PART I

Chapter 1 - Brightness

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A chirping of birds outside my window stirred me. Through the thin curtain, sunlight was slanting into the room. The sound of light footsteps was absent from in the hall. No other children must have been awake.

I sat up, groggy and rubbing my eyes. For a while I sat on the bed, my blankets wrapped around me. It was a clear August morning. The only sounds I could hear were those singing birds and the ticking of the wall clock. I stretched, discarded my blanket, and made for my water basin that was across the room under a small mirror. The splash of the cold water was a relieving shock, and I blinked the drops out of my eyes.

Summers at the orphanage were always bland. There was no routine to any day, no school to attend. If Mrs. Cole ever got around to planning anything (she was always so busy, poor woman), such events were sporadic and in-between at best. Other then going down to the dining hall three times a day, there was no set structure to what orphans were to do with their day. Sometimes they went into London with a chaperone, but most milled about in Wool's, waiting for that blessed day for when they would be taken away to a family.

I dressed, combed my hair, and left my room to the lavatory at the other end of the hall that all the orphans on the third floor shared. Amy Benson was there at the sink, staring into the mirror. "Good morning, Amy," I said. She caught sight of my reflection and spun around. Her mouth was a tight line, and without a word, she bolted from the room. She never replied to me anymore, or anyone for that matter. A few years ago we'd gone to the seaside and when we came back, she had stopped speaking to anyone. Dennis Bishop too, one of her friends. I brushed my teeth and went to leave for breakfast when I bumped into someone coming down the hall.

"Watch where you're going, Evelyn!" a voice said.

I looked up, my thoughts scattering. Alice, already a pretty child at thirteen, glared down at me over her narrow nose."You're so stupid. No wonder your parents dumped you here."

I wanted to remind her that her parents had technically done the same. Alice was the most bitter of all the orphans, even though she was by no means the one who had been here the longest. "Leave me alone," I mumbled.

"Aw, did I hurt the widdle girl's feelings?" Alice simpered, leaning down to look me in the eye with her own green ones. Her face turned ugly with a scowl. I stepped back, hating her. "Fix up your hair before you go down to breakfast," she snapped. "No one is ever going to want you if you look like that." She tossed her ebony black curls and continued walking down the hall, banging on the doors to wake the other orphans up.

I was seething. I stared after her, boiling on the inside, restraining every fiber in my being to not run after her and shout in her face.

Right as she passed the door across mine, I saw the light on the wall fizzle. It took only a second to register what was happening.

The lamp burst apart with a flash. I started, but kept my stance, staring. Alice had screamed, crouched down on the floor. The hall was now dark, but nothing was lost on Alice. She scrambled up and felt her face. She gasped, and as she flew down the hall back to her room, I caught sight of a red mark about the size of a thumbprint on her temple. The bulb must have burned her when the lamp broke.

I stumbled to the wall and leaned against it, shaking. I looked around myself. Broken pieces of glass were scattered on the scarred wooden floor boards. The remnants of the fixture still attached to the wall were jagged, a few of the wires still burning red and dimming to black even as I watched them.

Amid the ruckus, one of the doors opened, the door across from my own room. Tom Riddle appeared, looking as bored and sullen as usual, unfazed by the commotion. I stiffened at the sight of him. He glanced around at the pieces of broken lamp and then slowly to me.

"Did you do this?" he asked.

"How could I have done that?" I demanded.

He didn't answer, but instead looked at something behind me. Alice had patched herself messily, a bit of rouge smeared awkwardly over her burn. Instead of making a a beeline for us, as I expected her to do, she instead fled down the steps. I now stood at the end of the hall with Tom. Suddenly feeling awkward, I dismissed myself and followed suit downstairs.

