Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Opposition

Wool's Orphanage

November 2, 1934

The day was bleak and gloomy; winter had come early and the ground was frosted with myriad tiny flakes of ice. The trees were nearly bare already. Tom Riddle had hoped that the color would last, but alas, there was no such luck in store for him.

He stood in the courtyard of the orphanage with a group of boys, numbering three, and began to do what Tom did best: ordering them around.

The appointed task for the day was to assassinate the birds that perched in the great oak trees.

He was nearly nine years of age, and young Tom Riddle always had a way of forming his own brigade of followers, despite the fear that most of the children focused upon him. He was a natural born leader, with his manner being both commanding and subdued. It was a rather unnerving gift that he possessed which caused him to be able to elicit trust from individuals, despite being one who was the least deserving of it.

Very few would call that magic, but a kind of magic, it most certainly was.

"The birds... They are carrying messages to our enemy, and must be stopped," said Tom. He had a vivid imagination, and since he recently had begun to have powers which he could not explain, his world was thrown into a kind of phantasmagoria of fever dream-like quality. Anything and everything was possible, and Tom could no longer differentiate the real from the imagined.

"Our enemy?"

"Mrs. Cole."

"No!"

"Yes."

"How do you know that?"

"I have seen it," whispered Tom conspiratorially. "They watched me sneak out at night and I know they have told her. She feeds them in return for their putrid services. They must be stopped."

"How'd you sneak out?" asked Billy Stubbs. "The doors are always locked!"

"Stop asking questions. We will need weapons."

"And bait!"

"What bait?" asked Timothy.

"Candace." Tom gestured to a chubby, red-haired girl who sat alone under a leaf-less tree.

"A girl?"

"Yes."

"Because birds think girls are trees!" exclaimed Billy.

"You prat," said Eric Whalley disdainfully. "Haven't you seen the pictures of Snow White in the storybooks? They must sit on her finger!"

"Nobody reads girl books, you plum!"

"On the contrary," said Tom. "The most dangerous things are hidden in the most innocent disguises, just like these demon birds. You can learn about anything from anywhere, even from girl books, and now you have no idea how to lure the birds, so sit down and be quiet, Billy. You know nothing."

The boy sat down, sullen and confused.

"But why must we kill them?" asked Timothy sadly.

"To defend ourselves against Mrs. Cole's red, sickle-and-hammer regime, of course. You know she sides with the communists," Tom stated, matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"Have you heard about that bloke Adolf Hitler?" asked Timothy. "I heard the cooks in the kitchen talking."

"I've been at the orphanage longest, and so I am the leader," said Billy.

"We should spear them, and hang them up as a warning to her, like they used to do with pirates at the docks," said Eric murderously.