A different kind of Christmas
Harry couldn't even remember how he ended up back at Hogwarts. All he knew was that he was drinking the rest of his butterbeer in an awkward silence in the Three Broomsticks, and a moment later, walking up the marble staircase in the castle. His head was aching, still pounding with all this new information-- he couldn’t even tell if it was caused by the dementors or if they made it worse.
He knew about Black being atleast related to him and Hermione and Quinn for a while now, but he wouldn't have ever even thought that the reason the man was in prison was because... why hadn't anyone ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Cornelius Fudge, even Mr Weasley-- they all knew more about the situation than he, when it was his family? And not even a single one of them mentioned the fact his parents died because their own best friend betrayed them? That he had a sister-- and a younger brother?
Harry could tell that his friends were watching him all throughout dinner, even Ron and Hermione on the other side of the Great Hall. But he was more reluctant to talk about it than they were. He didn't want to talk about it, even if it was all he could talk about.
Once dinner had ended, he'd been the first into his empty dorm in the Ravenclaw common room. He headed straight for the bookcase nearest to his bed; He'd filled it up over his school years, stacks and rows of books he'd never dream of leaving at the Dursleys. He split atleast an entire column right down the middle and found what he was looking for quickly-- the leather-bound book that contained photos of his mother and father that Hagrid got him two years ago. It didn't include Regulus in many of the pictures, but many of the ones he could see, he had a thoughtful, calculated look, and in less, he was smiling. It looked a bit weird, almost, for he looked so stoic otherwise...
He sat down on his bed, drew the curtains, and started turning the pages aimlessly. He didn't know what he was searching for, but when he came across a page, he didn't flip to the next one.
It was of their wedding day. Apparently, as he'd learned, they'd had multiple, but the specific one he had the picture of made him think. There was his father, James, beaming, and waving at the camera... Lily, face lit up with happiness, arm in arm with her new husband and holding hands with Regulus, who was, again, smiling... And then... that must've been him. Their best man. No matter how many times he flipped through the book in the days prior, Harry felt he knew more than ever before. He did know more than ever before.
Had he not known it were the same person, he wouldn't have ever guessed it was Black in the old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and dead-looking, but instead handsome, full of laughter. Was he already working for Voldemort then, when the picture was taken? Was he already planning their deaths? Did he realise that he would soon be facing twelve years in Azkaban with dementors, day and night? Twelve years that would make him unrecognisable?
They don't affect him, Harry reminded himself, staring at the photo. He spotted Regulus again, and his eyes lingered... would Harry dare think Black was the reason he was dead? No, no... not his own brother, right? He couldn’t...
Harry slammed the album shut, standing up to put it back behind his other books. He always got in a bad mood when he opened the cursed thing. He shouldn't have touched it.
He took off his robe, tossed his glasses to his end table, and got into bed, pulling back the curtains once more.
The dormitory door opened slowly.
"Harry?" called Luna's voice. “I heard what happened.”
Harry sat still. His body refused to move, but he didn't want to anyhow.
"Okay, then. We'll give you your space. Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight," he mumbled back, but the door had already closed.
His head was spinning. He didn't want to go to sleep. He was cold, even though he was under his comforter. Was this what it felt like to be alone-- really alone? To know the truth? How was Hermione taking it? Even-- did Quinn know? All of it? Any of it?
He spent the hours of the night thinking rather than sleeping. Their mum-- She was in St. Mungo's. He'd been there his previous school year, but he was unconscious the entire time. Was she awake? Did she get to see him? Was she bound to her bed, unable to leave? No, he was sure... atleast, he hoped... that she’d seen him...
Harry felt miserable. He should have known. He should've been allowed to know. Maybe it would've hurt less if he'd been told, instead of abruptly being dropped into it all at once, from Sirius’s letter, and then just today... he still had the letter, didn't he? Shoved somewhere in a book, maybe? Why didn't anyone tell him until it was left to the one who’d done-- everything-- to tell him? He deserved to know before then. Even Hermione deserved to know. It was their family, and now it's too late, because Sirius had escaped Azkaban and they've had to learn on their own by mere stokes of luck, when they should've known so much longer ago...
