I have had this story sitting in my documents for quite some time now and I never realized how much I had planned for this story and yet it was never getting the opportunityto be shared with you all. I had written a large majority of this after listening to the song: Plagues by Ralph Fiennes (yes, Voldemort sings!) and Amick Byram so I am giving the notch to that particular masterpiece for inspiring this story.

I know I have other stories that require my attention but I wanted to see all of your responses to this. Although I am a strong Dramione fan, this isn't that ship *gasp* (or maybe it is, you'll have to stay tuned) and I'll be serving some Tomione (which is my 2nd favorite ship).

Now, in this particular story, I have made Tom Riddle roughly around the same age as Harry (being only two years older than him) and there will be some characters that will blend the original timelines but it will still be pretty straightforward.

With that being said, every story has its beginning. Happy reading!

Chapter 1:

He couldn't remember much anymore, of his life from the beginning. It was always blurry from day to day, hour to hour, yet it was as if the seconds always took the longest. Time was of the essence, he figured from an early point in his life, and the world seemingly revolved on its axis by the sheer force of the ticking clock; always serving him as a brutal reminder that his time was coming to an end and it was the moment for him to pack his small suitcase and relocate to whatever hell hole was next on his agenda. He didn't ask questions anymore, or have the will to make new friends, or even hope that he would be the next child to be welcomed into the loving arms of a couple because it was never him. He was always looked over as some child went running by or the strange feeling that would overcome whoever was glancing in his direction. He figured he was cursed. Or at least that's what it felt like on days like this.

He was eight now. A small thing with scraggly black hair and glasses that were always crooked and a shirt that never seemed to fit properly. Anyone would think that orphanages would be willing to provide attire that would make children look pleasing for adoption but that was never the case. Well, at least for him. He had lived his entire life being shuffled from one home to another, being shoved into a little van before being deposited somewhere else to become someone else's problem. But he was getting too old. People never wanted to adopt children, not if there was a toddler or baby for grabs. It was as if the younger, the better, and it left kids like himself staring down at his sloppy shoelaces as he waited to, yet again, be boarded into a vehicle before driven to a new facility. He had grown used to it. Living day to day on repeat, tended to wear down a person eventually.

He always made sure to stare down into his lap when he was situated into whatever automobile he was thrown in. He didn't like the ability to stare out the window and watch as happy children played in the park or watch as parents coddled their offsprings. It was hard to watch others live around him when he didn't get the chance to do it for himself. He wouldn't know where to begin even if it did. He supposed his time would come eventually but Harry could only hope that when it did, he would be ready.

oOoOoOoOo

Wool's Orphanage reminded him of the haunted hospitals he read about in books, with leafless trees surrounding it and high, wrought-iron fences engulfing the property like a cage. The building was quite big, one of the largest he had been taken to, but it made him feel so little as if something was going to stomp the life right out of him. It didn't help that the flowers potted around the entrance were all wilted and had started to brown throughout. He hadn't missed the chance to crush one of the bulbs before he walked in. The crunch had been oddly satisfying but he hadn't enjoyed having to wipe his hands on the back of his trousers. He would hate it if the owners threw a fit on his appearance, however gastly it may already be.

Mrs. Cole had been quick to point out that he needed proper glassed. As soon as the main doors had closed, leaving him behind, the elder woman dumped a grey button up shirt and black trousers into his hands, adjoined with a pair of shoes that would have been nice if the laces hadn't been removed.

"Had a bit of an accident a few years back," she said curtly as she took in his curious look at the missing strings. "Since then, I refuse to potentially re-live it, therefore, no laces."

He didn't bother questioning her about what exactly had happened that would've involved a simple pair of shoelaces but he knew his place. Don't talk unless spoken to.

It had only been him and another older girl- one that he had never seen before - that had been dropped off at Wool's but neither of them had said a word, too busy absorbing their new home as they followed after Mrs. Cole. It wasn't a terrible place but it didn't exactly scream nice. The building was two stories tall with large, gothic windows that went from ceiling to floor and covered in dark floorboards that didn't creak. That was a vast improvement.

He didn't see many other kids as Mrs. Cole pointed him towards his new room, positioned in the furthest corner at the end of the hallway and across another identical door like the one of his own. It was closed shut, unlike the other doors he had passed and when he had peeked at Mrs. Cole from under his lashes, he hadn't missed the displeased look she had given the offending panel but she hadn't said anything either and instead, softly pushed him into the bedroom.

"This is yours," Mrs. Cole said as she made her way towards the curtains and pulled them open with a grand swish. "I expect the bed to be made every morning when you wake and lights go out at nine every night. I'll be sure to give you your own table of chores in the morning and until then, you are free to do whatever you please. The courtyard is where most of the children spend their rec hours but you are more than welcomed to stay indoors and explore for yourself. Just know that the west hallway on the bottom floor is my private bedroom and you children are not allowed in that direction. The rest of the house is yours and if you need anything, don't be afraid to locate myself of any of the other children within the vicinity. If you stay on good behavior, Harry, this place is just for you. You can stay here until you are of age but in the meantime, this will be your new home. Understood?"

