"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to Joshuaa- Happy Birthday to you!"
A multitude of cheers could be heard from the other side of the door and down the hall. Tom sat on his decrepit bed, his legs in his arms to conserve body heat. The small, dim lightbulb dangled above him, blowing in the soft breeze and being held by a fragile-looking wire. Tom's little ears had pricked up upon hearing any sound and he listened intently to the harmony of all the other children of the orphanage. He could recognise the Matron's voice in the chant as well. After the song, there was loud chattering that did not cease for hours. Tom didn't mind though. In fact, he loved it. Hearing sounds; hearing friendliness; it was a reasonable substitute to absolute silence. Tom had, as usual, been "not allowed" to come to the celebration, but he had never expected to, so it did not sadden or affect him in any way.
It had been a while since there had been a birthday in the orphanage. He wondered whose birthday it was today. 'Joshua' by the sounds of it. But who was that? Tom had never heard of a Joshua in the orphanage before.
'Probably someone new,' Tom internally rationalised. A cold gust of wind passed through the window causing a new wave of goosebumps to erupt over Tom's skinny, pale arms.
'The matron's there,' he thought to himself. He turned solemnly over to his digital alarm clock, 'Hopefully she'll stay there for a few more hours.'
It was one of those days again. Tom didn't want to think about it.
"M-Maybe she's forgotten!" Tom said, unintentionally out loud, "O-or m-maybe she's being nice! I-It's a celebration after all!"
Tom, upon realising he had spoken out loud, covered his mouth quickly. He knew what would happen if someone heard him. Especially on one of these days where he had been specifically told to make no noise. The matron's good will, if it even existed at this point, would vanish immediately.
After listening out, Tom confirmed that there were no footsteps coming towards his door and breathed a sigh of relief.
'I wonder when it's going to be my birthday,' wondered Tom to himself before instantly and mentally scolding himself for thinking such a selfish thing. Now was the time to be happy for another, to be thinking for himself. He did more than enough of that on every other day.
'But when is it going to be my birthday?' insisted the voice inside Tom's head. Again, he told himself to stop. When will he learn to stop being so selfish? Then, for just a second, Tom conceded to the voice in his head. When... was his birthday? He didn't remember it. He certainly knew that no one else would remember it. What even was the date for it now? Did he even know?
'I-I'm sure I do...' Tom mentally whispered to himself, 'I just can't remember it right now-'
The door to his room suddenly burst open. Completely shocked by the suddenness of the action, Tom jumped, his eyes instantly filling with an instinctive level of fear.
"You thought I forgot?" came a familiar sneer, "You know what time it is!" The Matron spoke in a playful sing-song voice that never failed in putting dread in Tom's small and brittle heart.
Tom had been so focused and immersed in his thoughts he hadn't noticed the loud footsteps of the matron coming towards his door. He looked down at the floor shamefully. He had been an idiot to think that he wasn't going to have a session today. Why would he think he deserved that? Why would think something so stupid?
The matron stormed up to his bed and stood before him, a small frown on her face.
"Up," she ordered quickly. And when Tom didn't react fast enough, "I SAID UP!"
He pulled his frail body upwards and allowed himself to be put in the grasp of the matron. She tugged him outside his room and into the orphanage hallway. She looked both ways to make sure there was no one watching them before grabbing him again. Silently and solemnly, his head looking down guiltily at the floor, Tom was pulled towards the matron's office, knowing full well what is in store for him. How stupid he had been for thinking that he deserved not to have another one of those sessions.
Tom's eyes shot open. He sat upright in his bed. Underneath the luscious covers, his small frame was shivering all over. His teeth chattered and his wide eyes stared unfocused in front of him. He had to calm his breathing. Just like he had frequently for the past few months, Tom was waking up in the late hours of the night from a nightmare. Luckily he had never screamed out or anything stupid like that; he would be so embarrassed if that ever happened. He shared the dorm with 3 other students and he had already annoyed them enough with all his other weirdness. Waking them up constantly would definitely not help him any more. His face was drenched in cold sweat but he was too scared to move and wipe it off. A small sound from the corner of the room sent Tom's head darted instantly in its general direction. Slowly he brought his head back to its previous position. He knew his mind liked to play on tricks on him, especially when everything was all dark and quiet. He tried to relax his tensed body and lay his head back down onto the pillow. As much as he wanted to though, he could not manage to force his eyes back shut. Every time he did, they would clamp back open and with much more resistance.
He hated himself for this. He hated his fear. He hated this sadness. He hated this regret. He hated this... weirdness.
"Freak..." Tom mumbled to himself, his hands clutching the covers. He truly was a freak. Even here in Hogwarts, he was nothing but: He was put in Slytherin for god's sake!
