Wools Orphanage

~28th March, 1938..

The Orphanage was almost vibrating with the hum of uncontrollable whispers. Martha didn't actually have a problem with talking to an acceptable level, but the children were holding in so much excitement that they'd found themselves speaking only in whispers all day.

Martha didn't mind, so long as no one exploded, as poor little Angie had looked on the brink of doing. It wasn't much use telling them all to calm down. Even at breakfast appetites had gone haywire, with some children not eating at all, and others downing twice what they usually ate. As the day had dragged on, it had only gotten worse, by three o'clock Martha had been shooing them from that hallway at regular intervals, greying hair working it's way from her neat and practical bun, so that when the moment arrived and the doorbell at last rung, she looked nothing short of frazzled.

The visitor was the middle-aged man who had founded Wools Orphanage. He was the unlikely type to harbour a secret fortune, but Martha was beyond thankful for his constant funding- wherever it came from. She'd met him a few times in her career, but since the orphanage's opening he'd visited enough times to count on Martha's fingers. It had been a long gap since his last visit. A long, twelve year gap.

She often wondered what on earth had kept him away. They'd received no word until a month ago, when a letter arrived by an astoundingly intelligent owl, telling Martha he was coming to visit. Everything about the mans demeanour screamed at Martha that he was more than he seemed, but for all she had pondered about it, she had never quite been able to place the man.

She sighed, looking around herself at the hallway with an interior that had a defining look of 'faded'. Other than the wallpaper in the common room, very little had changed in those twelve years. Several of the kids had moved on and left, and those that remembered the man would not be children much longer. They had done a good job spreading the rumours of him to the younger children though. Fantastical tales of a man with twinkly eyes and an endless bag of sweets. She'd even heard whispers of his little parlour tricks, that Martha rather fondly and curiously remembered.

A thought hit her like a rock. Of course, the final change had been the arrival of the boy named Tom Riddle. Troubled and unnervingly different, Tom had spread an unease about the place that had grown into fear as his quiet dominance over the children at Wools had grown. Even the kitchen staff were petrified of him. He barely left his room nowadays though. His eleventh birthday has passed unnoticed last December and in February an incident meant that all his meals were brought separately to his room. Martha couldn't find a space in her heart between discomfort and pity for the silent devil of a child. Perhaps, she often thought to herself, it was better now he had isolated himself in such a way. She was unhealthily ashamed of pushing the problem aside, but she couldn't jeopardise the happiness of the rest of the children for one, doomed boy named Tom.

The doorbell chimed with a harsh tinkle, sending the children flooding from the common room into the hall where they gathered, beadily at the bottom of the stairs in the hall. Martha sighed,

"I don't want you trampling him." She said, resigning herself to open the door.

Merlin hoped the small wrinkles he had added to his face would be enough. Ageing himself was a tedious and tiring affair, and other than the suspicions of Martha, the children at Wools had never really paid it any attention. It felt surreal to be back again. He knew that for the children, twelve years would have brought a great many changes. Even for Martha, who he had appointed twenty two years ago now, would feel as though an era had passed. He was guilty that he hadn't visited in so long. He used to make a stop by every two years at the least.. but research and curiosity had lead him abroad. He'd realised all too late that the twelve year blink in his own history, was a far bigger gap for the mortal man. He shoved down his guilt, he hoped what he'd brought would be enough.

The picture of a 1930s Gentleman, he currently donned his grey, long duffel coat with some simple black trousers and a white shirt, concealed by a navy scarf that he had around his neck to keep out the lingering cold that came with the early spring days of drizzle along with a discreet peaked cap. Oh, how he had missed the wonders of British weather. He didn't mind though, finally he wouldn't struggle to find a cup of English breakfast to start each morning.

The old sorcerer wrung the bell of the looming building and stood back, rocking on his heels and holding his carrier bag behind him.

Nervously, the door opened. An eye peeked out, and retreated quickly back inside after several squeals sounded. Merlin thought he heard the wrinkled eye giving a firm order to keep quiet and civil, confirming his suspicions that it was Martha. Finally, the door opened again, fully this time to reveal the stern faced head of the orphanage, corset as tight as her lip and dress characteristically black. A few more lines in her face, a few more wispy grey hairs.. but it was certainly her.

