The sun was shining through the dusty windows of the hospital ward, its bright yellow rays creating a curious pattern on the dirty brown floor boards and bed sheets, which were gray and rough from the many times they had been washed. The glass full of murky water on the bedside cabinet caught one of the stray sun rays and split it in several blinking daggers of light, flying in all directions, merrily glistening on metal frames of the bed. The mirror in the far corner of the room shared this false happiness, reflecting the same sparkles of light.

One of the fiercely bright rays reached Tom, who was lying on one of the beds, the light unceremoniously piercing his watery eyes, making him see stars and increasing the headache he had been unsuccessfully fighting since the previous night. Squinting and squirming on the bed, trying to slither further under the thin wool blanket and hide his face with it, Tom cursed his luck for the umpteenth time this morning.

If not for this stupid sickness, he would be outside with the rest of the orphanage kids, catching the last warm weather before the beginning of autumn with its mists, rain and cold winds.

Not that Tom was very fond of playing in mud, which covered their yard during any season. He preferred to sit in the secluded corner under the half-dead tree supporting the roof of the orphanage by one of its corners with one of the few books they were allowed to take from the small library outside the school year. He still liked the warmness of summer sun and coolness of the light breeze from the port, bringing smells of salt, fish and wet nets, making him think of sea and freedom.

Unfortunately, now he had to stay in the gloomy hospital room stinking of medicine and herbs under the stinging old blanket, shivering from slight fever and coughing his lungs out every other minute, because the day before yesterday the other orphan boys managed to lock him in the cold basement filled with water after the recent shower-rain.

The caretakers made them all go down there to help remove the flood, but in the end nasty Jimmy Chew and his gang jokingly locked the door with Tom inside and conveniently lost the key somewhere in the muddy yard. Tom spent several hours in the basement filled with water up to his knees, while everyone was searching for the keys. If it was not Tom, but some other kid, the caretakers would break the door to free the child, but unfortunately Tom was not among their favorites.

When he was sitting in the locked basement he remembered that one time he was allowed to accompany Mrs. Cole to the port. Honestly speaking, she took him in hopes that the boy would be lost among the sailors, soldiers and merchants crowding the place. Tom knew that, but still went with her and even agreed to help her carry huge heavy sacks with fish flour, which she purchased at the lowered price.

So he was not surprised that the adults decided to look for the key instead of breaking in: he was not worth the price they would pay for the repairs of the basement door.

When they finally opened the door after finding the spare key in the place of the one lost in the yard, Tom was already running a fever. They put him in the small hospital ward of the orphanage and seemed to forget about the incident – and of Tom – completely.

When he finally realized that today no one would come to bring him any food or medicine, Tom slowly stood up and began to dress. It was time for lunch and he was feeling a little hungry, and would gladly kill for something to ease his headache.

Tom managed to put on only his trousers, when he heard some strange noise outside the door to the ward. A man's voice was coming through the creaks in the walls: someone argued loudly with Mrs. Cole, insisting that he needs to see 'the boy' immediately and doesn't care about a fever and possible infection.

Shrugging, Tom took his shirt from the chair, which stood near the bed, but never managed to put it on before the door opened behind him.

Someone gasped loudly. Tom turned on his heels quickly, trying to see what had happened, but the rash motion made his head spin and he swayed on his feet.

'Careful!' a stranger caught Tom by the elbow, steadying him and, before Tom knew, he was swept from his feet into man's arms. 'What are these?!' asked a man in angry voice, touching Tom's back with the tips of his fingers and tracing old scars from the baton and belt there.

'The boy is no angel, mister. Sometimes the kid needs to learn his lesson the hard way.'

'Corporal punishment?!' a stranger whispered harshly, his eyes gleaming with fury. 'We are leaving immediately! I'll send you the necessary papers with my lawyer!' and the next second he was carrying Tom out of the ward. 'Hey, lad! Do you have anything of value in your room? I'm taking you away from this place,' the stranger explained.

Tom shrugged uncomfortably and shook his head silently. He was still feeling dizzy from the fever and shivered slightly, though the man's body heat helped a bit.

'Ah, I forgot!' the man clumsily tried to dress Tom in the shirt the boy was still clutching tightly in his fists. 'My name is Harry, by the way.'

'I'm Tom,' came a quiet response. Tom didn't know why he was feeling shy all of a sudden, he had never felt this way with any of the potential parents coming to choose a child for adoption, but this man made him want to show his better side and to hide all his wrong doings and traces of his old sins.

