The orphanage had sent a nun to fetch him from the station. She was an older woman that looked frail. Tom's memories told him that she was made of steel and part of him held her in high regard even after he entered the magical world. She was stern, but fair unlike others at the orphanage. The worst of the lot had suddenly had a call to spread the word in the countryside. In other words, they fled the city leaving all of the duties to care for the children on those who either chose to stay behind or weren't able to leave. The fact that there were two other students that joined them was something of a surprise. He hadn't thought that Tom had any 'siblings' at the orphanage. Hidden memories surfaced of small kindness toward them. He had desperately tried to bury that portion of himself, but it was a resourceful bastard.
Signs of the war increased drastically once they were outside. It seemed like there was a building that had been turned to rubble every other street. It got worse the further they traveled from the train station. Tom had identified protective wards around the building a few years ago. It was a modified Muggle Repelling array with some physical shielding woven in. The wards had been placed in the early days of the war. A fact which further enraged Tom. The wizards in charge had enough forethought to protect the station but didn't feel the need to do so elsewhere in the city. They simply could have made the city impossible to see from the air or created an illusory city some distance away. No, they just wanted to protect the station to keep their precious tradition intact.
Tom wrestled his mask into place. Harry's emotions surged at the worst of times. This mental melding was getting complicated. Most of the time he didn't think of himself as Tom, but now he could identify parts of his personality that came from Harry. At this point, he was an amalgamation of both. Thankfully, young Tom's mind and Harry's had enough in common to make the process not devolve into psychosis. They were both orphans with traumatic childhoods. Now that he had the memories of both lives he was able to see a startling amount of similarities. It was no wonder that Dumbledore kept such a close eye on Harry. There was good chance he was looking at another Dark Lord in the making.
"Are the Germans coming again?" One of the younger witches asked. His memories supplied that name Claire, a second year Hufflepuff.
"I don't know, child," Sister Veria replied. "Only the Lord knows."
"And the Germans," muttered the other witch mumbled. Gemma, a third year Hufflepuff.
The nun didn't say anything in reply. She had been surprisingly accepting to learn about magic. Sister Veria said that it was a blessing from God rather than a curse. She did refuse to call them witches and wizards though.
Tom tried to play off a laugh as a cough. He didn't think any of them believed it. Gemma gave him a proud smile, then blushed crimson when he flashed a smile of his own.
The moment of levity was quickly overshadowed by the increased level of destruction as they got closer to the orphanage. More buildings were destroyed than those that were still standing. He would need to create a runic array of his own to provide protection. Unfortunately, It wouldn't be as powerful as the one around the train station. He would also need to carve it into the stones to make sure it took hold which meant he would need to do them in secret and placed out of sight. Each wall would need two, an interior and exterior array. The roof would need a set for each room. He only needed to create two as the array for the walls would work regardless of if it was placed on the inside or outside. He would like to put some on the ceiling of each room to reinforce the ones of the roof. That part of the process would be tricky.
Tom strode into the orphanage and was greeted by a wave of excited children. He smiled at the various little people flooding him with requests for gifts. Memory told him this was something that happened every year. How had Tom go from this to a feared dark lord? The answer came to him as whispers from the ghost of the scared little boy that had been driven to split his soul to escape death.
What would he do if his family were killed? It broke his heart to think about it. How would the horcrux influence his brain react?
Tom patted his pockets, "oh my, it seems I have forgotten my trunk."
"No, you didn't." "Did you?" "But you have magic?" "You always do this."
Tom put on an exaggerated shocked expression, "I always do this? I would never."
He plucked a matchbox from his pocket, removed his trunk from it, and placed it on the ground. The kids moved back as he enlarged its original size. He opened it to reveal an expanded space filled with treats. The House Elves were ecstatic to provide food for hungry children.
"Only one of them right now," Tom held out a hand. "Sister Veria will be in charge of the rest."
Tom stood back to give the kids space.
A warmth he didn't expect spread through him. The disconnect from the young man that eventually became Voldemort was jarring. He could see the original intent that made Tom want to change the world. Similar to Salazar Slytherin, he wanted a safe place for magical people. His method was to rule over the Muggles to keep them in check. He thought a world with him in charge would mean there would be no more World Wars, bombed cities, or pointless death. The creation of multiple horcrux combined with the company he kept twisted his mind and goal.
Tom wasn't going to forgive the creature that became Voldemort. Instead, he would make sure that the dark lord was never fully realized. The first step would be to make sure this orphanage had more protection.
He excused himself to his room to go through the textbooks on Runes. There were a few other 'forbidden' books that his minions provided as well. Finding the proper array was rather simple. Protection Runes were some of the first that were taught. They were forgiving when combined in an array and accepted adjustments just as easily. There was a small issue with his plan. For the protection to properly do their job he would need to make sure that each stone was covered. He had to be missing something.
"Thomas," Sister Veria was the only person that called him Thomas. "It is dinner time."
Tom sat up. Had he really been studying for that long? The ache from being hunched over and the urgent need to use the facilities answered that question.
"Thank you," Tom stood.