He couldn't even do magic! Or at least, not that well. Who had ever heard of a wizard that couldn't do magic! What a freak! When he had first joined, he had been hopeless. He couldn't do it even to save his life but as the first term had crawled by at a snail's pace, he had slowly made progress. Now his wand could produce small sparks which was a huge step up from nothing. It would be a huge kick in the gut, more than everything else, if Tom had discovered that he was a squib. At least the promise that perhaps in the future something could happen, was there. He had been kicked down with everything else (his lack of Wizarding World knowledge, his negative talent with potions, his inability to read and his complete and utter failure that is his broomsticks skills) that if this had not improved, he may have given up altogether.
It was actually this progress with Tom's spells that had convinced him to decide to stay the Christmas Holidays at Hogwarts. Sure Hogwarts had the obvious gravitas, the beautiful architecture and views, the huge amounts of space and just incredible wonders that Tom had never seen or heard of before but there was something about the orphanage's familiarity that made it oddly charming to him. By all objective counts it was worse than Hogwarts but... Tom never felt he belonged in Hogwarts. Where Tom felt he belonged was in his small, cold room, with his small bed and his broken blankets underneath the always-open window that was too high up for him to close.
But now there was a promise of progress; a promise of perhaps belonging- Tom was eager to latch onto it. He heard some teachers say that Hogwarts tried to be a home for all students. He really wanted that to be true of a freak like him as well.
He wondered what time it was. Still unable to sleep, Tom instead looked upwards at the ceiling above. Being in the Dungeons made it excusable that the ceilings would be damp and dirty but it still did not make it any less disgusting to look at.
'Do you think that it's Christmas Day?' Tom thought, 'Or is it still Christmas Eve?'
'What's the difference?' Tom answered his own mental questions, with another mental question, 'No matter what, we'll know soon.'
Tom managed to finally shut his eyes. He was just so tired, it was a matter of time he would get over his fear and succumb to sleep. He knew it was stupid; he knew it was dumb, but every time Tom knew that the next day was Christmas Day, he couldn't help but feel some small semblance of warmth in his heart. He hoped and prayed that it would be good.
Just like every Christmas Morning, when Tom woke up he was disappointed with how normal it was. Because they were in the Dungeons, no white sunlight crept into the room like he had been used to in the orphanage. That was one of the trade-offs of sleeping in Hogwarts: the beds were much comfier but there was a severe lack of natural light. Unable to break himself out of the routine, Tom found himself waking up at 6am again. He had never managed to stop doing it; it was already deeply ingrained in him. No matter how much he tried to go back to sleep, his body simply would not let him.
So reluctantly, he pulled himself up out of the bed and tiptoed out of the dorm so as to not disturb his roommates. In all honesty, Tom was surprised at how many people had stayed for the Christmas Holidays. The past few days he had been here, the Slytherin common rooms felt more alive than they did in term times! Obviously they were not alive right now. Tom walked slowly and monotonously into the common room, his legs seemingly walking by themselves. His eyes, despite their insistence on waking him at this time, fought harshly to shut themselves. He felt the familiar feeling of his stomach rumbling as all of his energy was quickly sapped away from him. He was practically convinced that the only thing keeping him awake right now was the pattern of his footsteps tapping against the cold stone floor beneath him.
Then he saw something that caught his attention. Standing proudly in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room, draped in green decorations, was a large Christmas Tree covered in shining stars and other such beauties. It reached up to the ceiling and upon peering closer at it, Tom could make out nests of small magic creatures; fairies spinning around it and small enchanted lanterns, made so that the gorgeous branches of the tree would not be set alight. Tom's eyes fell to what lay under the tree: a gargantuan pile of gifts. All wrapped up in different, vibrant colours and all adequately labelled, presents rested at the stump of the tree, leaning and resting on each other.
Possessed by his curiosity, Tom's legs carried him closer and his eyes lit up. The usual expressionless frown on his countenance was replaced by a wide-eyed and open-mouth look amazement. He bent down and inspected a present.
'To: Laurina,
My loved daughter. Merry Christmas!
Love: Mom and Dad'
Tom felt his heart slightly tense although he didn't know why. He set the present back down on the ground and picked up another.
'Hope you're doing well Iago!
Merry Christmas!
Love Uncle Bob'
Tom put that one down and brought up another. He didn't really know why he was doing this: fishing through all the gifts. Maybe it was out of a longing for a gift for himself. Not that he would ever admit to himself he would do something for such selfish reasons. But none of those thoughts even came close to Tom's head. Instead, he was too busy going through and reading the labels of the presents that rested underneath the tree. There was a seemingly endless pile so Tom figured he would never be able to go through them all. He'd just settle when he got bored.