Harry felt less miserable and more angry as he thought more over it. Was he being ridiculous? Everyone who did know had his best interests at heart, right? They didn't want to hurt him by letting him know. But... how come they knew when it was his family? And he’d been left in the dark for years? What was their plan when the day would come that he'd have to know? If-- no, when-- their mother got better? Did they even plan to let him know? Just let it be a surprise, when she popped up one day, fully alive and well?
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair--
"Harry! You're awake,"
Harry hadn't gone to sleep for a long time. Or he'd assumed so, atleast. There was a moment where he'd been awake, and angry, and then suddenly, it was hours later, and he'd apparently been asleep. He'd gotten dressed and gone up the staircase, still wondering what happened, to find the common room was almost completely empty; Padma and Lisa had been sitting with a tired-looking Hermione, who had spread pages of homework across three tables, all of which had been pushed up from across the room; Ron was eating a peppermint toad and massaging his stomach; Harry could hear Draco's voice echoing from further upstairs.
"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, taking a spot beside Hermione. He dropped his head on her shoulder.
"Gone. First day of hols, remember?" said Ron. "We've been waiting for you to wake up for hours now. It's nearly lunchtime. We were gonna leave a note for you that we'd been in the Great Hall if you were still asleep."
Had he really been asleep that long? Well, he couldn't even remember when he'd gone to sleep. He looked around the room, thinking; Snow was falling outside, almost innocently. Crookshanks had been spread out near the fireplace, looking like a large rug; Hydrus laid nearby, coiled up to hold Sly, who'd been looking tireless as ever, even though fast asleep.
"You've got eyebags-- when did you go to sleep?" asked Hermione, rubbing the space under Harry's eyes. It was ironic, he thought-- she had eyebags herself. She'd clearly lost sleep too.
"It's fine, 'Mione," Harry denied, pushing her hand away.
"It doesn't look fine, Slysnout," Padma said. "You look like a dead man."
"Wow, thanks, Shewolf," He muttered. "so nice of you to say."
"He's right to not look alright, with all that we heard yesterday." Lisa said.
They were all silent when Draco finally came from upstairs.
"You Ravenclaws have got a good view of everything," he said. "If it wasn't practically a blizzard out there, I'd have used one of the telescopes up there."
Unlike all the rest of them, he was seemingly unaware of how tense the room was. Or he did notice and didn’t care.
"Shame you can't really see much now, it's a real lovely sight during the day." said Padma almost dully, looking out the window. "Unless a cloud gets in your way, of course. Blurs up the view real bad."
It was awkwardly silent for the next couple of minutes.
"How about we go see Hagrid? It's nearly Christmas, and we haven't visited him in ages," suggested Ron.
"No," denied Hermione at once. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, and he just woke up! He needs food. He's missed breakfast, you know."
"Reckon Weasley's got brain freeze," suggested Draco.
"I want to see Hagrid," Harry interjected, sitting up. And ask why he never told me about Black when he told me about my parents, he added in his head.
"I didn't bring my cloak." Draco said, and Lisa nodded in agreement, "I don't want to go back to the dorm, it's so cold in there!"
"You can borrow one of mine, Snowflake," Harry said determinedly. He turned to look at Padma, who groaned. "Fine, I'll go get mine and Lisa's cloaks from the dorm."
So they got their cloaks-- fortunately Ron and Hermione brought theirs from the Gryffindor common room-- and set off through the door.
"Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!" Sir Cadogan shouted.
"Oh, shut it!" Padma shouted back.
The castle was empty and cold, but the walk to the oak doors to the grounds felt much shorter with less students bumping into eachother in the halls and on the stairs.
They made their way slowly down the lawn, their footsteps making trenches in the powdery snow, their socks and hems of their cloaks soaked and icy. The Forbidden Forest looked as if it had been completely enchanted, the trees mounted with silver, and Hagrid's cabin was looking very much like a frosted cake.
