A Voldemort Christmas Carol
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.
Chapter 2 – Christmas Past (uploaded 12/10/03)
The Grand Clock struck one o'clock Christmas morning and Voldemort was awaken by a bright light that shone through the dark and heavy curtains around his bed. He rolled over and grumbled, "It can't be morning already, I just went to bed."
"Tom Riddle, get up," came a familiar voice. Where had he heard that voice before, he had known that voice a very long time. Since his childhood, perhaps? Was it from his childhood? He covered his head with a pillow to block the light and the sound. "Tom get out here now or I'll start taking points," echoed the voice from his past.
The dark wizard threw open his curtains and shielded his eyes until the light dimmed. "Finally," exclaimed the voice, "you're as hard to awaken now as when you were a Hogwarts student."
When the beady red eyes finally focused on the visitor, Voldemort sneered, "Dumbledore, I killed you. I saw your funeral and your gravestone. No, it can't be. I'm dreaming this."
"Yes, Tom. I am dead," the former headmaster replied. "But I'm back as a ghost tonight. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, your past. I'm here to show you several previous Christmases."
"This is the curse Peeves told me about, isn't it?"
"I think you're still drowsy, Tom. You usually catch on much faster than this. Put on your robe and slippers, I'm taking you on a trip."
"Oh no you're not," Voldemort stepped back and grabbed his wand. He sent a blast at the silvery apparition. The spell went right through Dumbledore and a large vase exploded behind where the ghost stood.
"Do watch your temper, Tom. Come along now." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore dressed his former nemesis in a robe and slippers and they apparated to a large fenced yard in front of a run down muggle house. Voldemort looked at his hand, now empty of his wand, then back at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stood with his back to Voldemort, looking into the window of the house. Inside the brightly lit room, about a dozen children played in front of a Christmas tree. Young Tom Riddle sat cross-legged in front of the fire, staring into it, brooding. Voldemort grudgingly walked up to the window and stood next to Dumbledore. "I'm about six, my first Christmas at this muggle orphanage. I got too old for the other orphanage, too old to adopt." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling at the joviality and energy of the children.
The kids were skinny and dressed in tattered pajamas. Boys had outgrown the length of their pants and girls gowns were almost up to their knees, but except for Tom, they all looked happy and excited about Christmas. Their caretakers, a plain looking older couple, modestly dressed, called the children over to the piano. The lady sat down at the piano bench with a girl at each side and started playing Christmas carols.
The man tried to get Tom to join them, but his verbal insistence was met with negative responses. He couldn't be bribed with cookies and milk, and the boy broke out of his grasp when he was pulled out off the floor by his arm. Tom dumped himself on the armchair by the fire and sulked with crossed arms and a pouty lip. The exasperated man would not be held up from celebrations any longer and left Tom to himself as he joined everybody in singing Christmas carols at the piano.
When the clock struck midnight, everyone was allowed to open one present each. All the kids tore into their gifts and were excited to receive their second-hand toys and rag dolls. A package was thrust into Tom's hand, which he opened. Despite the tingling in his heart, his cheek twitched as he fought to hide the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. His, by far, was the most unique and prettiest present among all the children, yet he remained the unhappiest. He had gotten a snow globe with a little model of a castle. If you looked close enough, looked like the façade of Hogwarts Castle, with its many towers and windows. Among the falling snowflakes, was a small green figure on a broomstick which flew around and around in the swirl of white.
Each kid came up to Tom to see his present. They were happy and excited for him, but he did not return the emotion. He flashed it briefly to get them to shut up, but then he hid the globe in his hands, sneaking a peek every now and again.
Voldemort reminisced, "I never really appreciated that gift. I only kept it to myself because it was a better than what everyone else got."
o
Dumbledore put his arm on Voldemort's shoulder, "I have more to show you." With a flick of his wand, they seemingly apparated to Hogwarts Castle. It was snowing, but the trees seemed smaller and younger. The castle was a bit smaller, as were the Quidditch stands, seen in the background.
They entered the Great Hall. Dumbledore said, "We can't be seen or heard. Do you remember this Christmas, Tom? This is your third year." The Hall was decorated with a dozen Christmas trees, each dressed in its own theme. Magical snow fell from the ceiling, never reaching the ground. The Great Hall was quite cozy, actually, as the tables and benches were replaces with sofas, armchairs, and coffee tables. Fireplaces lined the walls and were lit, giving a warm glow to the huge room. In the corner, in front of one of the fireplaces, an auburn-haired wizard in purple robes, the Transfiguration professor, read from a book to first and second year students. Students would drift in and out of the hall as they woke up. When the professor finished reading, he called everyone to the big Christmas tree and distributed presents to everyone.
