O Holy night
The stars are brightly Shining
When he was younger Tom Riddle loved Christmas. He loved going to the church at advent. He loved the choir, sounding like angels from high. He thought they were special, like him. One of the other orphans, Mary, was in the choir. She was much older than his six years, nearly seventeen, and many of the male, and even the female, churchgoers would agree that she looked as angelic as her voice sounded. Tom liked Mary because she always looked after him. She saw how the older boys bullied him, so she often waved him over to where she sat with the older girls, and he'd sit there quietly as they'd brush his longish, wavy hair till it shone and chatted warmly above his head.
Tom would always remember the night he first saw the red stain the snow.
It was late on Christmas Eve, after Midnight Mass, and he was waiting for Mary. The choir were always the last out of the church, so he sat patiently at the back waiting for her. When the last person had left the church, he started to worry. She had never taken this long before. He walked up the church and looked around. There was no one in the gallery, and he couldn't see anyone else in the church. He frowned and thought to himself. Maybe she was outside...
Mary was never quite the same after he found her playing in the snow, a light circle of red the only indication of where she'd been laying. He didn't understand why she had been pretending to sleep there. All he knew was that she never sounded quite the same again. The nuns treated her differently too. As if she was somehow tainted. As if the red on the snow had stained her somewhere he couldn't see.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
When Tom went back to school that January, he had a new teacher. Father Michael. He knew of Father Michael of course, the man had done a wonderful job the past five years in putting the choir together. He was so nice that Tom couldn't help but like him, even though he was his teacher. Father Michael kept him in at breaks under the pretence on helping him with his lessons so that the older boys wouldn't get him. He said that Tom was too...pretty to be rough-housing with the other boys. Father Michael was so nice to him, letting him help in readying the lessons, patting him on the shoulder to let him know what a good job he was doing. He didn't understand why Mary looked so scared when he told her about his new friend. He thought she would have been happy. She started staying for extra practice after choir after that. She needed to be ready for her Christmas solo. Tom understood that she needed Father Michael's help more than he did. After all, she had a very important job.
When Tom thought back on Christmas, he always thought of the Christmas he turned seven. Every year since she'd turned twelve Mary had always sung O Holy night to close the service. This year it was different. Another girl, younger, prettier, purer, had been chosen to sing. It was clear for everyone to see that Mary was devastated. She was tired, pale, drawn. She was past her peak. Tom couldn't help feel sorry her. He knew how hard she'd been working. He'd hardly seen her at all at the orphanage that summer, she'd been so busy helping Father couldn't help feel a small burning though, when he thought of it... After all Father Michael was his friend...
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Tom remembered the second time he saw the red stain the snow.
As always, he waited for Mary, and like the last year, she didn't come. Like the last year, he wandered up the church looking for her, and like the last year, he went outside when he couldn't see her.
He found her, once again laying in the red snow. This time though, she wasn't playing. 'God called her home to sing for him', Father Michael explained later as he comforted him. 'God wanted her for his own choir', he said wrapping Tom up in his arms...
Fall on your knees!
Oh, hear the angels voices!
Tom remembered all the times he saw the red snow. Each and every single time. Sometimes the stain was bigger than others, but it was always there. Even when he couldn't see it, he knew it. He could feel it.
He attended the church every Sunday after that Christmas. Father Michael had given him a special job as altar boy, and the nuns didn't mind him spending so much time away from the orphanage once he was doing God's work. He told them he was praying for Mary's soul,like Father Michael showed him. The nuns could only smile at his devotion. Once he began Hogwarts though, he had to stop. He didn't feel right paying Father Michael back for a friendship he didn't have anymore...
As the years passed, Tom began to recognise the red stain for what it was. The theft of his innocence, his purity. He had to get rid of the stain somehow, so he did the only way he knew how.
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
Father Michael's funeral was the largest the parish had seen in Tom's lifetime. The priest had always been popular with the youth of the community...
Dumbledore always wondered why he'd chosen a prostitute as his first horcrux. He never knew about the red stain on the snow, and Voldemort would never tell.
Even as an adult though, he never understood why someone would choose to taint themselves with such a horrible stain.
O night divine, the night when Christ was born.
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A/N: So, here's my contribution to the world of Christmas fics... It's been in my head for a while, so it's probably about time I typed it up. Hope you all enjoyed it. Please feel free to review. ^.^
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night! =D