The Riddle in his Heart

He moved with a leopard-like grace. I felt the breath knocked out of me as he pushed me against the wall, and grabbed the wand out of my hand. His face was now inches from mine; so close that l could feel his hot breath travel down my neck. Swallowing hard, I still dared to look up and meet his dark gaze defiantly.

“You may be able to fool them, but not me,” I whispered fiercely with gritted teeth, “I know you’re a monster. You’ve always been one, Tom.”

A cold, sinister smirk plays across his lips, and I feel chills crawl down my spine.

“And so what if I am?”

<4 years ago>

Tuesday, July 24th, 1939, Wool’s Orphanage, London England.

It was a chilly, summer afternoon as I stared mournfully out the window of the horse-drawn buggy, viewing the bustling streets of London ahead. The trees on the streets nearby were fiery, bright green halos, contrasting against the drab, grey buildings that we passed through.

The buggy rolled past a coffee shop with crimson awnings and sparkling glass windows that displayed golden tarts and crusts. I felt a sharp pang in my stomach; a reminder that I’d skipped breakfast plus all three of my meals yesterday.

“Are you listening, Sofia?”

I turned back to look at the person speaking to me. It was Mrs. Cherrywood, a widow and neighbor that lived on the floor above mine in my mother’s apartment. She had tight skin, watery blue eyes, and wore a stiff black dress with white satin gloves. I was beginning to get tired of hearing her voice drag on and on with its lectures. Couldn’t she understand that I desperately didn’t want to go?

I’d already tried talking Mrs. Cherrywood into adopting me, but she’d firmly told me that she didn’t have the time or money for an extra mouth to feed. I’d begged that I would do all her chores, sew, or anything that would make her change her mind... but it hadn’t worked.

“Make sure to be on your best behavior,” She reminded me, fussing over my hair and skirt, “Straighten your back and neck so you don’t look like a turtle---don’t forget to gather all of your belongings--oh goodness, we’re almost there now.”

The lump in my throat was almost unbearable to swallow back down. It took every inch of me not to burst into tears as we approached closer to Wools Orphanage.

The buggy gave another jolt, and I heard the distant cries of children laughing and shouting nearby. I looked out the window again and finally saw it. It was a square building surrounded by high railings. The windows were dark and the structure was made of grey cement. I choked back another sob as the dread sucked its way in like a leech. I wasn’t ready.

Mrs. Cherrywood clucked her tongue and rubbed comforting circles into the back of my white blouse.

“There now child. Your mother said that when she’s not ill, she’ll come and get you immediately. This is only temporary, okay?”

I knew that was a lie. My mother would probably never get better. She would always try to hide the napkins covered in blood and was as frail as an eggshell. She sent me away early so I wouldn’t have to see her die of tuberculosis.

At last, the buggy slowed to a complete stop. Mrs. Cherrywood beckoned me outside, and I reluctantly followed. There wasn’t much to carry. I just had two leather suitcases full of clothes, a navy blue hat, and a precious medallion that my mother had given me.

It hung around my neck, tucked under my blouse. There was a snake carved into the silver medallion, and its skin was bejeweled in raw emeralds. I adored the coruscant gleam and promised to always keep it close to my heart.

We walked up to the iron fence and through an un-oiled gate that made a horrible screeching sound. The children playing with a ball in the yard stopped, and watched me in hushed silence. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to muster all the courage within me. I forced a smile on my face and waved.

No one even blinked.

Feeling discouraged, I hurried after Mrs. Cherrywood through the front door. I noted that the outside had looked a bit run-down, but at least the inside was clean and neat looking. The floorboards under my polished black boots were swept bare and the walls were blank and empty.

Down the hallway, a skinny woman in a high-collared dress was herding a few kids in our direction. She chided them about how they needed to go out and get some fresh air. When she saw Mrs. Cherrywood and me, she straightened and smoothed her skirt.

“Hello there, you must be Miss Haven,” she said, walking up to us. The sharp features of her face softened, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” I said politely, the words rolled smoothly off my tongue from reciting the phrase one too many times. It was important to make a good first impression.

“How lovely,” the skinny woman replied with a smile, “My name is Mrs. Cole and I’m the caretaker of the orphanage.”

I smiled back, although I didn’t feel her enthusiasm. After that, Mrs. Cherrywood and Mrs. Cole began to have a conversation. They talked about my mother’s situation and how there was no one else to take care of me.

“Sofia will be very happy here,” Mrs. Cole said reassuringly when they were finished, “In fact, we were just planning our yearly summer trip to the ocean this week.”

