The Riddle Of Riddle

The Riddle of Riddle

The voices rose in volume once and someone was slammed into a wall with a dull thud causing the light fixtures to rattle tiredly. Theodora Harman, Matron of Caerphilly Orphanage raised her eyes to heaven in a plea for self control . Hoping that it would be answered she set her papers in order and rose from the desk.

She opened the door on what to the untrained eye would look like chaos. Young Natalie Gordenstone was perched angelically on a cushion in the middle of the floor. Two slices of bread lay on the dusty floor beside her. She greeted the Matron with a raspberry jam smile and turned her curly blonde head towards the other two occupants of the room.

The two boys had become still as statues upon seeing her enter. The younger boy now melted and began struggling furiously against the weight of the other, who was pinning him to the floor. His black hair was slicked back by blood flowing from a narrow gash in his scalp but his green eyes still blazed furious and bright. Theodora rallied herself and prepared to act the part assigned her for the thousandth time.

"Rodney let him up now!"

They both got up, eyeing each other aggressively.

"Stand here."

She barked gesturing to the space just in front of her. They did so, she stared hard at them both. Rodney dropped his eyes after a few seconds but Tom remained staring at her, his eyes boring into her very core. She chided herself privately, she shouldn't fight battles she couldn't win. After almost a minutes silence she spoke as calmly as she could.

"Now then, tell me what is going on. One at a time!" she added loudly as both protested loudly. "Very well Tom you go first."

"Natalie broke into my room and stole my mother's necklace."

His voice was steady and unflustered. His hand flew up automatically to wipe the trickle of blood out of his eyes.

"You saw this as a fitting reason for physical violence?"

"No Ma'am, I came in to retrieve my property. The young lady protested and called to her brother. It was he who initiated the violence."

"I see, Rodney is this true?"

"No! I came in and e was pullin on the necklace and me sis was cryin. I tol' im to gerrof but e wouldn so I pulled him off and that's what appened."

"Well Rodney, the necklace was his."

Rodney didn't pay any attention. He was sneering at Tom.

"Only a Nancy boy owns a necklace! Nancy boy!"

"Oh how very original, I must note that down in my study into the social skills of the Cretin."

"Tom, Rodney!"

They stopped bickering and fell silent once more.

"Now then, Natalie, give me Tom's necklace."

Tears formed in the baby blue eyes of the little girl but Theodora was not about to be taken in by the angel act, she'd been doing this job too long. She looked sternly back and very firmly untwined the necklace from around Natalie's chubby fingers.

"Please don't take it again Natalie. It isn't yours. If you do then I will have to make you miss pudding."

She handed it back to Tom. "Right, Rodney for attacking a fellow child you have to help Sarah with dinner all week."

Rodney stomped off muttering obscenities. Tom turned to walk away but felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Come on Tom, let's get that forehead cleaned up."

He sat in silence while she mopped up the blood and rummaged for a plaster. She held up a blue on decorated with clowns and prepared to stick it in place. He spoke so suddenly that she jumped despite herself.

"That is below my dignity."

"Well Tom, so is fighting. You know that you are too mature for that."

"You didn't say that to Rodney."

"Well he can't help it. With your brains you can. You should have come to me."

That seemed to be all he had to say. He prodded the new plaster experimentally and then walked out shutting the door behind him. Watching him leave she fell deep into thought. She walked purposely over to the cabinet and pulled it open.

Riddle, Thomas Marvolo

Below was a record of Tom's entire life, from his birth and the death of his mother all the way through his turbulent years at the orphanage. It contained records of special education provisions to help him with learning. It also contained referrals to any number of psychiatrists for behavioural disorders ranging from a tendency to prefer solitude to active difficulties in being with other people.

Tom was a unique case in her experience though. He was not by any means learning disabled , he was one of the most gifted children she'd ever worked with. However it was from this extreme intelligence that his problems stemmed. He couldn't relate to other people, they couldn't understand him. He was also shunned by the other children for deeper reasons.

There was something about him, he was odd. Unexplained things would happen where he was involved. If someone was bullying him their possessions would simply vanish. No amount of searching would return them until an apology was forthcoming, then they would all turn up in odd little nooks and crannys. They could never find Tom taking them, or find them hidden in Tom's room but it always happened. Just at that moment her musings were interrupted with Jacob asking for his pocket money and she forgot all about Tom Riddle and his strange ways.

Tom hated the orphanage, he had tried to run away countless times. He'd always been caught though so in the end he decided to find a more legal solution to his desire for escape. He'd found it some months later in the form of the local library. The librarian had frowned at him when he had first set foot through the doors. His scruffy eight year old appearance and worn clothes just oozed trouble. He remembered their first exchange of words.

"What are you doing in here little boy?"

"I am looking for books Ma'am."

He'd always found politeness to be the best route in these situations. He was right, the librarian softened her expression slightly and peered over the top of her thick reading glasses.

"Well I am sure that your infant school has lots of picture books for you to read, this library is for grown ups."

"I am aware of that Ma'am. I was looking for something a little challenging."

Subsequently the librarian had produced the Alice in Wonderland picture book. Tom had reappeared asking for a new one fifteen minutes later. She didn't believe him and decided to present him with Plato's Republic. She was utterly amazed when he asked if she could hold it over night because he hadn't had time to finish.

"You can't have read that!"

"I assure you that I have."

"What did you think of it?"

"I thought it was a very logically thought out approach towards an idyllic society, however it does lack some social justice."

Open mouthed she had agreed to hold the book for him. It had been the beginning of a cordial relationship. He would come in as often as he could and she would always have a new pile of recommendations for him. He ate his way through at least three inches of printed word a week and became quite a well known figure in the library's small comfortable reading room.

That was where he had gone just after he'd been dismissed by the Matron. He was curled up in an old plush velvet armchair with bald patches on the seat and armrests. He seemed to be utterly absorbed in Shakespere, as he had been for the last two hours. Molly Phelps, the librarian poked her head round the door.

"Tom, it's nearly 5 O'clock."

This was her daily reminder, almost part of her routine. If she didn't tell Tom to go home for tea then her day seemed somehow incomplete. He swung down from the chair and placed the heavy volume on the counter before leaving. She smiled fondly and turned the lights down for the end of the day.