Chapter 6

In a run-down old orphanage, in a small room, jammed with a dozen miserable cots with scratchy cotton blankets, a little boy, no more than five, sat crying desperately. He hurt all over from the bruises left by a beating that morning.

Strange things had happened again. Somehow, when one of his many tormentors cam and stole his measly bowl of thin gruel, the bowl had leapt of i's own volition, out of the bigger boy's hands and dumped itself all over his head. The caretakers had thought he had done it, and had beat him so badly he could barely walk. And they had banned him from the mess hall the rest of the day. No meals the rest of the day. They called him a freak, a monster-child, devil-spawn.

And so he cried, alone in his misery. He tried to recall the dream he'd had the night before to chase away the hurt.

A nice lady in a long white dress had come to him and took him away from the terrible place. She had long brown hair and bright green eyes. She did not tell him her name but she talked sweetly to him and held him close as he listened. He cried that nobody loved him, that he was a monster.

She stroked his fluffy, black hair and replied, "You're wrong, I love you very much."

"You do?" the boy asked, "Really?" he was skeptical but, being five and lonely, he wanted dearly to believe her.

"More than anything," she answered. "More than anything."

Voldemort lay in his soft, warm bed, contemplating the memory of the dream. He remember that every night for a year, he'd dream of the nice lady. But then, one night, she had announced that she would not be coming back for a very long time. But she did promise to come back, that they would meet again someday. One day, when he would least expect it.

"Could it be her?" he asked himself. He sat up and remembered the night before. How he'd cried like a baby. He'd hoped none of his followers had hear, but seeing as he was in bed, with no recollection of putting himself there, his hopes were dashed.

He stood up and went to the window and did something that he had never done before. He threw open the curtains and let sunlight stream in. After his his outburst, his hours worth of crying, he felt light. As if a small candle had been lit, and placed in the darkest part of his heart, filling it with it's gentle light. he never wanted to be trapped in the darkness again.

The sun was so bright against the snow that must have fallen the night before, and his eyes were so used to the dimness of the norm, that he had to squint and shield his eyes for several minutes before they adjusted properly and the light no longer hurt. The ski was a brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight for miles and miles. The snow that glistened upon the ground seemed to shout his name and he had to greatly repress the urge to run out of the house to run about it like a child.

Only the usual rapping at his door was able to break his gaze from the window. Wormtail walked in with the breakfast tray and tea cart. He stopped in astonishment, "Master, it's so bright in here." He looked over at Voldemort as he stood by the window.

Voldemort did not growl or glare at the man as he usually did. Instead he smiled, a genuine, happy smile. "Good morning, Wormtail. Yes, I am aware that it is bright, I wanted the window curtains open today."

Now Wormtail was sure his master was il. It was the only possible explanation.

Voldemort continued, "I am tired of living in darkness. From now on, unless it is night, all curtains in the manor are to be open." He walked over to the wall by his bed, touching it, "Look, I never noticed before, but this room, it is a handsome green shade, the likes of which I have never seen before, like a fir tree." he turned back to his servant, "Did you ever notice? Forty years in this

place and I never saw. I wonder what other colors there are, what other things I have overlooked while in the dark."

Finally, Wormtail understood, it must have been the aftereffect of the crying he had done the other day. He'd expected the master to be sullen and unusually grumpy today, but instead, it seemed to have left his master feeling better. As though the weight of the world had been lifted off his back and indeed, the old wizard did seem to be standing straighter, taller even. And he would encourage

anything that left his master feeling so happy. "I will see to it at once, Master." he made to do as he was commanded,

"But first," Voldemort raised a hand, "I wish to have my breakfast in the dining room this morning, with Miss. Grace." He reached into the closet and pulled out a moth-eaten frock and transfigured it into a lovely turquoise dress. "Take this to her and allow her to bathe and change into it."

Wormtail nodded and took the dress and used a sending charm to order the breakfast and tea down to the dining room.

Voldemort took out of the closet, his finest black robe and went to his own bathroom. He wanted to look his best.