Not having Quirrell around anymore made Voldy feel more miserable than ever. For the first few days after he left, Voldy almost never left his room, and would stay in there for hours curled up and crying. He was never hungry or tired or anything; he just felt completely numb inside all the time. In fact, sometimes he could barely even feel his hands. It was as if his nerves had been completely turned off.

Mrs. Cole had tried to make him feel less empty by bringing him Quirrell's letters from his new home, but that only made Voldy feel worse. He didn't know why, it just did. Maybe it was the fact that he wanted to have Quirrell with him – just seeing his handwriting wasn't enough. He had to have him near; hear his voice; see his face; feel his presence.

Voldy did like reading Quirrell's letters, though, because they reminded him of the fact that he still existed; that he still remembered. The only downside was that, because it always pained him so much to read them, Voldy could rarely ever think of anything to write back. Besides, Quirrell worded everything so perfectly, and it was hard to think of anything that wouldn't just look stupid or something in comparison.

Dear Voldy, the first letter, and Voldy's favorite, began.

I just finished unpacking and I'm sitting in my new room right now. It's really big – you would've loved it. There's plenty of room for dancing and stuff. I've decorated every wall with wreaths and bouquets and it's already looking pretty nice here.

My new parents are really lovely, by the way. At first I was a little scared because I didn't think I could trust them, but now I don't think I'll have to worry about them. I mean, Mrs. Cole knows my history, and I don't think she would've picked these two for me if they weren't nice. They're both really caring and stuff, and I know it's weird that I'm saying this already – you know, since I've only been here for a day – but I think we'll make a good family.

I just really wish this house – well, this town, actually – wasn't so far away from the orphanage. My new parents don't really want to travel that much. The woman is a muggle, so they go everywhere by this muggle thing called a car (it's sort of like a train, only much smaller and it doesn't need tracks), but they can't afford to go out of town much. I just know I'm gonna be really sad in front of them sometimes because of it. I really, really wanna visit you, and I wish that you could visit me too.

I know it's silly of me, but I miss you already. A lot. If only you'd been adopted too. Wouldn't it be great if we could be brothers? That'd be so cool! But I guess it's gotta be like this. It's really sad, because I really loved hanging out with you. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you. I'd probably still be a total wreck, even if Dumbledore was helping me. I dunno, I guess I just always felt different with you. I was always happier with you, you know.

And now look at me writing this down instead of telling you this face to face. I should've done that, I'm really sorry. But hey, I still love you – at least I told you that. You're my best friend, Voldy, and I'll never, ever, ever forget you. You'll always be my best friend.

I don't really know what else to say. My parchment's getting all wet and it's hard to write on it because the ink gets all runny. I'll write you again as soon as I can, okay?

Love,

Quirrell.

The parchment was crumpled and worn out, and had indeed had some tear stains on it when Voldy had first received it. Since then, it had gotten even wetter each time he read it over. Most of Quirrell's letters were pretty tear stained, either because of him, Voldy or both of them, but Voldy didn't care. He read them over and over again every night before he went to bed to remind himself of the one person he cared about in the world – the one person in the world who cared about him.

Dumbledore of all people had tried to help Voldy deal with his problems for a few weeks. It sort of worked, and gradually, Voldy was beginning to see why Quirrell always looked and felt much better after their sessions. Dumbledore's methods basically consisted of trying to get to the root of why Voldy felt sad that particular day, and what he could do to feel better. Normally, Voldy would just feel worse because everything that made him happier had been taken away from him, but sometimes he was able to remember that Quirrell still cared – he was still writing, after all – and that made him feel much better.

Despite all the help he got, though, Voldy couldn't get over the fact that everything had changed. He was convinced that nothing would ever be the same from now on. He would never be able to make new friends (no kids at the orphanage wanted to come near him anyway because he looked so different), and he would never be happy again. Sure, he could have a temporary joyful feeling after a session with Dumbledore, but that feeling barely lasted for a day.

Quirrell was the one thing that made him happier. That was it. Nothing and no one would ever be able to match up to him. The worst part about all of this, though, was that Voldy had absolutely no clue why he valued Quirrell so much. Yeah, he was his best friend, but should it really affect him that much? Quirrell wrote to him all the time, so obviously their friendship was still alive, so why was this such a problem?

Before meeting Quirrell, Voldy had never considered anybody a friend, and never bothered with getting to know anybody. He was a loner who knew how to take care of himself. Now, though, he realized just how dependent he had been of Quirrell and his presence, and his days were much less eventful. He would wake up feeling miserable (both fever-wise and missing Quirrell-wise), not want to get out of bed until after noon, stroll the halls with a hung head, and then read Quirrell's letters before going back to sleep again. Nothing happened, nobody talked to him, and he didn't do anything.

Voldy sat alone in the backyard, feeling so numb that he practically couldn't feel the cold wind or the snow surrounding him. The warm tears rolling down his cheeks quickly cooled as the cold hit his face, freezing them in place. He tried to hold them back, he really did, but they wouldn't stop.

How was it that one person, one thing in his life, could affect him this much? Was it the fact that Quirrell was his very first friend? Was it because their friendship went off so well virtually from the very start? Was because Quirrell had a horrible past and Voldy didn't want him to feel lonely? What?

Voldy threw his hands in the air and yelled in frustration at how confusing everything was at the moment. Everybody in the backyard of course turned to look at him (and snicker, Voldy heard), but he decided he didn't care at all. They would never understand how he felt right now, so why should he bother caring what they thought of him?