He hurried to complete his biological needs before washing his hands and coming to dinner. The scene in the dining room sent a wave of contentment through him. It held a bitter edge knowing what had been in store for the future. He pushed the emotions aside for now. There were more pressing issues at hand than a path he would no longer walk.
Tom tried to be active in the conversation through dinner. He wanted to know what he had missed from his quasi-siblings. His memories supplied a name and history for each of them. The horcrux must have really corrupted his soul for such a change.
If he recalled, it wasn't until after Hogwarts that things really went downhill for him. His exploits as Prefect and Head Boy mattered little to the Purebloods that ran the magical world. He went from ruling the school to working in a shop. It was possible that the orphanage survived the war and it was the magical world that fueled his drive to become a Dark Lord.
He was still going to add protection to the orphanage even if he did have to carve runes into every single stone. Too bad he couldn't create more of himself to carry out the task. He could potentially recruit other magically inclined orphans but that was courting disaster. Protection Runes were some of the easier ones to learn. That didn't mean anyone could draw an array and it would work the same. They require precision when drawn as well as a steady supply of magic that most witches and wizards were unable to do consistently until their magic matured. Most of the time that was when the witch or wizard turned seventeen.
Tom smiled to himself. That was probably why they chose the cut off for the Tri-Wizard Tournament to be seventeen. It would have been nice if Dumbledore had said so. Not that the man ever provided more information than he deemed necessary.
He moved through the conversations on auto-pilot. The mood was surprisingly jovial considering the world outside. Tom hadn't been in the muggle world during the Blitz, but he heard the horror stories and could see the result. The Germans sent bombers randomly these days instead of nightly.
The Trace no longer applied to him and Tom took full advantage. He used magic to clear the table, preserve what was left, and clean the dishes. Sister Veria sighed as he worked but didn't argue. The younger orphans stayed behind to watch while the older ones didn't bother.
He waited until the young ones had been sent to before tracking down Sister Veria.
"Yes, Thomas?" The nun asked as he approached.
"I want to use my magic to protect the church," Tom said skipping right to the point. "I would need to draw symbols on the stones to strengthen them. They can be covered by murals if you are worried about how others will react."
He had came up with that idea on the spot, but it was a good one.
"We've had this conversation before, Thomas," Sister Veria sighed. "Your magic is a gift from God. Some do not see it that way. Most do not see it that way. If Father Henry were still around I have no doubt you and the little ones would be locked away." She paused. "Mural or no, you would be harming the sanctity of the church."
Father Henry.
The name brought a flash of memories to the forefront of his mind. That old bastard was the first person that Tom had killed. It was accidental magic, in the loosest sense, as he had been seven at the time, but the intent had been there. Even this amalgam of Harry and Tom agreed that the world was a better place without that man in it.
Tom nodded, "I understand."
Sister Veria gave him a sad smile before turning away.
"Confundus," Tom whispered.
He respected her and her faith. Just not to the point where he would put the lives of the children at risk. What was the saying? It's smarter to ask for forgiveness than wait for permission. Something like that.
"Oh, Thomas," Sister Veria turned around to face him. "Was there something you needed?"
Tom put on his best charming smile, "no, Sister Veria. I wanted to thank you for everything."
She patted his arm before going back to her duties.
~
Tom smacked his forehead. He was making things more complicated than needed. The array could be placed on the lode-bearing sections and then linked together to create a chainmail sort of protection. This would save him from having to engrave each stone while still providing plenty of defense. Having a set for the interior and exterior would further enhance the protection.
It was amazing what a full night of sleep could do for mental clarity.
A wicked smile flashed across his face then faded away just as fast. There were a couple of muggle girls in the area that were good for it as well. If they were still around. Some families were able to send their children to the countryside with distant relatives.
He had the proper array designed after breakfast and then began to scout the orphanage for best locations. A gentle obscuration rune had been worked into the pattern as well. The last thing he needed was for some misguided zealot to deface the runes and undo the protection. Once the runic array was in place the orphanage would be one of the safest buildings in the city.
~
Applying the runic arrays took focus, control, and steady hands. Naturally, the younger kids did their best to distract him constantly. He could have stunned them and told whoever asked that they were taking a nap, sent them away with a compulsion, or simply ignored them. It just didn't feel right. They were excited to see him and wanted to tell him stories of their year.
He couldn't turn them away.
This led him to staying up through the night to apply the first batch of runes. He was able to cover the stairway, chapel, kitchen, and the foyer. Those spots were where they could gather in an emergency and the kitchen would make sure they had a way to eat. He would have to do the dorm area once they were distracted. It would not do for one of them to wake up to him crawling around the floor, walls, and ceiling. There were three large dorms and a couple single rooms for older orphans. The younger ones all shared one room then were split by gender once they hit puberty. Older orphans, like Tom and a couple of others, were given their own room. That had not been the case until the start of the war when a portion of the staff fled.
He felt half-dead as he worked on the public areas at night and tried to sneak around to the dorms during the day. If anyone noticed how tired he looked for the rest of the week they were too polite to say. That or he wasn't paying enough attention to notice.
It was worth it.