Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 14

The Christmas holidays came to Hogwarts in a bustle of people leaving the castle and a burst of relief from seemingly every student. Or at least, almost every student. Tom, for one, didn't much care for the holidays. He never had. There was a quiet kind of shame in sitting in the common room while everyone else put on coats and picked up trunks and prepared to leave.

It was a shame he bore by pretending to everyone, including himself, when he could manage it, that he wanted to be there. Wanted to stay in the castle. Wanted to spend the next few weeks wandering these halls alone. Wanted to spend Christmas morning in silence. And Christmas dinner at a too large table with a motley group of professors and the handful of left behind students whose names he made a point not to know lest anyone start thinking he was one of them.

Of course, as depressing as the whole affair was, in some ways, he did want to be here. If only because the idea of going back to the orphanage was worse. Even the thought of those bleak halls with Christmas marked only by a turkey dinner that was hardly better than the slop they got on a regular basis, was enough to make something foul itch beneath his skin. If the handful of students left at the castle for the holidays whispered of abandonment, then that whole damn place screamed it. And Tom already spent far more time there than he would have liked.

Then again, if he had had anywhere else to go to, staying at Hogwarts would surely be the less pleasant option. And that, of course, was the problem. It wasn't that staying at Hogwarts was inherently bad so much as that staying at Hogwarts meant something bad. It meant he had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. No warm hearth waiting and home cooked meals or any other other foolish little pleasures his classmates would indulge in.

It meant he was unwanted.

Worse, it meant people knew it.

It was an effort, every year, to make sure they didn't dwell on it. He turned down offers from his housemates to come home with them with shrugs and lies of "I'll think about it," like he was flattered but not much enticed by the idea. Like staying here was a choice, not a necessity. Like every tiny bit of their pity was wildly misplaced instead of just unwanted.

He made comments about looking forward to some peace and quiet. Like these staring halls were a blessing. He steered conversations away from the holidays and onto the work they had leading up to it like it had never occurred to him to need a break. He stepped carefully around the topic of Christmas plans like the concept was a castle of cards and his touch would bring things crashing down.

And on that inevitable, awful morning, when everyone else was leaving and people said goodbyes with a tinge of pity in their eyes, he made sure to go about his day like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like he didn't care. Because of course, he shouldn't care.

In the end, it was one of the few deceptions Tom was never entirely sure he succeeded at. Because of all the lies he told, this was one he would never be able to tell himself.

Still, he took some comfort in the knowledge that people never said anything about it anymore. Year by year, the pitying stares seemed to be decreasing. Certainly, none of his housemates dared look at him like that. Why would they? He was Tom Riddle. He was what they should be aspiring to. Not the other way around. Not for anything. And he had spent plenty of time making sure they never forgot that, even at this time of year.

Of course, this year, there was also the unwelcome addition of Lucy Steele to the list of goodbyes and well wishes Tom had to endure that morning when the castle emptied. Normally, people from the other houses limited their farewells to waves and pleasantries, just like any other day where they offered him passing smiles and greetings, but with the occasional addition of a "Happy Christmas" thrown in.