"HEY!" a stern voice startled Tom and forced his head to dart around to the source of the sound. A lanky older boy which Tom distantly recognised as the Head Boy from his first day at Hogwarts, was standing there in the corner of the room. He had obviously just gotten up and had come down to the common room to see what seemed to be a little animal parading through a large pile of gifts. He was almost surprised when the creature stuck its head out after his call like a deer in the headlights and he had seen that it was just a first-year.
Not deterred by his slight shock, the Head Boy pressed on, "What do you think you're doing! Going through other people's gifts? Are you planning on stealing?"
"N-no!" Tom responded, his body paralysed with fear. He didn't know what to do.
"Why are you up so early?" the Head Boy continued to interrogate the terrified child, walking closer towards him.
"I-I'm sorry!" Tom said, his head instinctively shooting to look at the ground in shame. The Head Boy stopped when he was directly in front of the boy and inspected him. Still wearing his stern frown, he slightly nodded his head. Now with a closer look at the boy, there was no way he could do any real harm.
"Alright," he said, the annoyance leaving his voice, "Just go back to your dorm."
"T-thank you," Tom said quickly before scuttling off back towards his dorm. The Head Boy watched him go curiously before shrugging and taking a seat on one of the sofas by the tree.
Tom stopped outside his dormitory and looked around him. There was no one there. His dorm was set aside from all the others. It was furthest from the common room and was tucked away between corners and long maze-like stone corridors. But even still, Tom wanted to make sure that there was no one else that could see him like the Head Boy did. The door of the dorm was made of thick dark wood and was held in place by a grand door frame. He had to be careful opening it to make sure he didn't wake anyone up. He paused as he rested a hand on it and breathed in and out to make sure he would do it as quietly as possible. Carefully, Tom pulled on the door so as to not make any noise but found that it did not budge. He tried again and found it still would not move. He tried with more force this team. Still no progress. He pulled one last time and heard a small clink of a lock that confirmed his suspicions. The door had been locked. When he left the room he must've woken someone up. They must've gone and locked the door. He was stuck out here.
Tom, once again, looked around him although this time, instead of hoping there was no one around, he was panicking and wishing for someone to help him. Of course, nothing had changed. The area was still empty. Not wanting to cause any alarm or wake his room mates again, Tom decided it was for the best to just wait outside until everyone else woke up.
'I mean, what else am I going to do in there anyway?' Tom asked himself, 'Go back to bed?'
As soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, Tom was hit by a new wave of fatigue. His feet buckled beneath him and Tom found himself landing on the floor. He, himself, was surprised by the action. He didn't think he was that tired! He crawled towards the grand door frame and leaned next to it, making sure not to obstruct it if it were to open. Even if the door was to open, he would be out of sight and out of mind. When it eventually opened, he would go back in, get ready and then return back to the common room when it was more crowded. Suddenly though, Tom's thoughts became a lot hazier. He couldn't focus on anything anymore and his eyes that were once adamant on waking him at 6 were now beginning to go back to their resting state. He was surprised most by how comfortable the floor was. Sure the bed was softer and had covers and a duvet and a pillow but something about the hard, tough wall reminded him of the orphanage and where he used to sleep there. The familiarity of it made it much better. If anything, he preferred sleeping out here! Eventually, after a tiny struggle, Tom conceded and granted himself a few moments (which quickly turned into hours) of peaceful sleep.
Aubyn Young sat quietly on the Hogwarts ground. He was under a bit of shade from the washed-out sunlight and held a small notebook in his hand. He paid the little black book little attention though as he stared off curiously at a strange and large tree a few hundred meters away from him. It was lower on the slant of the hill he was on but its highest branches reached up to the sky. Its branches were beef but were left naked after the season of winter blew off all its leaves. It shivered slightly in the cold breeze that caused Aubyn to wrap his scarf around his neck all the tighter.
"M-Merry Christmas," called out a timid voice. Aubyn raised an eyebrow at the sound and a small smirk was brought out on his face. He turned to the person who had spoken to him.
"Merry Christmas!" he responded. Tom stood nervously, looking at him. He seemed taken aback that someone had said Merry Christmas to him but had a grateful look in his eye after.
'As usual,' Aubyn mentally noted, 'He doesn't smile.'
"What are you doing?" Tom asked, edging closer. Aubyn smiled at him and gestured to him to sit down beside him.
"You see that tree there?" he pointed to the subject of his attention before Tom had come over to him. Tom nodded, "That's called a Whomping Willow. It's a very special tree and one I've never seen before."
"Y-you like trees?" Tom asked lamely before instantly regretting it. What an awkward question. Aubyn shrugged.
"Not really but it's a new thing. I love finding something new and I liked documenting it's growth," he shook the notebook he held in his hand and held it up so that Tom could see it, "That's what I'm writing down here," he then effortlessly changed the subject, "What did you get for Christmas?"
