The Number Seven

Chapter One: The Cave

August 19, 1938.

Tom Riddle didn't fancy being normal. He didn't enjoy the orphanage full of whining children, and he wanted more than anything to get out. It didn't help that everybody at the orphanage strayed from him as though he were a monster. He didn't particularly take pleasure in having too many people clinging around him. Still, his bones ached with anger any time another child would purposefully elbow his shoulder in the corridors. He knew that he wasn't like them though, and he didn't need Dennis Bishop to tell him that.

He could hear them whispering about him behind a closed door in their small bedroom, and he instantly stopped his midnight stroll to listen in.

"He's mental. There's something wrong with him," a voice with multiple cracks said. It was a short, curly-haired boy named Dennis, around the age of eight, Tom could tell from the way his voice moved up and down when he spoke.

"Yeah, I mean, have you seen what he did to Billy's rabbit? It was terrifying. I'm not sure why Mrs. Cole allows him to stay here anymore."

Who did those children think they were? To speak of him behind his back was unforgivable, and he wanted to barge inside of the bedroom and put his hands are Dennis' fat throat and---but at that moment, he heard the creaking of a floorboard from a place not to far from where he was standing, and he could simply tell that it was Mrs. Cole, the Matron of Wool's orphanage.

So instead of ringing out Dennis' neck, he simply opened the door and walked in unbothered by the fact that both Dennis and some other brunette tall girl that Tom thought went by the name of Amy Benson were both staring at him in fear. In fact, he liked it that way. People should learn to fear him, not disrespect him.

Tom hid a small smirk as he climbed into bed that night. There was an opportunity to get back at Amy and Dennis for belittling him the next day. He would make sure that they would never speak of him again.

"Everybody up, now." Tom opened his eyelids at once, not bothering to moan and groan about having to get up early as the other children were. He far believed he was superior to them, he hadn't cried like that in his life, not even when he was a baby.

He stood out of bed, neatly making it and then heading to get changed into a boring outfit, then he made his way downstairs. He was the first one there, as always, and only Mrs. Cole was waiting for everyone.

"How do you do, Tom?" It was a throwaway question, something she asked every child every morning. She didn't expect, or want a real answer.

"How do you do, Mrs. Cole?"

One by one, the rest of the kids trickled in, none of them daring to make eye contact with Tom. That was how he liked it.

The final kid was a child named Billy, one which whom Tom had gotten into an argument a fortnight ago. When Billy saw him, he began to walk faster, tears threatening to spring in his eyes. Tom had hung his dumb hare from a rafter above Billy's bed. Yet Billy had no proof of the matter, and Tom went unpunished. But Billy hadn't messed with him since then, scared that it would be his neck hanging from the rafter next.

"Alright, children, here are your lunches," Mrs. Cole said in a wispy voice, seeming to be in a slight hurry. "If we are to catch the train, we must leave right now!"

The other kids scrambled over to the door, chattering excitedly as they exited. Tom was the only one walking by himself.

The countryside wasn't as interesting as Mrs. Cole made it out to be, and Tom was quite bored the whole time. Him and the seven other children were sitting in what was supposed to be a circle formation, but looked more like an interesting blob. Tom meanwhile, was making sure that Mrs. Cole didn't pay him any attention. He was expecting his plan for vengeance to be harder, but Mrs. Cole handed it to him on a silver platter.