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Two days after Christmas - the day they would be heading back to Hogwarts - Holly rose early and dressed. The three sets of witching robes that weren't christmas plaids still seemed a bit too dressed up for a long day in the car and then the train, so she chose instead, one of her new skirts - a frilly sage colored one with lots of different colored ruffles peeking out the bottom, white knit tights with lace running up the sides, one of her new blouses, the Weasley jumper for warmth, and the rainbow shawl she used to push back her long dark red hair.
She shoved the rest of her things back into her travel bag and said goodbye to the cozy room she’d spent the last week-and-a-half enjoying. When she was ready, she stepped out into the hall, bag and PuffPotter’s cage in hand.
Tracey had just left the bathroom, still in her nightgown, and looking entirely like she did not want to be awake, which Holly thought was fair. It was 4:30 in the morning. But, they had a long drive to Kings Cross. Mrs. Davis had said that Mr. Davis never really grew accustomed to witching transport so they drove, and Mrs. Davis had found that it grew on her.
Tracey blinked at Holly a few times, groggily, and disappeared into her room. Holly shrugged it off and headed downstairs. Mr. Davis was seated at the table, looking more awake than anyone should that early in the morning, serenely sipping on his coffee and reading the muggle news.
Holly set her bag down by the door and joined him at the table. She wasn’t hungry yet, but she did accept his offer of orange juice. It was quiet for a while, until they heard a loud thud and then several more, smaller thuds, like pounding footsteps. Holly looked up to see Tracey running down the stairs in a perfectly matched outfit to Holly’s, holding her own travel bag and a very disgruntled looking Lucas the cat.
The drive back was quiet for the most part, but they spent the last hour or so telling the Davis’ the story of the Troll. Soon enough though, the story had ended and so had the drive.
Mr. And Mrs. Davis helped the girls get their things out of the car, and walked with them into the station. They hugged them both goodbye, reminding Holly that she and Harry were always welcome, and then, just like that, the trip had ended.
Holly and Tracey ran down the train's compartments, checking every one for Hermione, until they eventually found her, also wearing a Weasley sweater in red with a golden H on it, sitting with Neville near the back of the train. They clambered into the compartment and settled in just as the train began to move.
“So, how was Christmas?” asked Hermione, eagerly.
Tracy jumped into a long winded retelling of their holiday, and all the presents they got, while Holly listened contentedly. She bought them trolly snacks when it came around, and they opened chocolate frogs while they all listened.
Then it was Hermione’s turn. “We went skiing and I read loads of things about mountain magic. It’s really very interesting. My parents got me so many new books! And some clothes. I really loved the gift you two gave me! It’ll be really useful. And yours Neville. That bookmark is really majestic.” Hermione said. Holly thought that was a rather strange way to describe a bookmark. “What did you think of my gifts?”
Holly kicked her feet up onto Hermione’s lap with a cheeky grin, turning them about in the light to show off her starry-sky boots. “I’d say those paints worked as advertised. What do you think?”
“Those are incredible!” breathed Hermione.
Tracey hoisted her feet up, knocking Holly’s back onto the floor. “Not as incredible as THESE!” she squawked, flashing her breezy meadow boots for Hermione and Neville.
Holly rolled her eyes, grinning wide. “Whatever, Davis.”
“I wish I could paint like that. You two are so creative!” Hermione said, wistfully. “Your spells always come out so beautiful, that's why I got you paints, you know?”
“Thanks, Hermione,” said Tracey, genuinely. “How about you, Neville? How was your Christmas?”
Neville looked a little green. “My gran and I always go to visit my parents… in st. Mungos… I got a new plant though!” He pulled a small green spindly thing from his pocket. “It's a mugwort - well, a baby one. I’ve named it Muggy. Is that stupid? I know it is…”
“Ooh! Can I see?” Holly asked, making grabby hands at Muggy. Neville handed over his plant, nervously. Holly gingerly took the plant, tenderly touching the small leaves. “Muggy’s a bit small for this time of year, yeah? I wonder if it needs some fresh air… do your dorm rooms have windows that open? Or we could charm it, possibly… hmm…”
“Y-you like plants too?” Neville wondered, as Holly handed him back his struggling new buddy.
“Yeah! Herbology is my best subject! Though, I’d really like to learn about wands…” Holly enthused. Truthfully, she couldn't remember ever talking to Neville, though he had always seemed to orbit Harry, Ron, and now Hermione… “hey, you should come with us to the library on saturday! Hermione and I like to read together and Professor Sprout gave me a book on magickal winter plants just before break that I’ve almost finished. You could read it after me.”
“Really?” Neville looked so hopeful, like he’d never actually been invited anywhere before. Kind of like Hermione had looked after Halloween… and Hermione was beaming so bright and wide now…
Harry had dragged Ron to come meet them off the train. The pair were clad - you guessed it! - in Weasley jumpers as well. Harry was grinning ear to ear, while Ron looked mortified that Tracey and Hermione also had jumpers from his mum. “You too? Why you two?” he griped.
Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Look up, mate, now you haven’t got to worry that all our friends will make fun of us for them!” He said, and Ron sort of nodded along in acknowledgement.
Holly ran to Harry and thanked him for the herbs. She pulled him a little bit away from the rest of the group, and showed him her necklace. “It was mum’s,” she whispered, “Dumbledore sent me it Christmas morning. Look,” Holly clicked open the locket so Harry could see their parents too.
“That's them?” Harry echoed, touching their fathers smiling face gently. “They look so… young.”