Prelude

Nineteen-year-old, newly wed Mary Cole knew something odd would happen that day the very minute she woke up in her thin mattress, her black eyes staring up at the peeling paint of the ceiling. Mary knew that it was New Year's Eve. However, she couldn't help feeling that something very, very odd and very, very dangerous was about to begin.

Yet, she got off the bed, tidied up her bed and immersed herself into running after naughty orphans, bathing newborns along with her fellow colleagues, and supervising how the wizened cook cooked something nice for a change, as it was New Year's Eve. But she still couldn't shake that something bad was going to happen.

That evening, while Mary was writing a letter to her mother, one of the older orphans, Rose entered in her room, looking rather tensed.

"Mrs. Cole, you'd better stop writing now." Rose said anxiously.

Mary looked up from her letter and shot a look of annoyance at Rose. "What is it now? Do you not see that I am writing a letter?"

"I can see that well, Mrs. Cole, but you'd better stop now." Rose said. "There's a woman down there, about to give birth in the Sitting Room."

"Why didn't you tell me before, you silly girl?" Mary got up from the old, hard chair. She threw away the pen and ran after Rose. Oh, what should they do now? What should they do now?

Finally, the two women reached the Sitting Room. Rose opened the door tentatively and Mary immediately clapped her hands around her ears. The shrill were issuing from a young, plain looking girl not older than herself. The girl was arranged on the sofa, surrounded by Mary's colleagues and the lazy mutt of a cook, her simple head resting on one of the cushions. It was a piteous sight. Mary did not want to see it; however, her mama's manners rang inside her head.

Help those who are in need. Mama's voice commanded. Mary took a deep breath and said:

"Call Dr. Wilbert, Rose. Now."

"How are you feeling?" Mary whispered to the young girl, who looked greatly weakened after giving birth to the child, who was surprisingly not crying.

The girl glanced at Mary and then looked down at the bundle next to her in a painstakingly loving manner. Mary felt really sad for her. She instinctively stroked the girl's dull hair and whispered, "Don't worry, you are safe now."

"I hope he looks like his papa." The girl said softly. Mary privately agreed. That girl was no looker.

"Please... I request you one last thing." The girl said. "Please... name him Tom after his papa and Marvolo for my papa."

Mary looked over her shoulder, giving a quizzical look to Dr. Wilbert, who just shrugged. Was the girl lying on the sofa from the circus? Her clothes were a maid's nightmare and she –

"Please, put his surname as Riddle." The girl said. She shuddered, exhaled her last breath and her eyes became lifeless.

"She died!" Mary exclaimed. Mary had never seen anyone die in her life. This was such a weird experience. Just utter a few words and escape from life! So simple! And Mary had always thought Death would give pain while a person would die.

"Take the child away." Dr. Wilbert said, grieved. Mary knew that he was upset. She knew it too well that he was upset that one of his patients – even if the patient hadn't paid – had died in front of his very eyes.

So wordlessly, Mary took the bundle of clothes in her arms, cajoling the baby and taking him away to the room where the infants resided. The room was dark and still. It smelled strongly of pee, which Mary skilfully ignored and rested the baby Tom Marvolo Riddle in one of the spare cribs, surprisingly, kissing his forehead with her numb lips. She left the room, not knowing that baby Tom was smiling. He was not smiling an ordinary smile, but a malicious smile and a little gleam in his dark eyes. Oh, how this baby was different from its roommates!

A/N:- This is the darkest thing I have ever written, I tell you. Review :)