Voldemort looked over at a very young Minerva. She had just started a teaching internship under Dumbledore. "This is the year I got my very own broom, a racing broom."
"Yes. You enjoyed racing against Minerva, didn't you? Look at her. Quite the radiant beauty, isn't she? I remember your grades taking a bit of a beating this year."
"Any excuse to be with her. I got extra transfiguration lessons with her because my grades slipped. It gave me a chance to be alone with her. Same with the broom races." Voldemort sniffed. "It was just a boyhood crush. I got over it."
"Did you?" The ghost tugged on his beard. As he did, the Dumbledore they were watching seemed to look up from his tasks and straight at the pair who were out of place in this time, eyes twinkling as brightly as the fairy lights above them.
"Of course I did. She eventually married McGonagall, a professional Quidditch player. She never loved me."
"There are different levels of love, Tom. She recognized your talents and bought you that broom from her own savings. She took great delight in watching you ride it with such enthusiasm."
"I never knew that." Voldemort's voice wavered, so he kept himself from saying any more.
o
Dumbledore nodded and waved his wand, again. Tom Riddle, in his seventh year, was bundling up to go outside. He grabbed a big package wrapped with Christmas paper and set off into the night chill.
"It's Christmas in 1944. Where are you off to, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.
"Grindelwald. I was going to beg him to take me as an apprentice in the Dark Arts."
They apparated to a window outside Grindelwald Mansion. On the other side of the window, young Riddle was making his case to the powerful wizard, who sat stone-faced in his armchair. He took Riddle's present and opened it with a flick of his wand. Still visibly unimpressed, he finally offered the young man a seat and a mug of ale while he continued to listen.
"I finally got him to agree to take me," Voldemort recounted. "It took several more visits and gifts, but always gave me something to think about until our next meeting."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Did he really give you anything of value?"
"Sure he did," Voldemort answered without thinking. After a long pause, "At least he made me think I did, every time me met."
"He didn't take you until you left Hogwarts the following June."
"Yes, I graduated top of my class and he finally agreed. Except that didn't last long. You killed him only a month later when he sent me on a wild phoenix chase."
"No, Tom. I saw to it that you were otherwise occupied."
"I could have been there to help my master defeat you."
"Ah, but you weren't. I still had hope for you."
"His defeat only made me more determined to delve more deeply into the Dark Arts," Voldemort hissed.
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore's eyes glistened.
"Is there a point to this?" Voldemort demanded. "I've seen enough. Take me home."
"One more stop, Tom. Then my work is done for the evening." Dumbledore said with a wave of his wand.
o
They apparated to Number 4 Privet drive, not that Voldemort was made aware of that exact location. Looking into the window, they found a skinny lady with thin red lips holding a fat baby with a pink round face. There were a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth somewhere between the mounds of cheeks on Dudley Dursley's face. The toddler kept pulling off the red and green bonnet as a large rotund man with a red face kept trying to snap a picture. Dudley and Petunia were completely surrounded by a wall of toys and children's clothing. The pudgy little boy kept reaching toward the half- eaten Christmas pudding, it was the only thing holding his attention.
In the back, behind the wall of presents, something moved under the pile of discarded Christmas wrappings and cardboard boxes. Vernon Dursley was still trying to get the perfect picture of his son, "Look here Dudders. Say Cheese!" From under the pile of Christmas paper, eighteen-months old, Harry Potter popped out and yelled, "Cheese!"
He fell back on the pile of rubbish, giggling, with shiny bows stuck to his head and mess of black hair. Harry didn't get any presents, but he enjoyed all the colors and lights of the season anyway. He was content to play with the Christmas paper and suck on his old pacifier, which also had a bright green bow hanging from the ring. Dumbledore's Christmas card sat unopened, still in its Hogwarts envelope, on the desk in the corner of the living room. The Dursleys ignored little Harry the same way as they ignored Dumbledore's card.
"Where were you this first Christmas after your powers were diminished?" Dumbledore asked Voldemort.
"I was in the Black Forest of Germany. I had occupied the body of a squirrel and hibernated through the winter." Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Why did I need to see this?"
"You didn't," Dumbledore answered, his eyes moist, "I wanted to see this."
Voldemort rolled his beady little eyes behind the slits on his face that he looked through. Dumbledore waved his wand for the last time and Voldemort awoke in his bed with a start only to find the curtains around his bed undisturbed. He opened them a bit and looked out into his bedroom. It was dark except for the fireplace dim with dying embers. He closed the curtains and exhaled, "It was only a dream."
o
To be continued...