He kept on trying to make flowers appear out of his wand like Quirrell used to, but was only able to conjure up weeds and leaves. Everything naturally died on spot because of the cold, but Voldy still cherished them all the same. Despite not being able to master it like Quirrell – and he doubted he ever would – it was nice to see something that reminded Voldy of him. It was as if a part of Quirrell was still there.

The tears started rolling faster and blurred Voldy's eyesight a bit, forcing him to finally wipe his face with his sleeve to dry his face. He sniffled and sighed, pondering just how long it would take him to stop crying all the time.

"Hello, Voldemort. How are you feeling today?" Dumbledore said as he apparated into Voldy's room. Voldy was used to it by now, and just kept lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Fine," he lied. He still felt very numb and careless about everything.

Dumbledore approached him and then sat down on Voldy's bed. He let out a little laugh before speaking again. "At least we're making some progress," he said sarcastically, making Voldy think that he could read his mind or something.

"Myeah," Voldy muttered. As much as he liked having somebody to talk to, he really had the feeling that Dumbledore was just wasting his time. Voldy would never feel better, no matter what Dumbledore did – that was a fact.

"Have you heard anything from Quirinus lately?" Dumbledore asked, seemingly only to keep the conversation – what little there was – going.

"He wrote me a couple of weeks ago. Haven't heard from him since," Voldy replied, recalling how joyous he had been upon receiving a letter from Quirrell for once. It hadn't been anything spectacular, but just knowing that Quirrell was still writing had made Voldy feel all kinds of flutter. Now, though, after not hearing from his best friend in a while, Voldy just felt unhappy.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. And did you write him back?"

Voldy shook his head and sighed, finally finding the motivation to sit up and look Dumbledore in the eyes. "No, I couldn't think of anything to say. His letters are always so detailed and full of things to say and stuff, but nothing ever happens here. So I dunno." He shrugged lamely.

There was a short silence between the two, and Voldy used the opportunity to look away and out his window. It was very dark out, and he wondered what time it was.

"Is there a specific reason that you're not with the rest of the kids in the big hall?" Dumbledore asked out of the blue, making Voldy look right back at him.

"Why? It's not like they'd like having me around anyway," Voldy said and shrugged again. It was true. The other kids generally tried to avoid him whenever they could, and he was never really welcomed when there were gatherings of any sorts.

"But Voldemort, it's New Year's Eve," Dumbledore continued. "Surely you must at least have some desire to join the celebration?" He flashed a gentle smile, as if to say that even if Voldy didn't want to, it was alright.

"Not really," Voldy said, looking to the side because Dumbledore's smile made him feel guilt-ridden for some reason.

"Oh well," Dumbledore said, seemingly giving in. "At least you can see the fireworks from your window if you wish to see them." He then suddenly looked like he had just realized something, and reached to the inside of his robes. "Oh, how silly of me. I almost completely forgot." He took out his hand to reveal an envelope. Still smiling sweetly, he handed it to Voldy, who was looking very confused now.

Voldy took the envelope and examined it. The address was ridiculously specific (it even had Voldy's room and hallway numbers), and he actually managed a little giggle when he read it. He then proceeded to open the envelope, and took out two pieces of parchment; a grocery list or something, and a relatively short letter.

Dear Mr. Riddle (Voldy's real last name)

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than January 31.

Yours sincerely,

Armando Dippet

Headmaster

Voldy read the letter over three times before finally putting together that it was New Year's Eve, meaning that it was his eleventh birthday. He had a closer look at the list and looked it over, seeing just how many things he would have to buy before going there. He looked up at Dumbledore, who was smirking all-knowingly at him.

"I had a feeling you had forgotten about it as well," he said. "Now, we usually don't deliver these letters in person unless the child is a muggle-born, but you know, I was on my way over to see how you were doing anyway. Why not use the trip?"

For some reason, Voldy couldn't help but smile as well. He wasn't sure why, but Dumbledore's presence seemed to have this weird effect on him – kind of like Calming Drought or something. "Thanks," was all he could think of saying.

Dumbledore nodded and then stood up. "You're very welcome." He looked out the window for a second and then turned to face Voldy again. "I believe the fireworks are starting soon," he said, still wearing that same smile. Sure enough, he had just let go of the last word when a crazy light show appeared in the sky, accompanied with loud bangs as the fireworks exploded.

Voldy stood up and walked towards the window, then pressed his face against the glass. He had almost forgotten just how pretty fireworks could be. All the colors and the cluster of lights blended perfectly in the sky, and Voldy could hardly keep his eyes off the display. As he looked on, he wondered if Quirrell was watching fireworks from his new home.

Just thinking of Quirrell made Voldy feel a little sadder. He really wished his best friend was with him so they could watch the fireworks together. Maybe even wish each other a happy New Year and hug in celebration. Oh, how he longed for Quirrell's presence right now. Voldy's tummy stung as he realized how much he missed Quirrell and wanted him in his room.

Suddenly, Dumbledore walked up behind Voldy and looked out the window as well. He patted Voldy on the shoulder and sighed sympathetically. "You really miss Quirinus, don't you?"

Not finding his voice now because of a massive lump in his throat, Voldy just nodded in response to that. He missed Quirrell with all his heart. He would always miss him. Always. He felt his eyes get watery and sniffled as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Listen, Voldemort, I know this is very hard for you," Dumbledore said as the fireworks started decreasing a little bit. "But I want you to know this: it will get better. I promise you that."

Voldy didn't believe that at all. Nobody could make him feel better except for Quirrell, and he wasn't here. Voldy wiped his eyes and kept looking at the sky. The fireworks weren't as extravagant as before, but they were still very pretty. Quirrell would probably think so too.

Already, Voldy wished that the months would just pass.