A few years had passed by since he was first introduced to the aspect of being a wizard, and a real wizard at that. It wasn't fictional but it sure felt like it. Living at Wool's orphanage was dreadful, and once he was exposed to the wizarding world, it completely flopped his whole worldview; he never quite understood why he couldn't just go to school all the time. It was definitely better than being stuck with the other children.

He had always regarded the orphanage as the home he did not pick; he would've just chosen to be adopted by a wizard or witch, if he had the chance to. Muggles were similar to him, yes, but he had always hated them. To him, the lot of them were stupid, idiotic, and he often wondered how he had lived 11 years of his life, suffering silently while accepting the fact that he would've lived 7 more years there.

Now, he didn't hate it like he was being hurt there. He wasn't exactly harmed, but he felt he belonged better at Hogwarts. It was his home; his real, real home. After laying eyes on the place, he had immediately tried to talk his teachers into extending his stay so he wouldn't need to return. Luckily, this year, he was able to stay with the other Slytherins for Christmas; it gave him a warm fuzzy feeling knowing that he belonged there. Not anywhere, but there.

Most of his gang already left to spend time with their families, but it didn't bother him. Tom loved being alone. The quieter it was, the easier it was for him to absorb more knowledge. After giving a few half-hearted goodbyes to his Slytherins, he ventured down to the nearly empty Great Hall. The food made up for the lack of students, not that he cared about those free spots. Other students from other houses also stayed nearby, but he had succesfully warded them off by losing them in the library.

He sat down onto a comfy, cushioned chair after plopping a few books on the Dark Arts (courtesy of Slughorn) onto the wooden table nearby. Tom lost himself in the pages, sipping hot chocolate occasionally between intervals.