Behind her stood the Orphans, clearly attempting to look presentable and orderly but at their barely contained excitement, his heart warmed to all of them, and he cursed himself for not visiting sooner.

From behind him, he revealed his carrier bag and a bunch of flowers.

"It's good to see you, Martha." Merlin smiled warmly, embracing the woman with his free arm and kissing her hand. She tried to keep a stern face whilst she thanked him for the flowers but Merlin knew the twinkle in her eye betrayed she was happy to see him. He knew Martha, and she was more curious than any of the children, she was also incredibly intelligent and Merlin couldn't help but prompt her speculations about him. Perhaps she would become one of the few people to ever guess.

"And you, Mr Thomas." She replied, taking and admiring the humble flowers he had conjured on his journey here.

"I trust you can entertain everyone for a moment while I go and-"

But Merlin had stopped listening. He'd glued his eyes to the stop of the staircase, where a gaunt, pale faced boy with perfectly combed hair and a sharp jawline stood gripping the banister, his knuckles white and eyes narrowed at Merlin. Merlin let out a breath, drawing in the foreign Magic that had just filtered into the room. A wizard. And a good one, at that. His magic stifled Merlins senses for a moment, tense with suspicion.

"Mr Thomas?" Martha said in a low voice.

"What's his name?" Merlin said quietly, not breaking eye contact with the boy atop the stairs whose presence had silenced everything.

"Tom is.. how can I put this... unlike the other children." Martha replied, verging on a whisper.

Merlin nodded slowly, understanding. He withdrew his gaze from the boy, staring at the banister with a calculating look before realising where he was and blinking back into the moment. With the spriteliness of a young man he snapped back into action, handing Martha the carrier bag.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you all- and see some familiar faces. I'm Mr Thomas, I think Martha is going to share out a little something I've brought for you." He called to the children with a trademark lopsided grin. His messy hair framed his angled face in a goofy way that caused a ripple of chuckles. His eyes twinkled, true to his nature and Martha told the children to gather back in the common room.

Tom turned from his place at the top of the stairs and began to walk back up them, an almost bored expression on his face.

"Five minutes." Merlin said, turning to Martha, who shook her head in a despairing motion.

"Mr Thomas I don't think Tom really wants to spend time with the others, I-"

"It's not about making him come down and join us." Merlin cut her off, tone serious as the twinkle in his eyes flickered out.

Martha gulped a little, and Merlin drew back, ears flushing red.

"I have never known you to be unnerved, Martha. I would like to talk to him all the same, I promise you it will be five minutes."

Martha sighed, and resigned herself to the chaos of the common room, casting him one last glance that seemed to say "good luck", before leaving Merlin alone in the corridor.

Merlin turned towards the large oak staircase. He tried to let some sort of calm wash over him as he began to saunter up the stairs. He let his magic seep into the creaky wooden floorboards, his feet stepping silently. He tracked the pull of the boys magic along the panelled landing, stopping with a short breath outside a door at the end of the hall.

The door opened before Merlin could knock, revealing the slight and pasty boy, a cool glare on his features. Merlin had no idea why, but he found himself gulping.

"Hello." He said warmly, taking the embarrassing hint of fear and shoving it firmly aside. He was the greatest sorcerer ever to live and this was an angsty boy. And yet he gave off a dangerousness that set the hairs on the back of Merlins neck firmly on end. He sighed inwardly at the irony, of all people, he should be the one to scare others, and yet even a boy could do it better than him.

Tom blinked up at Merlin, upper lip stiff.

"So you're the fabled Mr Thomas." It wasn't a question.

"I am, I am, and yet," Merlin answered levelly, realising that the 'warmth and friendliness' attitude wasn't going to soften Tom at any rate, "I don't see you jumping up and down about my "fabled chocolate."

"No," Tom answered with a polite but painfully forced smile, "Good Day, Mr Thomas." And he shut the door in Merlins face. The warlock caught the smile dropping into a cold glare before the lock snapped shut.

Merlin sighed.

