The Broken Victory

Chapter 11: The True Meaning of Christmas Is?

The remaining months of the semester flew by. I continued to work nonstop, and it paid off in earning me respect among the entire faculty. I also had several more episodes of the phoenix dream. They happened at night and left me waking and trembling. Twice I saw Grindelwald in my dreams. He clearly did not care about hiding anymore. Once he was holding the child. The other time he was sitting at the foot of my bed, holding my wand, laughing as he cast a spell on me that left me paralyzed. In that moment, he said, "You are merely the beginning...I've set my eye on bigger things than you...big as a bumblebee..." And then he'd laughed again, enjoying my confusion. I had woken up before I found out what he planned to do to me after that. All these I reported to Dippet, who passed them along to my other professors. Thistle taught me a dream control charm, where it was easier for me to pull myself out of the visions. But I couldn't prevent them from happening, so I always had a knot in my stomach when I finally laid down for bed. I wasn't ready to face the visions head on yet. Not yet.

Other than a few extra defense lessons and some added reading material, the professors kept mum around me of the situation. Several times I had sneaked to Dippet's office to see if they were holding any more conferences, but to no avail. I finally realized they were as lost as I. We all were waiting for something to happen to give us a clue.

I couldn't stand doing nothing. I'd heard there had been another time Grindelwald had pursued someone as he was doing me...and it had ended in the witch's death. The thought terrified me, even as I tried to say that I was certain I had to be stronger than the girl who had fallen. It did little good, and I was desperate for a diversion.

So I immersed myself in my studies, though to be ready for what I wasn't sure. I realized in my Care for Magical Creatures class that if I simply kept well-meaning intentions in my thoughts, I didn't have as many problems with the pure animals. But that was probably useless except to earn me good marks, and I was still infuriated that I was far less than the best student in that class despite my constant efforts. Dumbledore tutored me privately in Transfiguration, probably in pity as much as because I'd already surpassed my class. It left the time periods where my classmates were having that class free for me to be working off my tuition. During that time, I did odd chores for the professors, Dippet, or Drawt. My nights were packed with reading on defense, Grindelwald, my mother, Salazar, and other untaught magic. It was better to prepare myself for anything, I reasoned.

On the night before the last day of classes, I trudged into the dining hall, shaking new fallen snow off my green cloak. For our last Flying class, we had played a mock game of Quidditch. I had played one of the Chasers, and while I'd made no goal, I hadn't fallen, either. Cathleen had been the Seeker, not because she was a good flyer, but because she wasn't a "male." Wingram said that since the best flyers were female, only they could be the Seekers. I would have been angrier, like Randy and Simon were, but I didn't care enough about Quidditch to devote that much attention to it. I personally thought it had been worth losing the game to see Cathleen getting caught in a tall tree while the fat girl from Gryffindor, Betsy something, snatched the Snitch.

I was still smiling about that as I slid into my seat at the corner of the Slytherin dinner table. Samantha DeRosa, a first year Slytherin who was sitting across from me, frowned and asked, "What's so funny, Riddle? We lost!"

I smiled wider. "It depends on how you view winning."

"Well, normal people view it as getting the most points. Though I suppose just having stayed on your broom is enough of a victory for you, Mudblood, right?" I didn't bother turning to let Damien into my view. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cathleen's new robe. Wonderful, they were together. Dash must not have been around, because Damien didn't dare call me Mudblood then.

Simon came to my defense, probably to stop what he perceived as a duel in the making. He had an even temperament and enjoyed mitigating. "Not really, Malfoy. Riddle's not a bad flyer." Sammy and Randy remained silent, clearly thinking along with me that, while I hadn't fallen, I was far closer to a bad flyer than a good one. By this time in the semester, I had decided Flying wasn't a real subject; therefore, I excused my lack of ability where it was concerned.

Damien sneered. "Doesn't matter. Slytherin won't have a Mudblood on the team while I'm here. And they won't do away with me. So sorry, loser, try the Hufflepuff team. They like orphaned Squibs." He left with Cathleen simpering at him, getting as far away from me as he could.

I shook my head in disgust as Samantha said, "You know he's right." Everyone turned to her in surprise - she hadn't looked like she'd been paying attention at all. And yet now she was prattling. "Not that you could make the team anyway. But still, Damien is the best Seeker of all the Houses. Only the Gryffindors' Seeker comes close to challenging him. Plus he is Dash's brother; he won't pull him." She looked at me in slight sympathy, more than most offered. "Sorry, Tom."

