Holidays
Cecilia had never had a proper birthday. Vanya always made sure to remind her that her mother’s death was her fault. Vinda never wasted time on such trivialities. She was about to turn 12, and just like every other year, she would have no one—another celebration that didn’t happen. Being born on the first of January didn’t help either; none of her so-called friends ever reached out to wish her a happy birthday.
Tom had never had a proper birthday either. At Wools, celebrating birthdays was not a priority, and over the years, as both the children and the matron developed a hatred toward him, his birthday became even more forgettable. While the others celebrated New Year’s Eve, Tom would be in his room, doing anything but acknowledging the date.
The halls that were once filled with chatter and laughter were now silent. The common room felt colder than usual. Cecilia hadn’t realized how much time she had spent with Druella until now—the empty bed next to hers made her ache.
Just like always, Cecilia was alone. But as always, she had her parchment and quill. The Black Lake was one of her favorite spots in the castle, and finally, she would be able to draw it without anyone blocking her view.
“Aren’t you cold?” a voice called, making her jump.
“Merlin, you scared me!” She placed a hand on her chest.
“You’re good at drawing,” he said, sitting next to her on the grass.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him.
“Why didn’t you go home?” he asked.
“My family is busy.” She shrugged.
“What about you?” she asked in return.
“I prefer to stay here.”
“I like the cold,” she said after a moment of silence. He just stared at her.
“I’m not cold. I like the winter,” she explained, realizing she was answering his initial question.
“Me too. The cold is nice.”
She focused on her drawing again, acting as if she didn’t mind his presence. He looked at her like he was solving a puzzle, and those glances made Cecilia wonder if he knew her—if he knew she was, in fact, Cecilia Gaunt. But he couldn’t. She had the company of wizards who could tell her everything she always wanted to know, while he had grown up with almost no knowledge of his past. Could Dumbledore have told him? Maybe that was the reason he eyed him suspiciously—he knew Tom’s connection to Salazar.
Dumbledore. That name kept ringing in her head. Gellert had told her to be careful around him, so maybe Dumbledore wasn’t suspicious of Tom—maybe he was suspicious of her.
“I have to go. I’ll see you at dinner.” The girl stood up.
He didn’t even respond. Her abrupt departure left him frowning in confusion. What could possibly make her so frazzled? Tom had been trying to figure her out since the feast. Why was a first-year able to perform Occlumency? A first-year who had been brought up as a Muggle?
He had noticed how she always stayed quiet during Druella’s monologues, as if she were observing every single thing happening before her eyes. He had noticed that she read almost a book every week. There was something about her he couldn’t understand, and that was a foreign concept to him.
Cecilia was worried about her status at Hogwarts. What if Dumbledore knew of her connection to Gellert? He himself seemed to have one. She couldn’t write a letter asking directly if she should be worried about him, so when she got to her dormitory, she did the best she could.
Dear Mother and Father,
I hope you’re having a nice holiday. I’ve been great—Hogwarts is wonderful, and so are the teachers. I’m already missing my classes. My favorite subject is called Transfiguration—it’s really good. Professor Dumbledore is truly amazing.
I wish you could see everything that’s happening. It’s a shame we couldn’t be together for Christmas. What did you do?
I’ve been spending my time reading and drawing as usual.
With love,
Cecilia
It was good enough. Maybe a bit too straightforward, but she couldn’t think of anything else. She folded the letter and placed her seal on the pretty envelope she had decorated. As her owl flew away, she remembered that Vinda had promised they would talk before her birthday. But they hadn’t even wished her a Merry Christmas. Neither had Druella.
It was foolish of her to expect otherwise.
She shouldn’t be sentimental. She should be wise and logical. She shouldn’t think like the child she still was—she should be the soldier she was raised to be.
Dinner, breakfast, lunch—every meal had been the same for the past few days. Everything felt monotonous to Cecilia. She had been waiting for a response to her letter, but it never came.
Tom was caught up in his own world. She barely saw him, and when she did, he was practicing something—usually spells.
Finally, it was New Year’s Eve. While all the other students would be sad that their break was ending, Cecilia felt relieved that the school would soon be crowded again. Even though she liked the quiet, she missed having distractions.
The last day of 1940 would be spent by herself.
These thoughts always made her sad. Getting older scared her. She couldn’t explain why—was it because she had seen people die while still adults? Was it because she feared the responsibilities she would have?
Maybe it was everything. But it all could be summed up in one word: death.
One more year lived was one year closer to dying.
The pudding in her mouth tasted bitter as she thought about Vinda and Gellert. Had they not answered her because they were dead?
From the corner of her eye, she saw Tom enter the Great Hall.
