Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 448 per PocketWord
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to licenseartistic
The siren blares into the night, waking Tom out of a dead sleep with a sharp jolt of terror. Around him in the dorm the other boys are waking, some crying out, some shocked to silence in their fear, still others panting as if they've just had their lives scared out of them. One of the younger boys is crying already, and Tom squashes the urge to scream at him and tell him to shut up because part of him is halfway there himself.
They hurry everyone downstairs into the basement shelter, which is little more than the storeroom set up with blankets and a few pillows. He squints to see in the faint light of a hand-cranked torch and frowns as he sees some of the older boys stealing tins of food from the shelves, but he doesn't say anything, knowing it would only earn him more trouble.
Instead he huddles down in his corner, pressed in tight with other boys he can't stand, all of them trembling in fear as the ground shakes from nearby explosions. He can't help wondering what was hit, hopes it isn't the sweet shop on the corner where he's charmed the owner with his politeness. And then the ground shakes again, shaking dust down from the ceiling. He bites back a shriek but the boy next to him bursts into tears.
Anger floods him, pushing back the fear. He could do something about this. He could keep himself safe -- he could possibly keep them all safe -- and yet he can't do a damned thing because of the laws against underage magic. And just why haven't they been evacuated like many of the other children? Why has the government forgotten them -- and why is he there? Why is he, Tom Riddle, wizard, trapped in here with these stupid Muggle boys reeking of their own fear?
He frowns, anger beginning to seethe. Why have their governments forgotten them? Why is he there, helpless and afraid, when in truth he could be shielding at least a part of the city, and perhaps even bringing down some of the planes? It would be easy -- just transfigure the propellers into feathers, or something equally soft, and the Germans would plummet out of the sky...
He frowns, his eyes narrowed, wishing for the reassuring feel of his wand in his hand, and he vows right then and there, he will never be this helpless when he grows up. He will be the most powerful wizard ever, and as soon as he is of age, he will find a way to protect himself from ever being harmed again. No one will ever rule him...