I shrugged. Dash might like me, but I was decidedly not Quidditch material. And since I was not fond of games, heights, and especially games involving heights, it mattered little. "Why be sorry? I don't want to be on the team. I don't even care about Quidditch."

Randy and Simon simultaneously dropped their spoons. "How can you not care about Quidditch?" Randy asked in horror.

I held my hands up in mock defense and said witheringly, "I'm sorry. I forgot it made the earth revolve on its axis and the sun rise each morning." Samantha snickered, and I smiled at her for her good taste in humor.

Simon nudged Randy and said loudly, "Maybe that's the Muggle in him, eh?" His eyes widened as he realized the words he had just uttered in my presence and my responding frozen expression. He stammered, as he always did when he got nervous. "I-I'm sorry, Tom. I was just joking. You can take a joke, right?" He looked at me, half hopeful, the rest scared out of his training diapers.

I stock smiled at him and said, rising, "Of course I can. Muggles and Mudbloods deserve to be laughed at sometimes, don't they? They're easy targets."

Randy waved his hand and said, placating, "Ah, Tom, sit down and lighten up. He didn't mean anything by it. Don't get all moody; you need to help me with Charms homework tonight, and I can't take it when you get snippy." He turned to the others then and said in a whisper loud enough for me to hear, "I've almost convinced him to out-charm our professor by enchanting all our Slytherin finals to give us the answers. So be really sweet to him for the next few days, no matter how cranky he is." Then he turned to me and said innocently, "Tom, did I mention I loved your presentation on the great slime slugs in the pre-Constantine period? Very interesting." He turned to Samantha, who was laughing during all of this exchange. "Come on, Sammy; bat your eyes at him. Compliment him on his eyes or shoes--try to be a girl. We might get his help in Herbology as well!"

Even I had to laugh at this point. I didn't laugh often, and more and more Randy was becoming someone I didn't mind to be around. He was fairly witty and utterly insensitive, so it was always enjoyable to spar with him without fear that the other would take it too personally. I grinned slightly at him, shaking my head as I said, "You're pathetic. But entertaining. Simon, I forgive you. Samantha, I pity you, sitting next to him." I was looking at Randy, ending with, "And I'll see you at ten for the migraine your inaptitude always gives me."

Randy gave me a mock salute. "Right-o, my chief. My captain. My know-it-all tutor. My slave driver."

I smirked at him and said teasingly, "I prefer the term master."

Randy snorted. "Of course. Well, then, master, may I have the rest of your soup?"

He was pointing to my barely touched bowl. I shuddered looking at it. I imagine from the visions my stomach was never at ease enough to be hungry. Still, I really hated the cream soup they had a penchant for serving in the winter. Making a face, I replied, "Since you asked so nicely, go right ahead. I'll be in the dorm, studying." Randy was already pulling my bowl toward him, only giving me a cursory nod as I went off. The others around did a similar gesture, used to my finicky eating habits by now.

I left the room, feeling lighter than I had in the recent past. Flopping my books open on my bed, I began reviewing things I knew, relishing the confidence it gave me. Whenever I was in doubt now, studying magic and gaining more control over it was where I turned for comfort. It was the only thing that felt right to me, and hopefully it would cause everything else to fall in place as well.

The semester finals went by easily. Dippet was talking about putting me in a higher grade level, but Dumbledore and Nurse Drawt talked him out of it. They felt that with my current visions, advanced Transfiguration was enough. Normally I would have fumed at this, but I was already so busy with my private studies that I welcomed the break. Though just to make sure they knew how capable I was, I often did any extra credit or project offered to ensure my high standing.

I had just finished my Care for Magical Creatures final, where we had to clean, groom, and analyze a developing fairy for a week before presenting them to the class. My presentation had been ten minutes longer than the other students, but the laughing potion I'd sneaked to the fairy had worn off halfway through, and she'd proceeded to snap at my fingers. Still, I received praise from Professor Odios because I had gone with the groundskeeper into the forest on one of his scouting trips and accumulated the actual habitat for the fairy, instead of poorly simulating it like the other students had. I felt proud that I had actually been able to cause those saintly Hufflepuffs to turn red in frustration at me, since none of them had thought to do that. This class was generally known to be the Hufflepuffs' best. Because of their good temperament, animals usually took to them, I assumed.