Breakfast was a somber affair. Alice, fussy after the incident, sulked at her table place, ignoring even those who she relished in abusing. I ate my eggs and toast alone, keeping my eyes glued to the plate and letting a few strands of my blonde hair cover my face. The orphanage advisors walked among the tables, making conversation with some of the children occasionally. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that we were all despondent about being orphans, or it was the old building, but everything about Wool's carried with it some sort of loneliness. We were all just grays and smears in this London city, which was so vibrant and full compared to us. The orphanage workers were all kind women who tried to keep us happy, but many of them were there for local charity, dispatched here by their church, staying for a few months only and then leaving when they had done their service. Mrs. Cole, Martha, and a few others were the only permanent ones.

Presently Tom entered the dining hall. He took up a serving of food and chose an empty table to sit at. Just as well: In the eleven years that I had been at Wool's, I had never seen Tom ever eat with anyone willingly, nor had I seen anyone join him willingly. I might have worried that he was bullied, but that wasn't the case. He was too intimidating. Even the older ones avoided him. I wasn't as careful; it would be too difficult, what with our rooms across the hall from each other. Sometimes we caught each other going in or out of our respective chambers. Our chance meetings were silent and quick. At most we would have a second's worth of eye contact before we continued on with our business. No other acknowledgement, words, and certainly not any other smiles. Tom didn't smile.

While I pondered him, Alice had risen from her seat. She had regained her haughty composure and seemed ready to properly tell me off. As I pushed my plate away from me, I saw her march my way resolutely. A stab of trepidation coursed through me.

She never reached me. Halfway between her place and mine, she stopped short. She bent over, hands clutching at her middle. She groaned audibly, letting out harsh gasping sounds, her breath sharp and raspy as she hunched over at almost a right angle.

"Alice!" Several others gathered around her, Mrs. Cole at the front. "What is it?"

Alice couldn't speak, though. She just shook her head. "Let's get you to the infirmary, shall we…" someone said, and I saw Alice being hobbled off with Mrs. Cole. I surveyed the hall; no one else was sick like Alice been, and I myself felt fine as well, so it probably hadn't been the meal. Tom alone wasn't bothered by the trouble. He continued to eat, his disinterest unnerving me. Even though everyone was mostly their own roving spheres, save for the few cliques among certain people, we all invested a certain degree of interest in each other, no matter who it was.

"All right, children, that's enough; no need to cause a scene…" came an order. Breakfast was near over anyway, and we all began to disperse. I had nothing to do, so returned to my room. At the end of the hall, Tom stood there, still. When had he made it up the stairs before me? I averted my gaze as I drew nearer and had my hand on the doorknob when I heard him speak to me again.

"Wait."

I did not lower my hand but turned slightly to show him I was listening.

He didn't say anything again, instead coming closer to me. I felt a little prickle inside. My misgivings about Tom were forefront in my mind: Tom was a strange boy. Always by himself, looking unhappy. There were rumors about him...of him scaring other children, doing things to them. I could tell Mrs. Cole was always fretting about him, or over him, or something. Recently I'd heard it had to do with some hanged pet rabbit that had been found in the attic. It scared me just to think about it. He looked at me intensely, his black eyes boring into me. He seemed almost excited, breathless.

"You're the one who made the lamp break," Tom said slowly. "You say you didn't, but you know it was, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Nothing else…has ever happened?" His words were ordinary, but his tone was not. I knew what he meant. I didn't like it.

I thought back to two winters ago, when the sidewalk had suddenly frozen under Alice's feet and causing her to slip backward rather ridiculously as we all walked back home from school. And the time our headmaster was ridden with horrible boils, thus relieving me of having to serve out my punishment of writing lines…a punishment administered after I had been blamed for causing a "disturbance" in class by somehow inflating the trousers of my teacher as he gave a lesson. I remembered these events distinctly, clearly, but they…had nothing to do with Tom was saying now.

"Nothing," I said stoutly.

"You're lying," Tom said immediately. "And you know it." His voice lowered to a whisper. "You and I—there's something that goes on—"

"Stop talking like that," I said. "You're not making any sense—" Not wanting to stay in that corridor any longer, I fled down the stairs. I could feel his stare watching be as I descended the steps.

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!