'Ah. Nice to meet you, Tom. I don't think I need to ask if you want to leave this dingy hole, eh?' the stranger – no, Harry – gave Tom a one-side crooked smile and winked at him.

'Yes, please,' even more quietly answered Tom. 'If you have me, that is.'

'Now-now, don't be like this. I've came for you, didn't I? Not for some John Smith, but specifically for you. For Tom Riddle. And if you're certain you don't need to collect your things, then we'll leave right this moment and never come back here.'

Tom nodded minutely.

'We shouldn't own anything, Mrs. Cole says,' the boy murmured as explanation.

This Harry person just shook his head disapprovingly and went to the door in sure strides, still holding Tom in his arms.

In mere minutes Harry carried him out of the orphanage and along the nearby street to the narrow passage between houses. He walked deeper into the small alley towards the very end of it, where several huge garbage bins were standing, the nasty decaying smell emanating from under the half-closed lids. Tom thought that maybe the passage led to the parallel street, but instead they came to the high brick wall. Harry stepped into the deepest shadow there were, right in the very corner between the building and the wall and finally put Tom down, although he immediately brought him closer to himself in a tight embrace.

'Wh-what are you d-doing?!' Tom mumbled scared. He had heard of men who 'adopted' young boys from the orphanage for the hefty fine paid to the caretakers to close their eyes on the ungodly act, but who did nasty and dirty things with kids. The things, of which the elder boys spoke and which they sometimes did, too, to each other or to the younger ones. There had been several girls in Wool's, but they were taken by the foster parents more often, and they were almost as wild and fierce (and sometimes even more violent) in their struggles than the boys, when it came to the rough plays of the elder orphans.

'I'll explain in a minute. And now stay still,' urged him Harry. Tom still tried to struggle free of his embrace. He didn't like to be touched or held so closely. He suddenly realized, that his shyness was probably due to the stranger taking him into his arms earlier. 'No, don't – !' Harry exclaimed, when Tom managed to break free. 'I'm not going to do anything to you! Tom! Tom, I promise – !'

But it was too late – the boy turned on his heels and ran out of the alley to the more crowded street in hopes, that Harry wouldn't dare to follow him there.

Unfortunately, Tom's sickness didn't allow him to ran for long and after about half-hour of wild chase along the streets he was caught by heavily breathing Harry.

'Aren't you a runner!' he laughed merrily. 'Though I don't think it was easy in your current state.'

Tom was shaking violently with coughing fits and supported himself on the wall of the nearest building, not trusting his trembling legs, which threatened to give in under him.

'I promise,' Harry breathed out. 'I won't do anything improper to you. But you need to allow me to – ahem – hug you, so we can move to a safe place. Then I'll explain you everything, I promise!' He spread his arms wide in an inviting gesture. 'I can't tell you everything while we're on the street among the Mug – err – people. If you want you can think of me like of – Special agent?' Harry finished unsure.

Tom furrowed. He was not a moron and wasn't going to simply believe this guy's words. Moreover, now he saw that this Harry was not very old, a young man rather than a full adult.

'Were your words about lawyer honest?' Tom asked carefully, not moving an inch from his place near the wall. 'You don't look very old to me.'

Harry gave him the same one-sided crooked smile Tom had seen on him earlier.

'You've got me, I'm seventeen,' he winked. 'And there won't be any lawyers or papers sent to that orphanage, true. But I needed to take you out of there as fast as possible. I was mistaken in my calculations – How old are you now? Ten, no?'

'Why should I tell you? You've said yourself, you've came specifically for me. Shouldn't you know my age then?' Tom replied, squinting his eyes in suspicion. 'And what calculations you were talking about? Are we – related – ?' Tom finished in half-whisper with clear hope mixed with disbelief lacing his voice. 'You're too young to be my father – Or no?' Tom added in doubt.

'Father?!' by the sight of it Harry wanted to start laughing, but quickly decided against it when seeing hurt and anger in Tom's eyes. 'No-no, nothing like this! I simply heard of you from an acquaintance of mine, who visited the orphanage recently.'

'There are a lot of kids there. Why me?'

'Please, I promise to explain everything and answer your questions, but not here. Too many people,' Harry threw a nervous glance around them, at the crowds mulling about here and there. They were in the center of the city, so that was no wonder. Tom was surprised that Harry seemed so uncomfortable.

'Where is this safe place you're talking about?' Tom inquired, still suspicious. 'Why do you need to hug me to get there?'

