Starman

25th of December 1971

Christmas morning dawned in a whirlwind of excitement for Amalia. She was barely awake when her little brother, Charlie, burst into her room, bouncing on her bed with boundless energy.

“Wake up, Amalia! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” he yelled, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

Amalia groaned, rolling over and briefly considering giving him a nudge to get him off the bed. But then it hit her—today was Christmas. Her eyes shot open, and she sat up quickly, just as her older sister, Brandy, barrelled into the room. She leapt onto the bed with a mischievous grin, wrapping both of her siblings in a massive, playful hug.

“Good morning, munchkin! You’re even louder than usual,” she teased, laughing as she squeezed Charlie, who tried to squirm away, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe.

“He’s always loud,” Amalia muttered with a yawn, rubbing her eyes.

Charlie, quick to defend himself, gave her arm a light punch. “Hey! It’s Christmas—I’m supposed to be loud!”

“Alright, alright,” Brandy jumped in, sensing a sibling scuffle brewing. “Come on, you two—save it for later! Let’s go find Mum and Dad.” She hoisted Charlie onto her hip with a playful groan. “Oof, Charlie! You’re getting heavy!”

Amalia giggled, slipping out of bed and into her slippers. She followed her siblings downstairs, the sound of soft Christmas music growing louder as they neared the living room. When they entered, their dad greeted them with a big smile and open arms.

“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, pulling all three of them into a warm, bear hug.

“Merry Christmas!” they chorused back, their voices overlapping with laughter.

Their mum appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of steaming hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. “Good morning, my loves, and Merry Christmas!” she said, her voice warm and gentle. “How did everyone sleep?”

“Good!” they all replied, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Can we open presents now?” Charlie asked, bouncing up and down, his eyes shining.

Their mum chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, go ahead, my darlings!”

As soon as she gave the word, they dashed to the Christmas tree, eager to dive into the pile of presents beneath it. Amalia reached for the biggest box with her name on it, her hands shaking with excitement as she tore away the wrapping paper. She gasped as the paper fell away, revealing a beautifully crafted chess set. The pieces were intricately carved, each one shining with a soft polish that made the whole set look elegant and timeless.

“I thought it would be nice for you to have, to play with your friends,” her mum said, smiling as she watched Amalia’s face light up.

“Thank you, Mum! It’s beautiful,” Amalia beamed, running her fingers over the smooth, polished pieces. She couldn’t wait to play her first game with it.

Nearby, her dad handed her mum a long, velvet box. She opened it carefully, and her eyes sparkled as she revealed a delicate silver necklace, decorated with tiny emeralds that glistened in the light. She gasped, a hand flying to her chest in surprise.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! Thank you, darling,” she said, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

The children groaned in unison, rolling their eyes, but secretly, Amalia loved seeing her parents so happy together.

The gift exchange continued with laughter and joy as each family member unwrapped their presents. Amalia received cosy pairs of socks, a soft new jumper, and a massive bag of her favourite sweets from Brandy. Her stocking was full of little treasures, too: chocolates, a miniature snow globe with a little figure ice skating around a tiny ice rink, and a tiny set of coloured pencils. Yet her favourite gift was saved for last. Her mum handed her a small box, neatly wrapped in shimmering paper and tied with a red ribbon.

Amalia felt her heart flutter as she pulled the bow and lifted the lid. Inside, a pair of big, bright yellow eyes peered up at her, framed by a small, fuzzy tortoiseshell face. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“A kitten! Oh, she’s perfect!” Amalia carefully lifted the tiny, warm bundle into her arms. The kitten blinked at her, her nose twitching as she nuzzled into Amalia’s embrace. She had soft, patchy fur with a little black nose and the biggest, most curious eyes Amalia had ever seen.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she said breathlessly, glancing up at her smiling parents.

“She’s going to need a name,” her dad said, grinning as he watched Amalia cuddle the kitten.

Amalia thought for a moment, running her fingers gently over the kitten’s soft fur. Then she remembered something her friend Mary had told her about—a family heirloom necklace with a precious red stone. She looked down at the kitten, a sudden certainty in her voice.

“Ruby,” she said softly. “Her name is Ruby.”

Ruby let out a tiny meow, as if in approval, and Amalia felt a wave of warmth settle in her chest. The morning passed in a contented blur. Amalia could hardly bear to put Ruby down, gently stroking her as she watched her family laugh and play. When it was finally time to head to the Potters’ house, Amalia looked up at her parents with pleading eyes.

“Can I bring her with me? Please, please, please?” She clutched Ruby close, her eyes hopeful.

Her mum shook her head gently. “You’ve been playing with her all morning, darling. She’ll be safe here, and we don’t want her getting lost.”

“She won’t! I’ll hold her the whole time, I swear!” Amalia promised, trying her best to look responsible. But her dad gave her a knowing look, holding out her coat.

“Listen to your mother, sweetheart. Ruby will be here waiting for you when we get back.”

With a sigh, Amalia finally relented, setting Ruby down in her cosy little bed by the fireplace. “I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, giving her kitten one last stroke before slipping on her coat.

The walk to the Potters’ was short, and when they arrived, they found the Pettigrews already there, helping set the table. James grinned as soon as he saw Amalia.

“Nice timing, Amalia—showing up after all the work’s done!” he teased.

“James, be nice,” his mum chided, pulling Amalia in for a warm hug. “Come in, dear! Fleamont will be so happy to see you. He’s in the kitchen.”

Amalia rolled her eyes playfully. “I only saw him yesterday!”

Mrs. Potter laughed. “That doesn’t matter—he’d have you move in if he could.”

Amalia made her way into the kitchen, where Fleamont looked up with a wide smile as soon as he saw her. “Amalia, my dear! You’re here!” he said, opening his arms and pulling her into a hug so big that he lifted her right off the ground.

“You saw me yesterday!” Amalia giggled as he set her back down.

“I know, I know, but it’s been far too long,” he said with a wink, handing her a bundle of sweets—chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “Take these, Miss Amalia.”

Amalia couldn’t stop smiling. She loved everything about the Potters, and they treated her as if she were one of their own. She joined everyone in the dining room, where a feast was laid out on the table. They ate together, laughing and swapping stories, their voices blending in a lively melody that filled the room.

After dinner, the kids decided to play hide and seek. Their fathers even joined in for the last few rounds, ducking behind sofas and slipping into shadowy corners as everyone tried not to be found. By the time they finished, everyone was breathless with laughter, collapsing onto the floor in a happy, tired heap.

Walking back home in the chilly night air, Amalia felt a quiet joy. Her heart was full, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her arms ached in that satisfied way that comes from hours of hugs and laughter. When they finally arrived home, she slipped into her pyjamas, her eyes already heavy with sleep.

As she climbed into bed, Ruby immediately snuggled up beside her, purring softly. Amalia gave her kitten one last cuddle, her hand resting gently on Ruby’s soft, warm fur. Within moments, she was asleep, her mind drifting through dreams of Christmas lights, laughter, and the warmth of family. It was a Christmas she knew she’d treasure forever.