Childhood of the Dark Lord

My entry for the 'Battle of the Fandoms Competition'. The story of Tom Marvolo Riddle's childhood.


5. Broken Glass

Tom woke up early the next morning and no sooner had he opened his eyes than his mind was already working over the events of the night before. He had realised a long time ago that he had been cursed with the bad fortune to be homed with a bunch of fools, but he had not honestly thought they would fall for that. He had suddenly become sweet, sickeningly so, and they hadn’t questioned it at all. They were all idiots. They only saw what they wanted to see. It was almost laughable how desperate they were to control him. Tom knew that they were no more than cockroaches skittering about on the floor, difficult to kill but easy to stomp on but his patience with them was still running low.

He dressed quickly and after feeding the rabbit he made his way slowly down the stairs, making sure to keep to the edges of the steps so they wouldn’t creak and alert anyone to his plans. Tom tiptoed into the kitchen where he could see Mrs Cole slumped forwards onto the table, an empty glass knocked over near her hand. Tom stifled a snigger as he leant forwards and moved it towards the edge of the table after refilling it. Closing the door slightly behind him, yet leaving it open far enough to peer into the room, Tom checked that no one was coming down the stairs before he slipped his hand into his blazer pocket and pulled out some paper.

Tom screwed the paper up quietly in an attempt to smother the noise of the crinkling paper before he launched it through the air towards Mrs Cole. It hit her on the bridge of her nose and she jumped up from her slumped position with so much force that she jolted the table and so just as exactly as Tom had planned it, the glass fell of the table and it shattered on the floor.  Mrs Cole began to curse before covering her mouth with a look of horror at the clock on the shelves in the kitchen. Tom waited a few seconds as Mrs Cole turned away to reach for the dustpan and brush before he snuck back into the kitchen to crouch down on the floor and begin to pick up the larger shards of the broken glass.

As Mrs Cole turned around with the dustpan and brush clasped in her hands she soon dropped them as she was faced with the situation before her. Tom continued to pick up the glass shards until finally he dropped them into the dustpan where it lay on the floor after its impromptu nosedive from Mrs Cole’s grasp. He then swept up the smaller glass shards. After doing so he left the dustpan full of glass and the brush on the kitchen table where Tom knew Mrs Cole could reach them to dispose of the glass safely.

 “Good morning, Mrs Cole.” He chirped simply before leaving the room with the smirk growing wider on his face.

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