What I had lacked in natural ability, I'd done my best to cover with effort, and at least it hadn't been totally in vain. Still, I felt a bit let down that my final mark wasn't particularly stellar, and nowhere close to beating the Hufflepuff Jamie Overhallings' mark. However, I ended up with the highest overall marks in my House. As nice as it was to show up people like Cathleen, it was a personal victory more than anything, considering how uneasy some of the animals still were around me. I had spent hours with my last animal, the willow songbird, coaxing it to trust me in the common rooms before finally drugging it to make it appear to sleep on my command. Thankfully, Care for Magical Creatures hadn't set me too far behind in the rankings that the other classes couldn't make up for it.

So as I headed to my last two finals, my confidence level was fairly high. Both of these exams were taking place in the late afternoon. I didn't bother to grab an early dinner, spending those last few minutes preparing for the Ethics of Magic oral final. Since I didn't agree with the ethicists who promoted a control on the exploration of new and uncertain magic, I had a feeling Dumbledore was going to have me argue that case. When the time came, he did indeed call me up first, posing the question:

"Given the documented proof that over sixty percent of untried and ungoverned magic is found harmful to the doer and community, do you feel that it is right or wrong for the current Ministry to be pushing for a law of strict control over such practices and a ban on uncensored magic exploration? Include the current war situation into your discussion, and cite by name professional opinions to back up your position."

I had two choices. I could go the easy way, agree with the Ministry, recite the hypocrites who took that position, and walk away with a perfect score. Or I could be myself and hope to weasel a perfect anyway.

"I feel that neither solution is correct. I have an alternate one I'd like to argue for."

Dumbledore raised his eyes at that, silencing the stirs I created. He leaned back, simply saying "Interesting. Please do continue, Mr. Riddle."

Some of this I had simply memorized, other parts I fully understood and agreed with. Confidently, I started, "The first question is a universal one. Over sixty percent, as you cited from Ramble's Essay 'On Ethimagics' of untried and ungoverned magic is found harmful by a majority of the population polled by his newspaper. His definition of harmful is that found in the Wizard's dictionary--to potentially cause physical, emotional, or psychological damage. However, it is assumed that a percentage of his polled audience never was, in fact, harmed by the cases that made up the sixty percent. Also, forty percent of those supposed 'harmful' cases did not feel they had been harmed, despite Ramble saying they were. These statistics can be found in 'Witch's and Wizard's Figures on Events.' Ramble's statements also ignore the other forty percent of unguarded experiments which led to incredible benefits to society, such as the invention of Floo powder or treatment for a Sidewinding Dragon's burn."

Dumbledore interrupted me as I took a breath. "There were twelve deaths in the creation of the Sidewinding Dragon's burn cure. Some might say that number would have decreased dramatically had it been developed under the Ministry's direction." He didn't look like he agreed or disagreed, just posing a thought. I hated that.

"Yes, that is what some might say. Others would realize that the Ministry most likely would have not seen the project through because even one person might die, and the medicine never would have been created."

"Even the death of one person is significant, is it not, Mr. Riddle?"

"Of course it is. And unfortunately, there are far too many incompetent wizards out there who make stupid -erm, I mean inaccurate -- mistakes in experimenting on their own, causing unnecessary deaths and forcing the Ministry to promote this ban."

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Then it would seem the Ministry would be right in their ban, since it is their duty to ensure the well being of the people."

"Yes, it would seem that way, as long as it were all or nothing. With the amount of incapable people using magic, the logistics of the supposed harmful cases will always outnumber the successful ones to a degree that the Ministry can't ignore. If you wish for proof just read the book, 'Accidents of the Untrained' by Wimersinkle. However, I propose a moderate control system. There should be a ban on some, like the cases seen in Wimersinkle. However, real wizards who have something to offer should be given the freedom to work and test."

"Not a very egalitarian system, Mr. Riddle. How do you suppose the Ministry should sort out the 'real' wizards and witches from the others?"

I shrugged. "School marks, work performance, recommendations. Find talent early, and have it nurtured. Mostly performance records."

Dumbledore was no longer smiling. His face was neutral, his tone probing. "Performance. A common assessment tool. One surely not to be overlooked. But I wonder, Mr. Riddle, what your position is of other qualities some might find valuable? Talent is not always linked to greatness, or a shield from causing harm. Would you agree?"