"Tom.." he said, pressing a hand to the door, his tone a little more stern, "If I wanted to be downstairs with the other children instead of talking to you I would be." He tried to reason but there was no reply.

"Please, it won't be long, I just want to ask you something." Merlin balled his palm against the door into a fist when there was still no movement to open the door. He placed his forehead to the wood in despair. Perhaps he had to approach this from a different direction.

He was so unimaginably curious about this boy and the effect he seemed to have on Merlin, that the Warlock couldn't just leave it there and walk away. He hadn't seen anything like this boy in all his endless years and in truth he was worried about what such a potential could do to one so young. He thought back to his childhood in Ealdor, wondering what could have become of him if he had not had his mother to tell him to keep his faith when wave after wave of bullies targeted him as a freak. Hunnith has been the one to teach him right from wrong, to tell him time and time again that revenge was not a way to use his gifts.

This boy had Martha, but Martha was not enough. Martha was not a mother or a father and Tom he could see was already sinking. Merlin hoped to pull the boy out, if he could, but he needed more information first. How much did Tom know about the gifts Merlin sensed within him? And what had caused him to behave the way he did?

Merlin tried one last time to get Tom to open the door. He took in a sharp breath when again he failed. He stood back from the door, resigning himself to his unfortunate conclusion. He had to give the boy a reason to want to talk to him- this door would do reluctantly nicely.

He raised a slightly shaking hand towards the door, grimacing and hoping no one would venture upstairs before he repaired the damage he was about to do. He breathed deeply, banishing all trace of the tremor in his hand. He focused, he channeled his magic, he felt it simmer beneath his outstretched fingertips and in one fluid motion he clenched his fist and yanked it back, with his magic pulling the door firmly out of the frame. It hung limp in the air for a moment while Merlin strode into Toms bedroom and then fitted itself, rather contemptuously back into place with a satisfied click after a smooth flick of Merlins hand. The warmth faded from behind Merlins irises and he took in his new surroundings.

Contrasting to the wooden panelled, dusty carpeted and warm landing hallway, Toms room was a blank slate. Remnants of a blue printed teddy-bear wallpaper lay plastered to the back wall- the last shreds of it, too stubborn to give in to the plainness of the rest of the room. To Merlins left a bunk bed stood against one of the walls of the box-room and at its foot sat a small chest of drawers. The single mattress on the bottom bunk looked like it had not been slept in for several days and there were no clothes strewn about on the aged wooden floor as you would expect in an ordinary boys bedroom.

A single candlestick was all that lay on the bedside table, though a drawer was set into the simple wooden box. There was a locked wardrobe against the wall which the door was set into that looked as if it purposely didn't want to be opened. The back window was shut, the curtains drawn and the only place in the bedroom that looked as if it was used was the desk on the adjacent wall to Merlins right.

Tom stood in front of it, as if he had made a last desperate attempt to hide its contents from Merlin before he realised what had just happened.

Papers where strewn across it with a furious slanting scrawl across them, large books could be seen beneath all the scattered ink pots and broken quills. Bullet points and diagrams rewritten over and over, notes tacked to various sheets indicating someone desperately trying to piece something together. Merlin spotted a corner of a photo frame sticking out from under the madness.

Finally, the Warlock turned to regard Tom. His expression was of shock, of course, but there was a hint of something else there, and as the pair stared each other down that something else grew across Toms features, and it was Merlins turn to look perplexed.

It was lust. A greed for power shone in the boys eyes as he trained them beadily on Merlin, a hint of scrutiny and thoughtfulness could be seen in the way he squinted just a little and his eyebrows knitted together.

Merlin felt repulsed by the look. It suddenly and awfully hit him that Tom had sunk further than he thought. No boy would turn to desire over awe so quickly. Tom clearly wanted power so badly that even shock could not interfere. What did he want it for? Merlin dared not think yet.. he was so, so painfully young..

One thing was for sure, if Tom hadn't wanted to talk to him before, he certainly did now.

"You could teach me?" Tom said quietly, indicating the door.