Mrs. Cherrywood squeezed my shoulder.

“What a coincidence,” she said brightly, “It’s actually Sofia’s eleventh birthday next Friday! Isn’t that exciting?”

I nodded, although it wasn’t exciting at all. It would be the first birthday I spent alone. They chatted some more before Mrs. Cherrywood finally began to wrap up the conversation.

“Well, I better get going. It’s getting late, and I want to be back at my place in time to make supper,” she said, “Take care, dear child.” She hugged me for a long moment and we said farewell. I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want her to leave. But somehow she broke free and walked out the front door, disappearing from my existence forever. The lump in my throat grew twice as big. It had happened so quickly, and I would truly never see her again.

It was quiet for a moment before Mrs. Cole cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her.

Let’s get your belongings in your room,” she said in a business-like manner, “You’ll be sharing one with Amy Benson. I’ll get you two acquainted later, but for now---” Mrs. Cole paused and looked back at some of the children who were lingering behind in a large room with a fireplace and grey couches. She pointed at the tallest boy who was reading a book, “Tom, why don’t you help Sofia bring her stuff to her room? Maybe give her a tour of the place while you’re at it.”

The boy, no older than me, looked up and stared. He looked extremely attractive, with black hair and dark eyes. His skin was very pale and he had high cheekbones with a well-defined jawline. I thought I saw a flicker of irritation in his gaze, but it quickly disappeared.

“Yes, Mrs. Cole,” he said politely. The other children gave him fearful glances as he walked past them, and I was curious about why. He took both of the suitcases.

“Come with me,” he told me in the same polite manner. I nodded and followed him down the hallway and towards a flight of steps. As we walked along the second floor alone, there was something about him that made me slightly uncomfortable. He was too... quiet. It was kind of unnerving.

“Which room?” he asked, his voice a little colder than it had been when we’d been with Mrs. Cole.

“I’m staying with Amy Benson,” I began before adding, “So your name is Tom, right? My name’s Sofia!”

Tom stopped in his tracks. I smiled in confusion as he turned to look at me with an annoyed expression. If possible, his eyes grew even darker.

“Did I ask?”

I bit my lip and I felt my eyes sting. That hurt.

“Sorry, I’ll just go back to not... talking I guess,” I said, trailing off with a nervous laugh. Tom sneered.

“You’re just like the other muggles,” he muttered under his breath, before quickening his pace. Not sure if I should be offended or not, I tried to catch up to him.

“Sorry?”

“Nevermind,” Tom said quietly, “We’re here.” He opened the door and showed me inside. It was practically empty. There were two wardrobes, two small metal beds, and a window that overlooked London’s streets. It was smaller than the apartment room I had stayed in with my mother, and I cringed at the lack of furniture.

“Alright, here’s your stuff,” Tom dumped the suitcases unceremoniously on the floor. I opened my mouth in utter shock and indignation as one of the buckles came loose, and my clothes spilled out all over the floor. The clothes that my mother had lovingly packed with her own hands.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!” I protested hotly.

Tom sneered again.

“Just so you know, I do anything I want,” he said in a soft, mocking tone, “And no one ever stops me.”

Something inside me snapped. Normally, I’d be able to keep my temper, but a strong fierceness had woken up inside of me. I channeled all the sorrow and fear I’d been feeling the last twenty-four hours and turned it into boiling anger. Before I knew it, I’d walked up to him and slapped him across the face. Tom looked stunned.

“You jerk!” I shouted furiously.

Tom lifted a hand to his face in disbelief, before his mouth turned into a hard line and his eyes turned venomous.

“Did you just hit me?” he asked, his voice lowering into a threatening tone. My anger vanished as he began to advance towards me, his face white with loathsome hatred, “No one has ever hit me before.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. My throat went dry and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Something had changed in his appearance. Something menacing. Something sinister. I took a step back and our eyes locked.

Then suddenly Mrs. Cole’s voice was heard from outside the hallway.

“Sofia? I want you to meet Amy your new roommate,” she called. Tom snapped out of his rage and suddenly was back to his calm composure. It was almost scary to see how two-faced he was.

“You’ll regret that,” he said quietly, before walking out of the room without a backward glance. I watched him leave and pretended not to care by letting out a scoff.

That was the first glimpse of the monster I had seen within Tom Riddle, and it definitely wasn’t the last. Trying to relax, I had told myself that he couldn’t hurt me. That he couldn’t hurt anyone... but boy was I wrong.

Note:// This was written when Voldemort was 12 and about to start his second year of Hogwarts. Thank you for reading and if you liked it pls leave a heart! <3