Chapter Text
There was sun on the ice. A bite to the breeze. Birds flew high above, soaring on soft feathers.
If you follow the river, and soar through the sky, you can see Godric’s Hollow.
Nestled between snowy peaks, the cosy town lay warm and brilliant. Lit from wintery cheer against its snowy backdrop. The air was crisp from the cold. In the town, bells could be heard ringing, neighbours were shouting, and the cacophony of busy people were living their lives with a touch of Christmas charm.
It was December, after all. Lovers wished each other well, kids had snow fights in the streets, shops were adorned out in holly and tinsel.
Children gripped candy, parents picked wreaths, icicles hung from window sills. Chatter and songs, shouts of joy rang through the wind. The smell of gingerbread and your breath hung in the air. There was colour aplenty! Fairy lights and Christmas trees! Merry greetings were shared, and smiles exchanged, for it was morning time, the sun was shining, and, most of all, it was Christmas.
Lord Voldemort did not like Christmas. He did not like it at all. He knew those years, gazing from his window. Parents, sweet and overbearing, neighbours loud with delight. Children gathered in clumps, smiles obnoxiously large. Loud shouts of laughter rang in his ears. It had been a while, he supposed.
It brought back… memories he did not like to think of. But that wasn’t the point! He thought it was frivolous and pointless. Lord Voldemort did not take part in the giving of gifts. What need for gifts were there where one could buy everything one needed? What need was there for gifts when one had no friends or family? The children got toys, and then simply made more noise. It was just a silly celebration that had no point. Giving gifts was silly, why should anyone take part in such a frivolous way of life?
They ate rare roast griffin for Christmas dinner in Godric’s Hollow, and Lord Voldemort had never taken part. They hung bright lights, and tinsels and glitter, only to throw the offensive items away. The streets were full of shrieks and shouting, for the children loved to play.
This corruption of Christmas had led to an emphasis on material possessions and gift-giving, and family-time, and happiness and joy that had seemed to follow Lord Voldemort throughout his life. He must be infected by this plague. Happiness and joy were such simple emotions. Why were they seen as the only emotions worthy of the christmas-time? Lord Voldemort had not ever felt joy during the season.
The inordinate amount of cheer the townsfolk seemed to possess made his skin crawl. How he was expected to take part in the farce of joy for a month was sickening. What if someone falls ill around December? Everyone sees fit to ignore the problems. What happened when one was a poor orphan boy, no presents, no family? The orphan hates christmas.
Lord Voldemort hated christmas.
He resented the children, smiling and laughing.
He disliked the grandmothers, hands full of wool.
He ignored the grins, the snow and the cheer.
He avoided the singing, lest it ring in his ear.
He cursed at the cookies, warm and fresh.
And he never, ever, ever went into town during Yuletide, for Lord Voldemort loathed seeing others so happy when he had none for himself.
🎵 Saaaaan-ta Claus is coming to ta-own 🎵
🎵 Saaaaan-ta Claus is coming to ta-own 🎵
The obnoxious music filled Lord Voldemort’s ears, as he blinked bleary eyes open from a bed of finest silks - for he would not suffer anything less than the best for his own comfort. Quickly turning his alarm clock off, he sat up, groaning at the movement. His snake, Nagini slithered up from where she had been sleeping at the foot of his bed, flicking her tongue at his fingers in greeting. “My lovely Nagini, you truly know me don’t you?” She nuzzled him affectionately “Good Morning, master”.
Christmas music always brought his spirits down. But Nagini was his only companion, and far better than any lesser humans, so he would get out of bed today. There was no reason to contemplate Christmas when he did not have to. Lord Voldemort sat up “Nagini, bring me my slippers, will you?” the snake nosed under the bed, pushing out emerald green slippers to adorn his pale skin. “Here master”.
The man and his snake companion moved about their morning, the snake fetching items, and the man utilising them. Lord Voldemort sat down in front of his vanity, while Nagini sunned herself beside him. He stared at his pale, noseless visage, and promptly massaged skin cream onto his bald head. “Nagini, how do you think I look? Sufficiently scary?” The snake’s forked tongue scented the air “Master looks powerful. Master looks like snake, so master is mighty”.
A softly horrifying smile lit Lord Voldemort’s face, and he stood, moving towards breakfast. Nagini climbed up till she was gathered around his shoulders “food now, Master?”
“Yes, Nagini, food now.” But when he opened the cupboards, and found them barren of toast, or eggs, or cereal, or porridge. No fresh fruits, or soups, or jams. His pantry was empty. There was only a single stick of celery left behind.
He threw the celery out the window.
It had seemed logical at the time.
“No.” His breathing began to pick up. “No, I will not tolerate this!” He turned to gaze questioningly at Nagini, who had slithered to the table while he ransacked the shelves. “I am not going into Godric’s Hollow so near to- to -” He waved an indignant hand through the air “-to Christmas.”
“But master,” Nagini hissed pitifully. She stared up at him with her big yellow eyes. “Food.”
Outraged, he threw his hands into the air. “I thought you of all people would understand my plight” She said nothing, still looking up at him with that sad gaze. “Fine. I guess we’re going into Godric’s Hollow.”