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.
Chapter 2 – Christmas Past (uploaded 12/10/03)
The Grand Clock struck one o'clock Christmas morning and Voldemort was awaken by a bright light that shone through the dark and heavy curtains around his bed. He rolled over and grumbled, "It can't be morning already, I just went to bed."
"Tom Riddle, get up," came a familiar voice. Where had he heard that voice before, he had known that voice a very long time. Since his childhood, perhaps? Was it from his childhood? He covered his head with a pillow to block the light and the sound. "Tom get out here now or I'll start taking points," echoed the voice from his past.
The dark wizard threw open his curtains and shielded his eyes until the light dimmed. "Finally," exclaimed the voice, "you're as hard to awaken now as when you were a Hogwarts student."
When the beady red eyes finally focused on the visitor, Voldemort sneered, "Dumbledore, I killed you. I saw your funeral and your gravestone. No, it can't be. I'm dreaming this."
"Yes, Tom. I am dead," the former headmaster replied. "But I'm back as a ghost tonight. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, your past. I'm here to show you several previous Christmases."
"This is the curse Peeves told me about, isn't it?"
"I think you're still drowsy, Tom. You usually catch on much faster than this. Put on your robe and slippers, I'm taking you on a trip."
"Oh no you're not," Voldemort stepped back and grabbed his wand. He sent a blast at the silvery apparition. The spell went right through Dumbledore and a large vase exploded behind where the ghost stood.
"Do watch your temper, Tom. Come along now." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore dressed his former nemesis in a robe and slippers and they apparated to a large fenced yard in front of a run down muggle house. Voldemort looked at his hand, now empty of his wand, then back at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stood with his back to Voldemort, looking into the window of the house. Inside the brightly lit room, about a dozen children played in front of a Christmas tree. Young Tom Riddle sat cross-legged in front of the fire, staring into it, brooding. Voldemort grudgingly walked up to the window and stood next to Dumbledore. "I'm about six, my first Christmas at this muggle orphanage. I got too old for the other orphanage, too old to adopt." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling at the joviality and energy of the children.
The kids were skinny and dressed in tattered pajamas. Boys had outgrown the length of their pants and girls gowns were almost up to their knees, but except for Tom, they all looked happy and excited about Christmas. Their caretakers, a plain looking older couple, modestly dressed, called the children over to the piano. The lady sat down at the piano bench with a girl at each side and started playing Christmas carols.
The man tried to get Tom to join them, but his verbal insistence was met with negative responses. He couldn't be bribed with cookies and milk, and the boy broke out of his grasp when he was pulled out off the floor by his arm. Tom dumped himself on the armchair by the fire and sulked with crossed arms and a pouty lip. The exasperated man would not be held up from celebrations any longer and left Tom to himself as he joined everybody in singing Christmas carols at the piano.
When the clock struck midnight, everyone was allowed to open one present each. All the kids tore into their gifts and were excited to receive their second-hand toys and rag dolls. A package was thrust into Tom's hand, which he opened. Despite the tingling in his heart, his cheek twitched as he fought to hide the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. His, by far, was the most unique and prettiest present among all the children, yet he remained the unhappiest. He had gotten a snow globe with a little model of a castle. If you looked close enough, looked like the façade of Hogwarts Castle, with its many towers and windows. Among the falling snowflakes, was a small green figure on a broomstick which flew around and around in the swirl of white.
Each kid came up to Tom to see his present. They were happy and excited for him, but he did not return the emotion. He flashed it briefly to get them to shut up, but then he hid the globe in his hands, sneaking a peek every now and again.
Voldemort reminisced, "I never really appreciated that gift. I only kept it to myself because it was a better than what everyone else got."
o
Dumbledore put his arm on Voldemort's shoulder, "I have more to show you." With a flick of his wand, they seemingly apparated to Hogwarts Castle. It was snowing, but the trees seemed smaller and younger. The castle was a bit smaller, as were the Quidditch stands, seen in the background.
They entered the Great Hall. Dumbledore said, "We can't be seen or heard. Do you remember this Christmas, Tom? This is your third year." The Hall was decorated with a dozen Christmas trees, each dressed in its own theme. Magical snow fell from the ceiling, never reaching the ground. The Great Hall was quite cozy, actually, as the tables and benches were replaces with sofas, armchairs, and coffee tables. Fireplaces lined the walls and were lit, giving a warm glow to the huge room. In the corner, in front of one of the fireplaces, an auburn-haired wizard in purple robes, the Transfiguration professor, read from a book to first and second year students. Students would drift in and out of the hall as they woke up. When the professor finished reading, he called everyone to the big Christmas tree and distributed presents to everyone.