Damn him. I paused for a moment, recollecting my thoughts, then added, "I suppose that would depend on your definition of harm. That leads me into the war part." Smoothly diverted... I hoped. "As I said, there are always going to be cases where the outcome is harmful. The only way to try and stop that is to stop progress altogether. That wouldn't work, since people will find ways around it, and it would be even harder for the Ministry to keep track. But if given the aptitude, proper training, and the freedom, there will be agents on both sides. No magic is dark or evil--it is just used differently. Everyone of a good enough caliber should be able to learn and wield it, if for nothing else than for defense against those who use it against society's conventions."

The room was silent for a while. Dumbledore rocked back in his chair, his fingers tapping his pursed lips. Finally he spoke. "So you believe there is no evil magic, just evil people?"

I shook my head. "I don't think there is either. There are some who just aren't powerful enough to control it or use it properly. Those are the people who the Ministry should restrict. And if the Ministry makes a mistake, which it undoubtedly will, there will be those of stronger ability who can step in and correct it, being able to control the magic they learned without the slowdown of the regulations of the Ministry."

Dumbledore's eyes had an odd sheen to them as he said, "Until there is dissention over whom among the 'real' wizards is fit?" I paused at that, but before I could respond he added, "You never answered my original question, Mr. Riddle." He had that odd smile on his face again. Before I could add more, he said, "Perhaps that was the point?"

I still was silent, thinking. Anger rose inside me over the fact that he probably thought he'd won this debate. Had he? I pondered some of his words. I hated that I hadn't had a response as much as I hated questioning who had won. Even though he'd had the undeniable advantage of having the last word, I was still the one left thinking on what he said. I had a feeling a great deal more than my mark rested on this, though I couldn't be sure what. Licking my drying lips, I finally replied, "The Ministry?"

A raised eyebrow was his first response. Then, "Do not ask me, Mr. Riddle. Until after the lesson, that is. Then, I will most readily give you my opinion. I am certain you are most interested." At that, Dumbledore smiled, but it was still a guarded one, as though he wasn't quite sure what to believe of me. I couldn't blame him--I honestly didn't know with which one I really would side. I slid shakily back into my seat.

My mind wandered during the rest of the presentations. Thinking it over, I still preferred my idea. Yes, the notion of a dictator was worrisome. But was the Minister of Magic really that different, acting under a more discreet title? There were some similarities in the role that the Minister played and the position of Grindelwald, even. Someone had to ultimately decide on laws. To be the leader. And was my suggestion so terrible? They would trust a mature magician to go study Centaurs, especially if that were his specialty, but no one would send an underage student. How was that really different than entrusting the study of certain magic to capable wizards and witches and not to others? I didn't voice my question, certain Dumbledore would have no satisfying answer. I simply sat still, lost in my thoughts and not listening to anyone else.

After the ethics final was my private Transfiguration one. I had to transform a hat into a thimble and then make it shrink down to actual thimble size. Dumbledore said this was fifth year work, and a bit of his real smile showed through as he enthusiastically told me about next semester. He said we might start working with organic materials, flowers and such, and combine this class work with Charms. It sounded really interesting, almost covering the disappointment at finding out that at this rate I would reach being an Animagus during my third year. Afterwards, Dumbledore told me I got an O in Transfiguration, keeping quiet about the Ethics class. I wanted desperately to ask him about it, but I knew he didn't like his students to be too preoccupied with marks. So I just smiled as he said goodbye.

On my way out, he asked me if I were staying over the break. I turned and nodded. There was no way I was going back to the orphanage, but I just told him that I needed the time to study and work. He said there was someone coming after Christmas who he was anxious for me to meet and left me puzzling at that.

By the time I got back to the common room, it was after nine o'clock. The entire dungeon was bustling as everyone was preparing to go home for the Christmas holiday. Those who had already packed were lounging about in large groups, excitedly jabbering as they finished decorating cards and wrapping presents. I saw Dash putting some holly around the fireplace quietly, not participating in the others' enjoyment. I walked over to him.

He turned to me and smiled. "Finals go all right?"

I picked up a leaf that had scattered to the floor and answered, "I suppose. One was hard."

He laughed. "For you?"

I tried to smile back, quietly saying, "Yes, even for me."

Dash shrugged. "Well, welcome to everyone else's hell. Wait till you get to fifth year. I desperately need a break." At that he paused, then muttered, "Not that I'll bloody really get one."

My heart lifted. "Are you staying here then?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Unfortunately Dash shook his head. "No, that would be a real break if I could." His jaw tightened. "I'm working with my father over this holiday."