Ron knocked, but there was no answer.
"Oh come on! Don't tell me he's out? We came all this way!" Padma whined.
"He might be... I think he gets the Christmas trees that are always in the Great Hall." Hermione pointed out.
Ron put his ear to the door.
"Harry, why'd you want to come see Hagrid? I mean, we could see him in the Great Hall a little later today," said Lisa, looking up at the sky.
"There's a weird noise," Ron said, cutting off Harry before he could answer. "Is that Fang?"
Harry put his ear to the door; Hermione had Padma helping her look into a window; Draco was looking rather disgruntled by the whole thing, but joined Harry and Ron at the door; Lisa was still standing back, shivering. From inside the cabin came a series of low, muttering sobs.
"Should we go get someone?" Ron wondered, sounding nervous.
"Hagrid!" Harry shouted, thumping on the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?"
There was the sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest. Padma almost dropped Hermione when she saw him.
"Yeh've heard!" He bellowed, and flung himself onto Harry's neck.
With Hagrid being atleast twice the size of a normal man, it was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, was saved by his friends, who'd all worked together to get the man back into his hut. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably. His face was glazed with tears that dripped into his tangled beard.
"Hagrid, what's wrong?" asked Lisa tiredly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
Harry spotted an opened official-looking letter on the table. "What's this?" He asked distractedly, not noticing how Hagrid's sobs doubled. Harry read the letter aloud.
"Dear Mr Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident."
"Isn't that nice, Hagrid?" Hermione encouraged, but Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, insisting Harry to read on.
"However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated. Yours in fellowship..."
There followed a list of the school governors.
"Oh," Ron gasped, turning to look at Draco. He was just as shocked, however.
"That’s what he meant! That bloody-- I told him to not do anything to that-- that-- we agreed that nothing would happen to this-- oaf!" He said, flinging a hand at Hagrid. “All he told me was that it wouldn’t go unnoticed, he said nothing about--”
"Unnoticed-- my arse! Your stupid father's trying to kill Buckbeak! He's not a bad hippogriff, but your father's so convinced he's a danger when you said that you were just fine!" Ron shouted.
A sudden sound made the two shut up-- Buckbeak was lying in a corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.
"I couldn' leave him tied up out there!" Hagrid admitted when they all turned to look at him. "All on his own! At Christmas!"
"Hah! Christmas-- you should've gone home this year, Malfoy, bet your dad's all worried about you with the fit he's throwing!" Ron brought up, pointing at the note still in Harry's hands.
"Ronald--" Hermione tried, sounding aggravated, but Draco shouted back at Ron before she could utter another word.
"You're saying that as if it's my fault! I can't control my father! We agreed, and I didn’t know he'd lie-- what am I supposed to do when it's his word against mine!"
"God, do you two ever stop fighting! Is it that hard to get along with eachother?!" Lisa screamed.
"YES!"
Lisa scoffed, tugged her hood tighter around her head, and stormed out the hut.
"Lisa! Get back here!" Padma shouted, redoing the clasp of her cloak, before running out.
Ron and Draco argued back and forth for a while, Hermione and Harry trying to make them disperse. Suddenly, before any of them really knew what was happening-- Ron hit Draco in the face so hard that it was audible. When Draco looked back up, blood was pooling out his nose like a waterfall, but it didn't look like he cared; He lunged at Ron, knocking into the table.
Hermione groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead, and muttered, "Idiots."
Harry felt like doing the same.
After a long moment of them shuffling, Hagrid was holding up Ron and Draco, both looking rather battered with pink faces and a surprising number of cuts on Ron, by the hoods of their cloaks.
"Apologise ter eachother!" Hagrid said briskly.
"Sorry for punching your nose..." Ron muttered, staring at his own knuckles, which were very pink. Feeling at a particularly large cut spanning across his cheek, he looked as though he wanted to punch Draco again.
Draco had yet to make his own apology.
"Draco! Say sorry!" Harry said, and he had to hit Draco’s side before he said anything.