Tom looked away uncertainly, "N-nothing," he mumbled, "You?"
Aubyn didn't directly answer his question, "Nothing?" he repeated, "But what about from the orphanage? Surely you must've got one."
Tom shook his head and tried to ask his question again, "B-but what about you?"
"Well I mean I've been talking to father through letters since the start of term," he held up his notebook yet again, "And he seemed interested in the documentation of this as well. Right now I'm writing everything that I remember happened so far this year and then I'm going to write down what's going to happen as it does, later this year. After all that I'm going to give it to my father and he's going to read it as well."
"That notebook's your Christmas present?" Tom asked. Aubyn shook his head.
"Well not just this obviously," he explained, "I got a bunch from my other family and my friends. My mother got me a good gift as well but I left it in my dorm."
Aubyn scratched his chin, pondering on whether to go up and get it to show him. Tom was more interested in something else.
"'Mother'?"
Aubyn nodded, slightly confused, to confirm, "Yeah. My mom. She works in the Ministry, you know, side stuff. My dad is in charge of the main business of the family. But I guess Granddad helps too..."
Aubyn, as always, became enveloped in his own talkings. He could go on infinitely talking about his interests and knowledge. Tom hadn't heard about Aubyn's mother before. He felt a growing sense of jealousy that he quickly extinguished. It was foolish for him to think that he didn't have one. Just because he never mentioned it didn't mean she didn't exist. Most normal people have a mother. Just because he doesn't have a mother or father doesn't mean other people don't. He mentally scolded himself for thinking so selfishly.
"Hey, you know what?" Tom looked up, being pulled out of his thoughts by Aubyn's sudden cry, "I don't know if you're telling the truth that you got no presents but..." Aubyn reached into his pocket and pulled out a small crystal statue, "I decided that I was going to give you one."
It was beautiful. Even in the too-bright wintery sun, it sparkled and the intricate details of it sparkled and danced. The shape of it was strange and it took Tom a few seconds before he could recognise what it was. The crystal statue was one of a sturdy, valiant man, riding on an equally study and valiant horse. The horse had its two front hooves in the air and posed to make both it and its rider look especially heroic.
"Sorry it's not diamond," Aubyn joked as he held it out in his hand. Unsure whether this was a joke, and his eyes widened in awe of it, Tom extended his arm. Aubyn, with a prideful grin on his face, allowed him to take it and chuckled.
"That statue is of one of my ancestors. My great-great-great grandad," he scratched his chin again, "Maybe there are a few more 'greats' I need to add, I don't know," he continued like he hadn't gotten sidetracked, "I think I told you but the Young Family are very proud of our ancestry. I've had this statue for a long time now but I think it would be best with you," Aubyn looked again as Tom held the statue carefully and stared at it.
"T-thank you! Thank you so much!" Tom bowed deeply as he held the gift close to his chest. Aubyn chuckled at his reaction.
"No really it's fine," he laughed again, "It's Christmas! That's your Christmas present!"
Tom paused again and took another look at the brilliant statue. The more he looked at it, the more he noticed. The detail on the man's face was incredible. It shared remarkable similarities to Aubyn's face. The man wore what looked kind of like a cowboy outfit although much more refined. He held a whip in his hand, presumably for the horse and had on a large posh hat. The crystal was exquisite and looked like an antique from a movie. It was amazing. And it was his. It was a gift. For him. His first gift. He looked up again at Aubyn.
"M-merry Christmas!" he exclaimed. Aubyn couldn't help but chuckle again. Tom bowed again and repeated himself.
"You don't need to," Aubyn laughed, gesturing in a friendly way for Tom to stop. He did.
"I-I'm glad you gave me a gift," he mumbled, "D-did you give any of your other friends a gift?"
Aubyn shook his head after a second of thought, "Nah. All of them went home. I'm basically the only first-year in Gryffindor right now."
Tom's eyes slightly lit up. This made him- special!
Aubyn shifted in his seat, "I should probably go and get ready for the feast," he said, "You should as well, it's only in a couple of hours now."
Tom nodded, "T-thank you," he said for what seemed like the millionth time.
"I'll see you around," Aubyn smiled, waving goodbye to Tom as he got up to leave, "I'm glad I could be friends with you Tom."
Tom simply remained there, staring and entranced by the statue in his hands. For some strange reason he could not describe, something deep within him didn't like what he was holding in his hands. He could not describe it as it was something so deep he could not even pinpoint it but... he was still filled with an innate strangeness when he held it. He should be happy at this moment. And he was even if a smile still did not even threaten to appear on his countenance. But there was something just so unnatural about the statue.
'I wonder what it is...'