Voldemort looked over at a very young Minerva. She had just started a teaching internship under Dumbledore. "This is the year I got my very own broom, a racing broom."
"Yes. You enjoyed racing against Minerva, didn't you? Look at her. Quite the radiant beauty, isn't she? I remember your grades taking a bit of a beating this year."
"Any excuse to be with her. I got extra transfiguration lessons with her because my grades slipped. It gave me a chance to be alone with her. Same with the broom races." Voldemort sniffed. "It was just a boyhood crush. I got over it."
"Did you?" The ghost tugged on his beard. As he did, the Dumbledore they were watching seemed to look up from his tasks and straight at the pair who were out of place in this time, eyes twinkling as brightly as the fairy lights above them.
"Of course I did. She eventually married McGonagall, a professional Quidditch player. She never loved me."
"There are different levels of love, Tom. She recognized your talents and bought you that broom from her own savings. She took great delight in watching you ride it with such enthusiasm."
"I never knew that." Voldemort's voice wavered, so he kept himself from saying any more.
o
Dumbledore nodded and waved his wand, again. Tom Riddle, in his seventh year, was bundling up to go outside. He grabbed a big package wrapped with Christmas paper and set off into the night chill.
"It's Christmas in 1944. Where are you off to, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.
"Grindelwald. I was going to beg him to take me as an apprentice in the Dark Arts."
They apparated to a window outside Grindelwald Mansion. On the other side of the window, young Riddle was making his case to the powerful wizard, who sat stone-faced in his armchair. He took Riddle's present and opened it with a flick of his wand. Still visibly unimpressed, he finally offered the young man a seat and a mug of ale while he continued to listen.
"I finally got him to agree to take me," Voldemort recounted. "It took several more visits and gifts, but always gave me something to think about until our next meeting."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Did he really give you anything of value?"
"Sure he did," Voldemort answered without thinking. After a long pause, "At least he made me think I did, every time me met."
"He didn't take you until you left Hogwarts the following June."
"Yes, I graduated top of my class and he finally agreed. Except that didn't last long. You killed him only a month later when he sent me on a wild phoenix chase."
"No, Tom. I saw to it that you were otherwise occupied."
"I could have been there to help my master defeat you."
"Ah, but you weren't. I still had hope for you."
"His defeat only made me more determined to delve more deeply into the Dark Arts," Voldemort hissed.
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore's eyes glistened.
"Is there a point to this?" Voldemort demanded. "I've seen enough. Take me home."
"One more stop, Tom. Then my work is done for the evening." Dumbledore said with a wave of his wand.
o
They apparated to Number 4 Privet drive, not that Voldemort was made aware of that exact location. Looking into the window, they found a skinny lady with thin red lips holding a fat baby with a pink round face. There were a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth somewhere between the mounds of cheeks on Dudley Dursley's face. The toddler kept pulling off the red and green bonnet as a large rotund man with a red face kept trying to snap a picture. Dudley and Petunia were completely surrounded by a wall of toys and children's clothing. The pudgy little boy kept reaching toward the half- eaten Christmas pudding, it was the only thing holding his attention.
In the back, behind the wall of presents, something moved under the pile of discarded Christmas wrappings and cardboard boxes. Vernon Dursley was still trying to get the perfect picture of his son, "Look here Dudders. Say Cheese!" From under the pile of Christmas paper, eighteen-months old, Harry Potter popped out and yelled, "Cheese!"
He fell back on the pile of rubbish, giggling, with shiny bows stuck to his head and mess of black hair. Harry didn't get any presents, but he enjoyed all the colors and lights of the season anyway. He was content to play with the Christmas paper and suck on his old pacifier, which also had a bright green bow hanging from the ring. Dumbledore's Christmas card sat unopened, still in its Hogwarts envelope, on the desk in the corner of the living room. The Dursleys ignored little Harry the same way as they ignored Dumbledore's card.
"Where were you this first Christmas after your powers were diminished?" Dumbledore asked Voldemort.
"I was in the Black Forest of Germany. I had occupied the body of a squirrel and hibernated through the winter." Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Why did I need to see this?"
"You didn't," Dumbledore answered, his eyes moist, "I wanted to see this."
Voldemort rolled his beady little eyes behind the slits on his face that he looked through. Dumbledore waved his wand for the last time and Voldemort awoke in his bed with a start only to find the curtains around his bed undisturbed. He opened them a bit and looked out into his bedroom. It was dark except for the fireplace dim with dying embers. He closed the curtains and exhaled, "It was only a dream."
o
To be continued...