"I'm-sorry," He muttered, looking away as he held his nose, trying to stop more blood from getting on his cloak.
Hermione slapped them both on their shoulders. "Ronald, I know you can be a bit brash, but Malfoy, you're supposed to be better than that. No offence to you, Ron--"
"Offence taken," Ron said, getting his hood out Hagrid's grasp.
"Well, you weren't meant to take offence, so I guess that's on you, isn't it?" snapped Hermione. "Both of you aught to go up to the castle‐‐ Madam Pomfrey isn't going to be happy. First day of break! Eurgh- I'm sorry they got into a fight, Hagrid, and I'm really sorry about Buckbeak." Hermione said, shooing Draco and Ron out the hut.
"It's alrigh', it's not yer fault... didn't think they'd get along fer a minute, the two o' 'em. Their families might be mor'al enemies. Never seen a Prewett or a Weasley on good terms wi' a Malfoy..." Hagrid said. "An' them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures... they've got it in fer interestin' creatures like Hippogriffs..."
Hermione and Harry looked at eachother. Hagrid certainly had a description for "interesting creatures." Things like Buckbeak, he found positively adorable, no matter how horrifying others saw it.
"We can be witnesses when this all cools down,” Harry promised. “we all know what happened. Draco said it himself, Buckbeak didn't actually hurt him that badly, and, anyway, after a while, he only had the sling on because he wanted special privileges."
"Won't make no difference!" Hagrid had gone back to sobbing. "Them disposal devils‐‐ all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak--"
He drew his finger swiftly across his throat before giving a great wail and lurching forward, his face in his arms.
"I'll make tea, certainly, it'll calm you down," Hermione insisted, trying to ease the tense atmosphere. It worked fortunately‐- Hagrid had pulled himself together after two still-steaming cups. Somewhere between the time he took to drink them both, Fang the boarhound came and laid his head on Hagrid's knee.
"I've not bin meself lately," Hagrid said, rubbing the boarhound's head, while mopping his own face with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes--"
"We like them, Hagrid!" Harry said quickly. It was a lie, but the classes were most certainly interesting when it wasn't caring for flobberworms.
"Yes, they're spectacular," Hermione added, but her head was dropped down, looking at her mug of tea. "Say, how are the flobberworms doing?"
"Dead," said Hagrid simply, in one of the gloomiest voices Harry's ever heard from the giant. "Too much lettuce."
"Oh," gasped Hermione.
"An' them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," Hagrid continued, shuddering. "Gotta walk past 'em e'rytime I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban..."
He went silent, downing his third cup of tea. Hagrid never spoke about his time at Azkaban, but by the way the air very simply felt, Hermione and Harry both knew what he meant. The dementors alone told them enough.
"How... horrible..." Hermione said slowly. "The dementors are there all the time, aren't they?"
"'Course they are, an' trust me-- yeh never want to get in trouble like that." Hagrid nodded quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind.... The day I got expelled from Hogwarts... day me dad died... day I had ter let Norbert go..."
His eyes were filled with tears. Norbert was a dragon he'd won in a game of cards two years ago, and it was rather unfortunate that it were illegal to harbour one unless you were a professional, which Hagrid was not.
"Yeh can really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' really see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd die in me sleep. When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, e'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go."
"But you were innocent! They can't do that!" said Hermione.
Hagrid snorted.
"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out o' 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who isn'."
Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said, quietly, "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go... tryin' ter have 'im fly away... but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An'-- an' I'm scared o' breakin' the law...." He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."
"Hagrid, I promise. We'll make sure you don't get sent to Azkaban." Harry swore, and his hand was so tight around his mug that his palm was starting to burn. He was serious. Hagrid never deserved to go to Azkaban from the start, and he never would.
Hagrid nodded, a smile on his face.