"That's something we would need to talk about." Merlin answered, his plan to keep Tom engaged. He stepped further into the room, kneading his forehead a couple of times. So Tom knew about his powers, that was clearly evident, he would never ask to be taught something unless he knew that he was at least somewhat different. Merlin thought he'd make sure.

"Have you ever noticed you can do things that the other children here can't?" He asked, phrasing the question carefully.

The gleam in Toms eyes said it all, but he answered anyway.

"Oh yes. I know what I am."

So he knew about the modern wizarding society? Now that was interesting. Merlin began to pace about the strange room, thinking. Tom opened his mouth eagerly to speak again, eyes still darting to the door every so often as if he had to keep pinching himself. It was unnerving how happy the boy had become, and a smile did not look like it often presented itself on his face. Unfortunately, Merlin found himself cutting off Toms open mouth with a question of his own.

"Excuse me for asking, Tom, but what do you know of your parentage?" He was treading on thin ice asking a question like that in an orphanage but Tom answered all the same.

"My mother had magic." He said, "and my father.." Tom scowled at the floor, clearly only answering to get Merlin to move on to his own questions.

"He didnt have it? That seems to upset you-"

"He was scum!" Tom hissed. "He abandoned my mother, he drove her to her death, he- he- they all deserve to-"

"Tom." Merlin stopped him sternly, placing a firm hand on the boys shoulder, watching as he squirmed for a moment under another's touch before resorting to glaring at the floor uncomfortably. Merlin took his hand away, sighing loudly, this void was a lot deeper and darker than he had first envisaged.

"No one deserves anything for the sins of another, Tom. Whatever your father did, there's nothing you can do-"

"Nothing I can do?" Tom said quietly, a threat edged his voice. "Don't tell me there's nothing I can do Mr Thomas. There's a lot more I can do than the rest of these ignorant children!"

Merlin took a step back, his brow furrowed in the deepest concern. "Tom, don't forget you are as much a child as they are. You may have magic but that doesn't mean you are any better than muggles. They have done a lot more for wizards than wizards have ever done for them."

"And that's how it should be." Tom stated in defiance of Merlins words. "You show me you are a Wizard and then you turn out to be a muggle-lover? I should think I should find someone else to teach me."

Merlin knew Tom was lying. He was playing Merlin already.

"I haven't agreed to teach you yet. It is possible that you don't deserve to learn- nor should you at such a young age." Merlin speculated. He had just about decided at this point- Tom needed to leave this place. He couldn't continue to survive here, just as Merlin had been at odds with the children at Ealdor, so was Tom here at Wools. Only, Tom hadn't any parent to help him and he would no doubt be receiving a Hogwarts letter soon.. he couldn't wait any longer though. Toms situation was more grave than Merlins had ever been and Merlin felt himself growing surer and surer of what needed to happen.

He realised Tom had started speaking again. "It reacts to my emotions. When I'm angry it does things and I'm unable to control it. The ordinary children here fear it. They hate me for it, they never even tried to welcome me when I came here-"

"Perhaps because you never tried to welcome them either Tom." Merlin muttered to himself, stopping the cunning boy in his tracks. He understood his game very well.

Tom opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, "I-It was.. why should I have welcomed them when they would only hate and abandon me anyway. They are below me." He finally answered.

"Do you really fear rejection from them Tom?" Merlin said, walking towards the door, thinking more of his talk with Martha than of filtering his tongue, "Or do you you fear rejection from me?"

Merlin opened the door manually this time, shutting it quietly behind him and pacing quickly back down the hall. As soon as he left the landing the tension in the air seemed to leave and laughter filtered into his senses, simple happiness and excitement suffocated the air. He strolled into the common room with a smile and was met with a little cheer that made his cheeks flush. His eyes twinkled as he took in the children of Wools happily munching on the confectionery he had brought and Martha doing her rounds, picking up wrappers and telling everyone that they had to clean their teeth especially well tonight.

When she spotted Merlin, she made her way over, a curious crease in her brow. "That was more than five minutes Mortimer." She said sternly and Merlin knew she wanted answers- she rarely used the first name he had chosen unless she was especially serious. Even less in front of the children.

"I've come to an important decision regarding Toms welfare." Merlin replied, "if it would be okay, I would like to discuss it as soon as possible."