Harry had to turn around to look at her. She had made her way back to the- his - door and was watching him expectantly. As he faced her, his attention diverted as he noticed another boy - older with dark coiffed hair and dark eyes staring straight at him - standing in the entrance of the room across from his with the door half cracked.

The door that had been closed apparently had an occupant. And a nosy one at that.

He diverted his gaze back to Mrs. Cole to nod his head and by the time she turned and left, the boy across the hall had already closed his door.

oOoOoOoOoOo

It was nothing new. It was the same story with each new orphanage he was placed in. Bullies persisted everywhere, having the urge to ruin anything good that any of these children had. Being the new kid in the house, meant that he was always the target for unwelcomed attention. He never understood it though. What was the point in it? To feel better? He didn't understand how anyone could possibly ever feel better if the only thing they knew how to do was make other people miserable. He didn't have the energy to fight against all of them but he didn't want to appear as weak as he felt either.

He picked himself up from the ground as organized as he could, fixing his crooked glasses but this time he didn't think any amount of bending would fix them. They were the cheapest money could buy anyways. A strong gust of wind could have dented the frames.

"Leave me alone," the threat was weak even to his own ears. "I'll get Mrs. Cole if you don't stop."

A thick, blonde boy with a gust of freckles across the bridge of his nose stepped forward, the leader of the group of boys that had approached him. "I dare you," the blonde shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to shuffle back several steps. "If you tell, I'll kill you."

Taunts were always tiresome to listen to. Children didn't know how to hit yet, not to the point of mortally wounding, but they always thought words would somehow back up their threats. Harry knew the blonde wasn't going to kill him. Punch him? Probably. Kick him? Probably more so. But kill? No, not even in the slightest degree. Despite many orphans coming from violent backgrounds, it was rare for kids of that notion to be mixed in with his kind - the kind that were just dumped at one random shelter for no reason.

"If you leave me alone, then I won't have to tell," he remarked snidely. It wasn't the wisest move, he'd later admit, but he hadn't expected the blonde to charge him suddenly, reminding him awfully a lot of a raging bull. When the blonde pushed him once more to the ground, he grunted as his back hit the grass surface. He was grateful that it wasn't at his old house, or else his back would've definitely bruised from the cemented grounds. Grass, he could do.

Two more boys that had been flanked on the blonde's sides came forward and Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself for the assault that he knew was coming. He tensed his body in anticipation of the first blow but as several seconds ticked by, he opened his eyes in question before looking up at the group surrounding him. The older boys had all forgotten about him as they faced another, their faces all stuck in horror as the blonde clawed viciously at his own throat; scratching from underneath his chin down to the tip of his collarbones and leaving streams of blood in their wake. The other two were clenching tightly at the sides of their heads as they stared at the boy across from them.

"Leave him alone," the boy ordered. His voice was sharp and cutting, slicing into the silence like a double edged knife. It made goosebumps erupt across Harry's.

"Or else I'll kill you."

Harry's mouth gaped open in shock as he took in the scene. Never before had someone taken after him like that and he had never seen someone willingly cut into their own skin. It was horrifying to watch as the blonde paid no haste in sinking his fingernails into the tanned flesh on around his neck. Harry took back his words though... because he knew this boy meant the words he said. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that this boy wouldn't kill the blonde. Was he supposed to sit there and let it happen?

Just as he picked himself up, the three of his attackers dropped their arms simultaneously and ran inside as fast as their legs could take them. Harry could hear their loud sobbing even as the doors slammed shut behind their three forms. The other kids in the courtyard were watching in expressions of their own, but to Harry's confusion, many looked like they had seen an altercation like that before, as if it was nothing new and nothing drastic. As if it was normal...

A hand was thrown into his gaze before he could blink. He had to look up slightly through his broken glasses to follow the extended arm, meeting the blank gaze of the boy who had come to his rescue. A boy with dark coiffed hair and dark eyes that seemed to drain his soul - the boy from across the hall, his neighbor. The boy was a few years older than him but with an attire that made Harry bristle under his attention. He didn't look like an orphan, then again, the boy didn't look like someone who could...do what he had just done to his three attackers.

Harry figured that it would be rude to not return the gesture and held his own hand out to clasp into his rescuer's. It made him feel like a mouse that had just gotten devoured by an unforgiving python. Harry made himself not dwell on it.

"Tom," the boy said with a blank face, his features polite yet dark as if something lurked beneath the surface. "Tom Riddle."

000000

Ending Note: Thoughts? Feel free to leave a review so I can hear from you all!