The trip to Hagrid's had definitely taken a toll on Harry and Hermione's moods, and Ron, Draco, Lisa, and Padma, had all gone silent when they both explained. But somehow, the nonverbal agreement to make sure they'd all help Hagrid anyway they can, only made Harry think about how Sirius could've even begun to escape Azkaban. How he managed to live through twelve years straight of dementors right outside his cell.
But he had no time to brood over Sirius, because he had to help Hagrid win against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and own up to his promise.
The next morning, the six of them were in the library, and returned to the empty Ravenclaw common room, arms carrying books that could prepare a defence for Buckbeak. Harry was admittedly starting to get a bit tired of the constant scenery of the common room, but Draco refused to step in that of Gryffindor's, and Lisa complained that she'd freeze alive in the Dungeons or the Library.
"Hm-- 1722, a--- oh, no, er-- the Hippogriff got convicted.. Oh-- ew, that's gross! How could they do that?"
"Look-- a manticore savaged someone in 1296, but it got off-- oh, nevermind. It got off because nobody wanted to go near it. They were too scared."
"Look at this-- something about a magical creature sanctuary back in the 1900s-- it's still open, over in Austria. 'Run by.. Merlin, I can barely read that name. Not sure we should risk it."
Meanwhile, the rest of the castle, pleasantly oblivious to the trouble that the group was reading up on, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations were hanging proudly, despite the fact that hardly any students remained to admire them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket anytime it was impossible to ignore, and even Sly had taken a break from her gold-scavenging every now and then to wander around, searching for the smell, although she never found anything.
Christmas morning arrived like a bullet, and Harry was awoken with a chilling charm put on him by Padma.
"C'mon, Slysnout! It's Christmas!" She spun around cheerfully, already humming a Christmas carol. Harry reached for his glasses, and was met with a small heap of presents laying at the foot of his bed. When he looked around, he wished he could say he was shocked. Ron had been on Anthony's bed on the other side of the room, already unwrapping his gifts, which had somehow gotten there, and there was the creaking above Harry's head that told him someone was up there.
"Hermione's still trying to get Lisa up-- she wouldn't wake up, as usual, no matter how loud we screamed." Padma said, dropping herself in the chair at the dresser, her own gifts piled on top.
"She'll be another twenty minutes, I think," said Hermione, walking in with her own presents in her arms.
"She said that twenty minutes ago!" groaned Padma.
"I think mum's sent you a jumper this year, Hermione," said Ron, pulling his maroon jumper over his head, muttering about how he hated maroon.
Hermione had gotten a jumper, to her own surprise; It was scarlet with a large Gryffindor lion on the front‐- it somewhat matched Harry's, which was scarlet aswell, but had a large bird across the back. Mrs Weasley also sent a dozen homemade mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. Right underneath Mrs Weasley's gift was a thin package the length of his bed, almost pushing aside his other gifts.
"What's that?" asked Padma, putting on a new pair of earrings Luna sent her.
"Iunno, not like I've sent it to myself," Harry said, ripping open the parcel. He gasped when he saw the present that rolled out onto his bedspread.
"Merlin's beard-- is that a--" Padma gasped, before squealing; She accidentally poked herself in the ear.
"-- a Firebolt?" Harry said, shocked. It may have been the exact model he saw in the window back in Diagon Alley every day. The handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let it go-- it hung midair, unsupported, at a height perfect for him to mount it. Not a single twig was out of place in the bunch that made up the tail.
"A firebolt!" Draco screeched, his head appearing from the bunk above Harry's.
"No card," Hermione said, already searching the remains of the wrapping paper.
"None? Blimey, who'd buy you an entire Firebolt? Not that you don't deserve it-- you really do-- but a Firebolt?" Ron wondered, popping a leftover piece of candy from Honeydukes into his mouth.
"Maybe Dumbledore," he then said, walking around the broom, taking in every inch. "He did send you the Invisibility Cloak. Can't 've been cheap- since it's still good."
"My turn!" shouted Padma, pushing him aside so she could stare at the Firebolt.
