Part 3

The two wizard folk soared away from the Riddle house. Voldemort looked back and shivered from the cold wind. He yearned for his warm, cozy bed right now. He turned to the Ghost of Christmas Past and asked her, "Listen. How long is this going to take?"

She shrugged and answered, "Oh, I don't know. It could take a day, a month, a year, or anywhere between."

"You've got an hour. Go," he said. He did not want to be up in the air for the rest of his life.

"I'm afraid that's not how it works," the spirit replied. She didn't want to spend anymore time with him.

"Well that's how it will work from now on," Voldemort said. "So speed this up a little, will you?" She sighed and urged the broom a little faster.

Voldemort reached into his nightgown and pulled out his My Little Pony Walkie- Talkie. He flipped the switch and set it to the right frequency before whispering into it, "General Evil Bunny to Private Cheese Muncher. Come in Private Cheese Muncher." The walkie-talkie buzzed as his message went through.

Back at the Riddle House, Wormtail and Random Death Eater Number Four were playing a rousing game of BattleBrooms, a wizard version of BattleShip. They were seated at the table in the living room.

"A-5," said Wormtail.

Random Death Eater Number Four replied "Miss." Wormtail sighed with disappointment. "F-2," declared Random Death Eater Number Four, hoping he might hit something.

"Haha," Wormtail laughed, "Miss." Random Death Eater Number Four snapped his fingers in frustration.

Nearby, a small My Little Pony Walkie-Talkie beeped and hummed, as if it were relaying an important message. Random Death Eater Number Four asked Wormtail, "Do you hear something?"

"Nope," said Wormtail, kicking the radio under the couch. "B-7," he stated.

"Darn!" answered Random Death Eater Number Four as a tiny piece of plastic flew into the air. "You blew up my Nimbus 2000!"

Voldemort waited for Wormtail to answer him. When there was no reply, he threw his My Little Pony Walkie-Talkie off the broomstick and towards the ground below.

"Hey, Dark Lord person?" called the spirit, humoring herself. "Would you mind closing your eyes and counting to ten?"

Voldemort didn't like being told what to do. "Why should I?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Because," she replied, not turning back, "I want to give you a present."

Voldemort liked presents. Especially those little chocolates that were wrapped up in foil. Smooches, he thought they were called, or was it Licks? He shrugged, closed his eyes, and started to count to ten. At four, he thought they started to descend towards the ground, and at eight, he swore that they were now plummeting threw some kind of vortex. At ten, he opened his eyes, presentless.

"Hey!" he yelled at the Ghost of Christmas Past, "Where's my present?" She was standing right next to him, holding her broom.

She looked up at him. "I haven't got it."

"Then you must die!" he shouted, and he waved his wand at her, uttering the killing curse. A bolt of green light flashed towards her, it would surely make a hit. He was just beginning to smile when he saw her flicker. His curse went straight through her and hit the wall behind her, leaving no mark. "What magic is this?" he whispered.

She hardened and said, "Oh shut up and turn around, you old bat." Voldemort did as she told him, although very angry, and spun himself around. His eyes met the Slytherin Common Room, although it looked older. Seated on one of the leather couches was a younger Voldemort, then going by Tom Riddle. He looked no older than 12, and he was reading a book. The room was empty except for the three of them.

The present Voldemort left the spirit and walked over to Riddle. "Can he see me?" he addressed the room at large.

"No," replied the Ghost of Christmas Past. Just then a small girl, a first year by the looks of her, ran up to Riddle.

"Tom, Tom!' she cried. "Won't you come home with me this Christmas?" Voldemort sneered and stepped back, disgusted.

He turned his attention back towards the spirit. "Can't you get rid of her? Like, I don't know, edit her out of here or something?" The spirit smiled smugly and shook her head, gaining pleasure in Voldemort's displeasure.

The Dark Lord cast her glance of loathing. "No. I'm not going home with you," Riddle answered.

The girl would not give up so easily. "But my father has not been so mean lately. He has gotten better! Now he gives us two stockings of galleons instead of one." Her face gleamed with excitement.

"I'm not going home with you," Riddle said. "Can't you see that I'm doomed to a life of misery and sorrow, only to gain power for a few years before I try to attack a baby and make a fool of myself?"

The girl blinked before saying, "Nooo." She stood up and started to walk away. Riddle watched her back until she left the Common Room. In the corner, Voldemort gave a cheer of approval. The Ghost of Christmas Past rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said, taking a hold of his hand, "Let's move on." She led the Dark Lord out the secret wall-entrance, just as the surrounding stone hallway grew blurry. When they cleared, it was exactly as before. Voldemort continued to follow the spirit through the hall. They entered through a door into another room.

This one was much more cheerful than the Common Room. Red and Green balloons were everywhere, and little icicles hung off the ceiling. Voldemort scanned the familiar scene.

Students were talking, teachers were laughing, and an annoying tune rang throughout the room. "Ah, Tom!" Horace Slughorn boomed. "Glad you could make it." An older Tom Riddle strolled up to Slughorn and smiled.

"Anytime, Professor," he said, although very sarcastically. Slughorn didn't catch this.

He drank some more brandy before saying, "Now Tom, there's someone here who I would like you to meet." He turned his red face around and beckoned a young girl over to him, looking like she was Riddle's age. "I'll leave you two alone," said Slughorn, and he departed. The girl giggled at Riddle, obviously flirting with him. Riddle merely arched an eyebrow with a frown.

"Come," said the Ghost of Christmas Past. Voldemort was all so ready to join her, Their surroundings got blurry again, and when they cleared, they were in some kind of garden. An even older Riddle, probably going by Lord Voldemort by now, faced the girl from the party, who was older as well.

"Tom," the girl spoke, turning away from him. "I'm sorry to say that I do not love you anymore."

Riddle was busy setting the rose bushes on fire. "Okay," he said simply.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," the girl continued, "But you've changed."

"Fine. Go," Riddle once again answered simply. Now he was setting the pear tree on fire.

"I hope we can still remain friends," she whispered, turning back around to face him.

Riddle made the first eye-contact with her the whole time he had been here. "Are you still here?" With a small smile, the woman apparated.

"Thank god," Riddle declared out loud, and focused his attention on shooting down birds.

The spirit looked at Voldemort. She was displeased to see him smiling. "Can I go home now?" he asked her.

She sighed and said, "Fine. Fine. Close your eyes and count to twenty."

"Ohhhh no you don't," Voldemort said. "That last time I did you said I would get a present, but I didn't get one." He crossed his arms like a child. The Ghost of Christmas Past rolled her eyes and tossed him a Hershey's Kiss. Voldemort giggled with glee and popped the small chocolate in his mouth, at the same time closing his eyes and counting to twenty.

At six it seemed like they were falling up. At fourteen he thought they were flying again. And at nineteen he landed in his bed again, falling through the hole that was made earlier.

Voldemort opened his eyes and sat up. The spirit was still there. "The next ghost will come at 2 o' clock in the morning," she said, climbing back onto her broom. The Dark Lord watched as she zoomed out the open window and into the night sky.

He threw one of his pillows at her.