I knew better than to ask what was making him so upset. It was apparent that Dash and his father didn't get on well, but he never spoke of it. "Maybe it won't be so bad," I said encouragingly. "He heads the Education Committee for the Ministry, doesn't he? Maybe you'll get to travel to some other schools and learn some stuff."

For some reason, Dash laughed bitterly at that. "For part of the time, we will be going to observe at the Durmstrang school--I have a feeling he plans for some extensive learning of mine to be had there."

"Really? That's great." I couldn't understand the look of disbelief he was giving me.

"Tom," he said slowly. "Do you know what Durmstrang is?"

I bristled. "Of course I do. It's a magic school. I think inter-learning among schools is a great plan."

"Do you know what they teach there?" Dash asked, folding his arms. "Well, that part I don't mind. But do you know what my father will make me do there?"

"Well, I'd assume magic." I thought Dash was making the situation worse than it seemed. He had a tendency to do that, in my opinion.

Staring at me, he finally sighed and turned to leave. "Forget it."

"Fine. Are you all right?" I asked him. He looked at me, and some of the tension that had been building dissipated.

He smiled wearily. "Yes. I have to finish packing now. Would you tell Damien we have to leave tomorrow morning at seven?"

I gritted my teeth, but the burdened look on Dash's face made me reply, "Of course." I spun on my heel and went into the boys' dorm. Inside there was Damien, Simon, and three of Damien's friends. I walked over to Damien, who was sprawled on his bed trying to fit everything he owned into a suitcase, and said, "Dash wanted me to tell you that you are leaving tomorrow morning at seven." I didn't add the good riddance that was burning at the tip of my tongue.

Damien turned to me and said stiffly, "Why didn't he tell me himself?"

I shrugged. "He had to pack. We were talking right before that, so he asked me to."

Damien eyed me carefully and then retorted, "Whatever."

I smiled at his jealousy. "Happy Christmas!" I said cheerfully. Crossing to my bed, I didn't plan on getting up until they had left. I curled up with a spell book, not really paying attention to it. Snicks had found his way onto my shoulder and was distracting me with his humorous adventures of late with a large, rather frisky female boa constrictor. I was left alone the rest of the night, my breath echoing in the practically empty dungeons. After a few hours, my eyes were inconceivably heavy, and I let myself have the respite of sleep. Amazingly, it was undisturbed.

The morning of Christmas I awoke sometime after seven, groggy from having slept for more than three hours at one time. I blearily pushed myself out of bed and got dressed. It was too cold to stay in my pajamas, and I didn't have a robe. Hearing shouts from upstairs, I left Snicks on my pillow and went into the commons. Not many Slytherins had stayed over for the break. Only five by my count. Three of them were fifth years, staying so they would have better resources to study for the upcoming O.W.L.s. One I didn't recognize, and the last one was Simon. I walked over to him, and he eyed me a bit nervously.

"Oh, hi, Tom. Good morning. I mean, Happy Christmas." He seemed to be trying to hide something.

I smiled back slightly. "Happy Christmas. And you don't have to hide your gifts."

He swung around and stared guiltily at what he was holding behind his back. It looked like a top of the line new broom-grooming kit. Embarrassed, he explained, "I didn't see any for you."

I shrugged and said, "It's fine. Really. Who would give me a present? I never expected one." An awkwardness hung between us, until I finally said, "Want to go to breakfast?" I didn't really, but I couldn't stand the look of pity on his face. There was no reason for it. I really hadn't expected anything. I barely knew these people, like Dash, Randy, and Gail--I hadn't got them anything either. But then, I didn't even have enough money to pay for my clothing, let alone gifts. I told myself I didn't care again and again as we went to the dining hall. Simon's mood visibly lifted just as my spirits were sinking. By the time Gail came up to me, I was wholly out of the holiday spirit. Natural and common, for me.

"Happy Christmas, men!" she said, smiling at us. Simon gave her a barely civil smile back. While he was welcoming to a half-blood like myself, mostly because I had proven to be a valuable member of the House, he was a bit unwelcoming to a Muggle-born like Gail. He was still looking suspiciously at her when she sat down next to me.

I turned to him and asked something that had been bothering me. "Why do you celebrate Christmas?" By "you," I meant magic folk.

Both he and Gail looked at me in surprise. Already committed and having shown my ignorance, I continued, "I mean, in the Muggle world it makes sense--it was drilled into me. The birth of Christ, the savior, celebrating that and bringing his message of good will to all and so on...but do magicians believe that?"