"It was in my dad's will that I'd get the cloak." denied Harry, "Dumbledore wouldn't spend hundreds of galleons on me. And he can't go around giving the most expensive broom on the market to a student--"
"That's exactly why you shouldn't keep it, Harry," Hermione said. "Who'd go out of their way to buy you a new broomstick when you don't need one?"
"He does need one though, doesn't he? His broom got smashed in the first match!" Padma pointed out.
"Yes, and he's still the best Seeker in the school, even with a Shooting Star," Hermione shot down almost immediately. "Nothing at all saying who got it for you? We don't know if it's safe to fly on!"
"Maybe Lupin got it for him-- Lupin wouldn't hurt Harry!" Insisted Ron.
"As if Lupin could afford a Firebolt and have robes like the rags he wears," Draco said.
"Then who'd buy it for him? Was it you?" Padma asked, pointing at Draco suspiciously.
"I'd buy a Firebolt for myself before I bought one for Harry, and it wouldn't be out of my pocket money. And I'd leave a note--" Draco denied, before Hermione suddenly cut him off.
"Where's Crookshanks? I thought he was following me," She said, looking around frantically.
"He's been rampaging me in my sleep for the last three or so minutes, 'Mione!" Lisa barged in, holding Crookshanks by the scruff. Her hair was an absolute mess; It looked like she hadn't seen a hairbrush in years. "I can tell what you're thinking!" She shrieked, looking at Harry, before she stomped over to Hermione, dropping the cat on her lap.
"Your cat flung my hairbrush into the fire! Do you even know how hard it's going to be to get that thing back?!" Lisa said, seething. "That was my favourite hairbrush! I hate your cat- your stupid, stupid cat! I am going back to sleep!" She screamed sharply, storming out the room.
"She's been acting so weird lately, or is it just me who thinks that?" Hermione said airily.
"No, she's definitely been more tired, and super cranky." Padma answered, turning to look at Harry, gesturing at the Time-Turner around his neck.
Of course, Harry remembered-- Lisa said herself in the letter that it was hers before she gave it to him. He would've easily believed she'd been using for extra sleep. A lot more extra sleep than she would've needed. But, after all, he had been doing the same.
Before anyone could get another word in, Crookshanks sprang from Hermione's arms at Ron. He scrambled on the spot whilst the cat tore at his pyjamas, Scabbers making a wild dash over his shoulder. Ron held up Crookshanks by the tail a moment later, screaming at Hermione to get the cat out.
"Ronald, he's a cat! It's your fault for having a stupid rat as a pet!" Hermione shrieked, taking Crookshanks. Suddenly, everyone had jumped up in surprise-- Draco fell off the top bunk-- Padma was so startled she accidentally kicked the dresser, and was hopping on the spot, holding her toes. A shrill whistling noise filled the room.
The Pocket Sneakoscope had been taken out Harry's trunk and was currently spinning on the floor, gleaming.
"Stopmoving!" hissed Hydrus, chasing around Scabbers.
"I forgot about-- Hydrus, stop that!" Harry shouted, picking up the Pocket Sneakoscope. Crookshanks had been hissing at him-- or moreso, the Sneakoscope in his hand. He buried it back in the pair of socks before shoving it under his pillow.
"Merlin, this year has not been fun," muttered Padma, watching. "First, me and Luna get petrified-- that is the worst way to start a year! Then Harry almost dies-- and then I'm only hearing Italian left and right all summer, and Ron and Draco get into a fight in Hagrid's hut... I mean, what kind of year is this?"
"An average year at Hogwarts, I'd guess," Harry muttered, picking up Hydrus.
"Stop chasing after Scabbers, the mice you made me owl-order is coming around today!" Harry hissed, letting Hydrus slither around his shoulders.
"Whenever he does that, it looks like he's a fur boa or something-- without the fur, of course... you get what I mean." Padma said awkwardly, trying to ease the growing tension. Ron and Hermione glared at eachother, holding either of their pets, and Draco had been rubbing his head and looked a bit sick.
"Say, I think we could get some more warmth in the common room with a fire. And the blankets in there regularly have warming charms." suggested Padma. Harry agreed-- "Yeah, I think it'll be less cold in there," he said, picking up the Firebolt.