"You can stay over this evening, we can talk after dinner," she replied, "If the children even want to eat after what you've brought." She phrased it like a telling off but Merlin chuckled and she also adopted a small smile.

"I'll entertain them for a while, you go cancel dinner and put your feet up." Merlin said, smiling as Martha raised her eyebrows and took the pile of wrappers she was holding out to the kitchen, leaving him to it.

He had barely turned back to the room when the children were crowded around him, the older ones asking for him to do one of his tricks and the younger ones who had he had not yet met asking if he really was a magician. Merlin chuckled and obliged, picking up a plain wrapper from the side table and crumpling it in his hand, he threw it up in the air, there was a little flash of gold, barely noticeable as something other than the flicker of a light and Merlin caught the balled up wrapper firmly in his hand.

He crouched down, letting the children crowd around him in anticipation as he opened his outstretched hand to reveal not only a perfectly intact wrapper, but a boiled sweet still inside.

It was a simple trick really, less down to magic and more down to slight of hand in swapping the old wrapper for a sweet of the same variety but the children couldn't get enough of it. He ended up doing the replenishing trick with just about every child in the room before Martha came back in, saying that they would be having a light dinner, and that each of them had to eat a vegetable before they could leave the table.

As the children filed from the room, Martha turned to Merlin with a furrowed brow.

"The staff said they'll handle this evening for me, come, let's take a seat in the office."

Merlin followed Martha back into the hall, into a small room adjacent to the front door. It was dimly lit, with dark-green coloured walls and a high skirting board, a single desk stood against one wall and a set of drawn curtains stood behind a small table and a pair of chairs. Filing cabinets, some overflowing, were stacked beside the door. Merlin quickly took a seat, eager to start.

"So, what did you make of him?" Martha asked, eyes indicating the floor above where Toms bedroom was.

"I'm still not sure, I don't know enough about his background- but he can't stay here Martha. He just can't."

"So you're suggesting.."

"Yes. And as soon as possible."

"We've tried. No families will take him." Martha sighed, but Merlin sprung back with his answer.

"That's why I shall be taking him in."

Martha stilled in her seat. "Mortimer.. I urge you to think a little more on this. It's not-"

"Martha, I have rarely been so sure of something in my life," Merlin said, reaching across the desk to lay his hand atop Martha's in earnest, "though I do have a few questions still."

"I don't know what you've seen in him." Martha said quietly, but nodded.

"What do you know of Toms parents?"

Martha sucked in a breath, "His father, Tom Riddle Sr, was rumoured to have left his mother when she was with Tom. She died hours after he was born, some said from the birth itself... others say she just.. gave up."

"She came here? To the Orphanage?" Merlin pressed thoughtfully.

"Yes, that's where she gave birth. A few months after your last visit. She had just enough time to name the boy before she died." Martha said solemnly.

"What was her name, his mother?" Merlin asked, hopeful.

"Merope, I believe." Martha answered, taking a moment to process her memory. Merlin imagined she didn't often bring such a subject to mind.

"Surname?"

"I couldn't say, we just knew she needed help, that was all. There were few questions asked. If it is any use, he was also named after his grandfather- Marvolo."

Merlin sat back in his chair a moment, the silence filling the room. He wracked his brains. Merope and Marvolo... Marvolo and Merope... he tested the names on his tongue and they rolled off so easily he knew they should mean something to him. He cursed himself for travelling these past twelve years, his knowledge of the wizarding families of England had been pushed from his mind. He would have to go to the books.

"Does anything.. unusual.. happen around Tom? Perhaps when he is angry, or sad?" Merlin said, moving on from the question of family.

"It's funny you should ask that Mr Thomas." Martha said, a small smile playing on her lips that held no mirth. "The things are a little more... sinister than your party tricks."

"I'm sure." Merlin said in a low voice. "Can you describe any?"

"He liked to scare the children, you know, in the earlier days. I'm sure he still has a whole collection of his "trophies" in that wardrobe. But in the last year.. after the incident at the beach, he's been incredibly isolated."

"Trophies?"