Simon looked a little uncomfortable under the direct questioning. "Well, it's a little different. We celebrate it because Jesus was an advocate against the persecution of all, including magicians. There was a great deal of backlash against our community at that time, and he preached tolerance of all, so we could grow as well. So we celebrate to thank him for that." He looked at me and laughed a little anxiously. "That, and we get presents."

I nodded. "I think the celebration of tolerance has lost its novelty in a lot of places, don't you?" Simon merely looked confused at that, but Gail gave me a small smile.

"I didn't expect you to think of the true meaning of Christmas." She then excused herself and hurried off. I craned my neck and saw her meet up with some Hufflepuff girls. They were dressed to go out, probably to Hogsmeade. I felt lower for some reason. What did she mean that it was surprising I would think of Christmas in that way?

Simon rolled his eyes and said to me, "Those Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are getting as high and mighty as the Gryffindors. She probably now thinks all of us are bad, because Dash dumped her." He shook his head. "I don't know what he was thinking seeing her anyway."

I stared at him. Was that the reason she had been so nice to me, because of Dash? Or out of sympathy, feeling sorry for a cursed, poor Slytherin? I didn't really believe it. But then, I had yet to meet someone who didn't disappoint me. When it came down to it, was anyone completely selfless? Doubtful. I pressed a hand over my head. The cheerful noise surrounding me suddenly felt stifling. I politely excused myself from Simon, promising to see him later, and fled to the library. On my way, I overheard Gail speaking with the other Hufflepuffs.

"I feel sorry for him. So does Dash, I think. No family, nothing. I would have got him something, but I thought it worse to do it out of pity. That's how he'd see it. He's too proud, like Dash, but he's a good kid." She sighed, heading out with her friends. "I just feel sorry for him."

I stood in silence, watching her retreating back.

Later that evening, I sat in front of the fire in the downstairs hall. It was empty except for the holiday furniture and a roasting fire. I picked a small, plush couch right in front of the fire, hoping it would warm my insides. Silence ensued, except for the crackling flames. The room was dark and without windows, but I could still hear the merriment from the large Christmas feast dinner outside.

Trying to ignore it, I pushed open a book. I had taken it out of the restricted section of the library. It was fairly easy to do that, since I worked there and Acadima trusted me. It was called The Legacy of Salazar. However, I found it hard to read. I blinked, and while the words cleared, I felt two tears slowly roll down my cheeks, finding my lips so I tasted their bitterness.

"Mr. Riddle?"

I jumped at the noise, quickly fumbling to hide the book. Dumbledore was standing next to me. I pulled the book in close to my chest to hide the cover, trying to just appear cold.

"Tired, Mr. Riddle?"

"What?" I asked nervously, twisting the book around so it was upside-down.

Dumbledore settled into a chair next to me. "You looked like you had fallen asleep with your eyes open."

"Oh. No, sir."

He settled back, apparently in the mood for a conversation. "Zwipp hasn't been working you too hard?"

"No, sir."

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"No, sir."

"Do you find me intelligent?"

"N--what?"

"Just checking." Dumbledore smiled. I looked back at the fire, not in the mood for talking. I hoped he would take the hint, but he persisted. "You know, Mr. Riddle, I remember one time, when I was a boy, I got punished on Christmas. I decided to try to enchant the tree to sing by itself, so I wouldn't have to bother with all those carols. It ended up that the tree ate the family dinner and the couch as well."

His eyes seemed lost in memory. "I was sent to my room, and from there I had to listen to my family open gifts. My brother tried to sneak me one of his, but I resisted." He smiled. "I thought my family had taken away all of mine and they didn't feel I was deserving of anything. It wasn't until my mother came up some hours later that we made up, and I was allowed to rejoin the party."

I finally turned from the fire to stare at him. "What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

He watched me quietly. "Nothing. Maybe something. Just that those few hours of neglect and feeling worthless was the worst time of my life. I didn't want my brother's pity. It wasn't until I was accepted again and told I was loved unconditionally by my mother that I felt right."

I said nothing, while he added softly, "I can't imagine a lifetime of that."

My heart was sobbing. But I wouldn't break. I stood up and smiled at him, making my voice steady and not quivering. "It's not like you think. It's easier. I never was loved unconditionally--so I don't miss anything. I'm fine. I'm just not one for holidays, is all. I have to go." With that, I hurriedly left the room. I didn't stop till I was back in my dormitory, far away from the sounds of the revelry. I picked up my stolen book and buried myself in it, with Snicks curling up quietly yet comfortingly next to me.