"Harry!" said Hermione sharply. “Leave it!”
"Okay, then..." Harry shrugged, dropping the broomstick on his bed. The common room was much colder than the dormitory, and the blur of snow outside was not making it feel any warmer. Padma chuckled dully, before calling out: "Mipsy!"
The house-elf appeared with a loud crack, wearing a green and red Christmas hat. "What can Mipsy do for you, Miss?" She asked.
"Hm-- could you bring me a... hot cocoa?" Padma asked, crouching before the fireplace. Flames burst into sight a moment later. “Anything you all want?”
"Tea," said Draco simply, already reaching for one of the larger blankets. "I'll take hot cocoa too," Harry said dropping on a sofa with a blanket already on it.
"Er-- I'm alright." Hermione said unsteadily. She was staring at Mipsy in shock.
"Could I get a waffle?" asked Ron, sitting in one of the lone armchairs.
Mipsy nodded, and with two cracks, she was holding a tray in her hands.
"Thank you, Mipsy," said Padma, taking the tray. Mipsy was gone with yet another crack.
"What was that?" asked Hermione, eyeing the tray.
"A house-elf,” said Draco, and his brow furrowed. “Merlin, I forget you don’t actually know everything, Granger.”
"They're like the butlers of the Wizarding World. Honestly, Iunno what we'd do without them," explained Padma. "They're just about everywhere."
"Do they atleast get paid?" Hermione asked, petting Crookshanks, who had been purring.
"Why would we pay them with? I mean, yeah, they're really helpful, but it's their choice," Ron said. "It was a real long time ago when they started. House-elves live off magic, so when they were just- er, elves, they were a lot weaker 'cos they could only make due with what they could get and stuff. But then one elf struck a deal with some people he met. Told them he'd do their housework and stuff to be allowed to live with any excess magic, and, obviously, the people agreed. Then there was this whole thing where elves were making their way into people's homes, like, a hundred years? I don't remember it really. They've grown strong enough by now to live on their own, but I guess you need to free them to let them go. You've got to give them clothes, but it's really weird, because most families have their house-elves wearing clothes. I guess it's like, special clothes or something. I didn't pay much attention when da told me.” He tried to take a bite out of his waffle and recoiled at once. "Ack-- my tongue!"
"Well- how'd they get to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.
"How could they not come to Hogwarts? It's an overflowing fountain of magic." Draco said, "It's probably good they stay down in the kitchens, though. People might react more rashly than you are."
Hermione laughed awkwardly. She stopped after a moment, and stared at the ground, and Crookshanks’ purring was almost even louder.
When they went down to lunch, Lisa finally having woken up properly, they found that the house tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table set for twelve stood in the middle of the room.
Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy looking tail coat. There was only a single student there– a sullen faced Slytherin fifth-year.
"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore, as the six of them approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables... sit down, sit down!"
The six of them sat down side by side at the end of the table.
"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
Anyone who knew even the slightest bit about the first third-year Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson sniggered. Snape had not found it as funny, however, and pushed the hat to Dumbledore, who swapped his wizard's hat for the vulture-hat immediately.
"Tuck in!" He advised the table brightly. As Harry piled his plate with roasted potatoes, the doors to the Great Hall opened once more. Professor Trelawney glided in as if she were on wheels. She was wearing a green sequin dress to celebrate the occasion, but it made her look a lot like an oversized, glittering dragonfly.
"What a pleasant surprise!" beamed Dumbledore.
"I have been crystal-gazing," said Trelawney, eyes mistier than Harry had ever seen. "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. And, who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."
"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair--"
He did so very simply; A chair appeared in mid-air drawn by his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before dropping between Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry stood up to shift his seat away from hers-- if he could help it at all, he'd rather be as far away from her as could be. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down. Infact, she refused. She looked the table up and down briefly, and uttered a type of scream.
"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!'
"We'll risk it, Sybill," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."
Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table.
Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.
"Tripe, Sybill?"
Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."
"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised. Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.
"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."
"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.
Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.
"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him--"
"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly.
"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the Potion for him again?"
"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape.
"Good," Dumbledore said, beaming again. "Then he should be up and about in no time... Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent.'
The fifth-year looked up, looking a bit confused, on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with a suspicious face.
Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Deciding they were done eating, still wearing their cracker hats, Harry, Padma, and Ron got up first from the table and Trelawney shrieked loudly.
"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"
"Dunno," shrugged Ron.
"I doubt it will make much difference, Sybill," said Professor McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall, let alone, all three!"
Even Ron laughed. Padma looked a bit too bloated to laugh. Professor Trelawney, however, looked highly affronted.
"Coming?" Harry asked Hermione. Draco had still been eating, and Lisa was fast asleep.
"No," Hermione muttered. "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."
"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron.
"I doubt it." Harry said, thinking to all the times Hermione complained about all the classes she and Harry applied to. He never would’ve supposed, but she had complained almost more than he did.
When they reached the portrait hole to Ravenclaw Tower, they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts and his pudgy grey pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted to them with a flagon of mead.
"Merry -- hic -- Christmas! Password?"
"Scurvycur," said Padma. She didn't like the old passwords they had with the eagle knocker, and it was noticeable how much she hated the passwords Sir Cadogan came up with.
"And the same to you-- hic-- madam!" roared Sir Cadogan, as the painting swung forward to admit them.
Harry went straight to the dormitory, collected his Firebolt, along with the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his birthday, brought them upstairs and tried to find something to do to the Firebolt; However, it was all too perfectly trimmed on its own. Maybe he'd get it customised like Etta got her broom done-- he thought of anything that'd make it especially special, but nothing came to mind. While trying to think, he started to spin the Firebolt by its handle. Fortunately, it kept itself from falling. Padma was whining about how unfair it was that Ron was so good at Wizard's chess, before Professor Flitwick hopped into the common room. Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd even seen Professor Flitwick in the Tower so seemingly casually.
They all stared at him, and Harry stopped spinning the broomstick. Hermione walked around the tiny professor, sat down, picked up the nearest book, and hid her face behind it. Lisa stumbled in behind her moments later-- she did have a bit of turkey, didn't she?-- and laid herself across one of the sofas.
"So that's it," said Professor Flitwick, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has informed Professor McGonagall that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."
Harry looked at Hermione, and he could tell Ron and Padma could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was actually upside-down.
"Excuse me," said Professor Flitwick, taking the Firebolt from Harry's hands. He examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "And there was no note at all? No card? No message of any kind?"
"No," said Harry, and he felt he already knew what Professor Flitwick was going to do.
"I see..."said Professor Flitwick. "Well, I have no choice but to take this, Potter."
"What? No- I-- wait, I mean.... Why?" Harry asked, scrambling to his feet. Atleast he towered over the teacher. “It- it’s hundreds of galleons! As if anyone would--”
"It will need to be checked for jinxes, nonetheless," said Professor Flitwick, so airily that it was annoying. "Madam Hooch and I will strip it down to--"
"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, as though Professor Flitwick was mad.
"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks, Potter," said Professor Flitwick simply. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."
"Weeks!" repeated Harry in a tone sharper than what he intended. "Sir, there's nothing wrong with it! Professor, I-- I swear, noone would spend hundreds of--"
"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor Flitwick, quite kindly, but it only made Harry angrier--
“I CAN! There is not one person--”
"You can’t. Not until you've flown it, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall--"
"I can fly on it! I've been through worse than a broom trying to throw me off!"
"There is no need, Potter. I shall keep you informed," Professor Flitwick finished, and he nearly jumped as he turned around, carrying the broomstick with him out the door, which closed behind him. Harry stood shocked, unmoving. Ron and Padma rounded on Hermione.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still red in the face, but stood up and faced the two anyway. "Because I thought-- and Professor McGonagall agreed with me, for your information-- that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"