Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.
A/N: Sorry for the wait guys, I've been playing Final Fantasy 13 religiously. Just a little one again. I think the next one might be a bit longer and they should be getting longer as we go now. Side note: if you have the time and the desire, it would be seriously cool if you would check out my DeviantArt account. www.the-namek.deviantart.com. Thanks in advance. Next chapter should be up tomorrow. It just needs a little polishing. Review or I just might forget! :p Kidding. I hope you enjoy.
Potter: A History
Christmas in Slytherin
Harry wasn't expecting much over Christmas (he never did) and he wasn't proven wrong. It was just as depressing as it always was for him. The only presents he got were from the Dursleys, Hagrid, and Zabini. Those were a twenty pence piece, stale rock cakes, and some fancy box of sweets, respectively.
He spent Christmas Day alone in the Slytherin dormitory, doing some extra studying and practising his wand work. He could now levitate everything in the room with ease and turn a variety of objects (mostly small, some moderately sized) into similar forms (buttons into marbles, cushions into towels, etc).
It was all just too easy for him.
He felt disappointed with the limited curriculum Hogwarts offered. After all, he wasn't going to kill Voldemort by turning a match into a needle, was he? His patience was running thin and he felt the need to seek knowledge elsewhere (it always worked for him in the past), but every time he tried to access more advanced books in the library, he was always turned away and told he wasn't old enough for them. He thought about ordering by owl post, but everyone knew his name and would probably just refuse him that avenue as well.
He perused the books Hagrid had bought for him, but they were mostly about the history of the wizarding world, and didn't contain any real spells.
Voldemort was mentioned several times - Voldemort and the people who followed him - the Death Eaters. What he read was bleak. The years of Voldemort's reign of terror, of distrust, fear, chaos, and death, only added to his desire to kill the wizard responsible for his parent's death.
If he had to seep himself in the vilest of magic's to accomplish it, then he would.
Surprisingly, he wasn't afraid of facing Voldemort. If he died trying, then at least it was over. It was a strangely freeing feeling. After all, what did he have to lose? He had no friends. His family couldn't stand him. He was nothing. The world might even be a better place without him.
He smiled grimly to himself. Perhaps he could take Voldemort and himself out of this world at the same time. A suicidal move. A magical version of Japanese kamikaze attack. He laughed - the sound echoed in the Slytherin dungeon, found no ears except his own.
Everyone else was at home for Christmas.
He was alone in a dungeon, laughing at his own suicidal thoughts.
He thought he might be going crazy.
'Oh well,' he said aloud, 'crazy might be exactly what I need to kill him.'