"The children's toys. You barely see him any more now though. Meals are sent up to his room- after one of the staff got a nasty burn at dinner. Mentioned Toms mother, tried to cheer him up. Scolding hot water, everywhere."

"So because he was a danger to the children.. you've made him a danger to himself." Merlin said bitterly. "You just can't win sometimes."

"No." Martha said quietly, deadly serious. "But I cant jeopardise the safety of the others. Tom is a lost cause. A devilish boy. I often dread to think what he's doing up there, but no one dares knock and see." She almost hissed the last part, he eyes glassed over in bitterness. Merlin had to agree, it was infuriating. He wondered what it was that had attached him to such a vile boy so quickly.

"You mentioned another incident- at the beach."

"Last year. We took the children, a harmless outing. Tom took two into a cave, no doubt charmed them into an adventure of sorts. They were never the same afterwards. Won't talk about what happened there to this day."

"And you say.. Tom isolated himself from then on?"

"Well, he'd already begun to. Drawing into himself, very thoughtful all of a sudden. He was nonetheless cruel, until he came back from that trip and seemed to put himself above it all. It wasn't that he'd changed or anything, he just seemed to think that playing tricks was no longer worth his time. Something in that cave.. escalated everything."

"He's certainly sinking." Merlin agreed, processing the new information. "Whatever it was, Tom has got far bigger plans on his mind now. He's working hard up in that room."

Martha raised her eyebrows, "He let you in?"

"You give him a reason to want to talk.. and he will. You must know he plays games Martha. You just have to play them back." Merlin explained. It was almost entirely truthful.

Martha smiled to herself.

"I've no idea why I let you try to talk to him in the first place. Perhaps you just have a way with these things."

"Experience, mainly." Merlin commented, "So, how are we going to go about this?" He reiterated, rolling his shoulders and taking off his thick grey duffel coat, hanging it on the back of his chair.

"You still want to adopt him? Surely with your lifestyle-"

"I will make sure I am here for the rest of his schooling. Twenty years or so is not so long to stick around." Merlin assured, noting the old curiosity return to Martha's expression when he mentioned time. Time for him was not the same as time for her, and she seemed to have cottoned on that Merlin was possibly older than he appeared.

"You will tutor Tom? He is incredibly apt, there is little the teacher here can do for him."

"I have something in mind." Merlin said.

"I still don't think this is wise Mr Thomas. What with all the.. incidents around Tom, not to mention his very nature. We have tried to get him assessed by a professional.. but circumstances always arise.. people suspect it may be Toms doing keeping them away." Martha actually looked concerned, worried.

"Martha, you have to trust me. I know Tom has been written off. I can see it in your eyes now, and in the children's before- you think he is too far gone." Merlin said, leaning forward again over the table, a tiny simmering of anger in his voice as he brought to the surface a memory of a woman from long ago.

"I knew someone once. Too many people failed her too many times. Very few noticed her sinking so when she did turn- no one thought to pull her out. I was the only one who saw. I was the only one who could have helped her.. but I didn't. I didn't dare try- I was too scared of the consequences that would befall myself. So when she fell to the darkness, that was on me". Merlin blinked back the water from his eyes.

Guilt was an ever present ghost. It followed Merlin like a shadow, banished only partially by the days distractions and consuming his dreams. He could not- would not- let Tom fall. A challenge, yes. Dangerous- certainly. But he had to do it.

"Oh God above," Martha sighed, leaning back in her chair, "This is going to be a lot of paperwork Mortimer."

Hey! Thanks for reading the first chapter.. Who ever you may be. I've written a multi- chaptered fic before, but let's just say... It's on Wattpad for a reason.

I'm hoping I can take what I've learnt from that fic and apply it to this story, which has been planned and put together with a lot more thought. It won't be perfect, but I hope you enjoy the ride anyway.

I've put quite a bit of research into dates in this fic, so hopefully it will follow a consistent timeline, that fits into HP cannon along the way. Tom was born on December 31st 1926, Merlin visited Wools in the summer of that year before going travelling. Tom would start Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1938, with his letter arriving a few months prior, which is why I have decided to set the first chapter in March 1938.

Yours, Hedge