The Tale of Tom

Chapter One: The Letter

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A shaft of moonlight fell from between the open blinds. The light came upon a young boy's open eyes. It was late but Tom couldn't sleep. Not tonight. He glanced at the open letter on his nightstand. The Hogwarts crest seemed to glow in the moonlight, as though it, too, could sense the excitement.

Tom rolled onto his back. Him, a wizard. He couldn't believe it. Something told him that as soon as he fell asleep the letter was going to vanish. The letter had arrived around noon to a very confused Tom. He hadn't gotten a single piece of mail in his eleven years of residing at the orphanage. It had surprised him even more when the woman in charge of the orphanage had pulled him aside, warning him to open it in private. He had nodded speechlessly and waited until everybody in the orphanage was asleep. He was still a bit perplexed but he was sure everything would become clear in the morning.

He settled deeper under the covers. Him, a wizard.

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Tom woke up early, surprised to find he had fallen asleep. Checking quickly, he found the Hogwarts letter still on his nightstand. He breathed a sigh of relief and carefully climbed out of his bed, all the while making sure not to hit his head on the bunk above. It had happened too many times. Tom pulled out a ratty sweater and a pair of trousers. Every scrap of clothing he owned had at least one hole in it. Hastily grabbing a comb, (which happened to be missing several teeth) he brushed his ink-black hair and surveyed his appearance in the mirror. The pudding-bowl haircut he sported was practical enough but, lifting a strand up, he realized it was starting to get too long. It would need to be cut soon.

"Tom, are you coming?"

"In a minute Miss O'Flan."

The woman who worked at the orphanage was called Miss O' Flannery and she watched them. The little kids often referred to her as "Ma'am O'Flan."

As Tom turned away from the mirror he caught a glimpse of his own eyes. Miss O'Flan insisted they were his best feature, which served to only make him more embarrassed of them. They were a stormy blue but when light reflected off them they became a much lighter shade. The eye of the storm, as she so often joked.

"Tom?"

"Coming!"

Tom walked into the kitchen/breakfast room/dining room/living room where breakfast was being served.

"Tom!"

One of the five year olds tackled him into a hug.

"Hi, Rose," Tom said, doing his best not to stumble backwards. "Let's have breakfast," he added as he tried to pry her off him and slide into a seat. Rose complied happily and went back to visit the babies.

"Miss O'Flan?" Tom tried nervously.

"Mmm, yes?" She was engaged in washing the dishes.

"Can I ask you about my letter?" There was no need for Tom to clarify which letter.

"Eat your breakfast first and then you may."

Tom tried to eat as fast as he could but the oatmeal did not seem to want to slide down his throat. There were so many questions he wanted to ask!

He ate what he considered enough and quickly washed out his bowl. "I'm right here, Tom," Miss O'Flannery replied in response to his unasked question.

"I-I just," Tom tried to find the right words to express all of his questions at once.

Miss O'Flan gave a slight laugh and replied. "Take a deep breath Tom. Now what is it you want to ask me?"

"Is it real?" Tom nervously blurted out, afraid his hopes might be shattered.

"Of course it's real," Miss O'Flan replied in a calming voice.

"I-where do I get all of this stuff?" Tom asked referring to the sheet of needed supplies.

"You get them at a group of wizard stores in London. I can't go with you personally but I can show you where it is on a map."

Tom nodded and a second thought struck him. "But how could I get there? Surely it's too far to walk."

"Now, now. Don't you worry your pretty little head about," Miss O'Flannery said smiling.

Tom turned away when a final question occurred to him. "Miss O'Flan?"

"Yes, m'dear," she said not looking up from her book into which she seemed to have reimmersed herself.

"Are you a witch?"

"No," Miss O'Flan said looking up from her book. "I'm a squib."

Something in her tone of voice told him to not ask what a squib was, but for the first time he noticed the few strands of gray hair amongst her brown and the wrinkles around her eyes seemed shockingly visible.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle, or anything from the Harry Potter series.

A/N: The first chapter! Please review, and I would of course appreciate constructive criticism. Also, the rating and genre will probably change once I get further along.