown up with muggles?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“All right. Are you right- or left-handed?”
“Left-handed.”
“Hold out your left arm, please, and in the meantime I may tell you some things about wands. For the cores I use powerful substances, like Unicorn-hair, Phoenix-feathers or Dragon-heartstring.” (This information excited Tom more than he showed in his expressions; thoughtnot knowing what unicorns or phoenixes might look like, Tom, like every little boy, had a certain image of dragons)

While talking, Ollivander measured Tom’s hand and arm and then disappeared between the shelves to take out some wands.

“The wand chooses the wizard, you know. Therefore it’s not exactly easy to know which wand will be the one for you, but I’m confident that this will not take too much time.”
Tom wondered what too much time meant, for he wanted to finish his shopping that day, but he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s start with this one: Oak, Dragon-heartstring, nine and a half inches, very flexible.” He handed Tom a wand, who waved it like he had seen the other boy do it. Nothing happened. Mr Ollivander drew his own wand and flicked it shortly in the direction of the pile of wands the other boy had left, which made the wands jump back into their boxes, and the boxes fly back into the shelves.
“Okay, what about this one: Chestnut, Unicorn-hair, twelve inches. Test it.”

Tom did as he was told, but the result was the same. His pile of useless wands was already about as high as the other boy’s had been, when Ollivander said: “Don’t give up. I’ve had customers who needed two hours and more. You’ll feel it when you get the right wand. This might be the one: Yew and Phoenix-feather, thirteen and a half inches.”

Tom felt it the moment his fingers touched the wand. A certain warmth flooded through his arm and reached down to his stomach. Instantly afterwards, a wave of icy cold followed, trickling down his back, but Tom liked the feeling of it. He waved the wand and a whirl of green and golden sparks emerged from its tip.

Tom smiled and so did Ollivander. “Aaah, this is wonderful. A powerful wand and a gifted wizard, I can sense it. I think we can expect you to do some very interesting magic.”

These words made Tom think about what Dumbledore had told him: that the kind of magic he had used before was forbidden at Hogwarts. He had the feeling that, though what he had done before would not be tolerated at Hogwarts and by the Ministry of Magic, some people would merely call it “interesting”, others might even call it “good”. To himself there was of course no good or bad, he simply did what was necessary to achieve whatever he wanted.

So here we go with chapter number 14. Not much to say about it. Maybe just a big "Thanks!" to hot-for-harry and some feedback, please?
Go on!


XIV. Salomon Snicket

After Tom had paid for his wand he wished Ollivander a good day and left the shop. Stepping outside, Tom was puzzled by the weather: he had forgotten how sunny it was. He took out the list of things he still needed to buy: robes, books, a hat, a winter cloak, cauldron, telescope, scales and glass phials. He was confident he was going to find all these things in a second-hand store. It would definitely be better not to spend all the money Dumbledore had given him on one day. He had not seen a second-hand store or anything even close on his way to Ollivander’s, so he continued his way down Diagon Alley. Then he saw the sign ‘Salomon Snicket‘s second-hand store – Hogwarts equipment and more’.

While Tom was heading for Salomon Snicket’s shop, two men met on the street in front of him. One of them had a small boy about Tom’s age with him, who seemed to be going to Hogwarts too, for he and his father were already carrying some boxes in their arms. Therefore the father seemed unable to shake hands with the other tall, pale man, who was casting a disgusted look at Salomon Snicket’s. Yet when Tom heard them talk to each other, he had the impression that neither of the men actually wanted to shake hands. He stopped to look at the sky while carefully listening to the conversation.

“Mr Creevey, please tell me you’re not buying Hogwarts equipment for your son at this place.”, the pale man said in a cold voice, his head indicating at Salomon Snicket’s.
“No, Mr Malfoy, I am not. Yet I think that there is no reason to act like Mr Snicket’s shop is poisoning Diagon Alley.”, the man addressed as Mr Creevey responded. “He is a very nice man and his second-hand shop is a great option for those people who can not afford to make a living from lying on their family’s pockets. Come on, Bertram, we still have to buy your books.”
With these words he went up Diagon Alley without even looking at Mr Malfoy, who walked away in the other direction, muttering something incomprehensible. Tom shrugged and went towards the second-hand store, wondering if there were many people thinking like Mr Malfoy.

The shop was bigger than Ollivander’s. From outside he could see piles of old books on the floor and even more in shelves, some old cauldrons and what he thought were supposed to be wizard’s robes. Tom entered and took a look around. The store was divided into several areas: in one corner were indeed piles of old books, in another he saw robes and hats, there were even some wands which looked like they had made some dangerous experiences - Tom saw something silvery-white at one wand’s tip.

A small old man with a short white beard and a big nose came towards him. “Good day, young boy. My name is Salomon Snicket. How can I help you?”
“Hello. I need some things for my first year at Hogwarts, robes and books and stuff.”
“That will be absolutely no problem. Would you show me your list, please?” Snicket looked at the parchment and mumbled something in his beard. Then he addressed Tom again: “Ah, yes, I have all the books you need, and I think I do have some robes that might fit. I just got them this summer. Follow me, please.”