“Tom, where have you been?” she asked him.
“Here. Where else would I have been?” He took a seat next to her.
“I mean, you’ve been busy.”
“I’m getting ahead with my work.”
“That’s smart. I should have thought of that.” She laughed, but he remained quiet, looking distant.
Cecilia knew that look.
Those eyes drowned in disappointment.
Of course. It was his birthday. He had told her about it a week ago.
She wished someone would do that for her.
So she got up to go back to her room.
“I forgot something in my room. Do you mind waiting here so they don’t take my pudding back to the kitchen?” she asked him.
“I don’t mind. I’m still going to have dinner.” He answered, beginning to eat.
“Thanks, really.” She started to make her way toward the door when he suddenly raised his voice.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t like my company. Every time I approach you, you leave.” He flashed his most charming smile.
“Quite the opposite, actually.” She finally crossed the door.
In her dormitory, she found a drawing she had made a while ago. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this—it just felt right.
Did it have something to do with the fact that they were cousins? Did she feel like he was her only family, even if he didn’t know?
When she got back to the table, Tom only stared at her.
“Close your eyes.”
Tom did as she asked. She pointed her wand toward one of the floating candles in the Great Hall, and in the next moment, it appeared in front of him.
“You can open them now.”
“What is this?” he asked, blinking slowly.
“Happy birthday, Tom. Here.” She handed him a folded parchment.
“I thought since you grew up in an orphanage, you might not have many pictures. So I drew this one for you—to remember how you looked at thirteen. Well, now you’re fourteen, but you get it.”
He looked at the drawing for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Thank you. This is very thoughtful.” He smiled, and for the first time, it felt genuine.
“Well, make a wish.” She gestured toward the candle.
He blew it out. But his mind was elsewhere.
Why was she being so kind to him? What could she possibly gain from this?
It made no sense.
Would he ever figure her out?
They walked back to the common room in silence, but neither of them minded. The firelight flickered across their faces, filling the space with warmth.
The clock ticked.
It was already midnight.
While everyone else was celebrating the new year, they were here, alone, celebrating their birthdays.
“Happy birthday, Cecilia. I wish I had gotten you something.” He looked at her.
“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled at him, and he pulled another candle toward them, lighting it with his wand.
“Make a wish.”
She did.
“Happy New Year, Tom.”
“Happy New Year, Cecilia.”
The next morning, an owl carrying a box was waiting outside her window.
Relief washed over her.
They had finally reached out to her.
She read the letter before opening the package.
Dear Cecilia,
Happy birthday, Ceci! I hope you like the bracelet I got you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.
I love you.
Best wishes,
Druella
Her heart dropped.
Gellert and Vinda wouldn’t waste their precious time on her. Of course not.
But Druella had remembered.
Inside the box was a silver bracelet with a small green letter C attached to it. It was beautiful.
Cecilia knew then—Druella was not just her friend.
She was her sister.
When Christmas break was over, Cecilia could barely contain her excitement to see her friend again.
As soon as Druella entered the common room, her smile widened.
“Cecilia! I missed you so much.” Druella hugged her tightly.
“I missed you too. Thanks for the bracelet—I loved it.”
“I’m glad! How was your break?”
“Boring. What about yours?”
“It was boring until our Christmas ball. You won’t believe it—my aunt showed up out of nowhere!” Druella exclaimed, and Cecilia’s eyes widened.
“What’s wrong with your aunt?”
“She’s mad. A Grindelwald supporter.”
The other Rosier entered the conversation, and all of his friends turned their attention toward the girls.
“And what did she want?” Cecilia asked carefully.
“She said she wanted to ‘catch up with family,’ but my parents weren’t happy about it.” Druella explained.
“Would you like me to be your uncle, Rosier?” Mulciber said with a laugh, and Rosier slapped him on the chest.
“Were you there?” Cecilia asked him.
“Yes, all of us were. These balls are a must-attend for purebloods.” He said.
The statement made Cecilia and Tom shiver.
They weren’t like the rest.
They didn’t come from wealthy families with powerful last names.
Even though their magic was stronger than the others, they didn’t belong in high society.
They wouldn’t be attending grand balls or galas.
Not yet.
But one day, they would bend those social gatherings to their will.
They were bound for something greater.
Cecilia didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation.
Her mind was elsewhere.
What had Vinda been doing at the ball?
What business did she have there?
And why hadn’t she written?
At least she was alive.
For now, that was enough.
At the mention of Grindelwald, Tom snapped back to reality.
Gellert Grindelwald—the most powerful and dangerous wizard of their time.
Having someone connected to him could be useful in the future.
He just didn’t know that person was closer than he thought.