'It is small cottage in the suburb. I just moved in, so it's a bit bare, but I plan to amend this soon. I hope you will help decorate. But first we will need to do something with your sickness, of course,' Harry smiled disarmingly.

'What's with the hug?' Tom inquired again.

Harry sighed.

'There's this special way of traveling, which requires people to keep close to each other. I'll explain this later, too, in more detail, promise. But let's get out of here now.'

Tom slowly released the wall he was hugging for support, but made no movement towards Harry.

'I don't like liars. Bad things happen to them if I wish so,' Tom said, his face not expressing anything beside his tiredness from the chase and traces of sickness. 'Same happens to others, whom I don't like,' he raised a brow suggestively. 'Marta broke her leg last spring because she'd made my pet leave.'

Harry just nodded calmly, seemingly not disturbed by Tom's words.

'I blasted my Uncle's sister once, when she talked badly of my parents,' Harry supplied with his usual crooked smile. 'Someone I knew made a pig's tail for my cousin, because he ate my birthday cake. Things do happen,' Harry winked.

Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust.

'When you wink like that one can think you play with a kid. Mrs. Cole calls it 'flirting', I think,' the young boy remarked.

Harry blanched.

'I am sorry! I didn't mean to! Tom, let's move out, please! The longer we stay here the more chances there would be that this Mrs. Cole remembers anything inappropriate.'

'Like what?'

'Like my age. Or face. Or the fact that I kidnapped you from under her huge fat nose,' Harry smirked.

'Kidnapped?!' Tom stumbled from the unexpectedness of it.

'Yeah. I made her think I am you rich distant relative. Uncle, I suppose. Or grandfather maybe. She never saw that I look seventeen. At least I hope so,' Harry snorted. 'Or she would never allow me to take you away and not leave a huge sum for her use in your place,' Harry explained.

'How did you manage that?'

'That's a long story. And you're sick and tired. Let's get you to the warm bed and I'll tell you anything you want to know.'

Tom sighed defeated.

'You won't leave me alone, won't you?' he asked tiredly.

Harry shook his head.

'Never. That's a promise.'

Tom snorted.

'And if I want to be by myself?'

'You will need to cope with my presence,' Harry smirked.

Tom furrowed.

'Are you going to stay in the water-closet with me? In the bedroom when I will be older and will want privacy with my fiancee?'

Harry let out a laugh.

'I didn't mean it so literary! Of course you will have your fare share of privacy! And I am certainly not a voyeur! I plan to give you your own room in the cottage. What do you think, will it be enough of a privacy for you?'

Tom's eyes widened.

'The whole room?! All for me?!' he breathed out.

Harry nodded.

'Why? Are you really just a stranger? No relation?' Tom inquired.

'Unfortunately, no. We don't share blood,' Harry stumbled upon his own words. 'No, I am not related to you.'

Tom squinted his eyes in suspicion.

'What are you not telling?' he murmured lowly.

Harry let out a sigh of long suffering.

'Before we leave the street I wouldn't be able to answer most of your questions.'

Tom rolled his eyes.

'Why are you so paranoid?'

'That's too will be answered later,' Harry grumbled with discomfiture. 'Are you leaving with me or not? I can still make you, you know. I don't want to, but you're not leaving me any choice.'

'Why?' To repeated this question for the umpteenth time this day. 'Why are you so bend on taking me with you?'

'I want to help you, Tom,' Harry replied in tired voice. 'Is it not enough?'

'Are you rich? You said Mrs. Cole thought you are.'

'I am not eating from gold plates, if it's what you're asking. But nor I am poor as a street beggar. You won't need anything if you come with me, that's for sure. I plan on getting a job, too. I hadn't brought too much money with me, only to buy a house and to support us both for some time.'

'From where? Where did you come from? You're talking as if you just recently arrived to England.'

'Because that's true. I just moved in, as I've said earlier. I am not able to tell you more right now.'

Tom stepped closer to Harry and raised his head to look him in the eyes. His funny glasses in the frames, which had been mended too many times, got in Tom's way. Looking as innocent as he could, the young boy asked:

'Could you remove your glasses for a second? I want to see the face of my future foster father,' he gave out sweet toothy smile, knowing full well about dimples making him look like a total angel.

'So you can ran again, while I am half-blind?' Harry snorted. 'I don't think so, young gentleman. You won't buy me,' he smirked. 'You can look all you want when we reach the house. And now come,' he suddenly grabbed unsuspecting Tom by the shoulder and brought him to his chest in a tight hug.

Before Tom could struggle free again he heard Harry murmur some strange nonsense and spin on the spot, dragging Tom along.