Snicket gave Tom the books and let him check if they were all right and then he measured Tom’s height, his neck arms and shoulders and then took a set of robes out of a closet. “I’ve got them from a second-year, but you’re pretty tall for your age, so I think they’ll fit. Please try them on.”

The sleeves were a bit too long, but Tom felt comfortable, so he agreed to take them. The hat and the winter cloak were acceptable too, and they found a pair of gloves that fitted perfectly. Snicket even had some old scales and a collapsible telescope, though he could not find any glass phials or a good cauldron.

Heavily loaded, yet happy, Tom left the store. Now he only had to buy a cauldron, the glass phials and some ingredients for potions, and he had not even spent half the money in his pocket. He went back up Diagon Alley and bought the things he still needed. He wondered if he should buy an animal, but then decided not to, for it would make too much dirt in his room. Yet he stopped at Fabian Fortesque’s to eat some ice cream (something he had tasted only once before in his whole life) and to relax a bit while watching all the passers-by. After a while he heavily got up to return to the orphanage, though he wondered how he should be able to carry his huge second-hand trunk all the way back to the orphanage. He was already exhausted when he had reached the Leaky Cauldron, but Tom, the barman, helped him again. He bewitched the trunk to make it light enough for Tom to carry it. Tom thanked the barman, said “goodbye” and left.

Back at the orphanage, he had a conversation with Mrs. Cole, who agreed to provide Tom’s clothes with name tags and to organize his transport to King’s Cross on the first of September. Mrs. Cole told the other children that Tom would leave the orphanage to visit another school, but that he would return for the summer holidays. She could not be angry at the kids for looking happy, because she felt some relief herself.

Tom spent most of the time in his room, waiting for August to end, reading his very fascinating school books. Twice he was allowed to leave the orphanage and he visit Diagon Alley again to try and get accustomed to his new world, which he already liked so much more than the old one.

I suppose there's not much to say here. Maybe leave some feedback here? Or just enjoy reading (I hope you do)!


XV. King’s Cross

On the 31st of August, Tom could not fall asleep. He was so excited, it seemed like his stomach was filled with angry bumble bees. He lay awake past midnight, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the next day and what would happen to him. His dreams were confused; Dumbledore, Ollivander and Snicket were talking to him at the same time, gesturing wildly, and he could not understand anything. He saw Mr. Malfoy laughing at him for buying supplies in a second-hand store. And Tom, the barman, kept asking him what his name was.

The next morning Tom woke up very early, for he was too nervous to be tired. He had his things packed in his trunk, his clothes put on the chair and his wand under his pillow.
None of the people in the orphanage knew that Hogwarts was a school for magic and Tom, who had spoken very rarely since Professor Dumbledore’s visit, had been careful not to mention it and not to let anyone see his letter or his school stuff. He dressed and hid the wand in his right sleeve. He had decided to change into his robes in the train, because he had never seen any wizard wearing robes in public, at least not in muggle London. Tom sat on his bed for over an hour until it was time to go down for breakfast.

His train would leave at eleven o’clock and Mrs Cole had told him that she would take him with her to King’s Cross, where she would visit a family who had taken one of the orphans last month. These routine checks on families were not done regularly, and Tom was wondering if anyone (maybe Dumbledore?) had arranged this appointment. Tom could barely eat anything, but he forced himself to eat at least some toast and he put some in his trunk too, for he did not know when would be the next time he’d get some food.

Tom and Mrs. Cole arrived at King’s Cross at 10:30 a.m. Tom took his trunk, which was still light enough for him to carry by the barman’s charm. Though Mrs. Cole wondered how the small boy was able to carry a trunk which was nearly as tall as himself, she remained silent. She had decided to try and know as little as she could. The farewell was pretty short and awkward. Mrs Cole wished Tom a nice school year, and he coldly said “Goodbye” before they parted. Neither of them looked back.

Tom was glad they had arrived so early. Of course he had examined his ticket closely and had wondered how to get to platform nine and three-quarters, but he had decided not to ask Mrs .Cole, who certainly would not have known it. Tom had wondered why Dumbledore had not told him, but he had come up with a good plan: he would look out for people who looked like wizards. He had watched several wizard families doing their shopping at Diagon Alley. Some of them had bought owls, cats or toads and Tom was sure that it would be easy to find a family with a huge trunk and an owl upon it.

Tom walked to platforms nine and ten, thinking that the chance to find any hints might be better there, and then he looked around for someone to guide him. It was not longer than one minute until he saw a family who seemed to be wizards. The father carried a trunk like his and the mother indeed had an owl in a cage in one hand and a small girl on the other. He grabbed his trunk and followed them silently to the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

“Mum, how are we going to get there?”

I told you, Jane, you just go through the barrier. But don’t be afraid, we’ll do it together.”

Tom saw the girl’s grip tighten and watched them while they stopped in front of the barrier. Then the father turned around to give his daughter an encouraging look and then stepped right through the barrier. The mother pulled on her daughter’s hand and they immediately followed the father.

Tom’s excitement rose, if possible, even higher. He took a careful look around, but there were no more families who might be wizards. Therefore he just walked to the barrier, looked around to see if anyone was watching him, took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped forward.